#he’s truly in it for the bag and also if you’re hot but that doesn’t mean you have a personality he likes he’s just fake as fuck

[deityofhearts]

I have got to like, write a coherent bit of info about my ocs and have it all be in like one neat place for each of them instead of bits and pieces of (usually random incoherent) info spanning across several notes in my notes app

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141 and the best enemies to lovers line of all time...

"Who did this to you?"

Cue protective instincts and sexiness

hehe I am giggling!! Okay. Listen. I am fully aware that this is an enemies to lovers trope, but I don't think it applies to all of the 141 guys in that manner. Is there protectiveness? Yes. Is there a bit of spice? Yes, if you squint really hard. Is there also some sweetness thrown in? Absolutely there is. I had lots of fun with this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x 141!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief blood and injury, hurt/comfort, brief suggestive themes, protectiveness, light angst

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Who did this?” Kyle bends forward at the waist, pressing a bag of frozen peas to your face. His concern is genuine. You can see that, but it’s strange. The two of you get on, but this is something else.

Kyle looks…angry like your injury personally offends him.

“It’s nothing,” you murmur. “Things happen during sparing. It’s fine.”

Kyle’s frown only deepens. He doesn’t believe you. And why should he? The person you were placed with took it too far. And it was all to impress him as if putting you in your place would somehow grant his favor.

It’s clearly done the opposite. He could care less about your sparring partner.

“It was your sparring partner, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer. Just press the peas to your forehead a little harder.

This time, Kyle’s frown turns slightly upward. “Jokes on them, ya?”

You glance at him sideways. “How so?”

Kyle is grinning. It’s stunning. All pearly white teeth.

“Because I have my eye on someone else,” he says simply, as if that answers everything.

Though you cannot see yourself, you feel your face growing hot under Kyle’s gaze.

“You shouldn’t say thing like that,” you reply.

“Why? It’s true.”

John Price

“Who did this?”

“Why do you care so much, John?”

You attempt to pull your face out of his grasp but he holds firm.

“Of course I care,” he replies. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes, chests heaving. John is close. Too close. So close he could easily brush his lips against yours.

“I don’t know why,” you murmur.

“You do,” he affirms, authority in his tone.

Do you? Maybe. Perhaps. Deep within yourself you truly know the reason but can’t decide to speak it to the air. That would make this real. Whatever this is between the two of you.

‘Tell me who did this?”

“And do that what?”

“What the fuck I want to them, love.”

“It’s nothing. You shouldn’t worry about it,” you reply, again trying to escape from him.

But John isn’t having it. His other hand hooks around your upper arm, and then you’re pressed closed to him. He is so warm. All strength.

“Let go,” you say, but there is no volume behind it. It is weak. Not even a protest.

“Tell me,” he repeats, head dipping slightly.

Yes. Close enough to kiss.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time softer.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s blood beats heavy. It is tinged with metal. A lace of fire that cannot abate.

His boots slap against the linoleum floor. The overhead lights are bright. Clinical. He is a shadow here. A dark specter.

No one stops him. No one glances his way.

And why should they?

He is a man made fury.

There were hands put upon you. A training exercise taken too far. Simon was not there. And he doesn’t know why. Not exactly. But he’s furious. Protective. The fact that he could not stop this only infuriates him further.

To him, this is a failure.

He doesn’t come to a stop. Doesn’t knock. He barges right on in.

The nurse yelps. Spins suddenly. Face red.

You glance up, eyes wide at first but soothing slightly as they land on Simon. You’re bruised. Stitched up.

Fucking hell.

“Out,” barks Simon.

The nurse leaves but stares him down the entire time. He approaches the table, and lightly brushes the backs of his fingers against the wound on your forehead.

“Who did this?” he asks.

“Simon—”

“Which fucker?” he growls, bending forward slightly to look into your eyes.

“Should see the other guy,” you joke, smiling.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t. You’re not his. Even if he wishes it were so.

Every swing of his fist sends the building frustration outward, shooting into the massive boxing bag before him. It’s a poor substitute for the face he truly wants to smash. Several faces that is. Two specifically.

Who did this?

The words slipped from him unbidden. An instant anger. You had only scowled. Told him you could handle yourself. And you can. Johnny knows this. But he’s still fucking pissed about it. Still seething.

All the fucker got was a quick slap on the wrist. A promise to not do it again.

That sits sour in Johnny’s belly.

But you didn’t cave, no matter how much Johnny insisted that he’d take care of it on your behalf. So he is here, punching the shit out of something that isn’t flesh.

He wishes he could take away your pain. Take away the memory. Give it to himself to carry. You don’t turn on your own. There’s no honor in what happened.

But as much as he wants it to be true, Johnny can do nothing.

You are not his.

Even if he wants to be.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@pearljamislife @heeheehoohoohahahihi @eternallyvenus @burn1ngw00d @taysarchive

[an-idyllic-novelist]

I’m Not Your Fiancée, Ranma [a ranma saotome with fem!reader mini series] part one

warnings: anime/manga spoilers, slight canon divergence, very mild Akane bashing.

Hey guys, welcome to a brand new mini series! I do apologize for not being active on here as I am on my other blog, @forbidden-sunlight but I do hope to change that when things in my corner of the world slow down. Special thanks to my co-author @deathmetalunicorn1 and @syneyam for beta-reading the earlier stages of this draft!

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and watch for that bucket of cold water! :3

You would like to think that your life is peaceful as it can get in a family of martial artists. Your older sisters Kasumi and Nabiki might have taken basic self-defense lessons at your father’s insistence, but they had no interest in taking over the Tendo Dojo when he passed. Akane could take over the mantle. She has the strength, the tenacity, and the temperament to discipline a smart-mouthed pupil if she doesn’t let their words get under her skin. She has expressed her hatred for men before, and it probably won’t ever subside. Not even getting engaged to a boy would help.

But your father and Mr. Saotome truly believe that having your older twin sister and Ranma, Mr. Saotome’s son, would work out their differences in this marriage arrangement and carry on the promise they made to each other years ago: to carry on the legacy of the School of Anything-Goes-Martial-Arts.

It’s been over a year since the Saotomes arrived at the Tendo household with their magical curses that can only be reversed by hot water and there has been no significant progress in Akane and Ranma’s relationship.

You don’t think it helped that Ranma had somehow ended up with three extra fiancées, too; Shampoo, the Chinese Amazon warrior who was defeated by Ranma in combat, and under the laws of her tribe she must take Ranma as her husband. Then there was Ukyo, his childhood friend whom he originally thought was a boy and not a girl whom Genma also promised a marriage arrangement to fulfill a debt to Ukyo’s father. Last but not least, is Kodachi Kuno. You’re not sure if this engagement would even count. She was more like a troublesome suitor who would cheat and use poison to get what she wanted.

Akane had a tendency to misunderstand situations or act on impulse first without giving Ranma a chance to explain himself. Sometimes there were situations where it was Ranma’s fault and he was too stubborn to admit it until it was too late. Either way, this was not a healthy relationship, and you feared it would only get worse as time went on.

You wanted your sister to be happy, and Ranma too. But is it even right to keep two people in a relationship when they were against this engagement in the first place and neither your father nor Mr. Saotome refused to listen to them?

Although you were not too keen on leaving home to go to Kyoto with your after-school club to take part in a competition, Kasumi assured you with a sweet smile that everything will be fine. She knows how hard you’ve been working to get everything ready for this event, so please do not worry about her or everyone else.

Do your best, have fun, and call from the hotel as soon as you check in so that your father wouldn’t get too worried.

So you did. You traveled to Kyoto, won the competition, and came back home early on the following Sunday morning. When you found the entire household, including an irate Akane wiggling in the arms of your father and Mr. Saotome in his panda form, something was up.

“What’s going on?” You asked immediately, throwing your overnight bag on the ground. “Mr. Saotome, Father!”

“I’m not doing it!” Akane bellowed. “I couldn’t care less what happens to that pervert! You are not gonna make me take him back! The engagement is off!  Do you hear me? Off! I never wanted this in the first place!”

“OI!”

“Nothing to worry about, little sis,” Nabiki said with a shrug. “Supposedly Shampoo mixed a love potion in some special deluxe ramen, and Ranma ate it without realizing it. When Daddy and Mr. Saotome discovered what had transpired, they hauled him back here and put a blindfold on him. They think that if he sees Akane as soon as the blindfold comes off, the engagement won’t be called off and everything goes back to normal. I had heard about your performance in Kyoto. Well done.”

“Much appreciated Nabiki.” You turned towards your father and his cursed friend, “Dad, Mr. Satome, put Akane down.”

“Sweetie, we need to do this! For the sake of the school!” Your father said with tears trickling down his face. The panda beside him guffawed in agreement.

“So you’re telling me that the Tendo/Saotome union is more important than my older sister’s happiness?” You said, looking at him in disbelief. When your father did not answer and just stared at you. “Oh, you have got to be joking.”

“T-That’s not true at all, honey! I just -”

“For the last time, Daddy, I am not gonna marry Ranma!” Akane shouted. Twisting her body around, she wormed her way out of Mr. Saotome’s grasp and stomped off, grumbling about how it wasn’t fair to be treated like this and how she wants nothing to do with jerks for the rest of her life. While your father tearfully cried out for your sister to come back, you pushed the double doors leading to the dojo open with a loud slam.

You’ve had enough of this nonsense. You’ve had enough of the bickering and chaos and the outright absurdity of treating Ranma like a prize to be coveted than a human being who can’t possibly sit for long periods of time without eating or using the bathroom. So like the fool you were, tired and frustrated, you stormed inside the spacious area, seeing a single person in the seiza position with a dark blue cloth wrapped over his eyes.

Ranma.

Your heart twisted in sympathy and anger as you slid your shoes off by the dojo’s entrance, walking inside barefooted. You kneeled down in front of Ranma and folded your arms around his head, your fingers carefully undoing the knot.

“Who’s there?!” He exclaimed. “Pops, if this is you, I oughta clobber you -”

“Easy there, Ranma.” You said. “It’s me. [First Name]. Hold on a sec, let me get this off of you, okay? This love potion or whatever Shampoo gave you, must have worn off by now.” In a few moments, the blindfold was off and a pair of piercing blue irises stared up into yours. For a moment, you could have sworn there was a shimmer glossing over those eyes before it disappeared. You swallowed. Maybe removing the blindfold was not a good idea.

Then suddenly, Ranma looked away from you, frowning. “Hmph.”

You blinked. Huh? “If you’re that mad at Dad and Mr. Saotome for this whole situation -”

“Who said I was mad?” Ranma snapped.

“Because you’re avoiding eye contact and frowning. Those are pretty obvious signs of being mad at someone.” You pointed out.

“What makes you think I’m mad at them?”

“Who else would you be mad at?” You countered.

“Who do ya think?”

“Enlighten me then, because I am not a mind reader.”

Ranma groaned. “It’s you, you dummy!” He turned to you, his face bright red. “I’m mad at you! Before you left for Kyoto, you promised to call when you got there! But did I hear anything? Nope. Nada, zip. I almost went over there myself to make sure ya didn’t miss the train! Just because we’re engaged doesn’t mean ya can be vague about what you’re doing or where you’re goin’! Think about your dad, Nabiki, Kasumi, Akane! How do ya think they’d react if something happened to ya and then never heard from ya again?!”

You stared at the pigtailed martial artist, wide-eyed at his outburst and the context of his words. Two things stuck out like a sore thumb to you immediately: While Ranma is stubborn and egotistical, deep down he is a caring person, especially towards Akane whenever she is in a pinch. But he has never acted like this towards you. And he said we’re engaged. As in, he thinks you are his fiancee, and not Akane. Similar to how your sister lost her memories of Ranma with the Xi Fa Xiang Gao technique, but different. Instead of using a combination of an herbal shampoo and application of pressure points on the skull to manipulate memories, Ranma ingested the potion. But if everyone said that the Chinese Amazon had administered one that makes him fall in love with whoever he sees first…

Methinks Shampoo had concocted the wrong potion. You thought. Still…

“Ranma,” You began. “I don’t know if you were here, but I called the house on the night I got to the hotel. I talked to Kasumi, and she said she was happy to hear my voice and to have a good time before I hung up.” You tilted your head to the side. “Did she not say anything?” You watched his eyes widen, his body flinch, and then looked away from you again.

“Yeah, well, I’m still mad at you!” Ranma harrumphed.

“Then you will humor this dishonorable one by answering a random question?” You lightly teased, hoping to slice some of this awkward tension between you and him. It worked, sort of, if his silence was his way of saying, fine you can, but that doesn’t mean I am gonna forgive you unless you apologize. You sighed, scratching the back of your head. “Ranma, how did we meet?”

“What kinda question is that?”

“Ranma.”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine. Me and Pops came to Nermia about two weeks after we went to Jusenkyo an’ got cursed. He was insistent about meetin’ Mr. Tendo and completing the agreement they made years ago, the one where I have to marry one of his daughters. I didn’t wanna do it, and that stubborn old man knocked me out before I could run like hell back to China. We arrived at yer house in our cursed forms, so everyone thought we were really a girl and a panda, includin’ you. One thing led to another. Then Pops explained what happened to us, and Mr. Tendo said our situation wasn’t too terrible. He told me to pick one of you to be his fiancee, and Kasumi and Nabiki volunteered your meat-headed sister ‘cause they thought me bein’ half girl wasn’t terrible just ‘cause she hates men. She wanted nothin’ to do with me, calling me a pervert and then you stepped up and said you’ll be my fiancée.” He shrugged. “Not that I wanted to settle down with an uncute girl who isn’t even good at martial arts to begin with.”

“I’m glad to know that you have such a high opinion of me.” You said, smiling at him, eyes closed. You seemed to take the insult in stride, but anyone who has known you long enough would see the smile on your face was anything but expressing amusement. You and Akane might be twins, but the differences between the two couldn’t have been greater. Your older sibling by three minutes could hold her on in a fight and master a technique in the blink of an eye. It took you months to basic katas, even if you practiced every day. You wouldn’t lie and say that there weren’t days when you envied Akane. She was smart, kind, super strong, and reliable. There isn’t a guy in the entire world who wouldn’t want to take her out on a date.

But if it wasn’t for her dedication to the Art and her own encouragement as she walked you through the techniques in the dojo, you probably wouldn’t have understood that it was okay to not be good at martial arts and excel in other things.

You were a valued member in your club. You were the only other person in the Tendo household who could use the kitchen without Kasumi’s supervision and cooked dinner once a week to give your eldest sister a break. You got good grades in school and didn’t get into fights. You and Akane might be twins, but there were differences that made each of you stand out, both good and bad.

Ranma seemed to have caught onto the menacing aura behind your smile, though, because the timber in his voice heightened to almost a squeak. “B-But I was wrong! It’s not you’re uncute ‘cause you can be pretty from cute, I mean!”

You didn’t think you would see Ranma in such a flustered state. Then again, you always see him arguing with Akane, sparring with his father, or getting into awkward situations with Shampoo or Ukyo.

