#he would use your hands as his personal hand warmers i think

[stardusts-selfship-confessions]

No thought...just my husband's hands... we never see 👁🎄's face in Canon, but we see his hands and for a slasher theyre very pretty... I wanna hold them. In mine. They're probably really cold but that's okay. I can warm them in mine...and maybe I'll even give him one of those little hand kisses cuz he deserves royalty treatment idc. I love my hubby 👁🎄

-☎️🎄

.

[jjkamochoso]

How You React To JJK Characters Describing You as Their Type When Todo Asks

Fluff

Request from anon! This was a super fun one, thanks again for the request!! Also, I didn't do Mai, Miwa or Momo with this one, but added in Nanami; if you would like me to add the other girls back in, lmk and I absolutely will!! :)

JK Men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Part 2 to this fic; same premise here, the students are all in a big group when the question was asked! <3

Yuji:

“Yuji! What kind of person is your type?”

“My type? Uh, let’s see,” he said, putting his thumb and forefinger to his chin in thought. After he gave his reply, you noticed everyone glancing between him and you.

“What? Is there something on my face?” you asked, wiping your cheek.

“No, you dummy,” said Nobara, “didn’t you hear what Itadori’s type was?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So? So? He described you perfectly,” she hissed. You thought back to his answer and your eyes went wide, realizing she was right. You looked over at the pink haired boy.

“Is that true? Your type is me?” you asked him, not caring that everyone was deeply invested in your conversation.

“Yeah. Is that… okay?” he asked, nervously ruffling his hand through his hair.

“Only if you ask me on a date,” you said with a playful wink, walking away. Yuji just stared at you, hearts in his eyes, until Nobara smacked him.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go ask them!”

He hurried after you, eager to ask you out.

Megumi:

“Tell us, Fushiguro, what kind of person is your type?”

Megumi rolled his eyes. “Things like that are so unimportant. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters more than you think. It tells you everything you need to know is about a person. Like how you’re a wimp for not answering,” said Todo, crossing his arms with a triumphant smirk.

“Fine,” replied Megumi through gritted teeth, tired of Todo’s pestering, “you really wanna know? I’ll tell you.”

As he described his dream person, you felt your face get warmer and warmer.

“That, um, kind of sounds like me, doesn’t it?” you whispered to Yuji.

“There’s no ‘kind of’ about that, y/n,” he whispered back, just as surprised as you were. When Megumi saw you looking at him, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away, clearly embarrassed. You ran after him as fast as you could.

“Megumi, wait! I have to talk to you!” you exclaimed, halting him with a grip of his arm.

“I’m sorry, that was a big mistake, I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“I like you. A lot,” you confessed. “You’re my type, too.”

“R-really?” His voice squeaked and he quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, really? That’s good. Great. I’m… relieved.”

You chuckled at his adorable flustered state. “Me too. I guess Todo is good for something after all.”

Nobara:

“Kugisaki! What’s your type?”

“My type? That’s simple,” she answered, her bright bob swinging. As she described the kind of person she found attractive, you couldn’t help the giddiness bubbling up inside; she was describing you!

“Kugusaki? Can I talk to you over here for a second?” you asked, signaling her to follow you away from the group. Yuji, understanding what was happening, gave you a thumbs up.

“Do you have a crush on me?” you questioned. “Because the person you described sounded exactly like me.”

Nobara immediately went into the defensive, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Huh?! Nuh uh, that could be anybody here,” she replied, her face lighting up with a small blush.

“Oh. What a shame, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time,” you said, preparing to walk away. Nobara’s hand darted to your own, prompting you to stop.

“Wait! I… do like you, okay?” she mumbled, not meeting your eyes. “It’s just a crush, though, it’s not like I’m in love or anything stupid.”

You laughed lightly at her attitude. She was a piece of work, but if everything went well, she’d be your piece of work.

Maki:

“Zenin, spill. What kind of person is your type?”

“Do you really have nothing else rolling around in that tiny brain of yours?” Maki asked, obviously annoyed.

“Who would’ve thought someone as fearless as you would be scared by a little question, hmm?” a vicious voice from Mai said.

“I’m not scared, it’s a dumb question,” Maki replied, “but I’ll answer it anyway to get you idiots off my back.”

When she was done describing her type, you felt Yuta nudge you softly.

“Y/n, I think she likes you,” he said in a hushed tone.

“So what if I do, huh?” she said aggressively, overhearing what Yuta told you. The tension that overcame the group was uncomfortable, so much so that everyone left, leaving you and Maki by yourselves. She kept her eyes trained elsewhere, not wanting to meet yours.

“This whole thing was stupid. Forget I said anything,” she snarled.

“Maki,” you said with such softness that she actually looked at you, “I really like you. You’re my type, too.”

She scoffed as she looked away once more, hiding her warmed face. “You’re such a sap, you know that?”

Inumaki:

“Inumaki! What’s your type?”

“He can’t talk, you jerk,” you exclaimed defensively. You turned to Toge. “Just ignore him, okay? You don’t have to answer.”

“Salmon,” he responded, placing a hand on your arm to signal he was alright. He sighed as he approached Todo.

“Salmon salmon,” he told him, earning a confused look from Todo.

“Anyone care to translate?” the tall man asked. Toge rolled his eyes and tried again.

“Salmon salmon,” he said, this time making his pointing toward you more obvious.

“Your type is… L/n?” wondered Todo. Toge nodded meekly as you were overcome with butterflies in your stomach. He turned away from the group as Todo asked the same question to the next victim.

“Toge, I’m your type?” you asked, your voice shaking a little.

He nodded.

“Does that mean you like me?”

He nodded again. You immediately wrapped him in a hug, making him stumble back before wrapping his arms around you as well.

“I’ve liked you for so long now. I never thought I’d have Todo to thank for this, but I guess weirder things have happened.”

Yuta:

“Okkatsu, tell us, what kind of person is your type?”

“I can appreciate all types of people,” Yuta answered happily, making you smile. He was always so kindhearted!

“I don’t believe that,” replied Todo, narrowing his eyes. “You have to have one certain type of person you always find attractive.”

“I mean, I guess so,” he replied, starting to look nervous.

“And that is?” Todo raised an eyebrow.

“Um, let’s see…”

When Yuta was describing that person, you felt a tug on your sleeve. Inumaki was looking at you and you nodded in understanding.

“You picked up on that, too?” you asked, getting an enthusiastic nod in response. Yuta blushed when he noticed you watching him and quickly encouraged Todo to ask the question to someone else to keep him from embarrassing himself more. What he didn’t notice, until it was too late, was who Todo asked next.

“L/n! What’s your type?”

“That’s easy,” you said, your eyes never leaving Yuta’s as you smiled. “It’s Okkatsu.”

He could’ve sworn he died and went to Heaven right there!

Gojo:

“Gojo-sensei! What kind of person is your type?”

“Ooh, are we all playing a little get-to-know-each-other game?” asked Satoru excitedly. “I love it when the students bond like this.”

You were walking by the group when you overheard your fellow teacher getting involved in the kids’ antics so naturally, you stopped to watch.

“My type, hmm?” He was deep in thought, his forefinger to his chin. “Ah! Got it.”

As he was describing the person, the kids started snickering while looking at you. At first you didn’t understand why, but when it clicked, your first instinct was to grab Satoru by the back of his shirt collar and drag him away.

“Thanks for the fun!” he yelled, waving goodbye. When you were far enough away, out of sight and earshot of the students, you punched him in the arm.

“Ouch! Trouble in paradise already?” he teased.

“What the hell, Satoru? Our students aren’t supposed to know about teachers’ crushes on each other,” you reprimanded.

“What happens when we get married? They’ll know when they have to address you as Gojo-sensei. Or address me as L/n-sensei, I don’t care about the whole name situation,” he said airily, waving his hand around.

“You are truly impossible,” you said, rubbing your fingers on your forehead to ease your oncoming headache.

He poked your arm. “But you love me, don’t you?”

“I like you. And that’s trouble as it is,” you groaned, earning a smile and arm slung around your shoulder from the man.

“That’s enough for me, baby.”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“Noted.”

Noritoshi:

“Kamo! What’s your type?”

“I don’t want to play your nonsense games, Todo,” remarked Noritoshi, frustrated.

“The next head of the Kamo clan refuses to answer such an easy question? That tells me everything I need to know about your character,” smirked Todo.

Noritoshi scowled. “Don’t question my character over my disbelief in your stupid qualifications.”

“Admit it, Kamo. You’re scared,” teased Mai, which sent him over the edge. He explained his type to the group, finishing with, “-don’t ever ask me something so idiotic in the future.”

“So… your type is L/n,” said Todo.

“Yes.” Noritoshi’s eyes widened when he realized what he said. “No! Wait! I don’t…”

He stopped, coming to terms that the damage was already done.

“All of you get on my nerves,” he barked, walking away quickly. You hurried after him.

“Noritoshi,” you said after catching up with him, “I really like you. You’re exactly my type too.”

He studied your eyes for any sign of deceit, but he didn’t find any. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he let a small smile fall upon his lips.

“Maybe the brainless question was useful after all.”

Todo:

“Todo! What’s your type?” you asked the muscled man. He looked surprised at you speaking up, but immediately replaced that expression with a wide smile.

“You.”

You burst into laughter. “No, I’m being serious, Aoi. What kind of person are you into?”

“I am serious, you’re exactly my type. I think you’re really attractive.”

You were about to laugh again when you noticed he was being genuine.

“You’re not… joking?”

“You seriously didn’t know? You’re all he talks about or looks at,” said Noritoshi. “Even I’ve noticed that much.”

“So, what do you say?” Aoi addressed you with another smile. “You want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Yeah. That would be amazing,” you breathed out, still shocked at the outcome you weren’t expecting but would gladly accept.

Nanami:

“Nanami-sensei! What kind of person is your type?”

Todo’s loud voice made Kento stop abruptly in his tracks.

“I’m not a teacher so don’t address me as such,” he sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Secondly, that’s none of your business. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Nanamin!” Yuji exclaimed, blocking the exasperated man’s path. “It’s a harmless question! We just wanna know more about you.”

Kento observed the shining eyes of the children staring at him and he sighed again, this time more forcefully.

“My type is a person who is smart enough to stay far away from this troublesome group,” he grumbled, making a beeline for your laughing figure as you watched from afar.

“Not a fan of my students’ curiosity, Nanami-sensei?” you teased, causing him to groan.

“They’re much too nosy. I have no interest in delving into my love live with children.”

“How about with another adult, then?” you asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’d hardly call you an adult with the way you’re acting right now.”

“I’d be hurt if you weren’t right,” you replied. “C’mon, we trust each other. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Fine,” he relented, “but this isn’t how I pictured telling you. I was hoping for a more mature environment when confessing my romantic feelings towards you.”

You stood in shock at his sudden confession. You were joking with the man, not expecting him to come up with a real answer, but instead, he admitted he liked you.

“To make myself clear,” he said, noticing your lack of a reaction, “you’re my type.”

You stumbled over your words in your surprised state. “I… wow. I wasn’t expecting that.” You took in a deep breath to calm yourself. “That does make it a lot easier to say my type is overworked blondes named Kento.”

His lips quirked up into a hint of a smile. “You think I’m overworked?”

“I know you are.” You mustered up all your courage before continuing, asking, “How about you take some time off and join me for dinner later?”

Kento’s smile became much more prominent. “That was supposed to be my line, but that would be lovely nonetheless. I’ll pick you up at 7.”

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ GETTING OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

san x gn reader + mingi x gn reader (separated)

part 2 to ateez stuck in the friendzone! read that part so this makes sense

tw: slow burn + veeery dramatic + angst + fluff

a/n: both have the slowestttt slow burns in history of friends to lovers omg my heart did kinda break a little while writing them lol so keep in mind that both are VERY dramatic. maybe even cliche but honestly i just wrote what i, personally, enjoy reading. i’m just a girl in love with love 🥹

masterlist

SAN

san found himself attempting to hide his smile while you told him about your awful date from a few days ago. you were laying down with your head on his lap as san casually untangled strands of your hair, while you rambled on and on about the misfortunes he secretly thought were fortunes in disguise.

“who talks about their mother on the first date? like the whole time i mean, of course it’s okay to mention one or two things following the context of the conversation” you said, moving your hands dramatically to prove your point “but the whole time? i tried to switch the topic of the conversation towards work and can you believe he told me about what his mother does for a living before telling me what HE does for HIS?”

san couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh. you were so cute and he was so happy and relieved that the date had failed.

“he should go to therapy” he said, in between giggles. “right?! sigmund freud would have been thrilled to have him as a patient” you exclaimed, laughing too.

after a few moments of cracking jokes and laughing about the situation, you turned your head to face san. “so what about you?” you asked. he looked down at you, smile on his face still. “what about me?”

“have you gone on dates lately?” you asked. he threw his head back, shaking it slightly “with what time? i’m too busy with schedules” he answered, half lying. it’s true that he’s very busy with his idol duties, but he always managed to make time for you. he knows he could easily use up that time to go on dates, but for obvious reasons that you still were ignorant to, he didn’t. to you, he was just an introvert.

“but are you not interested in anyone?” you pushed, lifting your head and sitting up to face him properly. san chose to avoid your eyes, not trusting himself to keep his own secret. instead, he looked to the city on his right, suddenly finding the building architectures more interesting. he noticed that the air in the terrace got warmer too, and the concrete platform you were sitting on got harder. or was he the one that got warmer and stiffer? “no, i don’t think so” he lied, but you knew him enough to see through it. “liar, you’re blushing”

“well it is an intimate question” he answered, attempting to smile in order to play it off. you shook your head no “you blushed and your left eye twitched a bit. that was definitely a lie and as your best friend i want to know!” you exclaimed, grabbing his hands. if only you knew the effect you had on him.

when he came back from tour, he was determined to confess. but now that the perfect opportunity arose, he couldn’t open his mouth. questions and different negative scenarios plagued his mind, convincing him that maybe it was a bad idea. he much rather work on moving on than lose you as a friend.

“are they that special to you?” you asked, in a much quieter tone of voice, noticing his silence. he nodded, staring at your eyes, hoping you could notice the love they held whenever he looked at you. but despite his desperation, you didn’t. “they are very lucky then, you genuinely are amazing in every aspect sannie”. you continued, going back to your original place with your head on his lap, but still holding his hands. he kept staring at you, if only you knew.

“thank you” san managed to say.

———

“how fast can you come over to help me with something?” you asked san on the phone, as he exited the practice room. it was like the stars aligned, because he had just finished for the day. “i can come over right now, are you okay?” he asked, worried something may be wrong despite you sounding relatively okay. “i can’t pick an outfit and- shit my aunt his calling me, invite yourself in when you arrive, i’m in my room and you already know the lock number of the door” you said, before hanging up.

outfit for what?

———

so that’s how san found himself sitting on your bed on a friday night, numerous pieces of clothing scattered all over without care. he scrolled through some unread messages while he waited for you to try on a different outfit for your new date. yes, new date. as if his heart haven’t just healed from last time.

“i matched with someone on this app and they immediately invited me on a date so now i’m having a fashion crisis” you had explained to him as soon as he entered your room. why was it so hard for you to realize that your dates have been failing for a reason?

you appeared once again, now wearing an outfit that honestly took san’s breath away as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. it was nothing too extravagant, actually, it was rather simple, but it was enough to make san’s head spiral. specially when you twirled around to show the outfit from the back, since your shirt had an open back.

“so? what do we think?” you asked, eyes filled with hope.

san was conflicted: he was 100% sure he has never seen anyone look more beautiful, more dashing, more perfect. but, it wasn’t for him. he didn’t want anyone else to look at you like that, they would never come remotely close to the way he feels about you.

“san-?” you started to ask after a few seconds of silence, but got interrupted by him: “don’t go on that date”

you looked at him confused, as he stared back with the same surprised face. that really had slipped from his lips before he realized what he was saying. you fucked up big time san, he thought to himself.

“why? do i really look that bad?” you asked, turning around to face the mirror in order to examine your body and face. he noticed the way your eyes dimmed, as you carefully traced your eyes over your figure, finding little imperfections that made your face turn into a sad frown. san felt his own heart shatter at the sight, and before he knew, he stood up and quickly hugged you from behind, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“sannie?” you asked, startled by his sudden action and making you momentarily forget about the insecurities that started flooding your mind. you looked at him through the mirror: even if he was leaning down on you, he was still much wider, making you feel very small in his arms. unconsciously, you lifted your hand and patted his hair. san lifted his head, looking at you through the mirror as well, and your eyes interlocked.

“you’re perfect y/n” he whispered. “i’m sorry if i gave you the wrong idea, you look beautiful and your date is very lucky”. he was trying to be supportive, but traces of sadness and desperation were evident in his face. enough for you to notice. you turned around, and the same hand that was patting his head went down to his cheek, holding him in place to look at you.

“what’s wrong san?” you asked, softly. your thumb traced comforting circles on his cheek, and you could feel his arms tighten around you as he closed his eyes.

“go on that date” he whispered in a shaky voice, before adding “you look beautiful”.

you stared at him confused for a few moments, not really knowing what to say. then, he kissed your forehead and, with the little bit of strenght he had left in him, unwrapped his arms, stepping back. he grabbed his jacket and went to the door, but not before shooting you another sad look and saying “like i said, your date is very lucky”.

he left, heart in his hands, slowly breaking with each step.

you cancelled the date.

———

san couldn’t sleep that night, he kept tossing and turning as his mind wandered about what you were doing with your date. were you still having dinner? no, probably not since it’s like 2 am. maybe it went so well that you invited them over for coffee at your place, something that will probably lead to something else. something he didn’t even want to imagine, since it wasn’t him committing those sins.

maybe it was time to move on, after all. he wants you to be happy, truly, so if your happiness doesn’t include him, then he should at least be supportive. and in order to do that from the bottom of his heart, he should move-

*knock knock knock* he heard, coming from the door. he decided to ignore it, thinking that it was probably mingi, so he turned around and closed his eyes, pretending he was asleep.

“maybe he’s asleep, i should come back tomorrow but thank you soenghwa” he heard you say from behind the door. he never got out of bed faster, as he sprinted to the door and opened it widely.

there you stood, now dressed in a familiar oversized shirt and baggy pants. completely different from the outfit he last saw you on, but to him you still looked beautiful. you looked at him with wide eyes, as seonghwa smirked next to you.

“i’ll leave you alone” he said, before he made his way to his room and shut the door behind him.

you stood there awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. you came here with a question, but now that you had san right in front of you, thoughts were scattered all over your mind and you couldn’t say a word.

“come in” he said, sensing your internal dilemma. you nodded in response, as you entered and made your way to his unmade bed.

“did i wake you up?” you asked. san shut the door and shook his head “actually i couldn’t sleep”

“me neither” you said in a low voice.

“how was your date?” he asked, unsure of what to say. he sat next to you on the bed, looking at you while trying to decipher your expression. you turned your head to san’s bedside table, finding the small plushie you once gifted him randomly. you smiled. “i cancelled it”

“what? why?!” he asked, with surprised wide eyes. you turned back to him. “i suddenly didn’t want to go, that’s it really. so while i was tidying up my room i found this shirt” you said, fiddling with the ends of the shirt that looked a little too big on you “the one you once lent me after we got stuck in the rain that one time. i told you i would wash it and give it back, but i didn’t. why didn’t i give it back to you?”

san stared at you in silence.

“so i realized it still had your perfume, and before i knew it, i had put it on. then i started thinking about you, about us. you’re my best friend, you know? but as i was laying down on my bed, i was thinking: what if you were not? what if my dates always failed for a reason?” you continued, as your fingers reached for his. “what if the reason they always failed was because i always searched you in them? so again, before i realized i was standing in front of your apartment, but with one question in my mind”

san could feel his heart beat increase and his breath shorten.

“what will happen to us and our friendship if i told you how i feel? how i think i always felt even if i didn’t know it?” you asked, looking at him scared.

“you’re dumb” he said, loud enough for only you to hear. that didn’t surprise you, what did was the way he immediately let go of your hand in order to hug you close, bringing you closer to his body. “what will happen? how would i feel? y/n you’re dumb because that’s how i’ve been feeling for a long time now” he said, hands leaving your waist and craddling your face. san stared at you, and now you realized that his eyes looked different: they held love in them. something you always searched on random people in dating apps, yet were never able to find. instead, it has been right in front of you this whole time.

“i love you” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. finally, he thought. he finally said the words he has been keeping locked deeply inside him for years. you smiled, as your nose touched his. “i love you too, i’m sorry i just realized”

maybe it was time to give you the silver necklace he bought you on tour, since now the timing was right.

MINGI

mingi missed you, a lot. he hadn’t heard from you since you stormed out of his house a week and a half ago. he had left you a couple of texts apologizing, and even attempted calling you, but to no avail. you had disappeared, and he didn’t blame you, he was stupid enough to let you go. in fact, that’s the thing he regretted the most about the fight: not chasing after you.

so he did what he knew best: he took his misery and transformed it into work, to be precise, he wrote three songs, all about his feelings, the situation in itself and you.

three different scenarios that made him hear yunho’s voice calling him dramatic in his mind. to be honest, he knew he was being a little dramatic about the situation. he knew that you probably just needed time to cool down, and that if his apology was good enough you would forgive him in a heart beat, because, in the end, he knew you loved him. maybe not in the way he wished for, but you loved him nonetheless.

mingi stared at the ceiling in silence, wondering what were you doing while he layed on his bed feeling miserable. did you miss him too? were you also thinking about him? he was certain of one thing only: he wanted to see you. it didn’t matter to him if you opened the door or not, he needed to at least hear your voice through the door.

he checked the time: 11:47 pm, almost midnight. fuck it, he thought. he stood up and quickly got dressed in a speed record time, tied up his shoes and grabbed his keys and song notebook in the process. by 11:55 pm he was already closing the door of his car.

as mingi started driving, questions also started flooding his mind: will you hate him if he suddenly showed up? what if you had invited someone over? shouldn’t he have discussed this with one of his friends first just in case?

questions, questions, questions.

no answers.

soon enough, he found himself standing in front of your apartment door. he could easily ring the door bell, knock on the door or simply use the spare key you gave him once for emergencies. yet, he was unable to do any, frozen in place as he mentally debated on what to do.

mingi decided to do something odd, something he would have probably laughed at if he saw it in one of the movies you usually forced him to watch with you: he took out his pen and notebook, ripped off one of the pages and wrote on it. then, he slid it under the door and left.

“i’ll tell you everything -m”

———

you have always been a hopeless romantic, mingi knew that perfectly well. you believed in happy endings, and that love and friendship can win over everything. so why hasn’t he heard from you still? did you not get the note? should he leave another one? no, that would be too pushy, it was only two days ago.

questions, questions, questions.

still no answers.

mingi was sulking again, and honestly it started to worry seonghwa and san, who watched as he walked back to his room right after dinner, without saying a word during the whole night. honestly, he was just too lost in his thoughts. their pair exchanged a look, before following him.

“mingi, hold up, everything okay? you’re more… distracted than usual” seonghwa said, carefully choosing his words. mingi hummed in response, nodding as he stopped in his tracks. “yeah, there’s just a lot in my head” he answered, not looking at his friends. “let us hear it then” san said, patting his back and leading them towards the living room.

the trio sat down on the sofa they had bought a few months ago, the one you had scolded them about because it seemed very expensive and too hard to clean. they had all laughed, but soon enough realized you were right when mingi spilled a bit of sauce on it. the stain was still there.

“so? what’s wrong?” seonghwa asked once they all got comfortable. mingi sighed, looking down before he started spilling everything that had happened, from two weeks ago until now. he noticed the eldest nodding along the story, but neither of them said anything until he finished.

“when exactly did you leave this note?” san asked, fidgeting with his bracelet. “two days ago” mingi answered. san’s eyes went wide, as he muttered a small fuck before he sprinted towards the kitchen. seonghwa and mingi exchanged a look, both equally confused at their friend’s actions. after a few moments and very weird sounds that came from the kitchen, san appeared again, with a crumbled up yellow post it in his hand. he handed it to mingi.

“the hell is this? it has food stains san, gross” mingi said with a disgusted face as he barely touched the paper. “open it, i found it this morning” san said, sitting down next to him again. mingi gave his friends a strange look, before carefully opening the crumbled up piece of paper. as he read, his eyes widened in surprise.

“what time is it?!” he exclaimed. “9 pm” seonghwa answered, checking the time in his phone. mingi muttered a small fuck, before putting his shoes on, and grabbing his bag.

“i’ll be back in a while” he said, before shutting the door behind him.

seonghwa looked at san, confused. “what the hell did the paper say?” he asked. san picked it up from the floor and showed it to him:

“8 pm, our special place”.

the hand writing was yours.

———

mingi was almost sure he broke one or two speeding laws on his way to the park where he hoped you were still waiting at. he cursed san for not telling him sooner, even if he knew it wasn’t really his fault to begin with. the park wasn’t far from his apartment though, just a short 10 minute drive. as cliche as it sounds, it was the park were you both met.

at that time, around 6 years ago or so, his mind revolved around perfection, hard work, pressure, debut. so he would succumb to overwhelming feelings pretty often, that forced him to need some time alone. that’s how he found a park nearby, and specifically, one peculiar tree that caught his attention for some reason. he used to sit down under it, notebook on his lap and pen between his fingers, as he scribbled down some random thoughts that plagued his mind during hard moments. he didn’t really plan to turn his words into songs yet, it was just his way to deal with stress. he used to find these little moments very special: it was like he was reconnecting with his inner, truer self, and not the mean facade he wore in front of his soon to be members. yeah, some of them irked him, like that wooyoung guy, but he didn’t mean to be that rude all the time. so, to escape the constant pressure kq fellaz was facing in between the company walls, he found solace in a park, but specifically, he found solace under that tree.

he could remember the day he met you like it was yesterday. he remembers all the stress he was feeling, debut date coming closer and closer. everyone was on edge, from the members to the staff. he had also recently come back from morocco after successfully shooting his first music video! but he couldn’t deny it: as much as he was excited, he was already feeling a little tired. he needed some alone time, just himself with his thoughts. so he found himself walking towards his favorite spot in the park.

only to find you there, sitting down under the tree. his tree to be precise. and you were writing on a pink notebook with a fluffy pen. mingi felt like he was looking at a reflection of himself, but instead of being comforted by it, he felt annoyed. it was HIS tree after all!

“excuse me, this is my spot” he said, coming into your field of vision. you looked up to him, pausing your hand and taking an earphone off. “excuse me?”

“this is my spot” he reiterated, making you chuckle slightly. “the tree you mean? does it have your name or something?” you asked, finding the situation hilarious. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, why did nothing go his way?! “listen, i had a shitty day and i need to sit there for a while, so can you leave?”

“no, i got here first. plus there are tons of other trees here, it’s a park after all” you said, putting your earphone back on and turning your gaze to your notebook. he stayed still in his place in front of you, making you huff in annoyance at his persistence. “look dude, i am not going to move. you can either sit on the opposite side or leave, i don’t care but stop bothering me” you continued.

mingi really really reaaaally needed to be at his safe place, too overwhelmed to funcion rationally, so he rolled his eyes and sat on the opposite side of the tree.

that’s how the story started: at opposite sides of the tree. soon enough it got replaced by sitting nearby, and eventually next to each other. some times you would even bring snacks to share in silence, as you both wrote down your thoughts on your respective notebooks. once he debuted, he broke the silence for the first time, urging you to listen to his song. after that, you started talking more, about music, shows, your respective jobs and life in itself. the safe place you both found under the tree, was also found in each other, quickly realizing you often shared the same thoughts and views about the world.

the story started under a tree, and he hoped it wouldn’t end there too. he needed you to be there, because he wasn’t ready to lose not only his best friend, but also his safe place. even the tree would become stained from the pain. and he would have nothing left, just questions, questions, and more questions about different what ifs.

you weren’t there.

but mingi wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. he started running towards the direction of your apartment, forgetting that he had parked the car on the opposite direction. his legs were aching, and he felt like he was a bit out of breath, despite all the idol training he has been enduring for six years. but he kept running.

until he spot you in the distance.

“y/n!” he yelled. he saw you stop in your tracks and turn around to his direction, confused at the sudden call of your name. once you spotted him running towards you, you sprinted to him.

his body collapsed against yours, as he hugged you tightly, like you would disappear if he let you go. mingi hid his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his back. you could hear his quick heart beat from how close he held you, and you were sure he could hear yours too.

after a while, mingi lifted his head from your neck, and looked at you. “why are you crying?” he asked, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “i thought you wouldn’t come, why are you crying mingi?” you asked, repeating his own actions, but on his cheeks. he giggled, he didn’t even realize he was crying. “i thought i lost you” he said, truthfully.

the park was dark, the only lights came from street lights. so, for outsiders, you probably looked like a random couple having a dramatic moment. definitely not mingi from idol group ateez and his best friend y/n reconciliating.

“i’m sorry” he whispered, locking his eyes with yours. they still held tears, that threatened to spill depending on your answer. you shook your head “no, i’m sorry mings, i shouldn’t have walked away like that. plus i didn't even give you a chance to explain”.

“i’m sorry for not showing you the songs, for not chasing you, and for being too much of a coward to not face you directly” he apologized. you hugged him again, shushing him. “i shouldn’t have pressured you to show me, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do”

mingi looked at you again, and bit his lip. “can i still show you though?”

“it’s not necessary, mingi, it’s fine real-“ you started saying before he interrupted you, taking your hand and leading you towards the same old place from before. “i want to” he said, determined.

you let him whisk you away.

———

back at the peculiar tree that was iluminated enough by a street lamp a few meters away, he sat you down at your usual spot. he sat down beside you, as he pulled out his notebook from his bag. mingi gave it to you.

“mingi, this really isn’t necessary-“ you started saying once again. “please” he interrupted, with pleading eyes. so you took his notebook and opened it on the first page. you already read that song, it was the first one he ever wrote a long while back. “read the last ones”

you turned the pages, until you found them. mingi looked at you nervously, starting to feel fidgety at the thought of you realizing his deepest secret, the only one he hid from you. he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him. he scanned your face, puffy eyes filling with tears once again as realization hit you. you turned your gaze back to him with wide, surprised eyes.

“mingi- what? wait, hold on” you stammered, as tears fell from your eyes. you quickly set his notebook aside to grab your own bag, taking out your new pink notebook, your diary. you handed it to him, saying: “open it on august 5th”

he stared at you confused, and slightly unsure too, since you’ve always been pretty secretive about what you wrote there. he found the page and read:

“august 5th.

so i realized something, that i’m almost too afraid to write even here. i’m scared that if i admit it, i’ll have to face a sad reality. i think i’m in love with my best friend, isn’t that stupid? that’s how i feel, at least. i haven’t seen him in a while because of his work, and i feel like i’m slowly losing my mind. why do i only feel complete when he’s with me? scratch that, why am i even writing this?

anyways, i’ll probably die with the secret”

“now turn to september 16th” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“september 16th.

i’m in love with my best friend. i love mingi. how insane is that? and how stupid? he is my best friend, for god’s sake. but i can’t help the way i feel, specially when he’s so annoyingly observant. like for example, the other day he noticed my pen was dying, so today he surprised me with a new fluffy pink pen. i hate him for making my heart swell at such gestures. specially because i know I KNOW that’s what best friends do.

anyways i’m not gonna use his pen because i decided i’m going to preserve it forever”

“and now, tun to november 10th” you muttered. mingi realized it was yesterday’s date.

“november 10th.

i still love him. and i fucked up. but i’m still in love with him”

he closed your notebook, turning towards you. he found you with your face on your knees, as you hugged your legs, too embarrassed to face him, despite now knowing his feelings. he loves you too, with the same devotion, with the same desperation and intensity. mingi loves you, his best friend.

“look at me, y/n” he whispered. you slowly lifted your head, hesitantly looking at him. the way you both looked at each other held more intimacy than ever. mingi slowly reached for you, bringing your face closer to his. his hold was shaky, almost unsure, this was a whole new territory. he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“i love you” he admitted.

too many questions, that finally got an answer.

“i love you too” you whispered.

taglist: @yoongles2025 @reallychaoticwoo

(to be added please let me know)

[natlovesls2]

Hand Warmers

Lando x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: swearing, mentions of boobs and touching them, super short, no use of y/n, I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), images used are not mine as are from pinterest, possible grammatical errors (its late and I have brain rot from little sleep)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 0.6k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: its cold and Landos hands need to be warmed

.ೃ࿐request: Can you do a lando x reader

where reader doesn’t want to let go of his hand but she need to open something with both (or whatever you can think of) and she put his hand on top of her boob and something like that ??

Please if you have the time

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: Feel free to let me know if something is wrong or weird. Also feel free to request something

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘

Lando had been holding your hand hostage the whole day, refusing to let go despite the inconvenience. As the day progressed, his hold on your hand tightened. It was impossible to escape his hold, even as you ate your lunch, having to beg to be let go to use the bathroom. His only excuse was the freezing temperature, claiming that your hands were warmer than his and you had to help him warm up.

⊹˚₊‧─────────‧₊˚⊹˚₊‧─────────‧₊˚⊹

The cold winter weather had taken over your apartment despite having closed the door immediately after waking in. It was more frigid than the average year, and the abundance of layers did nothing to keep you warm as you lay on the couch cuddled with your boyfriend. “I think we should turn the heater on.”

“I don’t want to get up; this is comfortable, plus your hands are warm,” Lando grumbled into the side of your neck, pulling you closer to himself to prevent you from leaving. 

“Don’t."

“What? I’m not doing anything. We can warm each other up. I don’t want to let you go,” his hold on your hands tightened, placing a few kisses on your neck, snuggling closer to you.

While Lando had always been clingy, more so during the cold winter days, this was a new extreme. His cold hands firmly gripped your own, a continued desperate attempt to keep you from leaving his side. "I promise to come back once the heater is turned on."

"Promise?"

"Pinky promise," you reassure him, feeling his grip loosen, and finally, you break free. You could feel his eyes on you, closely watching as you walked to the heater and turned it on. He was skeptical about the promise you had made. The way his eyes followed your every move proved that. 

"You're taking too long," he complained, voice whiny as he sat up in his spot, grabby hands reaching out in your direction. The slower you walked back to him, the more childlike he became. His pout only increased as he realized you were purposefully taking your time.

"You're being mean," he continued to whine, only stopping when you finally sat next to him again, hands immediately grabbing your own. He briefly let go of your hand to turn on the television, quickly grabbing and kissing them. 

"Don't you think you've held my hand enough?"

"No, I think I've held your hand for too little," he says, slightly pouting again, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your lips. This was always his tactic for getting what he wanted. The constant pouting and occasional kisses were well-known to you. It was almost expected from him, especially when things weren't going exactly the way he wanted them to. 

"Let go, Lando," you said, refusing to fall victim to his ploy– knowing that if you allowed him to get away with this, he would only use it against you. 

"Noooo," he said, voice high and whiny, squeezing your hand tighter, peppering your face with kisses, gently stroking your hands. 

"It's getting warmer in here," you struggle against him, letting out a sigh of relief as he finally lets go of your hands. This was a victory in your eyes, though you knew it would be a short-lived victory– Lando being a very persistent person. 

"I'm still cold," he says after a few minutes, resting his hand on your waist. 

“You’re annoying,” you say, moving his hands under your shirt and placing them on your breasts, shivering at the freezing touch, “You're fucking freezing.”

“Yeah, but I'm definitely getting warmer,” he gently squeezes your boobs, stealing their warmth for himself. 

"At my expense," you say, your body beginning to relax as Lando's hands warmed themselves between your breasts and bra. 

"You're the one who offered," he continues to softly but firmly massage and squeeze them, "I think these might be the best hand warmers."

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[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Three

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Series Masterlist

It all happened so fast. Max grabbed a hold of Charles and pulled him away from you, as your handler grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you away. A good thing, too. Your teeth were bared at him, ready to bite down on any inch of skin you could reach.

The muzzle was fastened over your mouth, keeping every body else safe from you. "Huh," Charles said as he struggled out of Max's grip. He looked at you, at the way your expression changed the minute the muzzle was back over your face. Eyes wide, expression guilty as you stared at him.

I'm sorry, you wanted to choke out. But you couldn't. Instead a whimper left your lips as you tried to beg for some sort of forgiveness. But Max (Max fucking Verstappen! But you could freak out about that later) stepped between you. The look he gave you was enough to shut you up.

"Come on," said your handler as she pushed you through the garage. You couldn't stop yourself from looking guilty as engineers and mechanics stared at you. They'd seen what had just happened, there was no doubt in your mind. Your gaze fell to the floor, unable to look any of them in the mind.

There was your car, your F1 car. Your status as reserve driver had been kept quiet, your seat fitted and the car set up to your liking. Your number sat on the car, number fifty-three. It was real. It was really, really real.

They were still watching you. They watched as you touched the numbers on your car, as you climbed your way inside of it and sat in your seat.

"How does it feel?" Your handler asked, leaning over the halo.

You nodded as you looked up at her. Good. It felt good. It felt right. As soon as this part of your life was over, you could finally be done.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Max pushed Charles through the garage. Through the garage and out the other side. Your focus fell back onto the steering wheel in front of you and you mimicked a lap around the circuit.

You didn't know that Max was pushing Charles into his drivers room. You didn't know just how angry he was with Charles. But you did hear as Max slammed the door shut.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Max roared, his expression furious.

Charles didn't cower at his anger. They were long past the days where Max's wrath would have his retreating to safety. "You saw her, right?" He asked and glanced at the door. "You saw how much she needs me."

"Needs you? Charlie, she went to attack you! She doesn't need you."

But Charles shook his head. "She needs me in the way you needed me, Max. She's what you would have become if you didn't let me in."

"She's dangerous."

Charles's hands were on his cheeks, holding his face. "So were you." He didn't let Max drop his chin to his chest and kissed him slowly. "What if I can help her in the way I helped you? Shouldn't I try?"

Max placed his hands over Charles's. His cold hands, cold from the can of Red Bull he had finished before he marched over, against Charles's warmer ones. "Not if it puts you in danger," he whispered, his eyes pleading. "Charles, I..."

But he couldn't say it.

"Come on," Charles said and let his hands slip away from Charles's face. "I can't top your speed in practice if you're sulking in here," he whispered and kissed Max once more.

As they walked back through the garage (Max continuing on to the Red Bull garage), there you were. Your helmet, Ferrari red and covered in sponsors, nothing personal about it, sat on your head. Acting as a muzzle, Charles realised when he looked at you.

His leg jolted, but he stopped himself from walking over to you. No, not yet. Not after what had just happened. He gave you a smile and you flipped up the visor, letting him see your eyes.

Charles got himself ready to climb into the car. All the time he wasn't wearing his helmet, he was looking at you, watching you. You, in your fireproofs, with your overalls around your hips. It suited you, everything but the helmet. The helmet looked too corporate.

You needed something personal, a design all your own.

"Tell me how she does," Charles said to Bryan before he pulled his helmet over his head.

Bryan passed him his gloves. "You worry about your own drive, okay?" He said and Charles focused his eyes forward.

Formula One was nothing like Formula Two. Everybody on the grid had forgotten it, even if they had all been in the series at some point. Most before it was called Formula Two, back when it was GP2.

There had been little preparation for your transition into Formula One. It wasn't supposed to happen yet, you were supposed to have more time. But then Carlos went and broke his damn leg and here you were.

If only he wasn't human, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation.

Your first lap was, well, terrifying. More than once you wanted to stop the car, jump out and dry heave onto the gravel. Nothing would come up, that you knew. But you kept going, keeping out of the way when the McLaren's came past.

First practice isn't about being the fastest, you told yourself.

"Next lap go," your engineer said, as if you were a dog he had taught a trick to. You gritted your teeth as you took the last corner. And then, you went for it.

It wasn't about topping the times, about being the fastest on track. It wouldn't be for you this weekend, anyway. This weekend was about getting a feel for the car you'd spend the next few weeks in. It was about bringing the car back to the garage in one piece. You didn't need to worry about scoring points or helping the team in the constructors, not this week.

But that was all you were thinking about.

Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points.

The lap felt good. Not fast, but good. But that wasn't enough, not for you. Your engineer said something, something that was met with a snarl as you went again.

"Come into the pits on this lap!" Your engineer was shouting. "Box fucking box!"

Box box. You knew that phrase, even when you weren't thinking right. But the lap was good. You couldn't abandon it, not now. "Box box, beastie."

Slamming on the brakes, you swerved into the pitlane. A dangerous move, one that would definitely see you penalised. You pitted and the car was pushed back into the garage.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Your engineer roared as he marched over to you. He gripped the halo are he stared down at you.

You were still, chest heaving as you waited to be told what to do. Waiting for your handler to come over and give you instructions. Eyes set forward, watching as Charles pulled into the pit. He wasn't there for very long, a minute at most, before he was making his way back onto the track.

"Beastie," your handler said, grabbing your attention. You looked up. Well, looked up as much as you could in the car. "Listen to your engineer. No more driving like that, okay?"

She said it so gently that you found yourself attempting to nod. Just wanting to make her happy, to make her proud of you. Her hand was suddenly on top of your helmet. "You know what happens if you disobey."

Your eyes were still focused forward and you nodded again. You weren't going to disobey again. You wouldn't dare.

When she patted your helmet, you shut your eyes. That was close to what would happen, close enough to have you moving away.

"Get back out there," she said and moved away from you. You drove out of the garage, down the pitlane and out onto the track.

You did what your engineer told you. Did a push lap when you were told and cooled down when you had to. Of course, you didn't see the wave Charles gave you when you went past, couldn't hear as he asked about you on the radio.

"How is she doing?" He asked Bryan.

"She's doing good, Charles, but concentrate on your own drive, please."

You were doing good, that was all Charles needed to know.

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@hollie911

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@raizelchrysanderoctavius

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[chewnotchoke]

in the warmth of your touch,

— boynextdoor with a s/o who feels cold

requested by anon <3 idk if a similar fic was written prior to this but pls do let me know if there is

comments are highly appreciated! also been a while since i last posted so i hope u enjoy this one!

sungho

𓍯 it was your first time sharing a bed with sungho. you snuggle into yourself, but you still feel an icy breeze along your back, and the room is colder than you anticipated. you know every inch between you and sungho, who is laying only on the opposite side, so you don't want to move too much.

it's not quite enough to have a blanket drawn firmly around your shoulders. you wonder whether he feels the same hesitancy because he hasn't said anything yet, likely in an attempt to settle in. but before you can say anything, you feel his arm extend and his touch lightly rest on your shoulder.

“i think it’ll drive me crazy if i’m not closer than this to you.” sungho says close to your ear. the softness of the moment, the way his hand rests on your arm, and the silent comfort in the gap between you are all that's left. under a blanket that is too tiny, the two of you are feeling warmer than ever.

riwoo

𓍯 maybe going on a walk on a cold night was a bad idea. you didn’t bring any sweater with you to warm you up, and your clothes were almost thin. the breeze was crisp and unexpected on an april night. worse, you were walking side by side with riwoo.

“you look cold. do you want my jacket?”

you declined, knowing it would be bad for him if he tries to make you warm. it’s been a while since you started dating but you still couldn’t help but get shy around him. his kindness makes you fluster, only because you like him that much. he noticed how you kept trying to bring your arms closer to your body to summon any warmth left.

before you knew it, like an embrace, his jacket was enveloped around your shoulders. the wind made it easier to smell his scent on the fabric. from behind, riwoo then wrapped his arms on your shoulders as he draws you closer to him.

“we could stay like this longer if you want.”

and both of you were giggling because he didn’t want to let go of you while walking. flirtatious glances accompanied every step, and your breath was audible in the cold air, fitting in with the playful conversation that seemed to revolve around you two.

jaehyun

𓍯 would be the type to make cheesy comments because he's actually shy about holding your hand and his cheeks are tinted with a faint blush. "you know you don't need to buy hand warmers because you already have me, right?" he says. your fingers are intertwined with each other and he adds, "other people can't find a hand warmer like me!" he grins. you'd laugh at his remark and say "so you're like my personal hand warmer then?"

"yeah, i'm yours only." both of you would laugh at each other's cheesy comments, warming up your hand even more like how much his laugh and smile warms up your heart. he loves playing with your hand, and makes more comments to conceal his shyness.

he doesn't tell you he likes it when you feel colder because then it's his chance to hold you closer to him. he'd ask you if your body feels cold too so you could snuggle together and wrap his arms around your waist.

taesan

𓍯 taesan gets more flirty because he loves the feel of your touch when you use his face to warm up your hands. on a study date you had with him, he reached out to your hands and noticed they were cold.

“can i make use of that pretty face to warm me up?” you asked, a smile crept onto his face. he was holding your hand and slowly bringing it to his face. you couldn't resist grinning as your palm touched taesan’s cheek and the warmth that radiated from him seemed like a soft sunshine.

taesan wasn't finished yet, though. he closed his eyes for a second, perhaps enjoying the sensation as he leaned into your contact and pushed your hand closer.

with a low voice, he whispered, "you don't realize how good this feels."

you move a few strand of his hair away from his face asking, “like it that much?” he opens his eyes to meet yours before replying “i love it so much i could fall asleep like this.”

leehan

𓍯 at a cafe, you were staying with your boyfriend leehan for food. "baby, it's getting a little colder here." you were slightly shivering from the breeze of the air conditioner despite being wrapped with a long-sleeved shirt and thick denim pants. leehan watches you while you barely couldn't smile from the cold freezing air.