Ranma pouted. “You might not know martial arts, but you’re good at other things. Ya make time to help me with homework or study for tests in a way that’s easy for me to understand. You help in the kitchen and try to keep Akane from causing damage ‘cause you know how important that space is to Kasumi. And ya care about others, even if I’m being a pain in the rear when I argue with that obstinate, bratty-ass tomboy of a sister you have. So,” He swallowed. “It still kinda sucks getting betrothed without my asking, no question about that. But… I’m glad that I’m engaged to someone that I-I might actually l-like.”

You felt your left eyelid twitch in anger as you listened to Ranma insulting your sister again before his words sunk into your mind. Someone that I might actually like. Might actually like. Ranma…actually likes you? Or is it the magic of the memory alteration potion that’s making him act like this? Oh, no. What are you supposed to do now?

Embarrassment scalded your cheeks, crawling up the back of your neck and making your eyes burn. You tried to hide yourself behind your hands but a certain pigtailed boy wouldn’t let you.

He gently grabbed your wrists and pulled them apart, allowing him to see your flustered expression. He smugly grinned. “Aw, c’mon. There’s no reason to hide like this after you made fun of me. ‘Sides, it’s rare to see such a cute look on your face.”

You pouted lightly at him, seeing there was no malice behind his teasing, but did not shake your wrists out of Ranma’s grasp. “Uh, Ranma,” You stammered. “Have I…ever acted like this before? W-When you flirt like this with me, I mean.”

He blinked at your question, brow furrowing. “Huh? Well, yeah. There was that one time at the skating rink. Wait, that was Akane. She wasn’t too happy with me challenging that creep Mikado when he tried to make a move on you - uh, maybe? Hold the phone. It was Akane he was tryin’ to kiss. Then, was it at the park? No. All she did was yell and throw things and accuse me of being jealous of Ryoga. Oh, what about - no, that was Akane too? Seriously, I know your sister is overprotective of you, but why is it that all I can think about is her?”

He continued to mutter under his breath, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. All you could do was watch silently before he suddenly looked up at you, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You gotta be kidding me. All of this time, I’ve been engaged to that macho chick?!”

“Welcome back, Ranma.” You said, pulling away from him. “Now that you’ve got your memory back, it might be a good idea to let Akane know that you’re okay -” You yelped when the boy suddenly slammed his fists onto the ground, his form slightly hunched over and trembling like a leaf. “R-Ranma?!”

“She couldn't care less about me, [First Name]! If it weren’t for this stupid engagement, I would have gladly left if it meant going back to China and get rid of this curse!” He snapped. “All she does is accuse me of cheatin’ when I never laid a finger on Shampoo or Ukyo, but when I help her? She gets mad and throws things at me, sayin’ she didn’t even need me! I didn’t come to Japan just so Pops can marry off without my asking, but here I am!”

“Ranma…”

“If I’m gonna get married, then I wanna be with someone that doesn’t always call me a pervert or a jerk and is just - I don’t know, nice and just listens to me instead of accusing me of something I didn’t do!” He looked up at you. “If I were given the choice all over again to pick someone to be my fiancée, I’d choose you a hundred times over Akane, [First Name]!”

What neither of you realized is that there was an audience who heard Ranma’s confession right outside of the dojo: Mr. Saotome, your father, and Nabiki. The only one who saw the whole thing happen was a cat with light pink fur and tiny bells dangling from her ears sitting by a window, her dark pink eyes narrowed in displeasure as she released a low meow. 

Taglist: @itzmeme @ottjhe @loverofyandereboys @hoodiepandaninja16 @djh4l0v3rv3r @floweringdaisie @conkiers @alee24x

[calummss]

Do You Get Déjà Vu | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: thomas doesn’t come to pick up his daughter. you decide to take her home only to find a man of a table with a bullet in his chest and a lot of deja vu

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 1.6k

a/n: just fluff and comedy tbh… not my usual angst i promise also, this takes place in 1919 because season 1 tommy has my heart. helena is around 9/10 years :)

How you disliked summer. Sweat pearls dripping simply sitting and breathing. Delicate fabric sticking to you like a bee and its honey. It was simply too hot for a woman to be wearing layers of modest clothing but here you were, sitting in front of your desk; no countertop in sight, too many different documents sprawled across the surface, each waiting on your eyes and conscious to scan it and then evaluate whatever category it fell into.

‘Miss Verys?’ Katie’s voice pulled you out of your slump, yet your heart skipped a beat when you saw her come closer with an arm full of newer papers that acquired your attention.

‘Please tell me you are joking…’

‘I fear not, Miss,’ she pressed her lips together as she placed them onto the right corner, the surface area with less than ten documents. ‘But these are all for the week.’ She smiled.

‘Finally some good fucking news,’ you huffed, ‘Sorry,’ you tilted your head when you realised Katie was taken aback by your choice of words.

‘Also I don’t wish to add more to your plate but Helena is still present. It seems Mr. Shelby has yet to pick her up. Do you want me to stay and wait with her?’

‘Katie you are truly an angel, really, I am so grateful but you are being paid to work on from eight to three, I couldn’t let you do that. Legally and from my heart.’ You curled your lips, fingers rubbing against the sheet of paper you were waiting to flip. ‘Just tell Helena to pack her things and to come to my office. Since I will be busy reading through all of these I might end up staying for quite a while.’

‘Of course. And thank you, Miss Verys, have a good day.’

‘You too.’

Katie left and you were stuck in front of an ocean of paper. If you had known that directing a school was so strenuous you might’ve thought about inaugurating a school twice. But it was a lovely institute. A school for girls with the most brightest and innovative minds, no runner up to men but competition with finest ideas.

Momentarily Helena came through the door and patiently stood at the door frame, her bag in her grip.

‘Hello Helena,’ you smiled at her. ‘Your father is not here yet?’

‘No.’

‘That’s okay, just wait here with me. I have much work and since we’re the only ones here I thought company would be nice, no? Sit,’ you pointed to the chair, Helena still standing at the entrance barely having moved.

Helena hummed in response.

‘So,’ you grabbed one of your quills to start signing documents that needed your signature. ‘What do you like to do when you’re not at school or doing homework? I am pretty sure you like horse riding?’

‘I do.’

‘Something else perhaps?’

‘Recently we bought a family car,’ Helena had sat down in the chair, laying her bag beside her as she relaxed into the seat. ‘When we got it we drove through the countryside…it was so thrilling. The wind on my face felt different to when I am riding. Daddy looked so happy too. I like cars.’

‘My my, what a riveting experience.’ You glanced at her from your work. ‘I remember my first time in a car. Felt exactly like how you described it.’

Helena beamed back you, her bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, ‘My uncle Finn liked the car ride at first too but we had to stop because he got sick,’

‘And did you?’

‘No, I felt great. I love cars.’

‘I too think cars are the greatest innovation since the marvellous idea to roast and ferment cocoa beans to make chocolate.’ You let out a lighthearted laugh, infecting Helena with the same giggle.

‘I like chocolate.’

‘You do?’ Your lips curled. ‘Do you want one? I might have a bit stashed somewhere between all this energy-consuming work,’

‘I’ve only had it twice,’ Helena began another story, ‘It is very expensive and my father says it is bad for your teeth and that you mustn’t eat too much of it. He said that when he was visiting London he met a man outside of the sweet shop who became so round, simply for eating a lot of chocolate.’

‘Well best you have only one piece then,’ you put a piece into your mouth before giving her her piece. ‘This is my favourite. Got it from Cornwall. They make the best sweets.’

Taking the piece you handed her, she started eating it, her eyes in awe.

‘What about your father, Helena?’

‘What about him?’

‘What does he do for work?’ You asked, amusingly raising your eyebrows before taking the second heap of documents before you.

Helena hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can say.’

‘Why not?’

‘Family business…’

‘Family business?’ You looked up, Helena nodding her head in response. ‘I’m just curious that’s all. When you speak of him, you speak endearingly. You seem to have a very good relationship.’

‘We do.’ She ate the last bite, looking around the room. ‘If he wasn’t my father he would be my best friend.’

‘How sweet.’

With an easy lead conversation, time passed quicker than expected. But an hour later and Mr. Shelby still hadn’t come to pick up Helena.

With minutes passing you realised that Mr. Shelby wouldn’t show up anytime soon. It was also way past closing time so you had to start locking up the building. You thought it best to walk Helena home to see if anyone was there and if not you’d take her back to yours so she would have a safe place to stay until anyone got in touch.

‘Hello?’ You knocked against the door, the hard wooden door aching your knuckles as you repeatedly hit against it. ‘This is Miss Verys from Small Heath Institute for Girls. I have your daughter Helena with me as she has not been picked up yet.’ Your breath ricocheted off the door.

Seconds later you could hear the lock turning and were greeted by an older woman, her hair all over the place as her dark eyes burned into yours. Feeling as if she were about to take a jape at you, you quickly jumped back into your sentence. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude but I grew worried when Helena still hadn’t been picked up yet. I hope that all is well.’

Your eyes left her frame, seeing figures surrounding a table where there seemed to be a man laying down upon, quick huffs and puffs echoing from behind.

‘Arthur, shut up and just get this out of me.’

‘Drink this, Tommy. It’ll help with the pain.’

The unravelling scene before you had your full attention, completely forgetting the woman at the door.

‘I—oh no don’t do that!’ You raised your voice, pushing past her, now standing in the living room with three men staring at you. ‘I’m sorry to intrude but I was a nurse at the front and seeing you just stick your fingers inside his wound just rang my bells.’

The man on the table had blue eyes that protruded from the dim light within the room, his chest covered in dry and fresh blood, sweat dampening his skin and clothes. You overheard that his name was Thomas Shelby, Helena’s father.

You stepped closer and examined his wound. A bullet wound. Minimal surface damage and easily removed.

‘If someone could get me some bandages, an unopened bottle of alcohol and some tweezers with a bowl of warm water.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Helena walked past you to what seemed to be the kitchen.

‘The cheap one, Hallie,’ the light haired one yelled after her, his toothpick sitting between his lips. ‘If you open that rum from the Caribbean, I swear to you that I won’t give you any more sweets.’

‘You give her sweets?’ Thomas lifted his head.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Mr. Shelby if you could just relax for a short time longer. I will get that bullet out of you as swiftly as possible.’

Further taking in his naked chest you noticed his tattoo. Similar to sun rays just above his right chest. You had seen this tattoo before…

‘Mr. Shelby, can I ask you something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you perhaps have a scar on your lower back? On your right just above your glutes?’

‘How do you know that?’ He stared up at you, holding your gaze as Helena came back with the supplies you needed.

‘Given it was a back injury you were transported to the tent on your stomach,’ you grabbed the alcohol to clean the wound, a hiss escaping him as you grabbed the tweezers, ready to pull out the metal embedded in his flesh. ‘I was the nurse that treated you. I was covered in ugly drapes and bloods, can’t say you could recognise me,’

Thomas winced as the ends of the tweezers dug around to grab the piece of metal, a small smirk on his lips. ‘You don’t say eh?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be having a déjà vu when I pull it out,’ you grabbed it and pulled it out, a loud growl escaping his lips as air pushed past his lips.

‘Thank you again.’

‘No problem, Mr. Shelby.’ You disposed of the bullet in a dish Arthur held out to you. ‘Next time Helena is not picked up I’ll bring her home and bring my first aid kit with me.’

‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. ‘Small Heath is starting you feel like a battlefield,’

‘Then I’ll be your nurse ready to care you to health.’

[heartchoi]

OKOK BUT IMAGINEE y/n & txt r having a trip and they make a rest stop. n everyone leaves to go inside the gas station convenience store except for y/n and yj, and bc y/n's so needy they end up doing it BUT what they dont know is that soobin was in the car the whole time 🤭

this would be kind of funny poor soobin

"we'll be back!" taehyun calls out. "text if you need a snack or something!" beomgyu adds, closing the door shut as the three youngest leave.

"mhmm!" yeonjun responds, his smile a bit too wide, eyes barely focusing. how could he? you've been palming him for what felt like forever. he doesn't know how they didn't notice, and if they did, he's damn lucky they didn't bring it up. he would’ve died right then and there.

but now, you have the whole car to yourselves, and there should be enough time to relieve yourselves, right?…

soobin barely notices the car rocking, his drowsy eyes blearily opening in the back seats. he’s laying down in the very back of the car, god bless the fact taehyun rented a huge suv. then he feels the way the car is moving slightly, but not enough for them to still be driving. his brain is too fuzzy with sleep to really understand what’s happening, until—

“f-fuck, jjunie, please, too fast!” you whine, hands stabilizing themselves on the tinted windows, breath fogging it up as yeonjun’s cock ruins you from behind. yeonjun doesn’t reply to you, simply gripping your hips harder and ramming into you slightly faster.

fuck. soobin wants to dissolve into the seats beneath him. he really does. hell, he doesn’t even know where they are, but now he’s stuck in a car with you two fucking, and he’s damn sure the other three aren’t there because they most definitely are not voyeurs.

the worst part is, he can feel his dick twitching in his pants.

“fucking slut. had to tease me until we got to rest stop, huh? practically begging me for you to take you right there, huh?” yeonjun hissed, his pace unrelenting. you struggle to reply, you haven’t been fucked this good in a while. there’s nothing you can do but clench down on his cock, tightening your walls as he groans loudly.

soobin peeks his eyes through the gaps in between the row of seats, catching a glimpse of the way both of your bodies connect, wet cock slamming into your hole, slight bruises forming on your hips from how hard he’s holding you. you both barely even decided to take off your clothes, your shirt riding up to expose your chest while yeonjun has his pants at his thighs. soobin has to stuff his fingers into his mouth to keep himself from making noises, his cheeks reddening from just how hot he finds this. maybe he’s the voyeur, holy fuck.

slowly, his free hand slinks down to unzip his jeans, pulling down his boxers to reveal his cock slightly, his tip just beginning to drip precum as he strokes himself to the sight. you both just look too good, he can never watch regular porn after this.

the sounds of skin slapping and wetness fill the car, and the three of you won’t last long, it seems.

bonus:

“we’re back!” kai cheers. his hands are full of plastic bags full of snacks, beomgyu and taehyun holding cold slushies right behind him.

both you and yeonjun greet the three, beads of sweat lightly beading the top of your foreheads and a little out of breath.

“is soobin still asleep?” beomgyu inquires, looking into the back row. yeonjun stills visibly, beginning to turn pale. “he’s probably dead asleep, that giant.” taehyun jokes, seeing as his form is wrapped up in a blanket, facing away from everyone else, eyes closed.

truly, he’s just recovering from his orgasm and hiding the way he has nut all over his pants and stomach. but he’s also thinking about whether or not if he should bring up what just happened to you guys, and if you’re willing, if he could join.

[yeonzzzn]

thoughts on enhypen when reader is on their period and have cramps?

(i have the WORST period cramps rn im crying)

no bc I know all seven boys would be the sweetest ever while you’re on your period 🥺

✾ heeseung: would cuddle you and gently rub circles on the areas you’re cramping at, placing soft kisses to your face, neck, and shoulders. having a heating pad on stand by with ice cream ready in the freezer. he’d telling you how you’ll make it through the tough week and it’ll all be over soon enough. 100% would buy you flowers and chocolate too with cute ass love notes written with them to show his appreciation of you.