"i told you to order something hot like coffee." leehan holds both of your shoulders, making you face him. he starts rubbing his palms in an exaggerated motion, trying to summon warmth.

he leans in as he cups your face with his hands, warm like a furnace as it dissolves the chill settled on your cheeks. being the playful guy that he is, he lightly squeezed your face, filling his expression with a teasing laugh. "better?" he grins.

"stop making fun of me."

"it's okay, you're cute."

woonhak

𓍯 woonhak would be the type to take your hand and put it inside his pocket. woonhak slowly pulls your hands apart as his fingers discover yours. he silently puts your hands in his coat pockets while keeping his own hands firmly in place. with his thumb making soft circles on your skin, he occasionally squeezes your hand. the subtlety of it makes you wonder if he even recognizes what he's doing.

a grin forms in your face, realizing how bold he is but his pink cheeks were still visible. he doesn’t let go, not even when you finally stop shivering.

there's a pleasant, familiar smell of his cologne that hovers between you. now that he's near enough, you can feel his soft breath and his presence enveloping you like an invisible blanket. the gentle curve of woonhak’s lips and the faint flush on his cheeks that intensifies when he knows you're observing him are visible when you dare to look up.

���like it so bad when i hold your hand like this you can’t even stop looking at me, huh?” he teases you

[zhongrin]

caution: these toys aren’t kids-friendly

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, wriothesley, al haitham, kaeya

◇ tags ◇ minors dni, afab!reader, fem!reader, toys (duh), improper use of geo (thanks crys), dragon!li (because..... are you even surprised?), edging (zhongli, wriothesley), 'little one' used (zhongli), handcuffs & collar (wriothesley), 'puppy' and 'slut' used (wriothesley), shibari (al haitham), sex machine (kaeya)

◇ a/n ◇ an offering before wrio's banner drops. was debating on releasing this today or the end of this week, but..... wrio come home please i am begging

𝑚𝑎����𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡��𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

the addition of toys in your bedroom was something you both had discussed beforehand. typical of zhongli, to draft a contract detailing all the things you were both comfortable and not comfortable doing in the bedroom, right after you mentioned that you were ready to be physically intimate with him.

you really should have read the fine print in that contract carefully.

“- my love?”

“h-huh?”

you dazedly looked up at your husband, feeling your already-warm cheeks getting warmer at the expectant look that he and another man were giving you.

was he talking to you? what was the question? where the hell were you again?

“hm, my apologies, it seems like my wife isn’t feeling well. perhaps we will revisit your establishment at a later date, mr. curator. i truly do apologize for the inconvenience.”

you were not even sure what the other party said. all you could hear was the smooth baritone of your husband’s voice. all you could think was how good he could make you feel with that eloquently speaking mouth and lithe tongue of his, those long slender fingers, the two girthy, veiny, deliciously ridged shape of his-

that same voice was now whispering just slightly above your ears, and to others it must have looked like you were both a very loving couple; a husband hunched over his wife, supporting her and bringing her to the nearest shade in this hot weather while lovingly murmuring sweet nothings into her ears - because what else would the gentlemanly mr. zhongli whisper into his dearest spouse?

literal filth, that’s what.

“my my, the amount of slick running down your thighs, darling,” he chuckled as he let you rest against the cooling shades by the side of a building, his gloved fingers trailing up your inner thigh behind your skirt to gather the essence of your drooling cunt, “how scandalous. had i were just a second too late, people would have noticed the suspicious trail of wetness on your leg despite the lack of rain or anything of sort-”

“want you,” you babbled, brain stuffed full of cotton as you tried to press yourself against him, “n-not enough, want more!!”

“was the toy i personally created just for you not enough, hmm? how greedy,” he was fully taunting you now, amused by the sparks of arousal in your voice and in the short bursts of your breathing, “didn’t you say you could wait until we get home, dear? i’m afraid our abode isn’t some decrepit back alley, now, is it?”

“no, no, now, now,” you whimpered like a saddened puppy, trying to grind on his thigh, the soft vibration of the little geo construct within your walls providing pleasure which made your insides clench, but they fell short of pushing you over that precipice.

“you’re so impatient.”

you gasped as the object inside you suddenly whirred into life, pressing against the right spots and pulsing with a powerful energy you couldn't describe. your cunt clamped around it, more slick pouring down and dripping onto zhongli’s slacks, your cries muffled by your lover who had locked his lips onto yours, tongue inviting you to a sensual dance as your senses were drowning in mind-bending pleasure. his scent engulfed you and the tender fondles of his hand on your thigh contrasted with the passionate kiss you shared, and all you could think was how much better it would feel to have him inside you - oh, even just one of his cocks would do at this point. anything that could fill you up so nicely and bully onto your sweetest spots as your husband’s growls echo right beside your ear - as he marked, mated, and bred you full of his-

and then suddenly he pulled away, shattering your daydream completely. the vibrations returned into an annoying hum, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes as zhongli fixed his tie and your rumpled clothes, his touch sending electric jolts whenever it brushed against your heated bare skin. he gave you a deceivingly kind and patient smile, amber eyes drooping in dark lust yet his movements were as refined as ever.

“come on then, little one. let us go home so i can take care of you properly, yes?”

wriothesley hummed as the metals clicked into place. the view before him was making his cock twitch and throb; the way your face was smushed against the pillow, the dip of your bare back and the roundness of your rear, the way your legs spread open and wrists cuffed with his signature handcuffs… and most of all, your bare cunt in all its drooling mess, completely exposed to him as he rubbed his leaking tip on the sodden slit.

whines and pleas and begs escaped your lips but he paid them no mind. you gave him full control when you agreed to be restrained in this position with the new cuffs he had gotten you. the leather looked ethereal against your wrists, and the way it matched so well with the collar on your neck, embellished with his insignia? truly the most divine sight.

the pleased noise escaping his throat was akin to a growl as he slowly pushed into your heat, his smirk widening as he felt you tighten and tremble. the slow drag of his girth against your walls was driving you insane, but the man refused to acknowledge your desperate ‘more’s. instead, his hand crawled down your stomach from behind, and you felt a cold finger press onto your swollen, burning-hot clit, ripping a surprised and needy squeal from you.

the appendage circled slowly, the cold of cryo making his action feel even more pronounced, as the blunt tip of his shaft slowly kissed the deepest part of you with sensual and rough snaps of his hips. the wet sounds coming from the minimal movements were a testament to how aroused and desperate you were for release.

“look at you, puppy… so wet you’re leaking. how dirty,” he drawled as he continued to stimulate both of your sensitivity, watching intently as your ass and thighs rippled with how your body shook and from his hard but short thrusts, “you feel so good, though… i can fuck this tight pussy for hours on end. would you like that, puppy? will that finally satiate my needy little slut? will you finally learn to behave when you’re so overstimulated, all you can do is cry for my cock and beg for my cum?”

the duke smirked when your cunt clenched at his words. even without seeing how you were nodding frantically, it was enough of an answer to him.

“guess we’ll have to find out… but don’t worry - i don’t expect you to learn your lesson in one session.”

‘it’s not like you’re losing anything by doing this’ he said. ‘shouldn’t take that long’ he said. ‘just enough to sate my curiosity’ he said.

well, firstly, al haitham was, as always, correct. but apparently he was also a liar, and you had severely underestimated the curiosity of an esteemed scholar of one of the akademiya’s bests. maybe you should start paying attention to the books he read. how in the world had you failed to notice that your boyfriend had been reading books upon books regarding the art of shibari?

and of course, like the scholar that he was, he wished to do some 'hands-on practice' now that he had committed the theory to heart. and who would be a better partner than you? a personal curiosity should be sated by personally trusted individuals, and you were perfect for the job.

“you said- you said it’s not gonna take l-long…”

he blinked up at your tied form through those pretty lashes with a hungry gaze which was far from being satiated. intricate knots and green ropes pressed against your skin, some digging insistently as you consciously struggled against the bindings. predatory eyes gazed upon you - a delicious prey willingly caught in a trap.

“time is a construct. it seems like our definitions of ‘long’ are vastly different. an unfortunate miscalculation i should have foresighted; my mistake.”

if the monotonous words weren’t enough indication of how he was clearly not feeling bad about his actions, his next action showed it. fingers lightly brushed against your chest, rubbing against the pebbled nipples as he admired the way your breasts looked against the bindings. your beloved raised his eyebrows when the slightest touch made you shiver and moan in anticipation, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

“ah, i see. i suppose it’s quite boring on your part to just stay there and be restrained like this. my apologies, it seems i have neglected to put myself in your shoes,” al haitham’s eyes soften and he presses a gentle kiss onto your forehead, his bare hands slowly inching towards the section of the rope which was particularly drenched with your arousal.

“let me make it up to you.”

“ready?”

“mm…”

“oh, snowflake,” kaeya chuckled and placed a reassuring kiss on your jawline, thumb caressing your chin comfortingly, “don’t you worry, it’s going to feel really good, and we can stop anytime. you know i would never do anything you wouldn’t like.”

“i know,” you mumbled and replied to your lover’s reassurance with a peck on his lips.

with an approving hum, the cavalry captain fiddled with the remote in his hand. the resounding beep was followed by a soft whirr of the engine turning on, and you gasped as the lubricated toy slowly entered you, before it retracted at the same speed and repeated the motion. a warm hand that contrasted against the cold mechanical motion reached under you to continue his ministrations from before, caressing your inner thigh sensually before feathering across your lower lips.

“mmhm- f-feels good…!”

“yeah?” your boyfriend chuckled as he continues to circle your clit with his experienced fingers, “think you can take more?”

you shivered and nodded. kaeya rewarded you with a kiss to your temple and soon enough you felt the machine speeding up a notch, thrusting into you moderately fast now, the sound of your wet arousal vivid in your ears and resonating within your shared bedroom, causing more warmth to explode on your face.

“ooh, look at that, you’re taking it so well. feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

with an agreeing whimper, you slumped against kaeya’s body, surrendering to his flighty touches which added warmth to the pleasurable but coldly mechanical toy.

“archons, you look so pretty like this…,” he crooned against your heated skin, eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief, “now, let’s see how long you’ll last before you start begging for my cock.”

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think nightwing and Jason would deal with a s/o on her period and s/o’s just forcing themselves not to express things cuz “everything makes me want to cry” and s/o’s like “I feel like shit. Let’s go to a bar. I wish to be hammered by the end of the night”? S/o isn’t someone who drinks often, but their period makes them want to get passed out drunk every one day of the month?

Dick:

Having one of the most top notch detective skills that seconds to the worlds greatest detective, he’s usually right on the money that you’re on your period despite you not saying a word. Blankets, pillows, hot water bags, teas and your favorite ice cream are all getting stocked up and ready. He didn’t get more ibuprofen since it’s a staple to have some on hand for him when he’s on a mission, so he already has those. He spoils you silly, always checking that you’re alright and picking up anything you want on the way back. The kisses and touches he frequently gives on a daily basis aren’t as passionate compared to usual; the kisses are softer and don’t last long though filled with as much affection nonetheless while he purposely drapes his arms around your abdomen to have his body heat seep in and take the edge of the pain away. 

When you tell him how you're in the mood to go all out at the bar, he’s executing his plan of having a movie night instead. Cuddling you in his arms with a blanket wrapped around you, he’s attentive to change the water bag when it starts feeling cool and making sure there’s a fresh cup of tea right next to you. Sure it wasn’t what you had in mind, but he doesn’t want you to be in more pain the next day with the unneeded hangover-migraine.

Jason:

Isn’t as knowledgeable in what to do to help, but he’s able to pick up that you’re on period as soon as you get more quiet and not as expressive than usual. He’s often online and asking Dick on tips in getting your period cramp to go away and gets you everything you would possibly want and need. At one point he had gone to the store and got you a human-sized bear to squeeze when he was also trying to get Bizarro a stuffed Superman (canon by the way). Surprisingly, the blankets and pillows don’t get used as he finds himself being used as those two substitutes, thanks to his body temp running high. In a way, it’s a win-win situation from being able to hold each other to the two of your heart's content if not for how much pain your body goes through. 

But he puts a foot down when you tell him you’re getting hammered at the bar. It becomes a bit personal as it reminds him of his past regarding his mother on top of the hangover that’ll make things worse for you. Somehow he manages an impromptu snuggle session for the rest of the night, the two of you simply chilling while his large hand sprawls over your tummy, acting as a warmer that never gets cold to keep the cramps from coming back.

[tteokdoroki]

THIRD TIME'S A CHARM - kento nanami.

✩ — about. “my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it." kento nanami never cared for workplace shenanigans. he never took his mind off of work. and he never thought he would develop feelings for his coworker, nor expect for them to feel the same way about him. what happens when he misses your three attempts to ask him out? perhaps reddit will know... ( 5.5K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, angst, happy ending  - video banner ! AITA-verse!au, office romance!au, mutual pinining, cluelessness, misunderstandings, christmas time, mentions of alcohol, office worker!nanami, afab!reader.

✩ — things to note. happy monday everyone, i have for you yet another fic to go with my gojo one! this story was written as a gift for @antizenin bc i love her so bad !! can be read as a stand-alone but does make refrences to my AITA gojo fic !! thank you to @todorosie for beta reading! hope you enjoy beloveds <3 - series m.list ⋆ m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it. my chest feels tight when they’re away and whenever they’re nearby my heart beats so fast i feel like i might pass. it would be a pleasure to date them or to just stand by them… there’s only one problem. i’m not usually the type of guy who engages in workplace shenanigans, i hardly know how to interact with people outside of the confines of my work. my coworker has made a few advances, at least i think they have. i don’t know how to respond or whether or not i’m over-thinking this. do they even like me? is it all in my head? i could really do with some advice… how should i go about this and telling them how i feel?  TLDR: i have a crush on my coworker but i can’t, for the life of me, tell if they like me back. 

you’ve always liked your co-worker, kento nanami.

to those who don’t know him, he appears quite stoic and blunt, cold even. like the crisp weather at the start of winter, air that’s sharp and bites unpleasantly at your nose. nanami tends to act the same towards those he holds no affections for, blocking them out as if he were a fortress made of stone.

one may even paint a picture of kento nanami as a lone wolf — callous and uninterested in the buzz of the office. he stays late, works long hours, never engages with the gossip on your floor after work. 

that’s only the beginning of how the world sees your blonde co-worker.

but you have come to know nanami, in your short time working for Gojo Corporations. you’ve not been there very long, still adapting to the office culture and your brand new line of work, but in the few months that you have been finding your equilibrium in the office — you’ve gotten used to nanami’s demeanour, his ethic, his lifestyle. you’ve come to appreciate it, and him. 

the man works hard, with a quiet confidence about him that puts your mind at ease — a quality you only wished that you had. it makes you curious, how little he seems to care about what it is Gojo Corp actually does but how much of his time he puts into it and how much he cares for the people around him too. you’ve learned, by taking the desk to nanami’s left, that he’d risen pretty quickly in the company, he begrudgingly seems to be gojo’s (your boss’) favourite employee and that he’s surprisingly good at what he does for someone who hates it so much. 

he presents at meetings and debfriefs calmly, always gets through his tasks with an air of rationale and when you’d first started…nanami was kind, gently leading you through your own work as if he’d taken your hand in his and was guiding you to some place warmer — away from the chill of your nerves and self-doubt. in his own way, he cared. nanami was not as cold as one might think. 

there’s so much more to him than what meets the average human eye. ever since joining the company — you found yourself curious, wanting to know everything about him. what drives him, what pisses him off, where he wants to go and who he wants to be. beneath his calm, collected and commanding aura there is a man whose heart holds many secrets. a man you want to know… and might even want to be with.

the very thought of being with nanami makes you shy where you wish that you weren’t. maybe then, you could tell the blonde office man how handsome you thought he looked while concentrating on filing reports and paperwork. perhaps you could then steel your nerves and stop the shake in your voice while telling him how much you like the low dip in his own when he explains KPIs and stock markets to you. not to mention how hard he works on keeping his patience with not just you… but the interns megumi, nobara and yuuji as well (yuuji was the brother of someone your boss new very well back in college, apparently). the ways in which he’s taken the young trio under your wing, it’s a wonder you haven’t had baby fever yet.

nanami even extends the same grace to your man-child of a boss, he wouldn’t have stayed working for Gojo Corp and for satoru gojo if he didn’t. in some ways, they were like a little family at the company, and nanami was the responsible one always picking up gojo’s messes and holding the others together. 

especially on days when gojo came into work emotional over developments in his ex’s new life.

still, nanami stayed. 

and your crush on him bloomed like a light frost spreading across the double-glazed glass of a window. 

you felt your heartbeat speed up whenever nanami was close by and you could smell the ginger and cinnamon on him, not to mention, the hairs on the back of your neck would stand whenever your hands brushed over one another’s. nanami was warm on the inside, you knew that — he liked his interns, he cared for gojo especially when the days were tough (like when he holed himself up in his office after finding out his ex was getting engaged). he even brought lunch for the office floor. mostly soup for haibara whenever he got sick. 

you knew deep down that nanami was soft and loving — you felt that he needed love too. you wanted to be the one to give it to him, even if it was the last thing you did.

ATTEMPT #ONE - THE CHRISTMAS PARTY. 

satoru gojo’s office holiday parties were far from what was considered appropriate for the workplace. 

with thousand dollar bottles of booze and jars of caviar dotted about the main conference room — it was hard for anyone not to be in high spirits. the notes of cheery christmas carols drift through your ears and the tinsel that your boss had thrown over your shoulders scratches at your neck uncomfortably. you’re not one for buzzing celebrations like this, they’re too noisy and loud, but gojo has made you promise to attend this year's party… and he was oddly convincing for a manager this unserious. 

ultimately, you were glad that you’d decided to come because while being spoiled by your boss was all good and fun — it provided you with the perfect social setting and opportunity to speak to your longtime crush, nanami. 

like you, he wasn’t a fan of forced mingling in the office, and had no interest in consoling his tipsy manager who was currently crying up a storm into one of his poor intern’s shoulders. the blonde office man kept to himself, tucked away by the bright lights of the christmas tree as he nursed a piping hot coffee — he wouldn’t be getting drunk on company time. 

you manage to break away from conversing with shoko and make your way over to the latter co-worker, swallowing down your nerves with a swig of the moscato satoru had so generously picked out for you — knowing that you liked the sweeter stuff and that it would probably loosen your lips enough for you to get this over with (he and those interns were fully aware of how much you admired kento nanami). sliding up beside the man, your long, embroided skirts swish against his ankles — only serving to pull his attention away from his work phone and onto you. 

taking a sip of your drink to warm yourself up with liquid courage and break the ice — you hum, quietly. “any plans for the holidays, kento?” you ask him simply, and though your deep and gorgeous brown eyes stay trained on the bubbles in your glass — you can feel kento’s own chocolatey pair land on the side of your face. whether they’re scrutinising you or admiring you, you can’t actually tell.

if you were looking, you’d be able to see the way that the sharp edges of kento’s usual expression soften across his face — the straight line of his lips are parted, his furrowed brows becomes relax and his posture no longer ridged, but instead, at ease. if you were looking you’d know that out of all of his co-workers (aside from the interns), kento is most comfortable around you. he find your meek and cautious demeanour adorable and the way that you sometimes awkwardly flutter around him in conversations is cute. 

“not much, just working.” he responds quickly and shortly. to anyone else, they would have taken nanami’s reply as cold and callous, but you? you smile softly, glad that he’s even taking part in your small talk. 

you’ve always been a little quieter than most colleagues at Gojo Corp, but you’ve always tried your hardest to make connections and bring the group together. you care for the interns so deeply, helping them to learn from your initial mistakes at the organisation and to do better. he likes that you’re good company, knowing just the right things to ask and when, allowing for comfortable silences when no one in the team feels like talking.

nanami likes you. 

and perhaps that’s what makes him awkward around you as well, the very fact that he can’t find fault in you — that you’re too sweet and kind and gentle to complain about like he would with nagging gojo. what does he say to someone as wonderful as you?

he doesn’t want the moment to end, however. “how about you?” 

the blonde says your name softly, as though he’s testing it out on his tongue — and you can’t help the warmth that blooms like a spring rose in your chest at the honeysuckle sound. you’re hot all over and you’re sure it’s not the alcohol. 

“f-family!” you squeak shyly, voice high pitched as you fend off excitement — having nanami elaborate on your conversations isn’t a usual occurrence. coughing, you take a sip of your drink and knock it down a notch. not that kento would want you to, since he finds your enthusiasm to chat with him so endearing. “i have family…coming. o-over the break! flying in from abroad, so it’s going to be special.”  the blonde’s brow raises with interest, and you latch onto the opportunity to speak with him further, basking in your quiet moment together. “i’m not usually one to cook, but my mother and i will be handling dinner together! so it’ll be a mix of all sorts of foods. traditional and from our home country too.” 

nanami slips his work phone away in order to give you his full attention. “that sounds…wonderful,” he settles on saying. he wonders what your family is like, if they’re as shy and endearing as you or louder like that of the dynamics at the office. he imagines you surrounded by love, by laughter and warmth… and can’t help but yearn for the same. “i do miss home cooking, christmas in new york isn’t quite the same as japan.”

“t-then you’re welcome to spend christmas with us!” you blurt before your mind can even process what you’ve said. now you really must be drunk, or tipsy at the very least. who just invites their coworkers over to their house without getting to know them first. “we’ll have more than enough to fix you a plate…if you’d like,” despite your overexcited blunder, you remain hopeful that nanami will accept your invitation or at least get the hint. that you want to know him better and spend more time with him. 

but nanami doesn’t take the hint, he can’t seem to figure out why you’d want to spend time with him outside of work, and so, puts up a respectful boundary. nanami smiles and puts down the coffee he’d been drinking. “i wouldn’t want to impose on your time with family.” 

you frown, the stacked bricks of your excitement coming tumbling down. “kento that’s not what i meant—“ 

“look!” gojo cuts in, slurring from across the room as he points a shaky finger at the two of you by the tree. “they’re standin’ un’da the mistletoe!”

both yourself and nanami look up in disbelief to find yourselves standing under calculatedly placed mistletoe — no doubt due to the meddling of your boss. though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss nanami, it was more of question as to whether or not he wanted to kiss you.

“gojo, you’re drunk. and i really should be getting back to work.” kento insists, clearing his throat and immediately looking away from you with a bashful blush. you’re perfect, and darling, and to kiss you really would make kento’s day…but he’d never want to make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot like this. “i have budget reports for your meeting in a few hours.” 

“fuck the reports, don’t you wanna kiss the pretty lady?” nanami looks to you, shying away from the conversation and squirming under the sudden attention of the office party-goers. “i wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.” 

“i-i wouldn’t be.” comes your hushed whisper. 

nanami coughs to clear his throat, flustered by you. “are you sure?” 

having had enough of your back and forth, dancing around one another like two teenagers confessing to each other on white day — gojo steps in, forcing his drunk yet authoritarian hand. “come on nanamin,” the white haired man drawls impatiently. “if you don’t kiss her! i will!” 

“no!” you and nanami bark adamantly in unison — causing gojo to smirk and stagger happily while megumi and yuuji hold him up.

 “then go ahead and kiss. or i’ll have to fire you.” 

the idea of losing your job over a trivial christmas tradition is enough to spook you into agreeing. that and you couldn’t imagine kissing satoru gojo… the thought makes you gag to yourself. “fine,” nanami grunts before looking to and addressing you next, “do you mind?” 

you nod once, breath shaky. “it’s okay.” 

“where are you most comfortable being kissed?”

“um, i haven’t… i’ve not had my first yet so…” 

“ah, i see. i won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable then.” hearing the news makes something weird… stir within the blonde’s firm chest. being your first kiss, his co-worker’s first kiss is an appealing thought — almost a little twisted and selfish for him. to have that honour, to be the one you would give it to, makes his head spin. 

gojo cute through his train of thought, however. “god, would you too hurry it up!”

nanami rolls his eyes at his boss (which would have gotten anyone else fired.) but let’s the corners of his pink lips quirk up into a subtle smile directed at you, and only you. cautiously, he leans down as though not to spook you like a deer in the woods, and takes your hand in his larger and more calloused one. “sorry about this.” he hums quietly, the rough pad of his thumbs traversing through the ridges of your knuckles. 

“i-it’s fine.” you repeat your earlier sentiment, holding your burning breath as kento drags the back of your hand up to his lips. dark brown eyes meet even darker ones — your gentle gazes meeting in the middle as the tensions rise within the conference room. your entire body melts like butter in a pan and your heart bursts out your chest with the crescendo of the christmas music in the background when kento nanami presses a soft chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

your kiss under the mistletoe. 

once he breaks eye contact and snaps out of it — nanami is quick to announce is departure, covering up his flustered expression. “now, i really must be getting back to work. thank you for the party gojo,  kids,”  he nods at you softly with an utterance of your name and leaves not long after, leaving you with a flurry of butterflies in your tummy. 

leaving you a sheepish, warm mess because while you had intended to ask nanami out and failed, you still managed to get somewhat of a kiss. 

you press your hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of kento’s lips embedded into the skin there. somehow, you find it within yourself to ignore gojo's whine for a proper mistletoe liplock in the background — choosing to focus on the lingering touch left by your crush.

“how about the receptionist, she’s into you!” you hear yuuji suggest, earning a cheer from your stupid silver haired boss. 

the three interns plus gojo disappear from the party after that, while you remain stuck in place like a statue made of stones— repeating the kiss in your head over and over again, in your thoughts drowning in images of kento nanami. 

ATTEMPT #TWO - THE SECRET SANTA.

“good morning, kento!”

“good morning to you too,” 

bristling from nanami’s warm greeting (as well as him calling you by your first name), you shuffle into the seat beside him with cold cheeks and bright eyes — doing your best to quietly shift out of your winter attire to make sure you don’t disturb the rest of the conference room. you’ve just snuck into the team meeting for Gojo Corp’s annual secret santa. this year would be your first time taking part and it took a hell of a lot of bribing (not really, just some locally made daifuku and the number of the receptionist gojo might be crushing on) to convince your boss to give you nanami for the special festive event. 

picking out a gift for your blonde haired and stoic presenting crush proved difficult at first. you already knew that kento spent a lot of time at the office, working hard and dedicating himself to hours of paperwork — but that wasn’t exactly useful to know when it came to gift giving. however, after weeks of gathering intel by tapping into whatever office buzz nanami was involved in and sharing short exchanges with him by the coffee cart outside of Gojo Corp, you’ve managed to learn two things about kento nanami.

one, his appreciation for something homemade or cooked — like the quaint family owned bakery not too far from the office. 

and two, his dream destination. the one place that he’s always wanted to vacation to — Kuantan, Malaysia. 

now you couldn’t exactly afford to just splurge and buy him a ticket over there, not to mention there was a considerate budget placed on gifts…but what you could do is bring nanami’s favourite things to the office. while gojo sets out the rules for staff, you gently place your carefully wrapped presents on the table before you, again, trying to avoid making a ruckus with the crinkling wrapping paper. 

“you’re a little later than usual.” nanami comments to you in a low tone, having been watching you this entire time. 

he would feel weird saying it out loud, but he notices that you’re always early into the office — clicking in around twenty minutes to nine every day and that you take your time in setting up your desk for the day. as though you have a routine to calm your anxieties.

“i had to stop by somewhere for a last minute gift.” you grin after a hushed quip. and nanami can’t help but find it contagious. you’re a warm ray of sunshine to him — one that he can’t help but want to bask under and be near, especially during this winter cold. you make kento feel at peace with your calm aura. the way you speak so tenderly and kindly. as he turns his attention back to a blabbering gojo, he finds himself growing jealous of whoever received your gift. whoever it is, he hopes that they appreciate your thoughtfulness.

after the rules are done, everything is exchanged between assigned pairs as gojo calls up who was responsible form who.

elation courses through nanami’s veins once he learns that his secret santa was you —  happy to know that he is about to be on the receiving end of your perfectly wrapped presents. 

“i hope you like them,” you bleat shyly, passing him the leopard print-covered gifts. the very sight makes him grin, since the paper matches his usual work tie.  

the blonde takes his time unwrapping each layer of paper — as if he doesn’t want to ruin all the hard work you put into presenting this perfectly for him. a strong wave of fondness crashes over your co-worker once the first present is revealed. nanami’s favourite, freshly baked sandwich from the japanese bakery downtown. the one he visits every day, and the same sandwich he orders every time. the one that fills him with nostalgia and reminds him of home. 

the next gift is even more thoughtful, and he fights off the urge to clutch his chest — as if cupid has shot an arrow right through his heart and made it yearn for you and your kindness. it’s a crocheted water lily, like those found in the Taman Gelora park in Malaysia. the same park that nanami has always wanted to go to. 

there’s a little postcard of the location too — with a note scribbled in your precise handwriting, wishing nanami a happy christmas. he tries not to dwell on the heart signed next to your name.

your saccharine voice slices through kento’s wild and appreciative thoughts delicately and he spares you a glance, watching your features as they illuminate with happiness from his reaction. you can tell that he likes your gift, and that fills you both with joy. “i heard from a little bird that you’ve always wanted to take a trip to Kuantan. and while i couldn’t get you a ticket myself, i figured these would be the next best thing. plus some food for your flight.” you joke while nanami thumbs the ridges of the yarn making up his water lily gift. 

he laughs then, remembering how yuuji had grilled him about his dream vacation weeks back. it must have been for you. 

you’re so selfless and thoughtful, it still blows the blonde office man’s mind that you would have gone through the trouble of getting him such a gift. most times, colleagues at Gojo Corp settle for fancy chocolates or snooty vouchers for department stores… but you used so much of your own time and effort to create something that kento nanami would truly appreciate. it drives him mad that he can’t seem to figure out why. why would you do something so nice for him? 

“i wish i could have gotten you something in return.” he mumbles fondly.

“i don’t need anything from you kento,” you say sweetly, making his heart race as you put your hand over his. “i appreciate you and you’re my friend. i don’t need anything more.” you figure now is a bad time to confess to him, in front of everyone. though you might have chosen the wrong words — because while you do want more from nanami, he now thinks that you don’t, pulling away from you slightly. “i… i appreciate everything you do for the company. a-and i like spending time with you. being your friend.” 

you facepalm internally, knowing you could have worded yourself better — but the realisation comes a little too late, for nanami is already pulling away from you, his once soft smile falling into place with the harsh lines of a frown. “thank you for the gifts,” he says, a little colder. now that he’s figured out why you truly made him those gifts. you see nanami as a friend, a good one. nothing more, like he had secretly hoped. “i must be getting back to work.” 

“o-oh but kento—“ he looks down at you icily, you have no idea why he’s being so cold. he hasn’t a clue either, it’s not like you know of his affections or fondness towards you. you thought that calling yourselves  friends would be just fine… at least until you found the confidence to confess properly. “nanami…did i offend you? i didn’t mean to pry with your gifts! i just wanted them to be perfect—“

“—you’re fine. just… duty calls. paperwork.” 

“oh, right.” you reply, weak and defeated, thinking that he’s mad at you. rejecting you again. “good luck nanami…”

“thanks,” he mumbles. “for this, and the gift.” 

“you’re welcome,” you say, mostly to yourself but before you can say more he’s disappeared from the conference room and gone back to his cubicle. 

ATTEMPT #THREE - THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS.

as mentioned before, your boss isn’t exactly the serious type.

satoru gojo is silly and often irresponsible in regards to work. he’s had a lot to deal with and a lot to learn, he covers his mistakes with charms and smiles, but he’s learning. and when it comes down to it, satoru cares for the company, the office and most importantly —  his staff.

which is why he makes it a rule that no one in his main team should work over the christmas period — with no exceptions. 

of course, the ever-dedicated kento nanami has always found a loop-hole in avoiding the festive rule and his manager’s simple christmas wish. which is why, much to your chargin, satoru has meddled a little bit and sent you into the office to send nanami home. usually you wouldn’t mind the opportunity to speak with your crush, but after your second rejection from him in such a short space of time, you’re not so sure your little heart can take seeing the man before the holidays. 

you’d agreed to satoru’s request nonetheless, your family didn't arrive until tomorrow and you couldn’t live with yourself if you let kento work through the night. you still had feelings for him after all. 

when you arrive at your office, it’s dark and dim — matching the evening and it’s weather outside. you assume that any cleaning staff have already gone home, instructed by nanami who would also hate to keep people behind on Christmas Eve. it seems like him to offer to clean up after himself.

rounding the corner, you spot him in the conference room, tucked away by the tree from your christmas party as he taps away at his work laptop — no doubt finishing the Q3 report. you push past the glass door and make your way inside, tugging your scarf, hat and coat off while you watch nanami work. you hang them all up on a nearby coat rack.

“i know you’re there,” he speaks into the dark silence. “is that you, satoru? i’m not going home.” 

“actually, satoru sent me in here to make sure you weren’t working on Christmas Eve.” you respond in an even tone, ignoring the slash of hurt over your heart when nanami fails to even spare you so much as a glance upon hearing your dulcet voice. 

he instead scoffs, returning to his work. “tell him that i’m fine. i don’t need to be babysat. i know when to take a break.” kento doesn’t why he’s being so harsh with you, it’s not like you knew of his feelings. calling him your friend had been a token of kindness, but he let his rationality slip away and acted out because… what? he was afraid of your rejection?

despite his mean words, you stand your ground and refuse to leave kento alone. “i figured you might say that, so i bought you some food. these are cookies from the bakery that you like and they should keep you going,” you rummage in your tote for a small of cookies — pushing them across the large conference table for your stubborn blond co-worker. “the girl that works there is sweet. maybe we should go sometime, we can take a break from your work and have some cold turkey sandwiches ahead of Christmas Day—“

“if i wanted sweets i would have called up that meddling boss of ours, satoru,” nanami seethes, losing his patience. the more he looks at you, those big brown eyes and your soft, beautiful face, the more hurt he feels, the more nauseated he feels knowing that you might not like him the way he likes you. as  just friends, instead of something more. “why are you here?” 

you blink back your suprise. “w-what?” 

“don’t you have family to be spending the night with?”

“i do it’s just… i worry about you, nanami. you work too hard, it’s christmas.” 

“i really, really would like to finish the report so i can go home.” 

your face scrunches up with rage and using that same fury, you march over the blonde man in three short strides — grabbing his chair and whirling him around to face you. you slam his laptop closed with enough power to shatter the damn thing, fixing nanami to look at you. ”what is wrong with you?” 

“pardon?” 

“i’ve… i’ve been trying all month to show you how much..how much i care about you and how much i like you. but it’s like you don’t even see me.” your voice warbles despite how angry you are, tears threatening to spill over the edge of your lashes. everything hurts, you don’t know what you’ve done to make nanami resent you in the way that he does now. perhaps if you were different, more confident and self assured maybe he would notice your gestures and implications. maybe he would like you back.

you wish for the darkness of the office to swallow you whole and make you disappear as you and nanami do nothing but stare blankly at each other. however, the lights on the obnoxious christmas tree continue to flash in the corner — illuminating the crystal tears clumped in your lashes and the slope of your features with a perfect golden glow. nanami sees you, he always has…but what good would a man like him be to a girl like you? sure, he wants to settle down, wants christmas with someone he loves, somewhere comfortable where he doesn’t have to worry about a thing — let alone money.

…but nanami is a tough nut to crack, he keeps to himself so much that even now you’re struggling hard to get him to speak his truth, and his feelings. he wouldn’t want you to give up trying even while he struggles to open up. 

“i see you.” finally, kento finds his confidence and admits his truth to you. “i always have.” 

he stands from his seat, towering over you and you stumble back. “do you? i’ve tried so hard… to tell you…”

the blonde leans down to your height and your words trail off, overwhelmed by him. “to tell me what?” 

he prays that you can’t hear the pound of his heart against his ribcage or the blood rushing through his ears… but nanami has never stepped out of line or taken a risk and if he doesn’t, break the rules, he could risk losing the one good thing at this god forsaken place. “that i… that i like you. kento. i-i’m fond of you.” you exhale through your words, succumbing to everything that makes up kento nanami. his scent, gingerbread and fresh mint, makes you dizzy, his proximity makes your world tilt on its axis and you’re so nervous that you latch onto the collar of his dark blue dress shirt to keep yourself steady. 

nanami seizes the opportunity to pour into you every emotion that he can’t bring himself to say. his large hands settle gingerly on the small of your back and his warm breath coasts over your fleshly lower lip, as if to ask for permission to kiss you properly. “may i?” comes his timbre voice, equality as shaky as yours had been earlier. you shake your head ‘yes’, giving nanami your consent to press his lips against your own in a life changing kiss. the action is tender, guiding you in all of the right places where you lack experience. the fists you'd formed in the collar of his shirt loosen the more that nanami works your lips in his gentle kiss — warming the frost over your little heart. 

“i’m quite fond of you too,” he says your name after finally giving you the room that you need to breathe and kento brushes a thumb over your the swell bottom lip before he kisses you gently again. “i’m sorry i didn’t say so earlier.” 

still holding onto him, a breathy chuckle escapes you as if you’re in shock. “w-what…what changed your mind? i thought you didn’t like me like that…”

“it wasn’t my mind that needed changing. it was the way i saw how you felt about me… i should have asked instead of assuming you only saw me as a friend. that was my mistake,” nanami explains carefully, choosing his words wisely. “you’ve been fair and kind to me, and i failed to give you the same grace due to my own doubts. i admire you, and should have confessed to you sooner but i—“ 

“but you wanted to finish working first, i get it.” you giggle and lean up to peck kento on the lips, stealing the words right out of his mouth. “just… please talk to me next time. i thought you were mad at me.” 

your blonde co-worker, crush and now.. partner? (that was to be decided) gives your waist an apologetic squeeze — acknowledging his mistakes. “i owe you that much,” he replies warmly, “now how about those turkey sandwiches you were talking about?” nanami questions you awkwardly, in his own charming way of asking you out for a date on christmas eve. 

after packing up and like a gentleman, he retrieves your scarf, hat and coat from the nearby coat rack by the door and gently pulls them over you one by one. like he cares, like he might even love you. he even zips you up to protect your cheeks from the bitter cold. nanami folds his own coat over the bend of his and grasps your hand firmly in his — keeping you close as you walk out of the office, a newly formed christmas couple. 

somewhere off in the distance, the boss of the Gojo Corp office watches with a sly grin. while satoru might not have gotten his holiday romance, he’s glad his little plan was enough to get yourself and nanami together. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Howdy howdy I hope your day is going well :D

I was wondering if you could write smth about reader wearing Ford’s sweater for the first time and his reaction to it? 👀👀

Ford has to do a double take to make sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, and that you were actually wearing his red turtleneck, the very turtleneck he spent all morning looking for before resorting to wearing his black one.

It suited you perfectly, shows your beautiful curves deliciously, not that he was looking of course! He’s just appreciating the art that was you! Was that such a sin?! He’s not use to the sight of someone else wearing his clothes and now that he has you doing so, he felt as though he had walked into a locked away dream on his as he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you.

Now Ford understood that with the weather getting chiller by the day that you were bound to start looking for warmer clothes to combat the cold, but -and this is when logic fails him- did you really not own any warmer clothing of your own that you had been resorted to go and steal clothes from him instead?

Ford has to fight some thoughts away that made him imagine you in others clothes of his as the sight of you in them had slowly become his favourite thing to lay his eyes on. Bless his nerdy heart for it was about to give out any time soon, but he felt his ego being stroked that out of everyone’s clothes you chose to steal from, even Stan’s, you stole from him specifically. His clothes and his clothes alone did you think were worth the honour of adorning your body perfectly and cosily.

Thoughts like this only made Ford’s blush worsen and you were worried that you had gone too far as you were quick to sit the poor man down and hold his face between your hands.

‘Ford are you okay sweetie?’ You’d ask.

‘You’re wearing my turtleneck. He’d reply.

‘Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t have anything to-‘

‘Don’t apologise my dear, you look perfect as per usual.’ He then stops you by holding onto your waist, thumbs stroking soothingly as though he was the one calming you instead of the opposite.

You smiled softly. ‘That’s sweet of you Ford but if you don’t want me to wear your turtleneck anymore, then I won’t.’

Ford frowned. ‘And why would I say such a thing? You can borrow my turtleneck as often as you want if it’s what you desire,’ he then coughs awkwardly and looks away from you as his blush deepens, ‘besides I like the way you look in it, if that’s not too forward of me to admit.’ He adds and you couldn’t help but kiss the man on his lips as you rested your forehead against his own.

‘Not at all, that was really lovely of you, I might just steal this cuteness more often if time means getting a repeat of this exact reaction.’ You chuckled, liking the emotions you were pulling from him with ease.

‘Please do,’ he thought to himself shamelessly as he now knows what he wanted to see everyday when he walked up, you in his clothes, it’ll be his personal serotonin booster!

Slight nsfw: However He seriously hopes you’re wearing something under the turtleneck, sleep shorts or otherwise as he stares at your bare, beautiful legs that stick out from the turtleneck as he kept his hands above your waist out of respect for you. (This senior citizen is making me feral I fear, let me wear his turtleneck with nothing on underneath for the lore, it’ll be worth it-)

Needless to say that after this instance Ford will leave his turtleneck in places for you to know that he wants to see you in it more often.

[evieelyzabethh]

I love so much how you write ekko and I was thinking a scenario about the parallel universe thing (ep 7)

What if ekko and reader were dating and met thanks to the firelights but then the whole thing with the hexcore happened and got teletrasported in the other universe finding out that he was dating powder instead and he never got to meet reader and maybe he see her in the street of piltover looking different and all

Idk just thinking about how he will react

Ekko knows something is off immediately. Things just feel differently in his chest. Maybe it's being pushed into a parallel universe, but he's convinced that if you were with him, it wouldn't feel so different. It feels like the same soul, but a different body. His hair is different, his clothes are different, who he's with is different. As soon as he looks over and sees that blue hair, he's on guard, even more so when he realizes the change in relationship. He's dating...Powder?

Honestly, that's how he knows he's not where he should be, because he's not with you. And he does feel a bit bad not allowing himself to appreciate what's around him more, but Ekko is very aware with give and take. The Firelights don't exist here, his community never existed, his friends, Scar, everything he poured years of his life into aren't here, but they aren't here because they weren't needed. The people of Zaun can breathe. Vi is dead, but this is the first time since they were children that he's seen Powder. Even better, the first time he's seen her, and she hasn't looked gaunt. Hextech seems to be foreign here, and shimmer doesn't even exist. It's nice, he can admit that, but it's not home.

To him, it's almost like some utopic, drug induced hallucination. His head feels heavy (definitely an after effect of messing with the Arcane), his tongue is dry, his heart is pounding in his chest as he looks around him, convinced that Powder can hear it trying to beat out of his ribcage. Despite it looking pretty, it feels like a bad trip. He stumbles out, leaving Powder to chase after him until he disappears into the now unfamiliar streets. His feet fly in front of him, only barely managing to catch him and propel him further, too dazed to notice the concerned onlookers debating on if they should offer him help.

It's strange being known. No longer known within his found family for what he's created for them, but rather who he's become with his previously dead one. Claggor grew out of his baby fat, Silco and Vander grew closer than before, Mylo grew a god-awful mustache. He's an inventor here. It's almost haunting, the idea that he could've been using his talents for lighthearted fun. The idea that there exists a place that is not in dire need of saving. The fact that there even exists a place where those he's mourned and been changed by, live happily. For a second, he wonders if this is what Jinx felt like, constantly seeing faces despite knowing they weren't there.

He's hyperventilating, back pressed against a harsh brick wall, overstimulated by the way his jacket now seems to constrict him tight and tighter, feeling like a needle is going back through the already pierced flesh of his ear. He could be convinced there are millions of tiny rocks in his shoes as the more he shakes the harder they prick into the soles of his feet. He feels like his very soul is being pricked and prodded at. He feels like he's going insane

But he feels you before he sees you. His breathing slows, the hole in his chest seems to close, his lungs seem to fall back into a rhythm. He breathes you in before he reaches for the hand you have reached out to him. You look different here, like someone who he would never meet in this body, but of course his wandering soul found his way to you. You looked warmer, you fill out your clothes more, you might be a bit taller. Its wonderous what clean air and constant access to food can do for a person.

"Are you okay?" He leaps into your arms, nearly throwing you back and certainly catching you by surprise. Unsure of what to do, you hold the unfamiliar boy, stroking his back awkwardly until he slips from under your arms. He looks familiar but in a surreal way. You can't say for sure if you've seen him physically, but he very well could be the mystery man you see in your dreams sometimes, though much firmer.

"I am now." and you really don't know how to react other than to just smile and nod your head. As he watches you disappear into the crowd, the ground beneath him finally feels solid. If anything, he's more determined than he was before to find his way back home. This place is almost saccharine, too sweet, too bright, too much. It's not his world for a reason; his world wouldn't be complete without you in it.

[bruh-myguy-what]

Uncommon Reaction

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader (our lovely medic line) Warnings: female insults, gross man being a jerk to reader, violence, cursing, Mando'a cursing, fluff, not proof read I just needed to get it out as my mourning, nothing else I don't think Word Count: 4.5k Summary: Needing something from town, you're stuck with going with Tech, as everyone else is busy. You're not used to his response when a man decides to be rude to you.