✾ jay: would go above and beyond i’m already telling you! jay would have the calendar marked and everything so the minute you start to feel the cramps and your mood slightly changes he’s ready. you’ll have flowers, teddy bears, chocolates, ice cream, anything you want, name it! because he’s getting it for you. princess treatment only with him. jay would also 100% rub your back and tummy to help ease the pain and cuddle you the entire time too.

✾ jake: is 100% the type of guy to carry around pads and tampons in his car / bag incase you need them. jake would also so baby you during that week. whether you’re lying on the couch or bed, you’ll have a heating pad on your stomach, stuffed puppy plushie that reminds you of him and a weighted blanket to cover you and he’d have you all tucked in with a portable fan on standby incase you get too hot. he’d run back and forth between the store to get you all your favorite snacks and drinks and hold you super close to him and massage every achy part of your body.

✾ sunghoon: I feel would tease you but still treat you like a queen. he’d 100% be the type to make terrible period jokes while he’s massaging your shoulders and back while having you both wrapped in a heated blanket bc why would he not want to be as close to you as possible? if you get to be a burrito he’s gonna be the burrito with you. he’d also bring you flowers an chocolate with corny ass jokes but still give you lots of kisses and say he’s proud of you for having to fight the dot for an entire week.

✾ sunoo: would so brush your hair and just straight up take care of you. sunoo I feel would be a mixture of jay and sunghoon. he’d do everything you’d ask of him but always tease and joke with you at the same time (we love our sassy sunshine). along with him brushing your hair he’s so braid it all nice and pretty and feed you chocolate and hold you from behind and just be with you.

✾ jungwon: homie would be having the time of his life, truly. your period is always a good excuse to get loads of sweets and all both yours and his favorite junk food and just sit around your living space together the whole week and cuddle and watch movies. he’d play with your hair and massage your back too and would be so gentle with you. jungwon would also ask you to share your ice cream with him even though he has his own in the freezer.

✾ niki: baby boy would keep pads and tampons in his backpack for you :( all you’d need to do is text him during class if you’ve ran out and need one and he’d be rushing out his classroom, peaking around the corner of the doorframe of your classroom with the items in hand ready to give them to you. homie wouldn’t even be embarrassed, he doesn’t care, he’s taking care of his girl and that’s all that matters to him. niki would also take you to buy ice cream and any other snacks you’d want after classes are over for the day. would 100% brush your hair and braid it for you too.

[hangup119]

FEELS LIKE A THRILLER! ᯓᡣ𐭩

12. #NOTACANNIBAL written chapter | 2.8k words

“WHAT, YOU DON’T feed your plants?”

Seunghan tilts his head. “... Why should I?” 

“Then what the hell kind of owner are you, dude?” you accuse, adjusting the strap of your bag as the two of you head towards the car parking lot. “Who doesn’t feed their plants?”

Seunghan pauses, eyebrows furrowing, before a smile breaks out on his face and then he’s throwing his head back to laugh. He opens the door of the passenger seat for you, saying, “You mean, like, feeding them fertilizer? Wait, how often do you feed them anyway?” 

“Everyday.” 

Seunghan looks concerned. “Um, I don’t think that’s right…” 

You shrug, hopping into the car. “My plant seems to love it, though. It has never looked this alive! That obviously means I’m doing something right, right?”

He blinks when the door finally shuts, wondering how that even works. What kind of plant do you even have in the first place to require fertilizer every single day? He thought it’d be just some room plant, something low-maintenance, but maybe you’re actually a secret plant-connoisseur since you’ve been keeping it alive all this time? Hell, for all he knows, you’re probably developing your own venus flytrap that could digest a whole-ass elephant or something… a part of some secret society with mad scientists obsessed with plants and Seunghan’s just none the wiser…

He promptly starts the vehicle, dismissing such thoughts. He really needs to stop watching those crazy Sci-Fi movies with Sohee every Wednesday. 

When the car finally gets out of school property, Seunghan takes one quick glance at you. “So,” he starts, hands admittedly a bit clammy as he steers the wheel and stops at a red light. “Anywhere you’d like to go? I was thinking maybe we should get some food, or something. We should have really planned this out, huh?” 

A notification ping suddenly rings out after he finishes; an awfully familiar sound at that. 

“Do not open your goddamn phone to play Pokemon Go right now, Seunghan,” you warn, and he immediately deflates at how easily you’ve read him. Then, you smile sweetly, “But, yeah, we can go get something to eat first!” 

He laughs anyway, swerving towards downtown. “Alright. Also, I wasn’t even going to open Pokemon Go. Just saying.” 

“Yeah, okay, and I’m definitely not going to jump out into oncoming traffic right now.” 

“Please don’t.” 

After spending some time eating at a nearby cafe Eunseok has been asking to go together with the guys, the two of you manage to get through a whole hour without glancing at each of your phones, too focused on the other to truly care whether or not there are pokemons in the area. During that whole hour of you casually attempting to flirt with Seunghan in your own little way, you find that perhaps he’s not as obsessed with the mobile game as much as you believed him to be—which is good, even though you do find it a little bit cute, but at least he’s not addicted or something. 

Seunghan pulls out his phone after you’ve stepped out of the establishment. “Holy shit? There’s a Piplup just a block away!”

“Seriously?” you squawk. 

“Yeah!” he excitedly responds, only to end up getting smacked on the arm. “Oh, not what you meant. Okay.” 

You give him a fixed stare. He returns it.

“Can we please catch it?” Seunghan pleads, forming his hands into a prayer. 

You falter, attempting to look at anywhere but his face. Hot nerds are a curse, you think miserably.

“Please, Y/N? It’s Piplup!” he continues, finally taking your hands in his. You flush, believing that he can just go ahead and go catch the damn pokemon himself but instead chooses to spend more time begging you to go with him in order to catch it together. Right. Because you’re on a date. And Seunghan isn't an asshole. Right. Guy who had a girlfriend for four years over here. Someone already cooked before you. 

“Okay, fine,” you finally surrender, mentally cursing yourself for going down such a rabbit hole. Who cares about his ex-girlfriend? She was the past, and you’re the present (hopefully)! “But just Piplup!” 

Seunghan laughs, crossing the road with you. “I promise I won’t make this a Pokemon Go date.”

He’s still holding your hand. Like a real couple. You have to mention it.

“You better not,” you say instead, squeezing his hand in return. 

After acquiring the stupid Piplup loitering by a fire hydrant next to a pissing dog, Seunghan leads you back to his car to spend a couple more minutes marveling at the 25th Piplup on his screen, before starting the ignition to make your way towards the arcade. There he finally pockets his phone and drags you towards the nearest racing game, where you both duke it out in a Fast & Furious racing game, with you ultimately ending up as the winner after two rounds. Of course, you made sure to rub it in Seunghan’s face for a good three minutes, before he’s dragging you towards the claw machines like every arcade date out there. 

Amidst the presence of screaming children and tired parents chasing after them, Seunghan holds your hand as if it was second nature, the sight of his back a constant reminder that he’s not willing to lose you among the crowd and the dirty, soda and gum-flavored floor. 

You wonder if this is what it would have felt like had you been his girlfriend in high school. Sitting next to each other in class while trying to ignore your friends’ teasing remarks, partnering up for school projects, doing community service together, or buying snacks right after school and heading to the arcade. Then he’d walk you home, or depending when he got his license maybe drive you, and you’d ask him to text you back when he gets back home. The little things that make up being highschool sweethearts, or whatever the hell he experienced with his ex-girlfriend before they broke up. 

Fine, you’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous. But who doesn’t? You’ve always liked Seunghan—everyone knows that—and you’re aware that the missed opportunities you could’ve had with him over the last four years are a result of your own cowardice and lack of assertion, but what gives? After four years, you can finally have him? Just like that?

They say that a man who yearns is a man who earns, but now that he’s right next to you, on a literal date with you—why can’t you take it? 

Because you cling too much to the past. Do you still like him as much as you did before? 

You’ve always believed that liking someone for so long is a stupid thing, especially someone who wasn’t even available in the first place. Why cling to someone who can’t look at you the way you want them to? And yet you held out for hope anyway, clinging to the possibility that maybe someday Seunghan can look at you like how he did his ex all those years. That perhaps you had a chance with the boy who was one day partnered up with you and your friends for that one project in AP World History, and unknowingly becoming the object of your affections for the next three years and still into college. 

“Just focus on my awesome skills,” Seunghan exclaims, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel as he steps closer to the machine. “I’m gonna get you that Pikachu.” 

You roll your eyes. “Of course you choose the machine with the pokemons.” 

“This is who I am,” he simply responds after inserting the token, moving around the joystick to situate the claw exactly to where he wanted it to go. “And what I am is a Pokemon fan.” 

“You do know that these things are a scam, right?” you ask, stepping right next to him. 

Seunghan curses when the plushie falls out of the claw’s grasp. “It works out, sometimes. You just gotta have hope, you know?” 

You spare him a thoughtful look. Funny how he says that. 

He goes for three more rounds to no avail, the Pikachu plushie never budging from its place next to the Charmander. Seunghan feels as if they’re mocking him from within the glass, and he feels embarrassed, but he promised (in his head, at least) to get you that Pikachu no matter what. And he won’t go home until he does. 

What he doesn’t expect is for you to push him out of the way. “Move, you’re just wasting money,” you say, inserting a token into the slot as he tries to regain his senses. “I will get you that Pikachu.”

Seunghan stammers, moving closer to you as you maneuver the claw to align with the lone Pikachu in the corner, before confidently pressing on the button. “There’s no way that’s gonna work,” he says, eyeing the descending claw. “It’s too far.”

“Just watch,” you simper. 

Much to Seunghan’s surprise, the Pikachu plushie makes it all the way to the exit without a hitch. “What?” he exclaims in shock, watching as you crouch down to take the plushie from the machine, dust it off, and proceed to hand it to him with twinkling eyes. 

“Ta-da!” you exclaim, pushing it towards him. 

Seunghan snaps out of his reverie, handing it back to you. “Why are you giving it to me? I’m supposed to be giving it to you.” 

The side-eye you give him is almost scathing. “What, like the girl can’t give the guy a gift?” 

Seunghan flushes. “That’s not what I meant!” 

But you’re already laughing, inserting another token into the slot while he’s just helplessly holding onto the Pikachu plushie you won’t take. "Sure, you fake-progressive."

"I am very progressive."

He observes as you focus in on the Squirtle next to an Eevee, before changing your mind and going for the upside-down Bulbasaur. Within seconds, you manage to get it again. 

“What’s your secret?” he wonders, taking the plush when you hand it to him as you’re already inserting another token to get the Eevee. “Why are you so good at this? Who’s controlling you? Are you even real?” 

You don’t catch the Eevee this time. You’ve also run out of tokens. 

“Nevermind,” Seunghan says with a smile too wide for your liking. 

You remember back in tenth grade when you were complaining to Sunoo about the upcoming project for history because you simply didn’t want to do it when you had a Chemistry test to study for. Miraculously, you ended up getting grouped with some of your friends and another kid, Hong Seunghan. You thought he was cute, sure, but nothing else after that. He was just some kid who had a huge friend group consisting of six other guys, which somehow included your childhood friend Anton, and the only times you’ve thought about him was when he and his friends walked too slowly in the hallways for your liking. 

But then a day before the submission day of the project, you had forgotten to fulfill your part after getting too caught up with your other classes. Knowing Sunoo would never  forgive you for tanking his grade, you ended up panicking throughout lunch trying to research and paste together a comprehensible summary of your research, hoping that if the group wasn’t getting an A then you would at least get a B. After getting your sources printed out in the library, the only thing left to do was find whoever had the physical presentation, which had been Jaehyun, but then he told you he left it to someone else’s care. Just great, really. You’ll only have a few minutes in class to assemble it, but surely you’d manage, right? 

Wrong. Your frustrations finally caught up to you, and you felt like a ticking time bomb with your unpasted sources and incomplete project. Sunoo was gonna hate you for not even being able to finish something so simple, and you’d be letting down your whole group. Nothing was going right, and you were gonna fail. 

But just as you were about to burst into tears from the stress and resorting to fess up to Sunoo, Seunghan came jogging to you five minutes before lunch ended with the physical presentation in hand. He started apologizing for hogging it, but quickly paused once he noticed tears streaming down your cheeks at the relief of seeing that all was not lost. As you frantically wiped away your tears, he had awkwardly taken the printed sources from your hands and began pasting them into the decorated cardboard, aligning them with wherever they needed to be all the while attempting to comfort you. 

Thinking back on it now, it was a very embarrassing situation. None of that would have happened if you had simply stopped procrastinating and actually did your work, but you hated the prompt your group was given, which lowered your motivation as well. Stupid, but you were just a stupid fifteen-year-old, too. 

Yet you would never forget that very understanding group mate of yours. Seunghan didn’t have to comfort you while he did all the work of gluing and cropping the pages for you, but he did it anyway because he noticed your shaking hands. He could have told you off, said a sarcastic remark about your mishap, but he never did. He did the work and walked with you to class, even offering to buy you a drink from the vending machine to calm you down all with a smile on his face. It doesn’t take a genius to know that what he did was very kind and very attractive, so naturally you ended up forming  a crush on him. 

What you didn’t know was that it would take almost four years for you to make a proper move, albeit indirectly. But it’s the little things that matter. 

“I guess this is it,” Seunghan says after pocketing his keys, walking with you towards your dorm building’s entrance. “I had fun today, Y/N. But I guess I should thank Anton for this, huh? I mean, he was the one who made it possible,” he clasps his hands into a prayer and looks up at the night sky, “whoever made Anton drunk that night, thank you.” 

If only Seunghan didn’t smile at you that day, then you wouldn’t be this hopeless in front of him. 

You snort. “We’re not even of age to drink.” 

“You really think there wouldn’t be any alcohol at Gigi’s party?”

“Fair point,” you shrug, the both of you pausing by the entrance. You turn to him, a gentle smile on your face. “Thanks for the drive, Seunghan. Please take care of Pikachu and Bulbasaur, but since you’re a major Pokemon nerd I’m sure that isn’t an issue for you.” 

Seunghan chuckles, rubbing his nape. “You know me so well.” 

“I wish I knew more,” you joked. “All those years in high school and we’ve only had full conversations three times.” 

He falters. “Ah, yeah… What a waste, huh?” 

“Goodnight, Seunghan,” you say, quickly turning around to erase the image of him looking so awkwardly in front of you. Why’d you have to mention that on the first date? God, you must be some grade-A idiot or something because— 

“Y/N, wait.” 

You pause, trying to ignore the way Seunghan tried to grab your wrist K-Drama style only to end up missing it completely. He fumbles at first at his mistake, attempting to hide the heat quickly rising on his cheeks. “Even if Anton didn’t set us up,” he starts, slowly, trying to find your gaze, “I’d have still wanted to go on this date with you. You’re really fun to talk to, and to hang out with… and you’re also really good at claw machines.”

You smack his arm, and he cracks up a smile again. “Idiot, that’s all you have to say?” 

“It’s true, though! Those things are a scam!” he reasons, before clearing his throat. “But seriously, do you wanna go on another date next time? I really had fun with you. I promise I won’t try catching pokemons at the randomest times ever again, and I’ll try to get you that Eevee plushie next time. And you said that I’m a good driver, so maybe we can catch a drive-in movie or something… what do you think?” 

Hopefully you don’t notice how fast Seunghan’s heart is beating right now, but that’s probably only because yours is beating just as fast. 

You shove him away gently, and he sends you a smile as he waits for your response. “Well?” he goads, but he immediately fails to hide the surprise in his face when you hold up your phone screen in front of him. 

“We can drive around and catch some pokemons next time,” you say, before turning around and walking away. “Bye!” 

And Seunghan watches just until you’ve entered the building, before tripping on the way to his car. 

previous | masterlist | next

SUMMARY. pining after hong seunghan has always felt like an unachievable reality; however, just a few months into your first year of college, it seems that the gods have finally listened to your prayers when news breaks out that your long-time crush is single once again.

AUTHOR'S NOTES. idiots to lovers core

TAGLIST. @shoberi @miyawwn @starwonb1n @hwadejectedyoung @revehosh @alwayswook @rksbae @emohoon @nujeskz @ilovejungwonandhaechan @meowbini @nakam00t @siuewnb @cake1box @dearmarklee @kyusqult @snowyseungs @ffixtionista a @odxrilove e @hisrkive @saeist @lilysflower1 @seunghancore @eternallyhyucks @syzavxy @calumsfringe @yipyipmorals @user7520 @tojis-luver

[autisticlancemcclain]

The first bout of whispering, Shiro can ignore. He’s a teacher by trade, after all. Astronaut, sure. Paladin, even. But he always expected to be a teacher, trained for it, and he knows when you put a group of teenagers in a room and expect them to start learning by lecture, there’s going to be some whispering. He’d be concerned if there wasn’t, frankly.

But as it keeps happening, again and again, to the point where it’s almost constant, Shiro begins to lose his patience.

“Lance, Hunk,” he says, catching himself long before then. He tries to smile, gentle but firm. “Everything okay?”

The two boys clam up immediately. Lance even begins to lean slightly away from Hunk, although Shiro’s not sure he notices.

Shiro frowns, puzzled at the reaction. That’s — uncommon. He’s seen embarrassed, seen sheepish, seen unbothered, even seen downright rude, but Lance looks almost… afraid. And Hunk looks at him with a lot more anxiety than the situation calls for, but Shiro is beginning to notice that that’s just Hunk.

The both mutter some semblance of apology, and Shiro moves on quickly, unwilling to dwell on the incident too long.

For the rest of the briefing, he keeps an eye on them. He’s still focused, of course, as their break-in and recon on a nearby Empire warship is not only hugely dangerous, but will also be hugely beneficial, but he lets his notes do a lot of the talking for him. He flits his eyes to the pair every so often, and while Hunk meets his eyes on occasion, smiling slightly, Lance keeps his head down, hunched over his tablet.

Shiro notices that the tablet is powered off. He doesn’t write a single note.

His shoulders are hunched up to his ears.

———

“Alright, kiddo, good job.”

Keith grins, stepping backwards and bowing to finish the fight. Shiro bows back, matching his smile.

“You did great.”

“I know,” Keith says cheekily. “You’re getting easier and easier to beat. Probably because you’re elderly.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Am I.”

His annoying little brother hums, completely unconcerned. He steps off to the side and starts swinging around his training stick, very clearly showing off. “Mhm. It was super easy to fight you. I just went whoosh, smack, bam! —” he punctuates every sound with a swing and slash of the stick — “and every hit just landed. Honestly, I think a punching bag would have been more of a challenge. Adam is a way better spar partner than you. I wish I was shot into space with him.”

Shiro’s eye twitches. It’s a clear goad, he knows it is. Keith isn’t even trying to hide it. He’s a twerp with too much energy and too much experience pressing all of Shiro’s buttons — a favourite button of his, of course, being the bit of…healthy competition Shiro has always had with his boyfriend.

(He’s well aware of the irony. He hears Adam pointing and laughing in his head every time he endures Keith’s complaining about Lance pulling his mullet, so to speak. In fact keeping his mouth shut about the parallels is the only thing keeping him from throwing Keith down the laundry chute. He’s waiting for a moment when the reveal can be well and truly devastating.)

Shiro manages, with herculean strength, to step away from his turd of a brother, putting his training stick away.

“I am leaving,” he says loudly, pointedly turning away. “I said I’d train one hour with you and not a second more.”

He feels Keith’s pout more than sees it. “Coward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro snorts, waving his hand dismissively. He hears swishing sounds, and the clicks of buttons — Keith is starting up his own training. Again. “Don’t be late for dinner or I’ll send Lance after you.”

“Can’t promise I won’t maim him,” Keith mutters. “Sometimes I just want to wring his neck.”

Shiro is very familiar with that feeling. Or at least the raving about it. He used to feel great pleasure in driving Adam to that point, just because he was hot when he was mad. But Shiro values his limbs — or at least what’s left of them — where they are, so he keeps the comments to himself as he makes his way out of the training room, meandering back to his own quarters.

He takes his time showering and redressing, knowing he’s got some time before dinner. He thinks Hunk even managed to wrestle Coran out of the kitchen, which means no food goo. It also means that he’s banned from even breathing near the kitchen until the food is fully cooked and completed — which is a bullshit ban and one based in false accusations — but he’s sure he can help set the table, or something. Stir a pot. He’s good at that.

He towels off his hair, not bothering to style it, and takes his time walking over to the kitchens. The castle floors are cold under his bare feet, he finds himself wishing he had the lion slippers Lance made him. They’re very warm. He never wears them because he’s terrified of ruining them, but it’s so icy in here that he might start having to, or else he’ll freeze.

As he approaches the kitchen, he hears voices. He freezes, quieting his steps and pausing behind the wall to listen. Hopefully no one else walks by, or that will be humiliating.

“— all you have to do is ask, Lance, just casually, it’s not even —”

“— it is even, Hunk, it’s the worst and I’m not doing it, why would I inconvenience —”

“— it isn’t! Not even a little! It’s the smallest tiniest thing!”

“Hunk —”

Hunk throws his hands up in exasperation, spoon going flying and splattering some kind of blue sauce all over the cabinets. Neither of them even blinks at it.

“I am tired of watching you struggle, Leandro! Heaven forbid you ask for help!”

Shiro frowns. That’s not good. That sounds serious.

“I asked for help,” Lance huffs, arms crossed over his chest. “I asked you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t count and you know it,” Hunk says sharply, mirroring him. “I already knew.”

Lance looks away, clenching his jaw. His fingers are tangled in his jacket’s sleeve, tense.

“You don’t have to help anymore if it’s too hard,” he mumbles. “I can handle it myself.”

Hunk softens. “It’s not that, Lance.” He wipes his hands in his apron and pulls Lance to his chest. Lance goes, although he doesn’t move his arms, burying his face in Hunk’s shoulder. “You know it’s not that. If that’s all we have then I’ll keep doing it, damn the consequences.” He pulls back slightly, nudging Lance back so he can look him in the face. “You can just do better, dude. All you gotta do is tell Shiro about your —”

A hand claps over Hunk’s mouth, cutting him off, and Lance squeaks, “Hey, Shiro, hello, hi!”

Shiro startles. He scrambles upright before Hunk turns all the way, so at least he’s only seen crouching by the door like a weirdo by one person.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hi.”

“You’re banned from the kitchen,” Hunk says, muffled. How he looks so mighty and dignified with Lance’s hands still very much pressed to his face is well and truly beyond him. Shiro is frankly awed.

“I just came to help set the table,” he assures, hands held up in surrender. “Promise I’ll stay away from the actual food.”

Hunk narrows his eyes, but must decide he could use the help, because he nods, stepping backwards so Lance’s hands fall back down.

“Alright,” he sighs. “I’m making stew. You can set out utensils if you must but know I’ll judge you heavily for it. Lance, come help me finish up.”

Lance scrambles after him, avoiding Shiro’s gaze like he’s sure he’s going to get yelled at. Shiro watches him go, perplexed.

———

The next few days are, for the most part, manageable. Their mission goes well, Keith is surprisingly mellow — Shiro suspects the little nerd has discovered a library of some kind — and distress calls are minimal. All in all, Shiro should be taking the time as the blessing it is and catching up on some much needed R&R.

Instead, he’s worrying about the Blue Paladin.

Shiro can’t say he knows him well. They’ve hardly been in space a couple of months, after all, and while Shiro must have taught him a couple times — he was in the piloting program so it’s almost impossible that they didn’t cross paths — the Garrison is huge, and Shiro largely teachers younger students. Shiro can’t recall teaching a Lance, anyway.

But he can tell something’s off.

Besides the fact that Hunk keeps looking at Lance with concern, the Cuban seems…withdrawn, almost. He still works hard in training and smokes them in any kind of long distance, but there doesn’t seem to be any joy in it. Even his arguments with Keith seem halfhearted, which Keith will never admit leave him agitated as much as it has Shiro’s eyebrows raising. Shiro is sure, basically, that something is the matter, and surer still that he has to be the one to fix it.

How exactly he should go about it…well, that’s the part he’s struggling with. He knows Lance is kind of star-eyed around him, even though they’re on the same playing field, so Shiro’s not sure just regular talking to him about it is going to do something. And he seemed pretty resistant when Hunk pressed, in the conversation Shiro overheard. He’s just not sure what to do.

Luckily, the situation starts to resolve itself.

“Hey, Shiro, can I talk to you?” Lance mumbles into his breakfast, as everyone else is distracted by Pidge and Keith’s loud argument about cryptids (Shiro has heard it too many times at this point. He’s tuned it out).

Shiro blinks. “Sure,” he says, trying to keep the shock out of his voice. “Now?”

“Uh, after we eat, maybe.”

Shiro tries very hard not to seem over enthusiastic. He sucks at that, so it doesn’t work, and it seems to make Lance more stressed, which only stresses Shiro out more. By the time everyone has finished up and people are starting to file out to various tasks, the tension between them is so thick Shiro feels as if he might suffocate.

Suddenly, as if he propelled himself, Lance springs to his feet, snatching his bowl and Shiro’s and powerwalking towards the kitchen sink. Shiro, startled, follows him.

“You okay?” Shiro asks softly, noticing the whiteness of Lance’s knuckles, clenched around a sponge, and the robotic way he scrubs it across a dirty spoon.

Lance says nothing. He keeps his eyes trained resolutely on the soapy water, spine ramrod straight, nerves bleeding from him in waves.

Hesitantly, Shiro rolls up his sleeves, standing beside him and beginning to dry what he rinses. As Shiro gets close he gets tenser, shoulders hiked up to his ears, but as the minutes drag on, empty kitchen echoing the sound of swishing water and clanking cutlery, he begins to calm down. Shiro watches his face relax, easing its worries twist, and terror fade from his brown eyes.

He hands Shiro the last clean dish to dry, then pulls the plug on the sink, darting over to grab a hand towel and starting to dry.

“Can you write mission plans in pink?”

The words rush out of him, like he’d been holding them between his teeth for God knows how long and they’d finally spilled out. He looks almost nauseous after he says them.

Shiro blinks. That was…not what he’d expected.

“…Why?”

“It’s perfectly okay if you can’t,” Lance continues, as if Shiro had not spoken. “I mean, whatever. I’ll figure it out. I’ve gone without this long, after all, and it’s totally doable. Of course there’s the migraines and the agony but that’s all light work. It’s war, after all. Ha.” He chuckles nervously.

He’s shrunk in on himself, looking almost small. Shiro stares at him with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. Lance doesn’t even notice, eyes focused intensely on the hand towel, breathing worryingly erratic.

“I just swore to Hunk that I’d ask, you know. He said it wouldn’t hurt. And of course it wouldn’t but I don’t need it. It’s just. You know.”

Shiro cannot stress enough how much he doesn’t know. He hasn’t felt this lost in a while.

“Pink makes the letters stick to the page. And I know that sounds stupid as shit and that’s because it is stupid as shit, unfortunately. Dyslexia is the dumbest thing in the world, actually. And who named it that? You know how hard that word is to spell? It’s hard. They should have called it — I dunno, I just mean, it’s whatever. It’s fine. I’ve handled it this long. Uh.” He looks up, finally, and maybe he doesn’t know how to make sense of Shiro’s expression, because he winces, shame overtaking his face. He sets down the towel and gestures vaguely behind him, stepping towards the door. “I’m just gonna — go. Sorry. See you later. Sorry.”

He all but flees out of the room. Shiro barely manages to snag the back of his hoodie, holding him in place.

“Lance. Chill a second. Give me time to respond.”

Lance looks deploringly at the door, then back at Shiro. He looks like he’s accepting his death. Shiro can’t help but feel the teensiest bit offended.

“I’m not going to bite you,” he says, aghast. “Jesus, kid. You’re going to give me a complex.”

To Shiro’s great relief, the remark makes Lance grin. Some of the tension eases from his face.

“You sound like my mother.”

“From what I’ve heard, that’s a compliment,” Shiro says lightly. He pulls out two chairs, orienting them so they’re facing each other. He deliberately takes the one farthest from the door, so Lance doesn’t feel trapped. He gestures to the other one. “Sit.”

Lance does.

“Now. From the beginning and with a little less fear, hopefully. Tell me what’s up, kiddo.”

Lance looks down at his hands, where he’s picking at a scar on his wrist.

“Um. So. I have dyslexia. I can’t read too well.”

Lance cringes as he says it. Shiro wonders who he has to kill for putting the idea that this is something to be ashamed about in his head.

“Cool,” Shiro says, as encouragingly as he can manage. “The main character of my favourite book series as a kid had dyslexia. I was jealous of everyone who had it. I used to pray for it.”

The revelation startles a laugh out of Lance, like Shiro hoped it would. The tension melts right off of him.

“You prayed?”

“Every night,” Shiro affirms, grinning. “I even crossed my eyes and pretended when it didn’t work. My mother didn’t believe me for a second.”

“You’re a dweeb,” Lance says, sounding kind of awed. Like he’s shocked that Shiro, too, is a nerd loser on this castle full of other nerd losers. “Dyslexia sucks.”

Letting his face settle into something more serious, Shiro nods. “I imagine it does.” He reaches over and squeezes Lance’s hand, subtly stopping him from picking at the skin. Keith has the same bad habit. “Writing in pink helps?”

Lance shrugs. “Sorta. Dunno why. But things are less squiggly when they’re written in pink or red. Not perfect, but it’s something. I can hardly read at all when they’re in black; it’s like my eyes are spinning out of my head trying to focus on ‘em. Gives me migraines like you would not imagine.”

“And thus Hunk whispering the plans to you so you don’t have to read them,” Shiro surmises, the whispering during briefings suddenly making sense. Guilt twinges in his belly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Of course not,” Shiro says gently. “I get it now. Sorry for not understanding.” He frowns, remembering something. “I should’ve asked beforehand. Or suspected something, or known better, really. I had a kid a few years back in one of my astronomy courses. Li-something. I marked all his stuff in red for the same reasons.”

Lance makes a very particular face. Warning bells go off in Shiro’s head.

“I appreciated that very much,” Lance says politely.

It takes a moment for it to click.

Shiro considers banging his head against the table.

“Please tell me no,” he begs, ears reddening.

“It was a great honour to be renamed by the Takashi Shirogane,” Lance insists.