Requests are open if you have anything you'd like to send in!

______________________________

"Echo," your mirthful voice reverberated around the walls of the Maruader as you laughed, "please?"

Laughing at your shameful display as you childishly hung off of the man's shoulder, playfully pouting at him with eyes as wide as a loth kitten. He chided you with an amusingly stern use of your name, dragging you alongside him as he walked down the gangplank, "I've already told you that I can't go with you into town. I'd love to but I have to help Hunter gather the rations and make sure we have enough for the next trip."

Whining dramatically, you pull at his hand, "I can wait! Really! I'll even help count so it'll go quicker!" Though you tried your most convincing grin, hoping your innocent tone would win him over as it had multiple times before, the Arc trooper shook his head.

"Sorry, sarad, no can do." His simple decline made you groan in frustration and drop his hand indignantly but he continued, "It's already getting late, anyway, the sun'll be gone before we even finish counting. Why don't you see if Tech will go with you?"

At the mention of the clever clone, your cheeks immediately warmed and you pulled away from Echo a bit in fear he might catch your sudden change. "I-I'm sure he's busy...he's always busy with some kinda tinkering." Your mumbled response was met with a raised brow from the cybernetic clone before you, his trained eye-catching the evergrowing red color staining your cheeks. Though the planet had a warmer temperature than some others the Batch had stopped on recently, Echo knew this couldn't have affected you so suddenly. You noticed his scrutinizing squint and quickly tried to move the subject elsewhere, "Maybe Wrecker or Cross could go with-"

With another shake of his head, a knowing grin starting to grow over his pale lips, arms crossing over his armored chest, Echo interrupted you, "Busy with rearranging the cargo hold so Tech doesn't get rid of their explosives again." Then he smirked at your obvious dilemma, "Besides, I'm sure that if you ask him, Tech'll set whatever he's doing aside. He seems to like you more than any of the rest of us."

Stammering at Echo's teasing, you fumbled with a response. He couldn't be serious, right? Tech was nice, of course, he was just as nice as any of the others- just in his own way.

The way that sent butterflies screaming into your stomach...

The way that made your hands tremble sometimes when he forgot about the social decency of personal space...

Tech was nice in the way that you adored and couldn't get enough of even when you'd been around him for hours upon hours, even when his brothers wanted to strangle him.

"Uh, w-well, I don't-" You started as Echo tapped his chin with his scomp-link, in thought when footsteps from the gangplank sounded.

Walking down a step at a time, Tech emerged, face ever plastered to his datapad. A miniscule glance was sent from Echo to you then back to the device in his hands. "I heard whining from the pilot's seat," he began, his precise tone sounding uninvested as it typically did when he was observing a situation unbiasedly.

Echo grinned over at Tech, "Just the clone we were looking for," he praised with a welcoming wave of his scomp. "Our dear medic here is in dire need of heading into town and no one has any time to go with her."

As soon as Echo mentioned you needing to go into town, Tech put away his datapad, eyes meeting yours. "It would seem I am currently unimpeded by any projects that require my immediate attention, for the time being, that is." He stepped further down the gangplank, standing in the unoccupied space before you and Echo. "An appropriate solution would be that I accompany you into the nearby town."

Echo slowly turned his head to meet your red face, smirking proudly at you, "It would be, wouldn't it?" He chuckled at your incredulous expression, then looked back at the taller clone. "Then make it quick the two of you, it's going to be getting dark soon and I'm sure the town isn't the best place to be, even for us." He rested his hand on Tech's shoulder, walking back up the gangplank to head inside the ship, momentarily turning around to salute you with a wink.

You stood there for a second in disbelief, trying to understand how the situation left you with just Tech....alone.

"I cannot believe him." You muttered to yourself under your breath, shaking your head.

"He is correct, actually" Tech interjected into your thoughts, causing you to start a bit, forgetting his proximity. Looking up to see him fixing his goggles on his face more comfortably, you noticed the way his brown eyes caught the sun, as light snuck behind the frames to speckle the golden hues decorating them. "The town we are heading to is known for its rather," he searched around the area for the appropriate word, "sordid, is perhaps the best term I can use for it. We would be safer grabbing what it is you need quickly, then returning at a proper pace." His explanation continued but you began to get lost in your own thoughts, admiring the man before you. It seemed to happen, sometimes, that you would find yourself marveling at how someone who was supposed to be a clone- "defective" or otherwise- was so uniquely designed. However, no matter how smart Tech was, he was so clueless of his beauty (unlike Hunter who was exhaustively aware of his looks). The way his freckles brushed over the thin bridge of his nose to paint his tanned cheeks. The way his honeyed eyes were just a few shades brighter than his brothers, the way the light lingered in them even after all was dark. He was oblivious to how handsome he looked when he raised that one eyebrow in challenge, or when one of his brothers said something entirely incorrect. He was just as strong, just as well adept in battle, as any of his brothers (other than Wrecker), but he had the added allure of his intelligence that made you fall that much quicker. Tech's straightforward behavior, the endearing seriousness, his misconception of certain social cues, and the way his heart was still as open as any of the others- more so, you could argue- just made cherishing him so much easier.

A gentle call of your name caught you off-guard and you shook your head to refocus. "Hmm? Yes?"

Tech's face had grown adorably perplexed as he searched yours inquisitively. "I had asked if you were ready to leave, though I was met with only your vacant expression. Are you alright?"

A burning crept up your neck as you blinked dumbly at the clone trooper, "Y-yep! I'm perfectly fine!" You winced at the crack in your voice, hoping that if he asked any further questions you could blame some of it on the slightly elevated temperature of the planet.

Tech seemed gracious, or oblivious, enough to move on from the situation and nodded at your reply. "Then I suppose we should leave," he gestured for you to go ahead of him, "after you, mesh'la."

-

Once in town, you had noticed quickly what Tech had meant about the town being a little less desirable. The people seemed to even shy away from one another from time to time, going about their own business and then skittering away.

Tech kept a close pace behind you, placing himself directly behind your shoulder, his impressive height becoming even more pronounced. People seemed content to avoid the two of you and you hadn't noticed any issues with the trip so far until you felt Tech press himself further into your back, the smooth front of his chest piece cramming into your shoulder blade. "Tech?"

You glanced up as you continued forward, noting how his eyes narrowed behind his goggles, analyzing something further into the crowd. If you hadn't been in what seemed like a rather precarious situation- based on his current manner- you would find his closeness thrilling and unusual, but by his squared shoulders, you knew he was locked onto something questionable. "Apologies for my proximity." He spoke in a low, curt tone, eyes never meeting yours.

"Is...everything alright?" You questioned, trying to look around the crowd of people to see whatever was bothering the trooper.

Tech hummed in response, the rumble of his chest shaking through his armor and into your shoulder. "Our safety is secured for the present moment. Though it would be wise for my presence to be as near to you as comfortably possible for the duration of our outing."

You hadn't been out by yourself very many times with just Tech, possibly a time a two, but any time you had been it was always causal and friendly places. You'd seen Echo, Wrecker, or Hunter get protective in the face of social danger when you'd gone out with them before and it seemed like an evident connection to make that Tech (or even Crosshair) would've as well even though it hadn't been something you'd actually thought about before. However, now, you couldn't stop the way your heart ached at Tech's rapid transition from relaxed to defensive, the strong line of his jaw the first thing you caught sight of whenever you glanced up to make sure he was still on the lookout.

"Alright," you rushed out, "I'll be quick then. Sorry for the hassle, I didn't expect there to be an actual problem." Any more guilt you had been about to express died when you felt a large hand on the other shoulder blade, the warmth spreading through your entire body.

"Your apology is unwarranted. You required something, it is only sensible that one of us accompany you for protection. Although you are a reputable member of the GAR whom I have seen manage precarious situations rather exceptionally, I am certain every one of us would prefer to maintain your safety as much as we are capable." Tech finally glanced down to give you the slightest hint of a smile, accompanied by a reassuring nod. "Please, continue."

"Th-Thanks," was all you could dumbly reply as you tore your eyes away from the clone to search around for any pop-up stand that had what you had dragged Tech out here to get. It was some form of balm that you had needed to add to your collection for healing cuts and scrapes that the GAR hadn't entirely said was a part of the standard order of supplies but it worked as a wonderful substitute for bacta. It didn't take much longer to find a stand that was selling medical salves and the like, though the warmth of Tech's steady touch- whether from his chest or his hand- distracted you desperately.

While shopping through the procured items laid out, you felt Tech's hand fall away from your shoulder and a voice that was unknown to you spoke. "Listen goggles," the gruff man spoke, "just walk away from the woman and nobody has to get hurt, alright?"

As you began to turn, you were met with Tech's broad back blocking you as his hand came behind him to tuck you closer. "I regret to inform you that I am incapable of doing so." His voice was as steady and casual as typical for Tech, if you'd not known any better you would've thought he'd been speaking to Hunter or one of the others.

Choking out a gurgled laugh, the man pulled out a blaster, clicking off what you recognized as the stun. You were hardly terrified, Tech was highly skilled, though faced with a blaster you were worried he might be injured. Tech wasn't the first to respond with violence, opting instead to de-escalate the situation with a straightforward and disarming method. "I don't think you heard me, prick. I don't think you want to die over a whore, do you?" The insult hit you, surprised by its accusation and you placed a steadying hand on the backpack Tech wore, to steal a glance of the situation. You felt the hand that was placed on your arm tighten its grip protectively at your movement.

Tech was caught off guard by the insult as well, inclining his head at the shorter man. "Pardon me?"

"The whore, you fool. I want to whore. Move away so I can have her and we can part ways without anyone getting harmed." The man motioned with his blaster for Tech to step aside, though he remained unmoving.

Tech adjusted his goggles with his free hand, "by my estimation, it would seem that the only fool in our current location would be you. I will not be moving, so in light of our impasse, how would you prefer to proceed? By the tremble of your blaster, I would venture that you are incapable of properly wielding the weapon, which is a dangerous decision in and of itself. Again, it would seem you are the fool." Tech took a step forward, calm assurance complimenting his candid tone.

"B-Back up, freak! I'll blast you without a second thought." The man snarled as he raised his blaster higher toward Tech's chest. As you noted what Tech said, he was right- as always- the man's hand shook prominently. Though the sight of a blaster pointed so blatantly at the trooper was unsettling, you trusted him.

"Proper blaster decorum is to hold higher on the handle, finger over the trigger, and placed securely at the target of the blaster bolt." Tech's nonchalant lesson to the man seemed to only set the situation more on edge, which was surprising to you. He wasn't de-escalating, he was...antagonizing. "Is it standard practice here that any chakaaryc is allowed to carry a blaster?"

"A-Any...what?" The man asked confounded by the word he didn't understand, using his other hand to stabilize the blaster now as Tech approached closer to him.

It was normal for the Batch to use their Mando'a around one another, though they didn't use it much around others outside the GAR and even you didn't understand the language so you never paid attention to the words. Though now you were silently cursing yourself for not studying it, wondering what it was that Tech said.

"Di'kutla," Tech's voice lowered to a tone you hadn't heard him use before, it sounded almost...dangerous, "It is a Mandalorian translation for a filthy low-life, such as yourself."

"Why you!" The man's finger began to push the blaster's trigger and you felt your heart drop, stomach-churning, until you blinked and nearly missed the effortlessly elegant way Tech disarmed the man of his blaster. Crying in pain as his hand was bent backward while Tech placed the rogue blaster in his belt after switching it off, the man spat curses at the trooper. "She's just a whore, man! What's your big deal?!"

At the man's insistence on your status, Tech furthered his grip, causing him to yell out, Tech’s stoic composure- in contrast- never faltering. "I believe I have heard quite enough from you, mir'sheb."

"But-" Interrupting the man's argument, Tech's fist connected directly to the criminal’s face in a surprising display of brutality, effectively silencing him- and bloodying his nose.

"I said enough."

Standing in absolute awe of the current events, you were speechless, and before you could muster anything to say you watched as Tech yanked the stumbling man toward you by the grip on his wrist. "Forgive my lack of decency, mesh'la, though regarding his offense, this man owes you an apology."

"Tech, I-" You began, only for Tech to twist the man's arm behind his back and press him forward a bit harsher to which the man stumbled onto his knees, causing Tech to bend down with him, muttering apologies at your feet.

"Are you pleased with his display of atonement, cyar'ika?" Tech's honeyed eyes rose to meet yours, his tall frame bending over the man on the ground, refusing to let him free until you were satisfied. At your nod, he released his hold.

The man scurried to his feet and scuttled away as quickly as he could, nursing his wrist. Confusion washed over you as you glanced at the trooper, dusting off his hands and shuffling things around on his belt to make room for the blaster he had acquired. Once satisfied with his work, Tech met your eyes once more, adjusting his goggles nonchalantly. "Have you found what it is that we came to find?"

Still stunned by Tech's uncommon display of brute force and his complete willingness to act as if it has been just a normal day of the week, you stood there silently holding up the salve. "Wonderful, then we should return quickly." He sent a look around the sky to notice that it was dark now, "I am sure-" and as if on cue, Tech's comm link made a sound. Echo's voice rushed out with a stern use of Tech's name as soon as he’d answered it.

"Where in the galaxy are you two? I said to be quick!" The clone complained on the other end of the comm. Motioning for you to join at his side, Tech explained that you were momentarily disrupted but were unharmed and returning shortly.

While he spoke with Echo, you stared stupidly at the salve in your hand, replaying Tech making an absolute fool of the criminal. You'd never seen him react in such a way and you could feel your cheeks burning at how attractive the response had been to witness. What could've caused such a change in his approach? Of course, the Batch was known to be unconventional, so maybe Tech just thought the only way to dissuade the man was to use brute strength, but it just seemed like something bothered him. Could it have been when the guy insulted you?

A call of your name brought you back to the present, where Tech was standing in front of you, his hand extended. "Take my hand, please, it is quite dark. I do not wish to lose you in the crowd, it would seem this town is worse than I had originally read about. I will make a note to update the Republic's records properly." His hand enveloped yours delicately, pulling you closer to his side to guide you through the mass.

-

The walk back to the Marauder was quiet, your mind reeling from what happened. You were no stranger to difficult scenarios such as that one, so it wasn't as if you were scared just baffled.

"Stars! Finally, you two are back." Echo huffed in frustration as you emerged from the treeline. "Come on, we gotta get out of here. We're wanted back on Kamino for some new mission. Everyone else is already prepped to leave."

Tech merely nodded, saying something about how he'd set up the ship to be ready for the journey, and departed with a casual 'see you inside' as he let go of your name.

"What's wrong with you?" The accusation behind Echo's voice elicited a glare from you, none of this would've been an issue had he not forced Tech to go with you. You wouldn't be standing here struggling to erase the image of Tech decking a criminal right in the face. Replaying the sound of his voice when he demanded his apology to you for his insults...

This was Echo's fault. For sure.

"Tech punched someone, Echo." You explained with narrowed eyes to which the pale clone laughed as if the joke you tried to tell him was the funniest thing he'd heard. "No, I'm serious. He dropped this guy. He pulled a blaster on us and Tech just...punched him in the face."

"That's weird. Tech's not usually the type to-"

"TRUST ME," you raised your voice, "I'M AWARE."

Echo started laughing again, "I told you that he had a soft spot for you, sarad." He motioned for you to follow as he began his ascent up the gangplank, and punched the closure button when you joined him.

-

Later into the night, while you lay awake in your bunk, you tossed and turned trying to quieten the memory from earlier though it was a futile effort. The thought was driving you crazy.

Why had Tech reacted that way? It was just too out of the ordinary for him. It seemed far more personal than he ever responded.

And Echo's comments about him having some sort of bias toward you weren't helping the racing of your heart.

So you crawled out of your bunk, making sure not to wake anyone up as you tip-toed up to the main hull where there were small sounds of tinkering echoing. Of course, he was still awake.

"Mesh'la," Tech commented as you walked in, surprising him. "You are supposed to be asleep, what are you doing awake?"

Flashing him a grin as you took up residency in the co-pilot seat across from him, you pulled your legs up close to your chest. "Much like yourself, Tech, I couldn't sleep."

Adjusting his goggles, Tech blinked a few times in consideration. "Well, are there any extenuating circumstances that are barring you from getting the rest you usually require? Such as Wrecker's snoring? Crosshair mumbling in his sleep? Echo has a bad habit of shifting a lot during the night, could it be that?"

Shaking your head at his list of options, you took a breath, "I, actually have a question."

A glance in his direction showed his brow raising in confusion. "A question for me?" Upon seeing your nod he prompted you to continue, setting his tools aside to give you his undivided attention.

"Earlier..." you began, nervously playing with the hem of your GAR-issued pajama shirt, "in the town." Tech's intent gaze spurred you to continue, though you were anxious about how he would take the question. He was always truthful, but would he find the question odd? Would he think it was a stupid question? "You reacted differently than normal." You pointed about, changing directions a little, instead of asking a question.

"I am obligated to point out that your statement is not a question, cyare. However, your assessment is correct. It is not my usual course of action to resort to physical altercations in such situations..." He responded evenly. "Though, this circumstance required a unique response from me." His added comment confused you even more.

"Why?" You inquired, eyes now meeting his.

Tilting his head to the side slightly, his brows furrowed as if he were the perplexed one now. "I thought it would be obvious." His simple response was mildly bothersome. Of course, it wasn't obvious! That's why you couldn't sleep!

"Tech, you have to remember, sometimes, some of us need you to explain what's going on up there in that exceptional mind of yours." You clarified as you tapped your temple, gesturing for him with a soft smile on your face.

It dawned on him then, that perhaps it probably wasn't obvious to you. Though he struggled to find how to put it into words. "I was required to respond irregularly because he had offended you. Pointing a blaster at me is less of an issue, one I am perfectly well adept at discouraging," Tech's voice was unchanging until he glanced at his hands and his tone dropped. "It wasn't until his unwarranted comments regarding you that I felt my common strategy of de-escalating was not suitable enough. Your virtue demanded more than my words to right the occurrence." His eyes were still downcast as he spoke, seeming...embarrassed?

"My virtue?" You repeated his term of use.

Nodding, the clone finally met your eyes, the emotion behind his brown hues causing the breath to catch in your lungs. "Yes. I will never allow someone to speak so disparagingly about you in my presence. You deserve far more from those who say they care for you."

The blue streaks of hyperspace highlighted the contours of his handsome face, highlighting his features. It seemed as if time slowed to a crawl between the two of you at his admission. Was it a declaration of love, no, but it still burned in your chest as if it had been. "You care for me, Tech?"

"Considerably so, yes." The speed and certainty of his response felt as if it knocked you against the seat, like your first trip into hyperspace, kicking you back. His honesty was staggering every time. "If I can be forthright, I find that I am more partial to you than even my brothers are. I have spoken with Hunter at length about why this may be. The solution we have come to at the very moment is," Then he paused for a moment, considering his words carefully, "that I have a romantic interest in you. The signs of psychical attraction I have are evident, or so I thought. I desire to be close to you as often as possible, and the ability to speak with you about things is a welcomed one that I look forward to regularly."

As you listened, the burning in your chest only worsened. Tech not only punched a man because he insulted you, but punched a man who insulted you because of how much he cares about you and your honor? And now he was telling you how much he'd cared for you? This had to be a dream.

"Forgive me if this is not the answer you were envisioning, however, that does not change the truth of the answer to your query." Tech finished with a resolute nod, though the emotion did not leave his eyes.

You sat there across from him for a while in silence, reflecting, assessing, and gathering, but once everything sorted itself into place in your mind you rose from your seat to stand before Tech. He'd always been so straightforward, so honest with you...he only deserved the same in return.

Your hands hesitantly reached out, testing the waters of his current mood. When he didn't pull away, you caressed his jaw on either side lovingly, tilting his chin up to meet your eyes. The astonishment in them betrayed his outwardly calm demeanor as you leaned down to graze your lips against his, a whispered 'thank you' tumbling from your lips before you kissed him.

As if your confusion and amazement had been transferred to him, Tech merely sat in his seat, numbly. However, as you began to pull away, his hand quickly reached out to rest around the back of your head to stop you from going too far. Brown eyes explored your face as if you were an illusion, "you captivate and baffle me," he breathed out in wonderment, pulling you back in for another kiss, "show me more, please."

Laughing under your breath at his request you lowered yourself into his lap gingerly, "I'd love to, but right now, I just want to kiss you a little more."

________________________________________

Mando'a translations just in case- chakaaryc - lowlife, rotten,  di'kutla- useless/ worthless, mir'sheb- smartass

@stellarbit - this is for the both of us.

[ficnation]

Chapter 1: Dig In

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings

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Will Graham hasn’t seen you in years—years that felt like centuries to him. When you greet him, your voice is like a songbird’s serenade—sweet, peaceful, and meant only for his ears. It was a melody he missed dearly yet never dared to summon in his mind, even as the memories of you bled into his dreams.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice breaking at the last word. The question is not hostile, but it’s not friendly either. He knows you didn’t expect him to greet you like an old friend would. You know him too well for that—or at least you knew him before Hannibal Lecter barged into his life.

A smile crawls up your face, but it never reaches your eyes. You came here because you know, you know someone’s version of the story. But you crave to see the truth—to find out exactly what happened—and you know that Will is the only person who can provide you with the answers you’re looking for.

Jack Crawford raises his hand, his palm facing Will in a silent greeting—almost a peace offer. He keeps his distance as he lifts your suitcases out of the trunk of his car. He’s the one that called you, told you everything you needed to know, how Will lost his mind, how he keeps insisting that an innocent man—someone he considered a friend—is the Chesapeake Ripper.

Will can’t help but snicker at the thought of how this conversation went. You don’t seem bothered by the change in his expression—you hardly ever were, and he was always surprised by your unflappable composure.

“I’m going to stay with you, Will.” It’s not a question nor a suggestion fueled by concern over his well-being. It’s a declaration, and he has absolutely no say in this matter. Jack Crawford has already made that decision for him, and Will is in no position to object—he’s well aware of it.

Will nods and gesticulates to the door of his house. It’s a reluctant invitation forced out of him by his boss’ incessant gaze.

You don’t let him think about it for much longer, fearing he’ll withdraw the offer. You walk up the stairs of the porch and cross the doorstep. The inside is no warmer than the bitter winter on the other side of the door. You shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself for heat.

A flock of dogs runs up to you, wagging their tails in excitement. Some of them you’ve already met before, and some of them seem like recent additions to Will’s collection of strays. You pat each dog on the head as you take off your boots by the entrance. You note that you no longer feel like you are just another stray Will has taken into his home.

The warmth of the friendly dogs quickly makes you forget how much you don’t belong here; you enjoy their company for a moment before reluctantly moving on to explore the room.