“I had you in my class for three years!” Shiro says, aghast. “I — I called you Li all the time! In front of people!”

“I didn’t want to correct you! That’s — embarrassing!”

Shiro cradles his head in his hands. Dear God. He knows he’s not great with names, but — Jesus. To rename a kid. Blatantly. Other teachers must have thought he was some cruel jackass.

“I think there was a Li McKinney ahead of me in roll call,” Lance offers, patting Shiro’s back delicately. “So. Pretty easy to mess up.”

“Did you write your name as Li on tests? And assignments?”

“After the first couple times, yeah. Hunk laughed at me. At a certain point I’d just dug myself too deep, I think.”

Shiro sighs, dragging his hand down his face. It’s still quite hot. He looks up at Lance, who’s mouth is twitching.

“You were short as shit back then,” he observes, trying to picture the kid in his class. “Like, shorter than Pidge.”

Lance scowls. “I was — saving up on growth spurts. Yeah. So. Purge that from your memory.” He smirks. “Like my name.”

Shiro groans. “I’m never hearing the end of that, am I.”

Lance smiles. “Probably not. I didn’t know you were uncool. It’s interesting. I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, but reaches over to mess with Lance’s hair, like he would Keith. Unlike Keith, Lance freaks out way harder, screeching something about hard work and artistic expression.

He smiles. “Glad you came to talk to me, kid.”

Lance sticks out his tongue, but he looks pleased, too. “Yeah, yeah.”

[aakeysmash]

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Warnings: cursing, cutesy stuff.

Word count: 3.6k.

Previous part: part 5

And what's your definition of love?

You can't seem to stop thinking about the way Katsuki looked at you with somewhat of a soft gaze, body relaxed and on your shared couch. You noticed he tends to be tense a lot, like something is always bothering him, and it's rare to see him for what he hides to be. He acts like being soft is a weakness, almost as if being vulnerable in the past has caused him a scar that is not fully healed yet.

Also, if he asked me that without even blinking, he must have hella bitches, you think. What kind of guy talks so freely about love with a girl?

"What should I do Saturday? What's something you like to do, Y/N? Thinkkk" you whine to yourself. Blaming your own brain for lack of ideas is very therapeutic.

For you, love is easier with words. You could probably write a book about love if you really wanted to, but you don’t think you’re that good with actions. It’s not like you don’t try, it’s more like a lack of experience: you’re not used to thinking about expressing love, you just do it depending on who you’re facing. You are a pretty habitual person, so you might be shy when you first meet someone, but when you start knowing them you never fail to show what you truly are. You’ve never liked to hide your personality to make friends: it’s better to have a couple of real friends instead of a multitude of fake ones. You like expressing how much you care about someone with words, but you and this someone have to be close. You love loving, and you probably would be nowhere without it, but showing your rude and cold roommate something so important to you is difficult, maybe because if you don’t make a good impression you’re going to cry. Joking!

Unbeknownst to you, Katsuki is freaking out. He regretted asking you that stupid ass question the second he went to bed that day, and he regretted making that stupid ass deal with you even more. It's not because he doesn't want to know the answer, he's really damn curious about what you think, but he doesn't know how to answer it. He doesn’t know how to act in friendships, let alone in loving relationships. You just looked so soft, so cute, so trustable in that moment, that his brain shortcircuited and became smooth. "I'm a fucking idiot", he grunts while putting his pillow on his face.

He knows what love means to him. Love is the way his mother still calls him to check on how he's doing even if he doesn't put enough effort into keeping the relationship strong; it's the way his father smiles at their antics when they get together for the holidays even if he hates how loud they can get; it's the way Kirishima gets him hot chocolate every hard day at work without Katsuki asking; it's the way you care about Ochaco enough to call her even when you're exhausted from your own day at work, bags under your eyes and hand soothing your back that hurts from how much you've been at your desk studying. It's in the way the people around him want to see him happy, and in the way his heart beats a little more affectionately when he sees how naturally they seem to do things for his own happiness.

He sees love reflected in the actions of those who are close to him, but expressing it himself? He doesn't even know how the few people around him can tolerate him.

He decides to call Kirishima and ask him about frienships. Out of his male friends he’s probably the only one who can answer properly, and there’s no way he’s talking about it with the girls.

"Oi."

"Hey, Bakubro, everything alright?" his right hand answers.

"Listen, we're friends, right?" Katsuki bursts out.

"Uhm, yes, of course. Why are you asking me this? It's weird coming from you" the redhead suspiciously tells him.

The blonde ignores the comment and continues with his questions. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?" Kirishima says, more confused than before. Katsuki sighs, because he knows his friend will have to know all the details about it or he won't shut up about it, ever.

"Made a deal with my roommate, I have to show her what love means to me" he explains.

"That sounds pretty intimate, to be honest. You barely talk about her and suddenly you talk about love with her? Is there something more between you two? And what does that have to do with me anyway?" he rambles on.

"Shitty hair, stop asking questions, fuck. We were talking about friendships after she made me watch a dumb ass film and now I don't fucking know how to tell her what I think about love. She said to think about love inside of friendships. You're supposed to tell me why you're my friend. Also, we're not fucking intimate or some bullshit. As I said, we made a deal" he replies, annoyed. 

"Sure, every roommate makes a deal about love nowadays" Kirishima mumbles.

"SO?" Katsuki is starting to get pissed. "Just answer the damn question."

His friend sighs, before starting to answer. "You're not good at telling people how you feel about them, but you know how to make them feel safe. And I'm not talking about physical safety, even if I bet if I asked Mina she would say you scare the creepy guys away, I'm talking about safe friendship. It's nice to know you're always there if I need you, you know? You help me without being asked to most of the time, and you don't even realise it. Remember that time half of the class fell sick and you spent a day going to the store to take medicines for every specific illness we had? Or remember when me and Mina almost broke up because of that stupid broken plate and you talked me out of it saying something like "If you really want to break up with her go on, but I'm breaking your nose because this is a really stupid fucking reason to break up with the girl of your dreams"? That's stuff that touches people. Yeah, your love can't be defined as kind, but it's real. Everyone needs to have a friend that will straight up tell them when they're wrong and that doesn't sugarcoat things. You're that guy, man. I’m glad I have you as a friend."

Katsuki is stunned into silence. He didn’t think Kirishima would be this specific.

“Hello? Are you still there?” His friend asks, thinking the line has fallen. Katsuki clears his throat before answering “Yeah. I didn’t expect all of this. Thanks, Eijirou, I appreciate it.”

His friend chuckles. “No worries, bro. Also, what’s going on with this roommate of yours? And don’t tell me that it’s just a deal, we both know it’s a lie. What type of person is she?”

Katsuki groans. He is currently in his feelings though, so he shares a bit of what’s on his mind lately.

“She’s cool, I guess. She knows how to deal with my mood swings in a way that… you-know-who didn’t do. She’s funny when she wants to be and she stands her ground with me, but she’s also pretty kind from what I’ve seen. Sometimes too much. It annoys me,” he says almost whispering. He feels like if he raises his voice even a little bit then he won’t be able to not think about you for the rest of the day. Almost as if the raw things he’s feeling right now will come back to haunt him.

Kirishima hums. He knows he won’t get more than his friend already said. It’s a miracle he even talked about something so personal.

“I’m glad you found a good roommate, man. You know how they say, calm at home equals calm at work” he says.

“And who says that?” responds Katsuki, raising both his voice and one eyebrow.

“Me” Kirishima proudly says.

“This was some of the corniest shit you ever said, Kiri. And I saw you propose to Mina” Katsuki barks.

His friend bursts out laughing. “Yeah, and you’re still my best man at the wedding.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I’m gonna work out now, see you at work” he says rolling his eyes.

“Sure, man. See ya,” and he hangs up.

Katsuki gets up from his bed and goes straight toward your bedroom door. He makes sure to knock before opening it, then crosses his arms and leans on the side of it. You look up at him from your desk and stretch. You’ve been writing for hours.

“How’s your vitamin D intake?” he asks you. You look confused. Is this a dirty joke?

“Why?”

“Because. Answer the question,” he says.

“Are you talking about dick or the literal sun?” You respond.

“Both. I do think you need to get laid. It could make you less insufferable” he answers, smirking.

“Fuck off, Katsuki” you roll your eyes. “By the way, I could use a walk if you want to go out. Do we need groceries or something?” You stand up, going next to him. Up close your height difference is even more noticeable.

“Nah. I was thinking about Saturday” he says looking down at you. Damn. If she comes a little closer I could strangle her without exerting too much effort. I’d just have to straighten my arms and get her neck and-

“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re freaking me out. Please cover your eyes and get out of my way, I need to pee” you tell him scowling, bumping his shoulder and getting out of your room. “Also, I did say that you can choose to go out, so if you show love by taking someone to the Bahamas, I have nothing to object to.”

You hear him humming before entering the bathroom door.

“I can’t take you to the Bahamas, ‘cause if I see that ass in a bikini, you’re getting both of your vitamins D” he mumbles, just having finished staring at your backside and knowing you can’t hear him. He shakes his head to make the voices disappear, then prepares himself to work out. A run will do.

It’s finally Saturday. For this deal both you and Katsuki took the day off at work, so it’s basically a small vacation. You wake up at 9 am, which isn’t even that bad, but when you get out of your room with sleep still on your features you see your roommate super busy in the kitchen. He’s so focused that you think he hasn’t noticed you, so you stare at him for a bit. He’s such a housewife. Let me take a picture, you think.

When he hears the click of your phone’s camera he snaps his head towards you. “Delete that shit,” he says with a deep voice.

“On my dead body, Mr. Bakugou,” you reply.

He growls, then throws you a mean look. “I’m poisoning your food, brat.”

“Oh! You’re cooking for me? How nice of you” you say genuinely, getting closer to him and observing what he’s doing.

“Don’t look. It’s for later. We’re having a picnic” he roughly responds.

“Is this what you planned on doing for today?” You ask, smiling up at him.

“Yeah” he says hesitantly. He didn’t think you’d be excited, and seeing you smile for something so little makes him pause. He composes himself, remaining neutral. “I'ma need your help though, we’re baking cookies. Is that easy enough for you, dumbass?” He continues, smirking.

“Hey!” You pout, throwing a punch at his arm. He chuckles. You’re surprised, because you’re not used to hearing his laugh, but you go with the flow and laugh with him. His laugh is a bit rough, just like him: you like it though, because it shows a little of that particular side he doesn’t show often. You’re a sucker for it, your need to always know every detail being quelled a little and making you feel light. Being in Katsuki’s presence is like being exposed to the bright and hot July sun for a whole day and finally finding a bottle of fresh water. You still don’t know if he’s the sun or the water, you just know that it makes you happy.

You start mixing the ingredients according to the recipe he reads you and he occasionally screams that you’re not doing it the right way, taking over. After a while he frustrates you so much that you take a bit of flour, put it on your hand and then slap it on his chest. He’s flabbergasted, your white handprint on his black tee super visible. He doesn’t say anything for 5 minutes, just staring at you and at his shirt, while you’re on the floor crying from how much you’re laughing from his expression.

“You bitch” he seethes, scowling. “If you want me to show you how I hate people, you’re on the right fucking path”. Then he takes some cookie batter and smears it on your forehead. You try fighting him but he gets both of your wrists in one of his hands in a matter of seconds, and you can’t escape.

He gets on your eye level and with mirth in his eyes tells you “Y’can’t win at this. Keep on cooking or you’re not gonna taste what I prepared for you”. You poke out your tongue with laughter still in your irises. He rolls his eyes, trying to appear mad. At that moment, you realise that- He’s having fun. He's happy.

"If you're going to boss me around I'm at least going to have the music privilege," you tell him, wriggling out of his grasp. He whines, saying how your music always gives him a headache, but he's lying. You caught him singing along more than he would want to know.

You keep on cooking and singing all morning. You laugh, you scream while running around your living room making fun of each other (well, you laugh, he scowls), you truly enjoy your free time for the first time in what feels like ages. Katsuki doesn't try to hide that he's enjoying himself and how he gets annoyed when you're not on tune, and you beam at the fact he feels comfortable enough to show you some of his true colors. Your chocolate chip cookies turn out to be pretty amazing, and Katsuki says that it's only because he made the recipe himself.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Y/N" he smirks, looking at you breaking one cookie in half. You're both sitting down, having just finished taking them out of the oven.

"You know, you never call me by my name. Is that because you're rude or do you have problems with showing affection? How's your relationship with your mother?" you mock him while munching.

He flicks your forehead and blows on your face, making you scowl. He smells like the cookie he just finished eating plus a little bit of the coffee you made for the both of you. You offer him the bigger half of the cookie you broke in two, and he stares at you for a bit before taking it.

"You could've given me the smaller part. It's not like we don't have enough of them" he mumbles. You just shrug.

"Just take it. It came as a natural gesture, don't worry, it's not like I like you enough as a person to plan something like that" you reply, flipping him off while standing up and dusting yourself.

"Go prepare yourself. We're going out in 30 minutes," he tells you ignoring your middle finger right in his face and looking at his watch. If you didn't think about it it's even worse, dumbass , he thinks.

"30 minutes?! But I want to be cute! Ugh! You could've told me sooner!" you scream while running toward your door, and you hear him scoffing. You turn around and look at him, still basking in the sun that comes from the window in front of the kitchen counter. He seems more peaceful than he's ever looked, with flour on his clothes and his hair ruffled up from how much his hands were in it when you were doing something wrong baking.

"Kats?"

"Yeah, Y/N?"

"This was cute. We should do this again sometimes. You're a great cook" you say, giving him one of your most genuine smiles. He nods, then tells you to hurry up. When he's alone in the kitchen he brings one of his hands on his chest and hears how fast his heart is beating. He groans. You're going to give him a heart disease. Was this day a good idea?

You get out of the house and he has to force himself to not look at your legs. You wore one of those flowy summer dresses that compliments your skin so well he feels like he'll have a nosebleed at the end of the day. Fuck Katsuki, get a hold of yourself. You sound like a horny teenager, he scolds himself.

You lay your blanket on the green grass of one of the parks near your apartment, and he gets out different tupperwears with different things in them. He even gets out two bentos filled to the brim with food. You're shocked.

"Just how early did you get up to do all of this?! There's so much food!" you excitedly say, looking at the pearly whites of his teeth when he flashes you a shy smile for a fraction of a second, before returning to his usual impassible face.

"Early enough to see you still sleeping like the lazy ass you are. Don't flatter me too much, dumbass: dig in, you're gonna taste the best fucking food you'll ever eat. I'm never doing all of this again, but I'm gonna win this fucking deal no matter what" he says.

"You mean I just had to make a bet with you to make you a decent human being for a day? I'm writing it down" you joke. He rolls his eyes, scowl ever present on his features.

"Oh! By the way, I thought about doing something too. We're going to play a bunch of different games and whoever wins the majority of them is going to clean the house alone for two weeks. Are you in? Or are you scared to lose?" you ask him, pointing your fork at him and looking mischievous.

"You're talking to a master here. You're gonna be so sorry for yourself at the end of the day" he responds, looking ready to annihilate you.

You spend the rest of the afternoon eating and playing with each other. You're both really competitive, so most games finish as ties, but you have fun. When the sun starts setting, you get your things and start going toward your apartment.

"By the way, I won the flag quiz. That's so much better than winning fucking monopoly" he says frowning.

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say, loser," you tell him.

"We're gonna have a rematch. I'm gonna get your ass so bad you'll cry" he barks, glaring at your laughing form.

You open your door and mimick a parrot with your hand, like you're saying he's all talk and no smoke. He slaps the back of your head receiving an ouch from you, then puts the containers he used to prepare lunch in the sink. You sit on the kitchen counter while he's washing them.

"So, you're big on acts of service? That's how you show love, right?" you ask him, swinging your legs and looking at his back.

"Yeah, basically. I like it when people enjoy the things I do for them, I guess" he answers, not turning his face toward you. "Instead, your love language is quality time, right?" he continues.

You hum. "I like physical contact too, but it depends on the person I'm receiving it from, you know? It makes me super uncomfortable if someone forces it on me" you explain, shrugging. He nods, drying his hands and turning around.

"I noticed," he says.

"How?"

"I'm good at details. That's why I'm good at everything I do," he responds, seriously.

"Woah, your ego just blinded me," you tell him, a bit disgusted.

"Whatever. Hot choco then we order out?" he offers.

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired. What about you make it?" you whine, and he scoffs.

"You ain't no princess, get your ass up," he says, putting one of his hands on your thigh and shaking it. He's positioned in a way where he maintains some distance, but if he were to take two steps he'd be between your legs. She's not uncomfortable now, he thinks. You huff, then hop off the kitchen counter.

"You should call me princess, since you look like the assassin the rival king hired to kill me" you mumble, getting a pan out.

"Oh, I'd kill you just right, princess" he whispers in your ear, making you shiver. He sounded kind of serious, too.

You push him away, calling him an idiot, and he chuckles before ordering pizza for the both of you.

Well, today was nice, you tell yourself, a little smile on your lips. I'd even like his pomeranian-looking ass if he wasn't so rude, you remark.

Meanwhile, as he's looking at you singing to yourself, he thinks that if he doesn't distance himself a bit from your big eyes and pretty smile, your story will be an "enemies to lovers" instead of a runaway princess and her assassin.

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@perfectsukii @sleepykittycx @what-the-jams @bakunianadecorazon @vensunzy @eyesforbkg @bffrrufr @imas1mpp @cold-deep-water @peonies-and-teacakes @berryvioo @opticesmeray @one-piece-frvr7 @youngststark @kahelis

[epinebleue]

love me now (m) | 05

in which you go for a night drive.

pairing: johnny suh x reader (female)

genre: established relationship!au, mature.

warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (reader’s on the pill), car sex, mention of past toxic relationships.

chapter index

Most times, Friday nights are pretty lively.

Sometimes, you go to your favorite club, whose owner is a good friend of yours. If you’re not in the mood for clubbing, you order pizza and watch a movie before making out on the couch.

But today is different. You’re bored as hell, having lost all interest in the movie you’re supposed to be watching. Johnny must feel the same, because when you turn to look at him, he’s scrolling through his Instagram feed aimlessly with one hand, caressing your leg with the other.

“Why don’t we go out?” He suddenly says, blocking his phone and leaving it on the coffee table.

“I don’t feel like partying.”

“I didn’t mean to party.” He corrects. “Something like a night drive.”

That sounds much better, so you accept right away. You pick something comfortable, not bothering to glance at the rest of the clothes in your wardrobe. When you reach the entrance, you see that Johnny has chosen something sporty, too. He grabs his keys from the keyholder next to the intercom, opening the door for you.

“Why don’t we get McDonald’s?”

You’re unable to contain your excitement, smiling as you get in the elevator, and pushing the parking button. Johnny grabs your cheeks and kisses your forehead so delicately that you think you’ll melt in his arms.

“Anything for you, babe.”

You sit on the passenger seat, immediately demanding the aux cord. Johnny doesn’t even fight it, knowing it’ll be a waste of time. It’s a fact that you’re in charge of the music when you travel by car. It’s also a fact that won't change anytime soon.

The car starts moving, and Johnny drives towards the nearest McDonald’s.

The song you’ve chosen plays softly in the background as you observe the streetlights through the window.

“How come we’ve never done this before?” 

Johnny simply shrugs, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Maybe it wasn’t the right time yet.”

“Wow.” You nod, feigning being impressed. “Deep.”

You open the window on your side, the night breeze hitting your face. You cross your arms over the window, your eyes drawn to the city lights that seem endless.

New York’s beauty is truly hypnotizing.

This is the city where you were born and raised; where you studied; in which you met most of your friends. It’s the city that gave you Johnny, and that makes it much more special. 

Johnny pulls into the drive-thru, steering the wheel with his palm. The technique makes your stomach tingle. He always looks so hot while driving, you could watch him for hours.

There’s only one car in front of you, so they prepare your order rather quickly. To be honest, you’ve been craving a burger, fries, and ice cream for a while, so you don’t hold yourself back. You’ll eat everything, even if it means having a stomachache later. It’ll have been worth it.

You pay, then move to the parking lot. You give Johnny his burger, which is huge, and fish for your fries at the bottom of the bag.

“I remember that when I was little,” Johnny says, “I celebrated my birthday at McDonald’s. They even gave me a paper crown.”

“That’s what I call luxury.”

“Mom sent me the photo yesterday.”

Johnny takes his phone out of his pocket, scrolling down the gallery until he finds said picture. A big smile crosses your face when he shows it to you.

Johnny couldn’t be more than six years old. His round face is the first thing you notice. Then, you look at his mom, who is holding him in her lap. She looked so pretty with her short hair and dark lipstick. In all honesty, she hasn’t changed much. They’re both wearing a paper crown shaped like a clown.

“Your mom’s so beautiful.”

“What about her son?”

He leans forward, brushing your cheek with the tip of his nose.

“He’s even more beautiful.”

Johnny kisses you, satisfied with the answer. He loves compliments, especially if they come from you. He gets all shy and smiley, and his cheeks go pink.

It’s crazy to think that, when you met Johnny, you found him a bit intimidating. He was tall and only wore black clothes, plus his resting bitch face didn’t help at all. But once you started talking and got to know each other better, you realized he was a human-shaped teddy bear rather than a jerk.

His voice snaps you out of your memories and brings you back to the present time.

“What if I buy another burger?”

You gasp, laughing in disbelief. “Babe, no!”

“Why not?” He mops, discharging the wrap on the empty bag placed in between the seats.

“One is enough.” You insist.

“They’re small! Two is the perfect amount.”

“They seem small because your hand is huge. If you eat another one, cholesterol will atrophy your arteries and, eventually, you’ll die.” Your tone is so serious that Johnny starts laughing seconds later, covering his face with his hands. “Why are you laughing? I’m right!” Now you’re laughing, too.

“That was so mean!”

“It's a medical fact, Johnny!.”

“Fine, you convinced me.”

Once you’ve finished your meal, Johnny drives aimlessly around the city before deciding where to go next. There’s a park from which you can see New York’s skyline, so that’s the destination. Johnny manages to find a secluded spot from which you have a nice view of the city, along with some privacy.

“This might be the best idea I’ve had this week.”

“Or this month.”

Your soft laughs fill the car for a few seconds before going back to silence. Johnny glances in your direction, watching you get lost in the stars and the lights of the city that watched you grow up.

“Everything okay?”

You hum, nodding. “I’m just… reminiscing.”

“A penny for your thoughts.”

You take a deep breath, your eyes never darting away from the view beneath you.

“During my last year of high school, I dated this boy. He was handsome and so, so funny. He treated me like a queen and sometimes made me wonder if he had just jumped right out of a fairy tale. We had the most romantic six months and then, he left me. He never said why, he didn’t even dare to break up with me in person. He told my best friend and asked her to give me the message.”

“What a fucker.” Johnny mumbles.

“For the longest time, I thought I was the problem because I wasn’t pretty enough, sexy enough, smart enough for him. I felt so worthless and sad that I kind of started to drift away. I allowed pretty fucked up things to happen to me that I’ve tried to forget.” Johnny grabs your hand, caressing the palm with his thumb. You’ve got his full attention. “Years later, I started dating again, but I… I was scared all the time. Not that they were horrible people, I was just afraid that they would leave me and make me return to the toxic relationship I had with myself. And then, you came around.”

You turn your head, looking for Johnny’s eyes. He’s looking at you with those fond orbs that you adore.

“Not once have you made me doubt myself. In any way.”

He cups your cheeks and pecks your lips, moving away just enough for you to look him in the eye again.

“I’ll never give you a reason to be scared.”

You give him a reassuring smile.

“I know.”

Slowly, Johnny starts kissing you, his lips soft and warm. The tip of his tongue touches your mouth and you open it, giving him full access. His wet muscle brushes yours and, delicately, Johnny holds the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You reach for his T-shirt, your clouded mind looking for the craved contact, any kind of contact.

“I need you.” He mumbles against his lips, and it’s all you need to hear.

You straddle his lap, trying to find a comfortable position in the driver's seat of the car. Johnny’s basketball shorts are thin enough to let you feel his boner against your core, and you find satisfaction in the fact that he’s just as worked up as you are. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Johnny squeezes you against his clothed chest, so tightly that you don’t know where you start and where Johnny ends.

You could get caught, you could get arrested, but none of that fades you. Right now, the only thing in your mind is Johnny. Johnny licking the length of your neck, Johnny biting where he knows it’ll make you hiss his name. You drag your hips, humping his boner, and when Johnny moans against your mouth, the little clarity you have slips through your fingers like water.

“What about taking this to the back?”

Johnny’s nod is enough of an answer. Before you know it, you’re making your way into the backseat, Johnny on your heels.

Your hands untie the lace of your sweatpants the moment you fall on the seat, Johnny lingering in the door, watching you. You take them off under his gaze, pressing your back against the door behind you and opening your legs to let him peek at the wet patch in your underwear. It’s not long before you take it off, too, the crisp air making you shiver.

“You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“Come and punish me, then.”

You straddle his lap once again when Johnny gets in the car, your lips crashing against his. He looks for the door’s handle in the dark, slamming it, before taking off both his shorts and boxers in a swift movement.

You feel Johnny’s hand sneaking in between your bodies, then he’s forcing his length into you.

New York is a beautiful city, especially at night, but you’ve got the best view in front of you. Johnny lets his head fall back, his pretty mouth open and gasping for air as you start bouncing on his cock without warning, too eager to wait.

Johnny looks at you through half-opened eyes, his hands falling on your waist to give a particularly rough thrust that makes you gasp.

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen.” He whispers against your neck. “Especially when I’m balls-deep inside you.”

“I’m even prettier when you make me cum.”

Johnny’s fingers dig into your ass, guiding you up and down his cock.

“Is that so?”

You nod, biting your lips at the feeling of his tip hitting that spot that makes you go feral.

“You should see for yourself.”

Johnny takes it seriously, hugging your waist and fixing you in place, his pace getting quicker.  

You didn’t expect to get railed in the backseat of his car when he offered a midnight drive, but here you are, wishing you were completely naked to scratch his broad shoulders, back, and chest, which he loves.

Today, he’ll have to settle for the mark of your teeth in his collarbone.

He pants in your ear, his hot breath fanning the droplets of sweat that decorate your neck like diamonds. You whine and wiggle, trying to break free from his grip.

“I want to ride you.”

Johnny usually makes you beg a little more, so you’re pleasantly surprised when he lets go of your waist.

You grind back and forth, making the most out of this new freedom he has granted you. It’s so hot inside the car that the windows are all fogged and your top sticks to your body. You take it off, much to Johnny’s delight, who grabs your breasts and squeezes them.

His hands move up and reach your sweaty neck, pushing away the strands of hair glued to the skin to lock one of them behind it. He uses it to hold you down, retraining your movements.

You open your mouth to protest, but he kisses you before you can say anything, rubbing your clit with his free hand, making you tremble, a choked moan ricocheting against the walls of the vehicle.

“Sorry, baby.” He says even though he’s not sorry at all, thrusting faster. “You can be in charge another time.”

The brutal pace of both his hips and hand is enough to make you forget why you were mad in the first place. He pounds into you as if you hadn’t had sex in months, he growls like an animal when you try to fuck him back, eyes shut close to focus on the feelings of his cock making its way into you over and over again.

Your legs hurt, yet you don’t want to stop.

You don’t last long, white sparkles dance around in the darkness when you reach your high.

Johnny fucks you through it for as long as he can, pressing his hips to yours as he fills you up, your name in his mouth like a song.

You rest your head on his shoulder, allowing him to caress your hair, you both trying to catch your breaths.

“Was that good?”

“I’ve got your cum inside me.” You remark. “So there’s your answer.”

Johnny’s chest shakes with his laugh, scratching your scalp with his fingertips. You would fall asleep if it wasn’t for his voice breaking the silence.

“Promise me you won’t freak out.”

“What?”

“There’s a car parked right next to us.”

No reposting or translations allowed.

© epinebleue 2023

[pleasingsatellite]

toxic socialite harry and y/n

liked by harrystyles, gemmastyles and 352,829 others

yourinstagram in paradise 🌊

view all 2,628 comments

randomperson an angel!

randomperson girl the photoshop is getting out of hand…

↳yourinstagram all natural babe 😚

harrystyles god damn i’m lucky

↳yourinstagram all for you babe 🫶🏻

randomperson weren’t harry and y/n literally just fighting in a club like a week ago?

↳randomperson they literally break up every other week it’s nothing new

↳yourinstagram hey it’s more like every other month get it right

liked by yourinstagram, niallhoran and 573,829 others

harrystyles got the hottest girl on this boat in my lap.

view all 3,627 comments

niallhoran hey man…I’m on the boat too

↳harrystyles hence why I said “girl”

randomperson they’re so cute when they’re actually being happy together

yourinstagram 🫡

thesun how long y’all think this is gonna last?

↳harrystyles a week tops, she’s mental mate

↳yourinstagram you’re sleeping outside tonight

liked by harrystyles, randomperson and 473,729 others

yourinstagram better than ever

view all 3,629 comments

randomperson need their life fr, born into money and they just get to party

↳yourinstagram hey! we also brunch and shop don’t minimize our contributions to society

harrystyles hey pretty lady

↳ yourinstagram come over?

randomperson she’s so hot he doesn’t deserve her I heard he was fucking around with some model on the side 😗

↳randomperson pretty sure I saw him kissing said model the other night….

liked by randomperson, randomperson and 45,395 others

deuxmoi I have confirmed this with multiple sources, sounds like they’re officially broken up…again.

view all 2,628 comments

randomperson I could see them ending from a mile away

randomperson my man threw away a 10 and for what?

randomperson they’ll literally be back together in like 2 weeks

↳randomperson idk I saw y/n in a club on Friday with said NBA player and they seemed relatively serious the PDA was crazy

liked by randomperson, randomperson and 13,739 others

thesun Fun in the sun for Harry Styles who recently cheated on his on again off again girlfriend y/n was seen in Turks and Caico’s getting rather snuggly with the model he cheated on her with. Could this truly be the end for the socialite couple?

view all 1,628 comments

randomperson my man has no shame but tbh…i get it

randomperson imagine cheating on your gf and then just flaunting it in public

yourinstagram lol what a joke

↳randomperson oop….you deserve so much better girl

↳yourinstagram and I have it don’t worry 🤭

liked by randomperson, yourinstagram and 20,728 others

dailymail new couple alert! Socialite y/n was spotted leaving dinner with NBA player Devin Booker following her very messy break-up with fellow socialite Harry Styles. This could get mess people! Buckle up.

view all 3,628 comments

randomperson good for her! never let ‘em see you sweat girl!

randomperson her and harry gotta be #1 most toxic couple rn

↳randomperson you’re right cause we both know they’ll be making out at some club next month like nothing happened

randomperson rich people problems seem like a lot of work

yourinstagram we’re cute 🤷🏻‍♀️

liked by randomperson, devbook31 and 472,829 others

yourinstagram imagine cheating on me?

view all 4,638 comments

randomperson FUMBLED THE BAG!

randomperson damn she’s too hot for him

devbook31 can’t relate

↳yourinstagram 🫶🏻

harrystyles well damn

↳yourinstagram go away.