Not much has changed since the last time you were here. Will’s bed is still in the room, and you remember the time he confessed to you that it makes him feel more aware of his surroundings—gives him a sparse flicker of safety. He has easy access to the windows overlooking the outside, and he hears whenever someone walks up the stairs to his porch. It’s a small shred of comfort to cling to in the midst of his torment—you understand his reasoning.

The fireplace is the same one you used to warm up in front of every morning when you slept over—just surrounded by more dog beds than before. The old, simple in their design but surprisingly comfortable armchairs stand in their designated spots. Dog toys litter the carpeted floor, while books and familiar trinkets overwhelm the shelves, though if you look more closely, you find new additions mixed in with the old.

“Nothing has changed,” you say to yourself and the chill air of the room. You don’t hear Will’s footsteps as he joins you in the heart of his house.

“I did.” His words make your head whip around to face him, your eyes finding his. There’s a certain darkness in his statement—one you recognize.

The brown curls on his head frame his face in an untamed mess. He’s beautiful, and you find yourself still affected by his proximity.

“I don’t think you did.”

“You’ve been here for seven minutes, I can’t imagine you know much,” Will retorted.

“I know you, Will.” You meet his eyes for a few seconds—it doesn’t take much longer for him to look away. He hasn’t changed.

“Not anymore. Believe me,” his voice is certain and steady, but his hands shake as he reaches for your cozy black coat.

You let him slide it off your shoulders—the chill of the room refreshing. Will Graham isn’t a gentleman—he’s never conformed to society’s expectations. The gesture isn’t meant to impress you, make you swoon, or simply check a box. He does it because he still feels something toward you—he still cares.

You don’t talk much after that. Will makes some space for your stuff in his closet and leaves your suitcases in one of the many empty rooms. You thank him with another smile that doesn’t reach your eyes—there’s too much worry in them to convey your gratitude.

He goes on a walk with the dogs while you decide to take stock of his fridge and cupboards in search of any ingredients that you could possibly turn into a late dinner—french crepes filled with whatever jam or other sweet spreading he has in his kitchen.

You make yourself cozy in one of the armchairs in front of the crackling fireplace, your legs tucked comfortably beneath you when the door opens, and a blast of cold winter air rushes in along with seven dogs, melting snow clinging onto their fur stubbornly. They sniff around the room in search of the source of the sweet, delicious smell.

Will follows in their steps, taking off his boots by the door. It won’t take long for his socks to soak up the drops of water scattered over the floor—remnants of the snow shaken off by the happy furry beasts. He says nothing for a few long minutes, merely taking in your form, the sweet smell, and the cozy atmosphere. It feels like you belong here, even if just for a moment until you deem him deranged and leave again for long years.

“Crepes?” he asks finally, sliding off his heavy jacket. Will imprints on his memory the image of you so peaceful and comfortable in his home, in his presence.

You hum in response, sticking the fork back into your mouth. “I only found jam and peanut butter.”

“It’s an accomplishment you found anything at all.” He chuckles but isn’t truly amused by it—it is a pitiful sound.

The brunet disappears into the kitchen, and when he returns, his plate is filled with food. He sits down in the other armchair with a heavy sigh—a sound so murky only an old man could make or someone so exhausted with life they didn’t see a point in it anymore.

“I believe you, you know?”

Will’s head shoots up in your direction; he almost chokes on his crepes. He didn’t foresee that at all—the thought of you believing him without even hearing his side of the story, believing in his conviction that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper without even asking for evidence. When everyone around him considered him delusional and regarded his accusation with ignorance or anger—you believed him. He straightens up in his seat, looking at you expectantly, begging silently for you to continue.

“I suppose Jack didn’t tell you why exactly am I here, huh?” Will shakes his head, making you sigh deeply as you mindlessly stab the remaining crepe on your plate with the fork—he notices the anger simmering behind your irises. “Figured. They found my father’s killer in our old house.”

“Dead?”

You nod in confirmation.

“Suicide.” Your voice isn’t relieved; it doesn’t incandesce with light like it should.

Will knows that sometimes, even when the murderer is caught or killed, it takes a while to really settle into witnesses’ minds, and sometimes, they never taste that sweetness of relief for the rest of their lives. Yet, it doesn’t seem to be the problem in your case.

“He was missing a lot of blood and it didn’t appear to be anything abnormal back then so they considered the case solved. Let us come out of hiding.”

“Except it wasn’t a suicide,” the man finishes your thought. He’s right—like always. “Someone wanted you to come back… The real killer?”

He looks at you for confirmation, but his idea seems to be too facile—child’s play. If that were the case, the FBI wouldn’t let you stay with him without protection—unless they considered him your protector. Something feels off about it.

“Will, my sister was killed by the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will stares at you with his eyes wide open. He’s looking at your face in a way that he’s never looked before. He can finally see you, your emotions, and despair—the mask you hid them under shatters into crumbs and floats away with his shaky breath. He hears the misery in your voice now—almost sees your winsome heart smashed into a million pieces inside your chest.

“I’m so sorry… I—” Will’s words are automatic as he processes your statement. He stays perfectly still in his armchair. “I didn’t—”

“What’s done is done, Will,” you interrupt him, shaking your head—a silent plea that he doesn’t blame himself for it. It doesn’t help—he still does.

The moment you stop talking, he can hear the faint ticking of the watch on your wrist. He looks at you, waiting for more to come, but you stay silent. Your eyes linger on your plate with a half-eaten crepe—the jam spilling out onto the white ceramic canvas; you seem to be contemplating something.

He remembers back on that stormy night when you came home at the end of a particularly complicated and brutal investigation—soaked and chilled to the bone. You had a small cut on your arm, not big enough to require stitches, but he wanted—no, he needed—to clean it up and kiss it all better, anyway.

Will could tend to a cut on your skin, but he couldn’t scour the one on your soul—he couldn’t kiss it all better. He always felt the need to fix things—fix you. Now? He has no idea how to take that pain away from you.

He knows he should be glad to see you—glad to see you again. But right now, there’s only sadness, confusion, and guilt because, somehow, this isn’t quite you. There has been this beautiful, bright light shining from you, but it’s missing, and the man feels the loss of it inside. He wants to reach out and take this sadness away from you, comfort you, and bring back that light you always had. He almost wants to cry—he doesn’t even know why himself.

Will swallows hard and finally speaks, voice shaking, “Can I ask you something?”

He hesitates as if afraid of the potential answer. The only thing keeping him from sinking into emptiness is your presence, and asking the wrong question might have a devastating effect. Will looks at you—eyes pleading for understanding.

“Yes. Of course…”

“What did he take?” He almost doesn’t recognize his voice. It seems to be a mere whimper—a noise buried deep within a wounded animal’s throat.

“Her heart.”

Your words strike him like a bullet. Will closes his eyes, trying hard to keep the salty water from filling them. The loss of one heart was unbearable, losing another one physically… He tries to find a reason not to be angry at fate—but there is none. The world gave you back to him, but at what cost?

He reaches out, taking your hand in his. His touch seems reassuring and gentle, but his eyes betray his anger. “I never should have let you leave...”

You ignore his words, looking into the void, and continue, “Her lungs.”

Another cruel twist of the dagger in his gut. He feels your hand squeeze his, almost as if it were asking for comfort. Yet, Will cannot be a comfort at this moment—he is too enraged at the thought of such brutality.

His gaze turns cold as stone, his hand tightening around yours as he holds back the emotions boiling up inside him, threatening to explode and tear everything apart. His eyes remain closed—unwilling to see any more of your pain. You can feel the anger radiating from him like heat.

If she stops breathing, my heart will stop with it—those were his words to Hannibal. Another therapy session he now deeply regrets. It is his fault—his fault that your sister died. And amongst all the hatred, anger, and remorse, he feels a bone-chilling relief that it wasn’t you in her place.

He knows it’s twisted to think like that; he shouldn’t even feel like that, but he can’t imagine his life knowing you were buried deep—six feet beneath the earth he was walking on and still breathing. He doesn’t know whether it was Hannibal’s well-thought-through plan or his fucked up mistake, but Will is grateful.

You are breathing, alive, and your pulse is beating fast beneath his tight grasp. He does not want to let go of it—not yet.

Will opens his eyes, still unable to see your face, yet so very relieved. He doesn’t let go of your hand, his fingers running over your knuckles as if, by touch, he can somehow reassure himself that you weren’t his imagination.

The anger inside him still roils, but he no longer shows it. The only hint of his discomfort is the tightness with which he holds your hand.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he mumbles out, almost inaudible.

“No, Will, I won’t let anything happen to you.” You meet his gaze, your eyes almost begging. “I can’t lose you too. You’re the only one I have left.”

Will smiles at you sadly. His eyes filled with a strange light, his fingers running through your hair. Your plates have been long forgotten on the nearby windowsill as he leans forward and carefully touches your cheek, running his forefinger across your lips and down to your chin.

At first, you think the gesture is affectionate—intimate. But then you notice that he’s trying to remember your every feature. It’s painful to think that someone who loved you so dearly might have forgotten your face, the feel of your skin under his touch. Maybe it’s this thought that makes your eyes well up with tears; maybe it is the gesture itself. Or possibly even both.

This moment feels so real, so raw—you are tempted to believe in it, to be hopeful for your future, at least for a moment. But after all you went through, you know that hope is a dangerous thing, and it can turn against you. It’s been so long since all your hopes have been crushed you almost forgot how to have them... And just like that, the moment vanishes, and reality crashes back.

Later that night, when you come out of the shower and crawl into his bed—your clothes sticking to the slightly damp skin, your hair in an unruly mess—he simply opens his arms.

“You claim to be my friend, yet you sleep in my bed like a lover would,” he says—he still remembers the words you whispered to him when the roles were reversed.

Will smiles at the irony, his arms wrapping around you. Your hair is still dripping, the water sliding down your neck and onto his chest. It trickles down in rivulets to his stomach, creating wet spots on his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care.

You notice his grip is tighter than usual, yet you feel no pain, no discomfort. If he wanted to hurt you, he would. But you’re safe here—in his arms. Safer than you’ve ever been.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love having me in your bed,” you mumble against his neck, your minty breath tickling his skin.

His body shivers, and a soft sound escapes his lips. Your words remind him of the years of loneliness, of his body yearning for your touch. The sound is almost a whimper, and you feel his fingers twining in your wet hair.

The feeling is intoxicating. For years, he couldn’t touch a woman, didn’t even dream about having one so close to his skin, couldn’t feel someone’s body pressed tightly against him in a bed because they weren’t you—they dimmed in comparison. He missed it; he missed this connection, this skin-to-skin contact.

His hand lingers in your hair, the other one tracing your skin, exploring every inch of it, memorizing every imperfection, every bump beneath his palm.

“You haven’t been with anyone else, have you?” It’s not really a question—more of a sure statement—because, after all, you know Will like the back of your hand.

His head shakes, and both of his hands now run down your body. Will takes his sweet time exploring every inch of you—your hips, thighs, your stomach, and neck.

“I haven’t,” he whispers, almost embarrassed. As if his body belongs to someone else, and giving it to you now is a betrayal of that person.

Betrayal of you—the one he once knew—because he’s not entirely sure you’re still the same person. You were always so cheerful and full of life before—anything you touched, growing wings, flying out of the confines of its cage.

He yearns for this contact, craves a woman’s body—craves your body. He touches your skin, lightly running his fingertips over it, trying to bring back the memories from before. Will’s mind spins, trying to place the puzzle of you in the present.

He holds your face, trying to remember the way your eyes shined, the smile on your lips, the way your hair used to look. The feeling of your body, skin to skin, is almost painful. Your lips are so close, your heart beating so fast…

Winston jumps onto the bed, the weight and heat of his furry body on your calves makes you both pull away hesitantly.

“Sorry,” you mumble out the apology into the stillness of the air.

Will looks at you with a soft smile and a faint blush on his cheeks. “It’s fine.” He glances over at the dog. “What’s the matter, little fella? Can’t sleep?” He reaches over to pet the dog, then he turns his attention back to you.

The atmosphere changes completely, filled with the sounds of the night and Winston’s heavy breathing. Yet, although your physical proximity to Will has changed, you still feel connected to him in a way that only two people who are truly close can. The warmth of Winston’s body seems to melt the tension.

The dog snuggles up against you both, the three of you creating your own little world of peace. Will is the first to speak, “I’d rather be in bed with you only,” he sends you a smirk, “but I would still get the same amount of hair on my clothes.”

You feel your lips part in a grin; your breath catches in your throat, and it takes a moment before you’re able to answer his playful jab.

Will catches you in this moment of surprise as if he can smell your anticipation in the air. His hands wrap around your waist, dragging you closer until your bodies are pressed snugly once more.

When he smiles at you, it’s as if the world stops briefly. Your eyes lock, and for a second, there is nothing else but the two of you.

“It’s a sad thing your smile is so rare,” you whisper, your fingers tracing his stubbled jaw.

Will's heart pounds in his chest. He takes your hand in his, running his fingers along your skin. There's always been an undeniable spark between you, but this time, it feels different, more intense. Like if you let yourself go and let the spark ignite, the fire will burst out of your chest.

Will leans closer to you; your noses are almost touching. His brown eyes are so close you can see every detail in them despite the darkness of the room. You can feel the tension in the air, and you know what would break it...

“Will, I... I can’t—” You stumble over your words, gaze parting from his.

Your stutter is cut short by Will’s lips touching yours. A soft sound escapes him as if he’s been waiting for you to stop speaking so he can taste you. His tongue slips over your lips, exploring your mouth.

This is not the clumsy, almost animalistic lust he had for you in the past—it’s something different. Something tender, almost sweet.

Your hands fall limply onto the duvet, your heart beating faster, your breath catching in your throat as you sink deeper into the kiss. You don’t want this to end… So you pull him closer.

Seemingly annoyed by the nonstop movement, Winston jumps off the bed and retreats to his place by the lit-up fireplace. You almost giggle at that, but you’re far too busy with kissing Will’s lips raw.

Your hands find their way onto his neck next, your fingers running through his curls. With lips almost glued to his, you pull him back every time he tries to move.

The sound of your heavy breathing is enough to make his heart pound in his chest as if his very blood is racing. He’s holding you so tightly you fear you might break. Will breathes in the smell of you, almost intoxicated by it. Your scent enriches him—sends his emotions into a whirlwind.

After a moment, he manages to pull away, gasping for breath. He is still holding you, hands pressed against your back, as if not wanting to let go. Will tries to catch his breath—it feels like his entire life is contained in those few moments.

His eyes find yours, looking for some reassurance, as if he expects to wake up from a dream any moment now. He opens his mouth to say words but can’t find any. All he can do is look at you, so beautiful in the darkness. Will closes his eyes as if trying to cling to this moment.

“I’m glad I’m back. Despite the circumstances...” Your fingers play with his curls, your breath just as shaky as his.

“You’re back...” Will murmurs, looking at you relieved, touching your face as if to make sure you’re still here. He wants to speak, to tell you everything that is going through his mind, but when he opens his mouth again, no words come out. He tries to collect himself—tries to bring his heart to your level.

“It’s been a long time... We should probably talk. You know, just to catch up.”

“You like talking now?” Your grin is electrifying, it sends heat down the man’s body. But when he notices it doesn’t reach your eyes, his neediness crumbles.

A veil of insecurity falls over his face. “No… I don’t like talking. But I still do it if I have to, so can we just…” Will gestures to the two of you, the room—just a sign of exasperation and need to do this now. He swallows hard, trying to find his voice. “It’s just... it’s been a long time. And I... you know... there is just a lot that happened.”

“Will,” the way you say his name halts him, “it’s okay if you want to talk.”

He blinks slowly, suddenly confused—why did he even try to lie about it? Hannibal gave him his voice and showed him the power of his words—the good one and the evil one.

Will lets out a deep breath and then closes his eyes. It’s always been hard for him to tell people how he feels. Especially when he wants to say more than any amount of words can describe—and there is a lot to describe. There is so much he has to tell you, and yet when he tries to form the words—to get them out—his mind goes blank.

He opens his eyes and looks at you for help, but you look just as confused as before. “I don’t even know where to begin,” he says softly. “So much has changed.”

“You haven’t. Not as much as you think you did.”

He sees the impossibly black creature in his peripheral vision. It stands behind you, completely still, and its antlers seem much more massive than ever before when he catches their shadow falling onto you. He wants it to be gone so badly, but deep inside, he knows it’ll never vanish if Hannibal is still alive, and maybe even after his death, he’ll never get his peace back.

“Your opinion will change quicker than you realize.”

The creature’s still there, Will looks it straight into its void of color eyes. It’s just in his mind, yet the shiver that runs down your spine tells him you might feel its presence, too. He hates that he can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not or if you can indeed see it, too. A feeling of dread seizes him, a cold sensation that runs up his arms and into his bones.

“Hannibal...” he whispers, but when he looks around the room, he sees no sign of the creature. The sense of dread lingers, nevertheless.

“The Chesapeake Ripper?” you question, and he tells you all about it. All about Hannibal’s mind games—what he did to him and then what he undid.

Will tells you about the therapy sessions, his transformation, and the darkness that took hold of him. He talks about his memories of your sister, about his guilt, and then he moves on to you—your absence and the reason why you left. The void he felt for all those dark years without you—until he was given the chance to have you back, a light guiding him back into reality. And you listen carefully to all of it; you let him speak his heart out until he no longer feels the need to speak.

When he is done telling you everything, Will falls silent. It feels like he laid bare his soul, exposing his most intimate thoughts, yet you still lie in front of him, unchanged. He looks at you, almost expecting you to leave. After all, how much can a person handle? But your gaze is still strong; you still care about him at least a little…

It’s almost as if you’re reading his mind. “I still care about you, Will. My feelings never changed and they never will. I’ll do anything I can to help you get him.”

His eyes soften at your words, and he closes the distance between you two. Slowly he kisses your lips, tasting your breath, feeling his mouth move against yours. The sensation is so intense that it almost sends sparks through Will’s body.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers into your ear before he turns your head and kisses you again. His hands rest on your back, pulling you in even closer as his tongue dances against yours. “And I’ve missed you. So goddamn much...”

Will pulls away, breathless, as if his entire body is aflame. He looks at you, studying your face so intently it’s almost as if he wants to burn your image into his brain. “So much,” he repeats softly.

He rests his head against yours, breathing in the sound of your heartbeat, listening to the rise and fall of your chest. “You’re here. You’re really here.” He exhales a sigh of relief as if your presence is the sweetest gift he could have ever wished for.

[saksukei]

simon ‘ghost’ riley and his love languages

masterlist | i think i may have wrote too much??

there’s one thing lieutenant simon ghost riley knew when he began dating you. he had to be the best version of himself or at least try. you were the only person he met that he ever wanted to try for.

i. words of affirmation

initially, simon has trouble adjusting to calling you any pet names and just calls you by your name. it isn’t until he gets comfortable enough to say, “love” which is his go to nickname. he says them only in private though.

and then it’s nicknames galore. he calls you his sunshine because he literally adores your smile so much!!! the type to say, “i brought flowers for you. they needed sunshine and you were the obvious choice.” and he also says things like, “my darling angel” when you get him a cup of tea.

most importantly, if you ever do something that’s like daunting or difficult for you or if you learn something he’s gonna say “that’s my girl, always so intelligent.” if the two of you ever hit the gym together and you hit more reps than your regular ones, he’s gonna be so happy for you. “atta girl,” he kisses your cheek as he pats your back.

ii. gifts

he wasn’t very heavy on gift giving. that was until he saw something that he knew you’d like and bought it. and the smile that graced your face with the stars in your eyes made him want to do it more often.

and he felt his heart jump when he saw you cherish the letters he’d written when he was deployed. ever since then, he’s been leaving cute little notes for you, making handmade things you’d like such as bracelets, necklaces. he knows how to sew and he sewed a cute little shirt for you. this also brings me to the fact that he likes knitting a lot and loves making mug warmers? it’s endearing really. he can also carve wood apparently? so he makes sweet little decoration pieces for your apartment. (but also lumber jack simon making me insane)

all in all, he loves giving gifts. he’s the type to make a special notebook for just you and put pressed flowers on each page. “got you something you liked, darling.”

iii. acts of service

simon’s strongest way of expressing love is through acts of service. he’s a military man and a firm believer of ‘actions speak louder than words.’ i’ve said it before that his eye for detail is insane and he uses it in the relationship as well. alongside with his ability to literally commit you to memory, he remembers everything. (except birthdays, but he’ll remember yours).

from bending down to tie your shoelaces, to refilling snacks that he knows you like, to picking up heavy stuff, to guiding you with a hand on your waist, everything really!!! can read your facial expressions like it’s the only thing he knows and can immediately figured out what you like and don’t like. “you okay?”

and god, he's also aware of the sidewalk rule! never lets you walk on the outer side. the type to place a hand on corners and edges so that you don’t get hurt. he’s always looking out for you, ensuring you don't have anything in your way. he’ll always stand behind you because he feels it gives him a better chance to protect you.

iv. quality time

such a sucker for spending time with you but that’s mainly because he knows his is limited. and he would never risk not spending another minute with you. from watching movies, to watching you do make up in front of the vanity, to reading books together, training together, having tea. he finds your presence alone to be comforting. it's like you deal with all of his inner thoughts and reservations without even knowing it.

he also enjoyed doing mundane domestic tasks with you like getting groceries, setting up ikea furniture, cooking and cleaning together, honestly he loves it all. especially if there’s some jazz music playing in the background. i can absolutely imagine rubbing a little flour on simon’s face and he’ll get so offended, chasing you around the entire house, pining you down, just to do the same to you.

v. physical touch

simon is hesitant to become physically affectionate. that's not to say that he doesn’t enjoy it, it's just that when you’ve been met with violence all your life, gentleness is hardly something you expect.

but god, did he want to melt into a puddle when you held his hand or when you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. he swears he forgot how to breathe. and little by little, he got comfortable. hands hesitant to be on your waist, until that's the only place you found them, his head always nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “this might just be the favorite part of my day,” he says softly.

from lacing fingers, to kissing you the first thing in the morning, once simon’s comfortable, he won’t go a day without being intimate. “c’mere give me a kiss” to “you’re my good luck charm, love.”

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 6: Best Friends Forever

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), derogatory comments, sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, little bit of homophobia (It's Soldier Boy). Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I said I was gonna be more angsty with this chapter, but I got distracted, the sun was in my eyes, and my hand slipped…

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Spotify Playlist 🪴

The next morning Mike’s screeching begins all over again, but today he starts with "My Girl" by the Temptations.

He's getting warmer.

You think with a smile, singing along to the song under your breath as you prop yourself up on your pillows with a content sigh. The smell of gardenia wafted over your bed in a gentle wave as your curtains opened, allowing the sunlight to drift over your bed. The beautiful white flowers bloomed from the plant sitting on your bedside table, each petal frosted with mist from the mister hanging on the wall behind it.