Please go read the Magnolia Parks series it’s consumed my life and this is lowkey inspired by that because i love for drama and that book got the most amount of drama I’ve ever read so if you like angst READ IT!!!! enjoy love you say it back

[luffyvace]

Vinsmoke Sanji x reader who fights his royal treatment~

@starrymiko suggested/requested these!! This a fun idea I’ve never seen before, because most people ik wouldn’t reject royal treatment from a hot guy—turns out I have a lot to learn (😂💗)

I really don’t how to explain this as a short title so here’s the post where they explain it better than me: Vinsmoke Sanji with reader who rejects his royal treatement

also going to link the posts they got inspired by/read to give them this idea:

Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons & Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons pt2

Sanji loves hard when he loves

And he certainly loves you!

He’s also a very expressive man!

whether he despises you or wants to marry you, he expresses how he feels!

usually verbally too

But he also has practically all love languages, and he tones them to your favorites

but one trait that definitely sticks is his need to take care for who he loves!

so when you reject it?! “But my ethereal and whimsically attractive darling?! What do you mean??”

you explain that you don’t want his coddling and that you can do things on your own, as you prefer your independence

even though that’s not the full story, technically

Pushing him away is pretty darn hard as we see in the anime with Nami and Robin. He’s been trying and failing for 2 years..So if your his s/o this simps’ definitely not just gonna be like “ok 👍” and simply walk away 🤷‍♀️

Alr I apologize for that dad joke.

he’s gonna try every love language in the book to try and get you to open up, you two are dating after all, so maybe your just shy? Awww so cute! His dearest is embarrassed~ Physical Touch is probably the first thing he’d try and the first thing you’d say no to. Mainly since he’s a simp and touching is too direct for you. You guys are a really ironic couple since you’re almost scared of love and he’s all about it.

He tried to initiate contact of all types and got rejected each and every time. Let me carry you for a romantic walk as I hold your bags! 💥💥 “I said got it! 💨 🎒😑” Well at least let me carry the bag to your room! It’s really heavy! “No! I can do it on my own!” But darling- “NO!”

tbh you can hit him as much as you want but he won’t hit you back. So whenever you argue or fight about these kinds of things you usually end up winning the argument

for acts of service literally everything is a no- I washed your laundry for you! “What! Don’t touch my clothes! I’ve got it!!” I got that thing you’ve been searching for! “I wanted to find it myself! Now it’s not as rewarding! I could do it on my own! Stop doing things for me!” Darling, let me help~ 😞 “no way!”

tbh the only thing you let him do is cook for you because he is the cook, and even so, if you want to fix a snack you prefer to do it by yourself. It makes his love for cooking grow even more and he looks forward to daily meals because he can finally take care of you! 🩷

receiving gifts is probably another thing you’d reject seeing as though you’d figure you can get it yourself. But words of affirmation and quality time? May or may not be so bad for you! I’ll let you decide :) if you allow him to display his love in these ways he’d be overjoyed and just assume this is your preferred way of display of affection, and that the other 3 aren’t your forte 💗💗

when he finds out he’s truly scaring you away simply by treating you right and respecting you, he figures somethin’s up.

he’s gonna get to the bottom of it too, whether you like it or not because you, need. it. He knows what it feels like to bottle up your past and smile at the future, despite the fact that the past is still hurting you inside, and it’s like a ticking time bomb before you implode.

He knows he doesn’t want that for you. (Especially after whole cake)

So he’ll gently pry as much as he can with out upsetting you too much. It’s also helpful if you visit your home land, because then he can learn what it was like for you growing up.

if he finds out a person did this to you? They’re cooked.

LOL- literally tho, he’s going Infrit Jambe and lighting’ ‘‘em up! 🔥

if they’re a women he’ll explain the situation to Robin and Nami who’ll certainly want to help you, and they’ll beat up that trifling tramp! 💥

(even if you don’t visit your homeland this still applies ⬇️)

after that Sanji would want to ease you into being used to respect especially and his care too

now if your just naturally independent he’ll try and let it go as best as he can, but he does want you to command respect, because if you let others disrespect you, that proves you have no respect for yourself.

and it’s essential to be able to at least stand up for yourself on the grand line.

but don’t worry! If you won’t do it, he will for you! 😏 No? Well then stand up for yourself dear! 😊

🔥🧑‍🍳

🍜🍳🥘🥞

🔥🔥🔥🔥 Let. Me. COOK.

[novasintheroom]

A home for you and me

Combining these two asks since they both ask for the same line! Hope you don't mind <3

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.9k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: It's a new chapter in your lives.

Now part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

It’s a hot day. Most people are avoiding the worst of it by staying indoors, where some have cooling vents from the Plant, and others just have shade.

Vash feels sweat drip down his back, his knuckles lightly cramping around the cloth handles for bags laden with food stuffs. He’s happy with the haul from the market. Fresh fruit and vegetables, with synthetic meat that didn’t look too grey. This town really was a good place to settle down. He’ll have to tell you again when he gets home.

Home.

What a strange concept. Over one-hundred and fifty years on No Man’s Land, and Vash could hardly call any place truly home. Sure, there’s the ship, Home. Luida and Brad are wonderful. But he never wanted to overstay his welcome there, always leaving within a few days to hoof it once again across the deserts and try to repent for his wrongs. And always being on the run as either an outlaw or just an unwanted or unwelcome stranger made it impossible to settle down anywhere.

Until now.

Home comes into view as he rounds a corner. Sitting along a row of similar houses, it’s small, built of metal and rock and precious few beams of wood to bend in the desert winds. Three painted pots sit near the door – a craft you’d insisted on doing to help brighten the outside with more than oranges and browns. The string lights sway in the slight breeze over the doorway, waiting to turn on once the suns dip lower and the shadows come.

Someone might say it’s not much. But give them a century of travel, and it’ll become the best thing a man has seen.

His left hand turns the handle of the door – unlocked, you probably saw him coming through the window – and goes inside.

He only has a moment to hear your squeal and drop the groceries before you launch yourself at him. He catches you, feels your legs wrap around his waist to keep yourself locked in place. He is pummeled by your lips on his jaw, his neck, his cheeks. “Mayfly – !” He’s already overheated, but this is making it worse. “What are you – “

“I’m so happy we have a house!” You exclaim, planting a big kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’m so happy you get to get groceries!”

Ah, zoomies. You’d been doing this lately, just too happy to have a house to do anything but run around or kiss him. He lets out a laugh, pulling you into a hug to stop your onslaught. “Can I at least shut the door before you decide to pounce on me the moment I come home?” He walks into the hallway, gently kicking the door closed behind.

You snort and pull back with a look. “You know you love it.”

He hums. “I’m sure the neighbors love it too,” he says. Still, he leans forward and catches your lips in a full kiss.

When you pull back, you finally put your feet back to the floor and stoop down to gather the grocery bags. “C’mon, I’ve been rearranging the furniture and I need to get your opinion. Oh, also, one of the neighbors came by and gave us a casserole! Isn’t that weird? She was super nice, though. I think she said she lives a few doors down, but I’ll have to check again. I think she has those two teenage boys that we saw walking earlier. Looked a lot like her!”

You wander down the hall, expecting him to follow at your heels, just like when you travelled. But Vash has to take a moment. You’re carrying groceries instead of supplies for camp. There’s food in the house, a place to safely lay your heads. You cut a beautiful figure, knocking into the corner as you go to the kitchen with what he brought home. Already trusting he got the right supplies, that this is going to work. You want him to look at the furniture.

You pop your head back in the hall when he doesn’t immediately show up. Your face falls, and you’re rushing to him. “Birdie, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” You reach up, and Vash is surprised to feel tears being wiped away. He hadn’t known he was crying. “Did something happen at the market?”

Vash takes a moment to rein it in. Then he pulls you into a tight hug, a watery laugh spilling out. “I’m just…really glad we have a home.”

You coo and rub his back. It still has all the scars and metal plates under the shirt. All the reminders of where he’s been, what he’s gone through. You feel your own tears prick in your eyes. What you would give to make that go away. But it’s what made him the man he is today, and you wouldn’t have him any other way. Your sweet man. You rock him side to side with your feet and whisper, “Me too, sweetheart.”

Vash sniffles into your shoulder, glasses pressed into the crook of your neck. Then he pulls away, sighing and wiping his eyes. “Alright, alright, I’m done.” He laughs. Then, looking down, he asks, “One more kiss? Please?”

With a smile, you say, “See? I knew you loved it.” You go to your tiptoes and press your lips to his.

[pokegalla]

Requested by @tryslogic

Enjoy yah lil sinner >:3

Warning: A little spicy up ahead. You were warned

How Touchy Can They Be In Public With Slightly Large Chested S/o! (Pt 2 with different characters✨)

Dream:

* He’s an adorable bean. Look at this boy. Would you really think he’s thinking lewd things?! ……lol well technically yes at least not at first. He just finds you beautiful in general and will be sure to compliment you! But he is an adult and not blind about his own curiosity…..

* You and him were just shopping together and you wanted to try some bras on. He didn’t mind tagging along but was a golden mess seeing all those bras. And when you asked him to help you take off a bra, his hands lingered on your chest before he pulls away suddenly, apologizing profusely for touching you in public-

* In private he is surprisingly teasing! Nothing too crazy because he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable and doesn’t want to go too far without your permission! It would be rude after all! When he knows it’s ok, this guy will have the most delicate touch, making your heart flutter and mind fuzzy whether he’s just being romantic and appreciating your beauty or having you in the sheets~ definitely both sometimes~

* Don’t be fooled by that innocent look- you really think he won’t give you teases in public? Lol you’ve only fallen into a trap✨ “Wow that shirt looks stunning! I bet it would look even better on you starlight! …..especially when I take it off~” (lil shit says that last part very quietly-)

* You are just too adorable sometimes~✨

Blue:

* Ah yes. Baby Blue✨. He’s a big sweetheart and loves to be with you. He always knows what to say and makes you giggle. Now him being lewd? Could he truly be?! Yes. Yes absolutely-

* He’s a big hugger and you know this. It’s adorable and you can’t find any reason to complain. Look at him! 🥹 But he’s also DEFINITELY taking advantage of it by giving you a mischievous look while nuzzling in your chest. And he wouldn’t mind taking you to somewhere private (maybe a closet or someplace that keeps you two hidden from view~) to tease you and fully enjoy your glorious chest~ (only if you’re comfortable though!)

* In private he’s pretty adorable, laying his head in your chest, arms wrapped around your waist. It’s cute when he jiggles your chest only to giggle and apologize for being silly. Oh. Oh but you can drive this man crazy if you spoil him with booba. Booba in face, pressed on his body, oh man and a titjob?! He’ll be a hot mess✨

* He usually does sweet or romantic (though very cheesy) pick up lines. But oh he can say a few dirty lines that could catch you off guard- especially that one time you wore a shirt with extra cleavage- “Those seem like very expensive clothes, too bad I’ll be ripping through them tonight~” Shit was so out of the blue (Heh pun). Don’t be surprised if that line ends up becoming a promise for later~

* He just loves you and you just drive him nuts~

Ink:

* Honestly just look at him. This Smol Gremlin. With a big chested S/o. You best believe his true inner gremlin is gonna shine- your chest is now his fun bags-

* Now there are many things he could do in public. Drop pencils in your cleavage as an excuse to dig in and have a feel. Squirt gun to make your shirt cling onto your body (he did it ONCE for a joke and once he discovered this, he just carries around a squirt gun for this purpose-), or straight up take advantage of his shortness to stand right under your chest. Ah yes. Booba hat✨

* In private he’s always in your cleavage or under your booba. He can’t help it! It’s so soft🥹. If he wasn’t so busy, he’d be laying around all day with his skull nuzzled in your chest! And ah he loves to draw you in different outfits…..especially with lingerie~ and man he loves to paint on your chest during intimate moments. You just look so damn good….things get pretty messy after that~😏

* And oh he is such a fucking tease. Whether it’s from lil sneaky caresses and straight up poking your chest with a cheeky little smile. Or whispering romantic or sexy nothings into your ear~ then he’d just act like his goofy ol self like he didn’t say the most inappropriate thing- “C’mon! Stop getting your head in the clouds~!” Lil shit-

* He makes you wanna body slam him but you both know you still love him anyway✨

Killer:

* Ohohohohoho this is quite literally the MOST notorious guy in this category. He’s flirty, bold, and will say the most outrageous things. He will not hesitate to say “nice tits” in front of his group-

* A damn menace who will leave you all excited in the worst times. You two would try to meet up somewhere and he sneaks up behind you to grab your chest- you’d want to go somewhere and you end up making out in an alleyway, leaving with a LOT of hickies around your neck and chest. And he gives no damns. He would straight up poke your chest. Not like with Ink (who usually pokes the side or the top) he pokes RIGHT where the nipple is while looking you straight in the eyes- bastard-

* In private he is WORST. You have no one protecting you from his onslaught now~ He will be taking your bras so you walk around the house with no bra. No bra = less restrictions~ he absolutely loves to play with your nipples whether it’s with his hands or mouth. And nothing gets him more excited than covering your tits with his special sauce~ but at least he’s rather adorable when cuddling. Like a little kitten❤️

* Oh lord his teasing is just as bad. He would whisper downright the most LEWDEST and DIRTIEST flirts right in your ear, making you all hot and bothered only to give you the smuggest smirk cause he KNOWS it’s getting to you. “I wish you could just sit here on my lap and shove those tits in my face….but we both know we can’t do it with all these people here. Unless you’re into that~” Evil-

* He’s a lil shit but your lil shit. Be sure to tease back-

[tadpolesonalgae]

Predator and Prey[***]

Dark!Rhys x reader

a/n: Okay, so, this isn’t ‘canon’ to the Desk Pet series, it’s more like it’s set in that universe but it’s a what-if scenario! Because I read this and wanted to write a little drabble for it!!!

warnings: uh, I think it turned into angst? It’s not written to be sad, but you might read it as sad? Um, anyway, Rhys doesn’t die, he’s fine, it just cuts off dramatically. Enjoy! :) (also, reference to past noncon, please be careful)

word count: 2,638

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Velaris. 