Gardenias reminded you of home. They were your grandmother's favorite. There were several large bushes gracing the front yard of her home that rose almost as high as the second story. Whenever you were back home you would make sure that they burst into bloom so she could fill her home with the sweet smelling flowers. It helped you relax and sleep at night, though sometimes it didn't do much to keep the nightmares away.

You hadn't had a good night sleep in a while, but after Ben and you had been up late putting together the bookshelf that stood proudly in the left corner of your bedroom, you were exhausted. Now it was filled with your worn brightly colored paperbacks and covered with a healthy amount of pothos vines as was everything else in your home, but you loved it.

When the delivery men had arrived late yesterday evening and they had been more than willing to carry the couch up the three flights of stairs, but Ben had told them to leave and said "I'm not some kind of pussy that waits for her fucking husband to come home because she needs him to change a lightbulb."

And so they left, leaving Ben and you with the box your unassembled bookshelf came in and a giant three piece couch.

Mike's mother had set up a folding chair with her best friend Mary Ann outside on the sidewalk, drinking glasses of wine and giggling like schoolgirls each time Ben and you came back down to haul another piece of the couch back up into the apartment. He tried to make you sit upstairs and wait for him to bring it in, but you had cussed him out and held up the only finger that mattered.

Putting together the bookshelf hadn't been that much better. Ben had almost broken two of the tiny wooden pegs that secured the back panel all the while cursing under his breath when you tried to show him the instructions.

And being in the presence of the instructions seemed to trigger Ben. It immediately turned the two of you into the couple in the car that bicker over a map before they get murdered in a horror movie.

The shouting got so loud that Mike raced over hopeful that Ben had broken your heart and that he would there to pick up the pieces, while Mike's mother followed in quick pursuit hoping to console Ben.

But when Ben had answered the door sweaty and shirtless- because you'd ripped his shirt on accident when he tried to walk away from you muttering something about "women and their fucking instructions" and you'd grabbed him while shouting "say it to my face you geriatric asshat!"- Mike thought that he had interrupted something else and retreated back to his apartment in shame while his mother stood in the hallway waving a hand in front of her face to calm down.

As annoying as Ben was, you loved the bookshelf. It was perfect for your bedroom and looked a little whimsical, which was how most of your apartment looked with the mismatched vintage furniture, all the plants, and the crocheted blankets. What you couldn't figure out was why he bought it for you.

You had relented on his purchase of the couch, because it did make sense, he was spending the most time on it, but his purchase of the bookshelf confused you. He'd been in your bedroom all of five minutes a few days ago and had only looked at the pile of vine covered books once.

So why did it bother him so much that I had a pile of books on the floor of my bedroom? Why did he have to buy it for me? Why did he care enough to?

No one had ever done that before for you. Your high school boyfriend, Newton, had seen the same pile of books in your bedroom back home every time he came over and never did anything about it, but Ben had only seen it for a moment and remembered.

I don’t understand why he’s acting so nice. You stretch your hands up over your head and begin to get out of bed. Probably because he thinks if he’s nice I’ll sleep with him.

The thought was becoming familiar, but you weren't sure what other reason it could be for. The two of you had nothing in common. He was always angry, sexually forward, annoying, not to mention he was from another century and he didn't understand anything about the present time.

I mean sometimes it's kinda cute how clueless he is about stuff like that. He always gets that adorable frown and- Nope, nope, nope not thinking about that right now.

Bean purrs in agreement with your thought at the end of your bed, stretching his front legs and arching his back. His charcoal fur looks almost silver in the light from the sun that streams through the open window leaving behind the imprint of the brilliant square on your comforter.

Bean had enjoyed watching the two of you put together the bookshelves, well, he enjoyed playing in the box that the bookshelf came in. He ran in and out, back and forth through the openings on both sides of the  box, using it like a tunnel all the while Ben complained over the small screws and even smaller pegs that never seemed to fit where they needed to.

Personally you just think Ben was jealous that you knew how to read the instructions and he didn't.

And last night you understood just how bad Ben was at receiving directions. He had ignored you when you tried to help him, which had lead to the yelling match that Mike walked in on.  

But you still didn’t understand why he cared so much about the pile of books in your bedroom. They'd been sitting there since you moved in, because you hadn't found a proper place for them, not to mention the pile just kept growing.

At least he didn't look too closely at the titles. The last thing I want Ben to know is how many romance novels I read.

You grab a bundle of your clothes and open your bedroom door, while Mike continues to sing "My Girl." You creep down the hallway, intent on taking a shower, but your curiosity gets the better of you, so instead of going to the bathroom, you peek into the living room.

Ben is sitting on the new charcoal couch that you crammed into the room, reading a newspaper and you have no idea where he got it.

Maybe he already left sometime this morning?  Guess he can be quiet when he wants to be.

Bean prances down the hallway behind you and jumps onto the back of the couch, kneading his paws in the soft pillows, before dropping down next to Ben. Ben smiles at the cat and folds the newspaper closed so he can scratch him under the chin.

"Hey buddy." You hear him mutter. "Y/n up yet?"

Bean only purrs and rubs himself further into Ben's hand.

"Don't know how anyone can sleep with that jack-off next door." Ben rolls his eyes, but doesn't raise them from the cat that has begun to crawl into his lap. "Why does she hate me so much?" He whispers to Bean with a sigh.

His question made you freeze where you were standing in the hallway. It was so open, so honest, so completely unlike Ben. It was the last thing you were expecting him to ask your cat, well, honestly you didn't think that he would talk to the cat at all. You suddenly wondered what other things he said about you when you weren't around.

And why does he care so much if I hate him? I mean I don't, he just gets on my nerves constantly, and knows how to press all my buttons.

You liked to think that you were an easy-going person, but Ben drove you crazy. You'd never met anyone who could do that to you before, never allowed yourself to get angry, not even when Poppy Mansfield who put chocolate pudding on your seat at lunchtime when you were in fourth grade and made everyone think you'd pooped your pants. You'd only shrugged and walked to the bathroom, it was Annie who lost it. Annie had grabbed a handful of pudding and smeared it on Poppy's face and earned her the nickname "Poopy Poppy" until she transferred to another school at the end of the year.

But not with Ben, he crawled under your skin and stayed there whenever he teased you . Usually you let insults and teases roll off your back like water off a duck, but not with Ben. He knew what to say to make you lose your temper. You didn't know how he did that.

Not all the time though.

The trip to IKEA had been kind of fun, well, fun until Ben had insulted your boss and when the two of you watched a movie together it was fun.

In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you were starting to like him. You wish you didn't. It just made everything harder. You remember what he said at the plant shop, tried to burn it into your heart, that he didn't care about feelings or emotions and you did. You wanted to be with someone who cared about that, someone who understood everything about you, and loved you. You wanted love so bad your heart ached sometimes, and yes maybe you read way too many romance novels, but you wanted something like that to happen to you. You wanted to be so wrapped up in someone else that the world faded away, someone kind and sweet, who remembered little things like how much you liked gardenias or how much you loved pineapple iced tea from the place just around the corner and someone who would be okay with sitting on the couch or in bed, with you laying back in their arms while you read your newest book or tried to crochet.

Ben didn't care about any of that, probably what he would call "pussy shit." He just wanted sex, plain and simple, nothing more, nothing less.

And you didn't want just sex.

You didn't want to start something with Ben, develop strong feelings for him, and then only have him push you away as soon as he got what he wanted. You couldn't handle having your heart broken again. Newton had been enough and after him you told yourself you were going to try harder, were going to find someone who saw your self-worth. Of course that had been a few years ago and each year kinda felt like another nail in the coffin when you went on countless dates with people who never seemed to want the same things you did.

Plus, you were sure that Ben was only interested in you because you kept saying no and that made you "exciting" or whatever. So that just meant you were going to have to keep trying to find someone else.

You take a step back into the hallway, creeping further away as silent as possible. You didn't want him to catch you spying on him and you didn't want him to know that you had heard him ask Bean that. You force your door closed, before putting your clothes in the bathroom and shuffling down the hallway, purposely being as loud as you can so Ben can hear you over Mike's inhuman screech.

“Good morning.” You say as you enter the living room, as if it’s the first time.

“Morning Petals.” Ben looks over the back of the couch. He smirks as his eyes trace over your body. “Don’t you look delicious this morning.”

Your shorts were a little shorter than what you usually wore, hitting the middle of your thigh, and the oversized shirt you wore hung over them giving the illusion that you weren't wearing anything underneath it.

He is so confusing sometimes. Maybe he really just doesn't know how to talk to a woman in this century. Did that really work for him before? Does that work with all his dates?

“Thanks.” You say dryly.

Ben’s smirk twitches and something passes through his eyes that looks a little bit like regret, but it’s gone as soon as you see it.

You turn towards the kitchen. You didn’t know what you were looking for, truthfully you were just making conversation because you felt bad about what Ben asked Bean. You didn't know why that hurt you so much for him to think that you hated him, maybe it had something to do with everything that he'd been through. You wave a hand, perking up the plants in the box over the sink and the raspberry and blackberry vines covering the refrigerator to distract yourself.

“Um-“ You begin, but Ben interrupts you.

“There’s coffee in the microwave!” Ben suddenly blurts.

“What?”

Why is it in the microwave? Shouldn't it be in the coffee maker?

You sniff the air for the tell-tale smell of coffee, but smell nothing. A glance in the direction of the coffee maker reveals that the pot is still sparkling clean from when you washed it out last night.

Is he really lying about coffee? It's like he wants me to hate him.

“Um I mean-“ Ben clears his throat. “I got you coffee.”

“You got me coffee?” You parrot, surprised. “When?” You turn to look at him. He's watching you from over the back of the couch and he almost looks a little awkward, like he's not sure where to go from here as if he's not sure what to do when he does something nice for someone.

“I went to get a newspaper and I walked past a coffee shop.” He shrugs as if suddenly uninterested turning back around to face the jasmine covered wall, picking his newspaper up and opening it.

But you have a suspicion that he wasn't actually reading it, that he was just using it as a prop so he didn't have to look at you anymore.

“Oh. Thanks." You open up the microwave and withdrawal the still warm coffee mug taking a sip.

How in the fuck did he know how I like my coffee? You think to yourself, about to do a spit take you were so shocked, because the coffee was perfect. "How did you know-"

"I read the label on the one plant boy bought you the other day." Ben doesn't look up from his newspaper. "Is it… okay?" He asks it tentatively and a little awkward.

"Yeah. It's perfect actually. Thank you." You say it almost robotically. You couldn't believe that he remembered something like that about you. That he actually thought about you when he went to get a newspaper this morning.

He grunts a "You're welcome."

You take another sip and place it back in the microwave. Preparing to go back to take a shower.

"Do you…" Ben clears his throat again. "Do you work today?" He says it hesitantly.

"No. I usually have Friday's off because Annie and I make plans, but this week she cancelled because Hughie got tickets to some concert a few hours away and they're making it a day trip or whatever." You tried not to sound disappointed, but Friday's were usually you and Annie's day. You would plan random trips to shops in NYC, go to brunch, find ridiculous tourist attractions, try new restaurants, or you would go spend the day in Central Park reading. But Friday nights were wine, greasy pizza, sushi, Chinese food, snacks, and movie nights, had been since your parents died. It had been a family tradition before, Friday night films, but when they died Annie took it upon herself to continue it with you because your brother hadn't been willing to. Of course, when you were kids there wasn't wine, there also weren't movies with Glen Powell or Pedro Pascal, but as you grew so did the films and the conversations and the men, but your friendship blossomed with it.

"Oh." Ben leans his head back over the back of the couch, the smirk back in full force. "Well I've got a few ideas for what we could do today. Sounds like you're a little disappointed there Petals. I'm sure I could cheer you up."

You roll your eyes. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Great, I need one too." Ben jumps to his feet, leaving the newspaper on the couch as he turns to follow you.

"Ben." You sigh his name in frustration.

This is exactly what I'm talking about, he does something really nice and then he follows it up immediately by trying to sleep with me. Is that what this is to him? Do something chivalrous to make me like him and then finally let him fuck me?

It made you angry that he believed it would work.

"What? It'll save water and I just want to make you feel better Petals." Ben wiggles his eyebrows. "You sounded so sad when you said that Annie ditched you-"

"She didn't ditch me!" You snap. "She just had plans with Hughie that's all. And I can't believe you!"

"What the hell did I do?"

"You think that doing something like buying me coffee will get me to sleep with you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You're trying to act all chivalrous and nice just so that you can get me to finally sleep with you. But I'm not going to fall for it Gramps! I am not going to sleep with you just because you do one nice thing for me or try to pretend to care about me." You turn and stomp down the hallway, leaving Ben absolutely speechless in the living room.

When you get in the bathroom you blast your ABBA Gold Album from your Bluetooth speaker to drown out Mike's singing and to drown out your insane internal monologue. And when the music doesn't work, you start to sing the lyrics to the familiar songs letting the melodies soothe you.

You’d liked ABBA since you were a kid. Your mom would listen to it when she was cooking in the large kitchen in your childhood home and when your father got home from work at the end of the day he’d creep up behind her and pull her away from the stove for an impromptu dance.

Your childhood was filled with so much love from two people that were absolutely head over heels. And it made you want that too. It’s why you wouldn’t give in to Ben, because the memories of your parents and the love they shared still warmed your heart years after you’d last seen them.

You dry your hair with a towel, continuing to sing as you dress in your jeans and t-shirt, hoping that you could just escape the apartment by going to Central Park and read on your favorite bench to avoid seeing Ben. You were maybe a little embarrassed that you had yelled at him again. You never intended to.

Maybe I can just creep past him.

You think to yourself as you open the door of the bathroom, but as you step into the hallway you trip over something big on the ground and begin to pitch forward with a started screech. The thing you tripped on catches you so that you fall directly into Ben's lap, your legs on either side of his thighs. You realize that it was Ben you tripped on, who had decided to lounge with his back against one of the walls of the hallway, his legs bent at the knee, directly outside of the small bathroom.

As you fall into his lap, your hands land on his shoulders grabbing tightly in fear and surprise, while his hands catch your hips, pushing up the shirt you had just changed into enough that his hands are resting on a sliver of skin that peeks between your shirt and your favorite pair of jeans.

You weren't expecting it to feel so damn good for his skin to touch yours, to feel the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your hips. Your hands are still gripping his shoulders tightly, heart thrumming in your veins as you lock eyes with him, adrenaline from the fall still rushing through your veins. He looks as surprised as you do. His face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his body warm and hard beneath yours, and it's making you have flashbacks of the other night when he kissed you in front of Mike, when Ben crushed you against him and kissed you with so much passion that you couldn't equate it to anything else you'd ever felt in your entire life.

You weren't about to admit that aloud, that the kiss you shared with Ben was the best one you'd ever had. And you weren't going to admit that if he kissed that good, you were betting that he would be the best you ever had at other things too. Newton hadn't exactly been a Casanova, and you'd hoped that Newton would have gotten at least a little better at some things the more you two were intimate, he hadn't. You'd also hoped that Newton would have been more concerned about you the closer the two of you were, but each time you were a little disappointed and he was, well, happy.

No. Not thinking about sex right now, not when I'm sitting on top of Ben for fucks sake.

That was a little detail that you were trying very hard to ignore, but it was difficult, not when you could feel everything that made Ben-ahem- Ben, beginning to get interested in your position on top of him.

Ben's eyes are dark, focused on your face, an emotion swimming behind them that makes something snag under your ribs and try to yank you forward, to close the distance between the two of you. His eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth for just a millisecond, moving his face an inch forward, just enough that you can feel the warmth of his lips, but they still do not touch.

"Ben what are you doing on the ground?" You say leaning back to lengthen the distance between your faces, but you can't force your voice into more than a hoarse whisper.

"Dropped my keys." He lies.

"Ben?"

Ben hesitates for a moment. "You've got a pretty voice, wanted to hear better." He admits under his breath, looking as if you caught him with a baseball bat outside your broken kitchen window.

What?

You could feel yourself flushing to the roots of your hair. You'd forgotten that he could hear you in the shower and forgotten that his hearing was so good that he’d be able to pick up what was Mike and what was you. “I’m sorry if it was too loud-“

“No. It was nice.” The end of his mouth twitches in half smile, eyes twinkling impishly. “I’d never tell a woman she was being too loud. I like that doll."

You roll your eyes at him, but his comment doesn’t annoy you this time. You wondered if that was because you were getting used to him and the way he was.

You wanted to kiss him so badly that your lips were aching. He always looked so good and right now was not an exception. Some of his dark hair had fallen forward over his forehead and your fingers itched to push it back, to drag your fingertips over his skin and feel the dips and grooves of his handsome face. The smell of his shampoo was everywhere, spicy and familiar in the best way.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You whisper. Your hands hands have fallen from his shoulders to rest against the front of his shirt. You don’t really remember when you did that, just that now you can feel the warmth of his chest and the subtle beating of his heart in the palms of your hands. “I think I am kind of upset that Annie cancelled on me today.”

“It’s okay, I'm used to it." Ben's hands are still on you waist, firmly keeping you on top of him. “You always seem to yell at me.”

"Shut up I do not yell at you that much." You laugh, pushing back on his chest playfully.

Ben smiles, but then you watch it drop.

“Look I didn’t get you coffee because I thought it would make you let me fuck you. I got it because you always say you need it to deal with me.” The way he says it breaks something, because he sounds almost sad and you’d never heard him sound that way before. “And I figured that I would see you today and that you’d need it.” He drops his gaze to where your hands are placed on his chest. He’s watching them curiously, like he can’t quite understand it.

Honestly you couldn’t understand what was going on either. Ben was holding you gently, almost reverently on his lap. It was odd. You’d never seen him be this way with anyone.

“Ben-“ You sigh. “I need coffee to deal with everyone, not just you. You’re not special.” You joke to get him to smile again, but he doesn’t instead he continues to look at your hands.

“Hey.” You whisper and this time your hand drifts softly to Ben’s cheek holding his gaze on you. His eyes widen slightly with your bold touch. “Ben I don’t hate you. I just-“

 There’s a loud frantic knocking at the front door that startles you off of Ben and on to the ground beside him.

“Were you expecting anyone?” Ben asks as he stands up and holds out his hand to help you.

“Um- no actually.” You reply taking it.

The frantic knocking starts again.

“Do you think it’s Mike checking to see if we broke up again?” Ben snorts.

“I think it might be his mom hoping you answer the door shirtless. Almost gave that poor woman a heart attack.” You start to walk through the living room.

“I remember you having a similar reaction a few days ago Petals.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Though I will say if you ever decided to walk around the apartment shirtless I’d be perfectly okay with that.”

“I did not. And I’m sure you would.” You roll your eyes. “But I doubt you’d be okay with letting me answer the door like that since you seem to be so jealous. Are all the men from your generation so possessive of women they can’t have? Or is it just you?”  You tease, remembering how he reacted yesterday afternoon at IKEA in front of Jake.

You doubted that he was jealous. Ben didn’t have anything to be jealous about. He seemed to be plenty happy with the women he found on tinder and you thought it was ridiculous that he needed to have you too.

You glance back over your shoulder to look at Ben seeing if he’s preparing another insult. He’s gone stick straight, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes dark, frown deepening.

Shit I was just kidding but-

You turn back to look at the door but can’t fight the tight feeling that rose in your chest when he looked at you like that.

Get a grip.

You interrupt the next bout of frantic knocking by opening the door.

A man in a rumpled navy suit stands out side the door, a bright blue quilted baby bag covered in elephants hangs from his left shoulder, a little girl holds on to his left hand, while a little boy screams shrilly and hangs from his right arm.

“Mr. Wilson- hi-“ You stutter, surprised. “Are you alright? Here-“ You reach to take his almost one year old son, Josh, from his arms. Josh continues to wail loudly, shaking his head back and forth.

“Can you please watch the kids?!” He says eyes frantically looking around the apartment behind you and focusing on Ben.

Mr. Wilson was another one of your neighbors, but he and his wife lived on the fifth floor. You’d met the Wilson’s by accident when Martha, the five year old holding on to his left hand wearing a bright pink tutu, decided to ride the elevator down to the lobby all by herself and met you while you were moving all your stuff into your apartment. She’d declared you her best friend as soon as she saw the colorful assortment of flowering plants you were lugging through the lobby of your apartment building in a cardboard box. You’d babysit for the Wilson’s sometimes when they needed a few quiet moments alone and on date nights. Not to mention they had a ton of money and paid almost five times per hour the amount you made in an hour working at “Please Don’t Die.”

Josh wails, his face turning bright red, so loud that Ben flinches behind you. You remember what he said about the supe that blew out his eardrums and can't help but feel a little sorry for him. Your own hearing was only a little better than other people's, but not enough to be as bothered as Ben.

“Hey little guy, its okay.” You coo gently bouncing Josh on your hip to make him stop crying. He sniffles and wraps his arms around your neck, gurgling quietly as he catches his breath.

“Y/n!” Martha shouts putting your right leg in a choke hold.

“Hi Marty.” You smile down at her, adjusting your weight so you don’t drop Josh. You look up at her father. “Mr. Wilson, I'm just not sure that now is the right time."

You think about Ben standing behind you and how horrified he looked when the children descended upon you, as if they were ticking time bombs. You weren't sure if you wanted Ben around kids, or if he had ever been around children before. He wasn't the best influence, not to mention you didn't think that he would be able to filter what he said or what he did around the,

“My wife she just-“ He swallows brown eyes wide. “She just went into labor."

"Oh. OH. Well-"

They had been expecting their third child for a while now, something that had resulted from you taking care of Josh and Martha more and more, and Mr. Wilson's promotion at work. You had learned before Mr. Wilson by accident when you reached down to pick up Josh's binky that was on the ground and your ear brushed against Mrs. Wilson's almost completely flat stomach and you heard the heartbeat.

“Please! I’ll pay you triple the hourly rate and her mother will be here tonight to take over for you.” The man looks close to getting on his knees and begging you. "You won't have them for long-"

Have a heart she’s going in to labor. What else is this poor man going to do? Drag the kids there with him? A part of you whispers. But then they'd be stuck here with Ben all day long. Well, maybe he will leave.

“Okay.” You relent with a sigh.

“Thank you!” Mr. Wilson exclaims shoving the bag into your free arm and then disappears from the doorway without saying goodbye to his children, but you were going to cut him some slack. You understood that when a woman went into labor most men didn't understand what to do with that information.

Shit. You grit your teeth to avoid saying it aloud when taking the bag throws you off balance. With one kid still hanging from your leg and the other one hanging from your neck, it was difficult to maneuver with the bag too.

Ben’s hand appears in your line of vision and he takes the bag, practically with one pinky.

“Show off.” You mutter, but turn your attention to the little girl hanging from your leg.

“I want a flower crown!” Martha crows.

“Okay sweetie just give me one second.” You take another step with her holding on to your leg.

“Now!”

“Martha.” Your voice turns stern as you look down at her and she pouts. "Please let me get Josh situated first."

“Fine.” She pouts and lets go of your leg.

The relief you feel is quickly overshadowed by Ben standing there, holding the diaper bag out from his body like it’ll bite him. Honestly you wished you had your phone ready to take a photo of Ben holding the bag, and then use it as blackmail.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben asks looking down at the two children confused.

“Shh language!” You snap, eyes widening as you look down at Martha and Josh. Josh has begun to pull your hair from the ponytail at the back of your neck.

"What language?"

You give Ben a death stare wincing when Josh yanks the hair tie out. Martha has let go of your leg and is looking up at Ben with the same fascination that you'd seen her look at Prince Charming from Cinderella.

Guess it works on girls of all ages.

You think about telling her that Ben might be charming from a distance, but he isn't anything like a prince. Honestly, you were more worried that Ben was going to act like a total dick and crush this little girl's heart.

"Hi." She waves her hand at him. "I'm Marty."

Ben stares down at her, as if he's deciding whether or not to say his name aloud. "Ben." His eyes flick back to yours. "What are you doing?"

"We have had the money conversation many times, but I guess you must be getting forgetful in your old age, so we can have it again." You smirk. "Some of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths or have a trust fund. I don’t have money, therefore, I babysit to get some extra cash sometimes. Hence the children.” You wave your free hand commanding the vines to open up the pantry and grab Josh's high chair out to set up for you. "I told you that I work several jobs."

"What do you mean several? You said that you worked for Butcher and plant guy." Ben huffs, still holding the bag.

"You know his name is Jake. And we live in America if you can't remember. You know? America home of the free, home of the brave single woman trying to make ends meet and pay for her crappy apartment by working fifty million jobs?" You begin to buckle Josh in to the high-chair. "But thanks for showing me how to fix the plumbing under the sink. Definitely going to add that to my job application.

"How many jobs do you have?"

"I mean it’s really what I do when I’m not working for Butcher. I works at the plant shop, I babysit, sometimes I’m a dog walker, oh and there’s this senior living facility a few blocks over that I run errands for when the people living there need me."

"You run errands for senior citizens? What kind of fucking person does that?"

"LANGUAGE! And this freaking person does that thank you. It's not all that bad. Plus I thought you were going to act like them when I first met you, but you are more h-a-n-d-s-y." You spell it out because you don't want the kids to say it. "Oh and I'm also a gardener."

"A gardener?"

"Sometimes." You shrug. "But now that you've met the kids, it's time for you to go."

“What?”

"I don't want him to go." Martha stomps her little foot enclosed in a bright pink sparkly flat.

You ignore her and reach for the table part of the high chair, strapping Josh in. He's wearing an adorable pair of overalls and a teddy bear t-shirt underneath. Despite his early hissy fit in his father's arms, Josh is smiling happily at you, his wild curly black hair sticking up in different directions. “I’m not going to let you be around a kid. You're barely on your best behavior around me."

“What do you think I’m gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Smoke a doobie, roll a doobie, make horrible life choices, drink, curse-“ You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“You really don’t see me in a positive light.” He smirks at you. It's hard for him to pull off when he's still holding the bright blue bag covered in elephants. It was quilted, probably a knock off Vera Bradley, which only made you wish for your phone even more.

“No I do not.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Fine, just go watch TV in my room. But if you start going through my underwear drawer I swear I will cut off your D-I-C-K.” You spell the word and narrow your eyes, letting them flash bright green to emphasize your point.

Martha is still staring up at Ben, upset at the idea that he's going to go anywhere. "Wait y/n! Please let him stay, he can help me braid Betty's hair!" Betty was Martha's favorite doll, one that you were sure was in the sparkly backpack that hung across her back. Another photo opportunity you did not want to miss.

“I don’t want to go in there.” Ben states.

“Well that’s the first time you’ve ever said that. Usually you’re all for going in my room.” You huff, before turning to look down at Martha. "Alright, you want jasmine like last time? Or do you want some Lavender too?"

"Strawberries!" Martha exclaims.

"Strawberries!" Josh echoes, mashing his meaty fist on the tray not quite comprehending.

"Alright, but you remember. Our little secret right?"

Martha and Josh's parents didn't know you were a supe, they figured that you really liked plants and that Martha's occasional flower crowns came from you manually making them, not from you waving your hand and watching the stems weave together. You weren't sure how the Wilson's would react to finding out that you were a supe. They were more straight laced than you.

Probably also wouldn't like Ben hanging around if they knew who he really was. Actually I'm surprised that Mr. Wilson didn't ask more questions about Ben when he saw him.

Martha nods eagerly.

"Secret?" Ben asks.

"The Wilson's don't know I'm a supe." You murmur so only Ben can hear plucking a strawberry from the plant on your kitchen table. Secretly it was your favorite plant and it was much older than all the others in your apartment, encased in a hand-painted pot.

It was the first plant that you ever grew, sprouted from the chopped strawberries on your high chair tray when you were nine months old. Your parents had potted it inside the house and since then it had never wilted, and it never would. It meant everything to you, weird as that may be, strawberries were like a good luck charm and the plant that sat on your threadbare circular kitchen table was the symbol of your origin story.

"What do they think all the plants are?"

"They just think I like plants." Your eyes are glowing bright green allowing the strawberry in your hands begin to grow a stem and leaves, the stems weaving together to form a circle, sprouting small white flowers that ripen into red fruit, delicately intertwining to create the crown that Martha wants.

She squeals happily when you put it on her head and dances past Ben into the living room on tip-toe.

"You want one too Gramps?" You smirk at Ben.

"Tempting, but no."

"Alright." You look back at Josh, who has begun to chew on his chubby fist. "Are you hungry? I think you're hungry." You turn to look at Ben who is watching Martha do a mock impression of a ballerina with a horrified expression. "Ben can I see the bag?"

His head snaps in your direction. “Why?”

“Because it’s a magical bag with baby food in it.”

He holds it out and you snatch  it away.

“Geez. Calm down Petals.” Ben leans against the counter behind you watching you  methodically take out the jars. “Now what?”

“Well Sherlock, I’m going to feed the baby.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I know! I know!” Martha screams jumping up with her hand in the air. “Oh please!”

You bite back the urge to laugh. “Yes Marty?” You act as if you're calling on her in class.

“He can help me make friendship bracelets!”

Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes while crossing his arms over his chest. “Like hell I’m gonna-“

*Twenty Minutes Later*

“Please tie another knot for me.”

“No.” Ben grunts

"You're funny." Martha laughs and hands Ben the elastic string so she can start another friendship bracelet.

She was wearing the one that she had spent the last twenty minutes on, a string of bright pink, light pink,  hot pink beads, and white pearly stars broken up by the name Marty. Ben had sat there the whole time next to her, pouting while occasionally throwing angry looks at you like it was your fault.

It's not.

You couldn’t understand why he stayed. You figured that he would leave to go on a date or try to escape as soon as Martha mentioned the words "friendship bracelet," but he hadn’t. He sat there at the kitchen table with Martha, whose little legs hung over the front of her chair, her face tight with concentration as she made friendship bracelets.

You’d taken two photos and you were very excited. But you’d been more focused on feeding Josh. He was still eating bits of strawberry and watermelon, but you would give him the occasional bite of teether.

Ben had looked like he was going to throw up when you broke off a piece for yourself.

It wasn't that bad. Kinda like eating a piece of flavored cardboard.

"You really like the watermelon huh?" You ask Josh taking another piece from the plastic container and cutting it up so it's small enough for him to eat.

"Waa waa." Josh mumbles picking up another piece. The red sticky juice was running down his little arms and each time you tried to wipe him off he would scream "No!"

You figured that he had learned that from Martha.

You hold out the circular Tupper-ware of watermelon out to Ben, who takes a piece, still frowning at you the whole time.

He's got to lighten up.

“Benny pick a color for me!” Martha says shuffling her fingers through the organized little boxes of her friendship bracelet kit, the beads rustling loudly against the plastic sides.

"It's Ben."

"Benny!" She whines. "Pick a color."

Ben sighs heavily as if she’d asked him to stab himself. He was probably considering that to get out of this hell. “Green.”

“Light green or dark green?”

“I don’t give a-“

“Ben.” You growl under your breath staring at him.

He sighs again sinking lower in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Dark green.”

When Martha finishes the bracelet it has light green, dark green, and black beads with brilliant pearly white stars and the name Ben spelled out on the strand. She hands it to him. “This is for you. Now we’re best friends forever.” Her face turns serious. “Guard it with your life.”

Ben holds the bracelet between his thumb and index finger, frowning down at it. For a second you hope that he’s not going to throw it away in front of Martha. You noticed that she was trying to impress him the best she could and even you had to admit that her bracelet making skills were unmatched. You were also a little jealous. She didn’t make one for you.

But then Ben does something you didn’t think you’d ever see him do, but puts it on. “Thanks.” He grunts and Martha’s smile is so wide you’re sure it would blind anyone in a ten mile radius.

You’re surprised, so surprised that you drop the watermelon you had been holding on the ground.

What in the actual fuck is happening? He’s being so nice to her.

“Y/n, pick a color!” Martha shouts handing Ben another piece of elastic to tie a knot in.

“Um- light green.” You say, but you can't look away from Ben.

Am I hallucinating?

You were so shocked at his behavior. Yes he was still being a little bit of a dick, but he hadn't done anything that bad in the time that the children had been here, just occasionally curse.

The bracelet that Martha makes you looks a bit like Ben’s, except you have light green, dark green, purple, and black beads with white pearly stars broken up by your name.

"Thank you Marty." You smile at her and roll it on your wrist.

"Y/n?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"I have to go to the bathroom." She stands from the chair and hops from foot to foot. "I don't want to go by myself, the hallway is scary!"

"Oh okay." As soon as you get up Josh begins to wail, face turning bright red as he does, pounding his little fists against the tray of the high chair, sending pieces of strawberry and watermelon flying everywhere.

Oh shit.

"Hey it's okay Joshie." You unclip him from the high chair and pull him into your arms, bouncing him to make him stop crying.

"Y/nnnnnnnnnn!" Martha whines, continuing to hop from foot to foot. "I really have to go."

"Well I- um." Your eyes dart to where Ben is still sitting at the kitchen table, cringing slightly when Josh gives another particularly loud wail.

Am I really about to do this?

"Ben can you take him for just a second."

"What?" Ben's eyes widen.

"Please? I have to take Marty to the bathroom."

"She can't go by herself? Suck it up or whatever?"

"It's dark Benny!" Martha cries, peering around him down the hallway. "I don't want to go by myself."

"But-" Ben begins to say.

"Please Ben." You plead.

He curses under his breath. "Fine." He stands up and takes Josh from your arms, holding him away from his body in the air with both hands like Josh is a live grenade, which only makes him scream louder.

Martha grabs your hand and begins to drag you down the hallway, while Ben grimaces at the wriggling child in his arms. "Try holding him against your chest." You say to him as Martha continues to pull you towards your small bathroom.

I am definetly getting a night light for this hallway. Then again, she doesn't even like it when the lights are on. She said that the yellow glow looked "creepy." But I don't think I should leave Josh alone with Ben. What if he drops him or kills him or- shit why did I do this.

As soon as Martha is finished and has washed her hands you return to the kitchen prepared for the worst, but then you see Ben. His back is to you, but he's gently bouncing Josh in his arms who giggles happily over Ben's shoulder at you.

"See you just need to man up." You hear Ben say. "The ladies don't like a man who cries kid, take it from me."

You smile to yourself. And if you thought that Ben was gorgeous before, Ben standing with a baby making a baby smile, makes something primal at the back of your mind begin to stir and unfortunately makes every plant in your general vicinity burst into bloom. The smell of gardenia, hibiscus, honeysuckle, and lavender hitting you in a strong wave as they do. You weren't sure what instinct it was, all you knew was that the image of Ben and the baby would be very  difficult to wipe from your mind.

"Did you miss me Benny?" Martha shouts coming up behind him, her strawberry crown still perched over her dark braids.

"Um." Ben turns around to look at where you're standing at the edge of the kitchen. He looks a little sheepish, like he didn't want you to catch him with a kid.

That's understandable. Hughie told me how he reacted to seeing a diaper commercial. The guy just doesn't seem to be the most gentle or really loving. And yet look at how he is with Josh.

"Of course he did Marty." You smile rubbing her back. "Right?"

"Sure." Ben sighs, but then he lifts his gaze back up to you. "You shouldn't call her that." Ben grunts.

"Why not?"

"You keep calling her a man's name and everyone is gonna think she's a boy."

You kick Ben hard in the shin.

"Ow. What the fu-" Ben snaps, eyes blazing.

"Marty, why don’t you pick out a movie you want to watch, anything you want." You smile sweetly at her, ignoring Ben's angry glare.

"Anything I want?" She exclaims, eyes bright.

"Anything you want."

She squeals happily and runs to the couch, disrupting Bean who had been watching with contempt from the cushions that line the back. He didn't like the kids as much as Ben did. Bean leaps off the couch and vanishes down the hallway before Martha can catch him.

"I call her that because she asked  me to Ben. Don’t say things like that to a five-year old. In fact don't stuff like that at all. It's 2024 not 1920."

"What does that mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." You frown at him.

"Fine." Ben huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Why are you still here? I thought that you were going to go on a date or whatever it is you do when you're not being forced to work for Butcher?" You say taking Josh from Ben, who fights you as you rub a wipe against his sticky cheeks.

"I didn't want you to be outnumbered Petals." Ben smirks.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Admit it, you really wanted a friendship bracelet."

Ben leans closer to whisper in your ear. "As soon as she leaves, this is going in the trash."

But for some reason you don’t believe him, but at the same time you didn't care, because you had photo evidence on your phone of Soldier Boy  making friendship bracelets.

The opening song of Frozen begins to play from the tv behind you and you smile mischievously at Ben.

Now he's in for it.

"You're gonna wish you left Gramps." You snort.

"What do you mean-" Ben starts to say.

And then Martha begins to sing.

After a stunning  and masterful performance of the Frozen movie done by Martha that included singing, dancing, and screaming the dialogue back at the tv, followed by Frozen 2, both Josh and Martha have fallen asleep just as the Aristocats began to play, leaving you and Ben to sit in the blessed silence of your apartment with the movie playing quietly in the background.

You were all sitting on the couch, Josh was sleeping on top of you, his little head buried in your left shoulder, while Martha curled up beside you, covered in one of your crochet blankets. Ben was sitting on the other side of Martha, leaning back and avoiding any contact with her feet that occasionally twitched while she slept, scrolling on his phone.

As much as Ben had hated the performance, you think that he might have actually liked Frozen. He'd noted that Elsa was hot, which Martha didn't quite understand and stated "No silly she's cold."

But then Ben followed up the observation by saying "You know, I knew this supe that looked exactly like her, who did this thing with her tong-" and you'd clamped your hand over his mouth and hissed "the kids are too young for that. Frankly I am too." Ben had only smirked at you and for the first time since you'd seen him do that, you smiled.

You didn't think that Ben had been paying attention, given that he had been scrolling on his phone through the entire movie, but he was. Because when Hans betrayed Anna Ben muttered "what a dick" under his breath.

Butcher had called during Frozen 2 and Ben had taken it in the hallway, filling you in quietly when he got back. Tomorrow Butcher wanted the two of you to infiltrate the party and see if the supe showed up to steal any of the cars.

It sounded like a solid plan, but it also meant that you were going to be on a mission alone with Ben, wearing God knows what. The last time Frenchie had stolen a dress for you wear on a mission, you'd practically had a heart attack when you first put it on and then made Annie go instead. You hoped that this time Frenchie got you something a little more, you. But you doubted it.

Plus the whole idea is to not be you genius.

“You’re really good with them.” Ben murmurs from his seat on the other side of the couch interrupting your chain of thought.

“You sound surprised.” You whisper back gently rubbing Josh's back with your hand. “And here I thought you were going to make a misogynistic comment about me having to be good with kids because I’m a woman.”

“I thought about it.” He shrugs shooting you an easy grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less Gramps.”

You'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying Ben try to act normal around the children. You liked watching him be all uncomfortable and awkward, especially because he prided himself on being a "big strong man." It was the same look he got in his eyes whenever Mike's mother cornered him.

“So have you been around kids before?” He asks.

“No. I never had any younger siblings, just my older brother. Were you ever around kids?”

You barely knew anything about Ben or his life before becoming Soldier Boy, just all the propaganda that Vought fabricated about his early life. He had called you guarded but he definitely seemed to keep everything closer to his chest. Sometimes you found yourself wishing that he would tell you more. You wanted to know more about him, but another part of you told you that it was a bad idea. You were getting too close to Ben, developing feelings for him, and you knew that it wouldn’t end well.

“Not people I knew. Vought used to send me on tours around America, talking to assemblies at schools.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Do you-“ Ben pauses considering. “Like kids?”

“I mean I like that I get paid to watch them but-“ You look down at the children quietly sleeping between the two of you. “I like these two. I think it kinda depends on the kid.”

He nods and turns his head back towards the tv. Thomas O'Malley has started his song, sauntering along to the tune.

Is it wrong that I think Ben has Thomas O'Malley vibes? Or Kovu from Lion King 2 vibes?

You thought about texting Annie that exact question, but you didn't want to tell her how you spent your day babysitting with Ben. You knew that it would only bring on another onslaught of photoshopped baby pictures and potential baby names.

“Do you want kids?”

“Huh?” You glance over at Ben who is watching you curiously. He was doing that thing again where he acted completely different than how he acted around the team, had been doing it all day long.

“Um-“ You contemplate. “I’m not sure. I’m kinda young or well in my head I am. I think I’d want to wait a little bit.”

“But you do?” He presses.

Why does he want to know that so badly?

“I kinda see myself as a mom.”

Ben’s eyes are studying you. “I think you’d be a good mom.”

The compliment makes you inhale in surprise. Ben had been acting weird all day long, being nice to Martha, wearing the bracelet she made him, sitting with her to watch a movie and listening to her recount the lore behind it. He was being uncharacteristically patient and kind. For another moment you see the possibility of Ben being more than just an angry, horny, jerk, and you try hard not to give in.

“Do you want kids?” You whisper back.

Ben’s expression darkens and he turns back towards the tv, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t say anything for a good two minutes, the silence awkwardly growing between the two of you. “I did.”

“With Countess right?”

He looks at you surprised.

“Hughie told me.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry Ben.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re not the bi-“ He stops and looks down at the kids who are still sleeping silently. “You’re not her, Petals. You don’t have to be.”

“I know that, but still. What she did was shitty.” You whisper the curse word. “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

It was the first time you’d said that to Ben. The first time the two of you would have a conversation about his life before you met him, the life that he seemed to want to forget. You couldn't blame him for that. In fact, the two of you had barely talked before these past few days other than the occasional tease or Ben’s attempt to get you into bed with him. And it was actually kind of nice, learning more about him.

Josh gurgles quietly and you adjust him in your arms, gently rocking him for a moment. Martha stirs but then leans further against your right arm cuddling up against it.

Ben watches you for a minute with the same expression he has when he seems to be unable to understand you and then the mask slips for just a moment, enough for you to see something genuine in his eyes. "Thank you." He murmurs.

"You’re welcome." You reply with a small smile as you turn back to watch the movie, aware of Ben's gaze on you.  "Then again I should be thanking you. I couldn't have made it through today without that coffee."

Ben chuckles and leans back against the couch cushions. "You're welcome Petals."

Mr. Wilson's mother in-law shows up to take the kids just as the movie finishes. Ben and you stand there for a moment in the aftermath taking a breath and when you smile at him, Ben actually smiles back.

But before you can ask Ben if he wants to order a pizza or something, he states that he has a date and not to wait up for him as he shrugs into his leather jacket.

And when he goes you try not to notice how quiet the apartment is and how empty it seems without him in it.

A/N: Alright the angst will begin to come NEXT chapter, probably, I promise... I just couldn't get this silly little idea out of my head and I thought why not?

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist or if I missed you on the taglist please let me know :)

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[im-yn-suckers]

riki bf habits?

yes yes

teases abt ur height bc bro is shaq

so we know that hes a personn who loves to play with hair and loves to have his hair played with but did you know he loves washing ur hair and having his hair washed

his prescence is extremely calming and he can say the same about you

has cute nicknames for the plushies you guys adopted and call your children

'i saw this at the mall with jake and i thought it was cute like u!!' IMAGINE WIHT A BIG SMILE

'babe what do you wanna do?' 'idk alsong as im wit u' :(

ALWAYS makes sure u eat bc why would u starve ur bootiful body 'baby!! i ate today!!!' 'really?? Im so proud of you princess!!'

remembers everything abt u. u met three years ago and brought up u like the scent of vanilla?? three years laterbuys you a vanilla scented perfume

THE PETNAMES WUTH THIS MAN "angel, can u pass the salt?" ''princess can you hand me my phone'' ''cutie do u have lip balm'' ''baby/babe what time is it'' now the following only come out when hes sleepy or when no one else is around; ''love stay here its still early'' ''no, my love, we cant make cake right now' 'but its cake and no ones here to stop us' 'ITS THREE AM'

sends u texts w memes that say shit ilke 'this apple is yellow, if u see pink i fine asf mami' to annoy you

grabs ur waist. his arms are a belt. his personal hand warmer. sticks his hand underur shirt 4 shore!

has a soft spot for u and only u

imaginecuddling w the human koala and he whispers 'kiss me loser' wtv u say gorgeous

sends u reels and tiktoks of spiderman and hellokitty saying us

TV GIRL BRACELETS ARGUE W THE WALL

has matvhing promise rings for sure

unlike some ppl, i think hes def the type to write little notes for u

'shut up riki' 'make me bitch' sassy sassy sassy sassy sassy sassy

(over text) y/n; babe can u bring me wayer on ur wayback from taking shit pls?? riki; WAYER 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 riki; sure angel

ur doing ur work likr a responsible student (manifesting) and 'TALK TO MEEEEEE' 'im studying love' 'idc kiss me l/n y/n'

'cmere pretty girl' while checking u out. laening againsgt the counter trying to distract you from baking

BACKHUGS AND NECK KISSES STFU

'babe' 'hm?' you stare at your phone, not lookint at him 'look at me' you look 'good girl' SIR SIR SIR IM NOT UR STRONGEST SOLDIER

buys u wtv u want bc y shld u suffer w/o 3+ prada bags, a matchcing bulgari serpenti bracelt and ring, dior and chanel makeup etc.

loves u to the end of the world.