The city of Starlight. 

Home to the High Lord, and rumoured to be a haven for dreams. 

A place to rest and recover, where the colours shone brighter and the air tasted crisper. Where sleep was no longer a restless resignation but settled over its citizens fully, a night to guarantee fresh minds in the morning, relieved of aching joins or a heaviness to their eyelids. Where even the sun shone brighter, and the moon appeared like a silver coin in the sky, starlight glittering like dewdrops on a cobweb caught in the early morning light. 

And it was true—any occupant would gladly testify to Velaris’ strangely healing nature, the rare beauty that painted the streets colourful and full of life, that had the denizens struggling to remain in a foul mood for long, but then something strange happened. A small change that caused the eventual death of that wonder and healing safety. Few details were given, but it was clear something had happened. Something detrimental to the Court’s well-being. 

And one by one, the stars began winking out. 

It started with a curfew—no citizens were permitted to roam the streets past midnight, and were required to remain indoors until the sun broke across the horizon. 

Then the darkness started to feel thicker; heavier. Gone were the clear nights; the twinkling stars. Instead they were replaced with cloying shadows, a tension that wound its way through the streets and scratched slowly at doors. Searching. Hunting.  

Then at last came the beast itself. 

No one had ever seen it, but to deny its presence would be pointless. They could all feel it, they had all noticed the weight that descended across the city, the clawing tension that tightened skin and had throats constricting. No one knew what would happen if they disobeyed the curfew, what would happen if they ventured out into the night to seek out the thing that had swallowed their beloved starlight whole. 

Except you. 

————

It’s been less than a month since you escaped his bruising touch, the sharp bite of his teeth. 

Less than a month, and your body still aches with phantom pains that blister and swell as though his talons are still raking gently through your mind, plucking at your pain to keep you under his thumb. 

The cool night air is like a balm to your skin, burning hot from anxiety as the clocktower strikes twelve, and the few lights that had been illuminated are snuffed out. You watch from the small attic window as the darkness unfurls, rising from the cobbles, giving the unshakable impression that it never truly leaves but rather temporarily sinks below the floorboards, just waiting to slink out and drag you down into the earth. 

It’s why you’ve kept to sneaking into deserted attics rather that hiding out in garden sheds. 

You don’t want him to be able to find you. 

Just a few more days, that’s all you need, and you’ll be out of Velaris for good. You can worry about what you’ll do after once you’re out, for now you just need to make it past that last house. 

You’ve managed to scout out a couple nearby and have picked the one you’ll stay in for your last night. Then first thing in the morning you’ll be free. As soon as the sun breaks over the horizon, you’ll run and never look back. 

————

Your heart is pounding in your chest, wild and alive as you spring through the undergrowth, bag on your back weighed with enough to keep you going healthily for a day or two, but you’re out! 

The air tastes different, clearer and purer. Even the ground feels different, more secure in some way and you’re struck with the urge to remove your shoes and feel the grass beneath your bare soles. It’s been so long since you’ve been out in the woods that shroud the outskirts of the city, and emotion swells in your chest. 

But you don’t have time for that yet. You’re onto your next task, escaping the court as a whole. 

You’re familiar with the territory—maps were easy to locate in his study, and easier still to pluck from a draw before leaving. 

As far as you can tell you have three options that you’ve been running through ever since you made it into that last house. Option one would be the swiftest escape but also the most likely to get you caught: escaping by sea. Velaris isn’t far from the coast and you could likely make it on foot in a day and a half if you pushed yourself, but the docks would be busy and you don’t doubt he’ll be keeping an eye on them. And with his daemati powers you’d be easily recognisable to anyone he’s commanded to pull you from the ships on sight. 

Option two is to make your way southeast down to the Day Court boarders. Once you’ve crossed, safety won’t be assured but you’ll be a hell of a lot more protected than remaining in his territory. But it will take time and you aren’t sure you can afford to risk such delayed escape. It won’t be long before he begins searching further than Velaris, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to sneak into houses unfamiliar to you which would mean being outside overnight, which will guarantee your capture. 

Option three: you remain in the Night Court and hope for him to grow bored or restless. Wait for him to make a move and reveal his cards. The last option and least favourable, one you’d only pick if the first two were ruled out for some reason. It’s a last resort—you don’t want to spend a second longer in his territory more than you absolutely must. 

Of the three, the safest would probably be to trail down the coast for the swiftest path but it’s true he might predict that, in which case you should muddle your route—keep more inland and go that way, stopping from town to town and slowly making your route South. 

Yes, that has to be the right choice. 

————

He hears the voices around him but is paying no attention to their flurried chatter, useless and completely unaware of the real problems, concerned only with menial issues that will solve nothing important. 

His violet eyes are blank as usual, expression cold and unreadable as the meeting proceeds, watching from somewhere far behind his eyes as mouths move, hands raise in gestures of outrage and demand, postures folded into defensive positions when they’re targeted. His mood darkens—how they manage to occupy themselves so fervently, how they manage to swell such unseemly waves of emotion over such meaningless topics, it’s waring his temper dangerously thin. 

It’s been nearly a month since she disappeared from his life, vanishing from the house he’d kept for her and running out into the night. He still remembers the strange emptiness he’d felt when he’d returned, tired and worn out, seeking nothing more than to fall into bed with her. Nothing more than to inhale her scent again, to feel the soft shape of her body as it slots against his own, hear the quiet noises of her breath as she tries to keep it from hitching whenever he reaches for her. The tinge of fear in her scent whenever he approaches, or the flash of terror then rage that passes behind her eyes so swiftly it leaves him slightly breathless. 

He had thought she was warming up to him. That the lack of protest had been promising, and that the steady disappearance of resistance had meant she was beginning to forget. And he had responded to that by granting her more freedom—not much, but she had access to the gardens—and being that small bit less forceful in his touch. 

Resurfacing into the current reality, the voices swarm at his mind, loud and grunting as they argue themselves in circles. 

He had been close last night, had caught her scent on the ledge of a window near the outskirts of his city, but it had been faint and days old. She will have likely made it out into the forests by now. 

Darkness unspools across the floor, his mood seeping into the room as tension spreads itself across the table, tightening around the council’s throats. 

He needs to find her soon. For her to be out in the woods, alone and near nightfall. If something happens to her…

The faelights fail, flicking softly before they wink out, and the chamber falls into silence as the absent darkness at last finishes plying the life from their bodies, at last allowing silence to settle. 

————

The boarder isn’t far now, but your heart is pounding so hard from running you’re worried he’ll be able to hear it in the few seconds it takes to inhale. 

He’s much too close for your liking, and one wrong move… 

He’s relentless in this hunt, stalking your steps as he prowls after your scent, tracking you how he’d been raised to, following the signs you’re unable to hide in the spare moments your magic deactivates. You’re lucky you’d had no reason to use it after Amarantha’s fall. 

It’s been a while since you’ve handled it, but you can temporarily go invisible to hide yourself from sight. A handy trick certainly, but it wouldn’t be enough to get past him on its own. Which is why you’re thankful for its one step further. 

For the duration you can hold your breath, it’s as if you don’t exist. You can run through the brush, step on as many twigs as you like and no one will hear. Can sidle up to birds and other creatures without them even noticing you. Even your scent is covered. Were it not for this, you wouldn’t have stood a chance of escaping. 

And yet between those breaths when you resurface into reality, he’s able to sense you. An acute awareness he’s pinned onto you that alerts him of your movements in those bare seconds. 

The darkness swarms to the position you’d been not even a minute before, and your heart stops when you spot the silhouette that’s prowling through the shadow. Tall and intimidating, perfectly cut lines stark against the inky blue of the night sky, able to make out the locks of blue-black hair that glint like raven’s feathers beneath the sliver of moonlight. 

Terror filters through your blood as he calls your name, pausing at the foot of the tree you’d been at, glancing at the ground before his violet eyes skim the surrounding area. 

Nails dig into your palms when his attention pauses on you, watching the darkness between the trees that you’re hidden in, brows narrowing ever so slightly. 

It’s impossible. There’s no way for him to know where you are. Your scent is covered, and noise you make is absolutely annulled, your presence itself entirely smothered, so how? 

You don’t waste time considering it—how sharp his senses must be—keeping your breath held as you dart away, running for your life through the darkness of the woods. The boarder of Day is still far off, there’s no way you’ll be able to reach it before the sun rises. 

He’s going to find you. 

He’s going to take you back. 

Your lungs are burning, and you’re forced to yield another gasping breath before returning into that invisible pocket that’s keeping you separate from him. 

In that one second you feel as he shifts, the immensity of his power concentrating to the space not even three steps behind you, and your legs fumble, giving out from terror at how close he’d come. 

You flip onto your back, scrambling away, heart pounding as he stands there, violet eyes practically glowing in the dark as he scans the surrounding area. 

You aren’t going to escape. He’ll find you with the next breath. 

Your heart stutters, pulse spiking as your trembling fingers brush the hilt of the blade at your side. 

At a normal pace you can last about four minutes, five if you’re patient and concentrating. Now, with the panic set in, the wild flutter of your pulse, you have a minute and a half. Two at most. One-hundred and twenty seconds to figure out what to do with the blade at your side and the male stood before you, blessedly unaware that you’re crumpled on the floor two strides from his feet. 

It’s simple once you think about it. 

You have a blade, and he’s unable to sense you. 

You can kill him. Or at least incapacitate him.

The realisation shocks through you, hands tightening around the hilt of the blade, banishing the tremble from your fingertips as you shakily get to your feet, standing before him as violet eyes search for a hint of your presence. 

Again your heart stutters as he somehow looks straight at you, watching the space exactly before him that, to all of his senses, should be empty. And yet. 

You look at him silently, blade grasped tightly in your hands, and you can imagine how it will feel to slide the steel up through his ribs. Even if he is High Lord, even if it’s Illyrian steel and not ash, it will be enough. 

His brows narrow almost imperceptibly, hands removing themselves from his pockets and your stomach clenches as he takes a step forward. 

It’s all you need to get you moving, your feet shoving against the ground as you run at him, pulling the blade back, allowing the breath to slip past your lips as you inhale sharply to give your muscles the air they need to stab the blade up into his chest. 

Violet eyes go wide as you appear before him, moonlight glinting on steel a fraction of a moment before it cuts clean into him, sliding through his ribs and piercing his heart. Your lip is curled, hands shaking around the hilt, fingers trembling where blood is dripping down, features twisted into an expression of frightening fury. 

Has he done that to you? 

The momentum combined with the agonising pain knocks him back, your own strength so focused on forcing the blade as deep into his rotted heart as you can that your legs give out with him, bodies falling together, crushing into the ground as his arms wrap around you. 

Disgust crawls across your skin and you think you might be sick, but you keep one hand wrapped around the hilt of the blade, meeting his horrifically familiar violet gaze as you manage to twist the steel in his chest. His features contort in pain, hot liquid burning against your palm as it saturates through the fine material of his clothes, sinking into your sleeves. 

Breath pants from his lips as he tries to steady his breathing, and you brace for whatever fury he’ll unleash upon you, already making to inhale again in order to escape, but his arm has wrapped around the base of your spine, his palm cupping your jaw so he can look at you. Violet seems to almost shudder, and you can hear the frantic pulse of his heart, skin already paler than seconds before. 

You freeze beneath that look, body paralysed at the familiar softness to his irises. How he’d look at you before…everything. 

Blood pushes from between his lips, colouring his teeth a raw red as life leaks from the wound you’ve made and it looks like he’s trying to speak. 

His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, settling gently down as he pulls you to his chest, a look like relief on his pained features. 

“You’re back,” he breathes, fingers stroking across your hair. “You’re back.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[andiftheycare]

AU where Suguru’s an overworked salaryman and Satoru keeps stealing his umbrellas as a bad attempt at flirting.

Or the you swan he frog meme but make it a fic

☂️ Part one here, and also on twt

☂️ Part two point one here, and on twt

I should be banned from my notes app when I'm this brain fried. Highly unedited & nothing much happens in this update. More thievery in part 3

Tags to be aware of: AU, squint and it’s a reincarnation au (more on this soon), office AU, squint and there's some side Itafushi

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

☂️☂️2.2

“You forgot your pass?”

The receptionist, an old guy called Jogo who’s been there since Suguru started as an intern, weights him down as if he’d never seen him a day in his life. A whiff of suffocatingly hot air hit him as the reception's doors slide open.

“Unfortunate,” Suguru smiles brightly at him, glad for the air con and the extra hours of sleep. Breakfast was good, too. Especially since Megumi brought in miso and coffee.

His phone buzzes and Suguru ignores it as Jogo handles him a temporary pass “I know where you work.” Jogo says, squinting. “Return this when you clock off.”

On his Line chat with Gojo, there’s now a link to a ten years old article Suguru doesn’t want to open.

Megumi says you’re awful

Don’t take it personal, though. He doesn’t like me either.

Whatever his relationship with Megumi is, Suguru doesn’t ask. Megumi sat with him in awkward silence for a while, and watched while Suguru washed the dished and scribbled a post it on the rice cooker, up until he left for a shower. There, Megumi stared until Suguru disappeared down the corridor.

Now, the elevator takes Suguru to the 14th floor, and another day —

which will look exactly like the one before and the one before that, an endless circle of numbers and calls and emergencies and pathological examples of system’s incompetence ——

starts.

“Is that a new suit?” Yuki asks, first thing in the morning, as she delivers an americano on his desk.

“Sort of,”

“Ehh, what’s with that answer?”

Suguru shrugs and, truly, what’s there to say if not “I might return it, you know. It’s tight on my shoulders.”

She snorts. “Fits you, though. Blue’s your colour.”

Suguru’s phone buzzes again. The insistent tick tick of the rain is partly cancelled by the office floor’s chatter.

“Nonsense.” Miguel says, dropping his laptop bag on the desk next to Suguru. “He looks better in orange.”

“I don’t wear orange.”

“Exactly my point.” Miguel says, unfazed, and Yuki sighs loudly and theatrically just for Nanami to catch her in the act. He clocks in right on time, not a minute before or after their mandatory office hours, and says “I assume Tsukumo-san’s here to discuss the latest budget updates?”

Which, to be fair, she needs to do. Still, that comment doesn’t go down well. Suguru watches the consequences of Nanami’s actions unravel as he turns on his laptop, coffee burning his tongue.

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

At lunch time the air is dense with humidity and sticks Suguru’s hair to his neck. The walk to the conglomerate of flats where he slept the previous night is an experience similar to swimming, the weather a prelude to a later storm.

Suguru will need another umbrella, and he’s running out of coins.

When he taps in the key code, as if he lives there, he knows he’s violating an implicit pact of trust with Gojo, but in that moment it doesn’t matter.

He’s sure Gojo won’t mind. He’ll make up to him, at some point. Besides, his brain doesn’t fumble with morals when he has an end to a meaning — in that case, it’s just retrieving his lost pass without having to ask Gojo.

Because if he does, Suguru will be in the same room as Gojo while they search for it. And that, somehow, will make him real, rather than a convenience store ghoul hunting in his memories.

“Oi, Megumi, did you get…”

Gojo blinks at him from the other side of the room. Suguru blinks back, hand still on the door knob.

“You could’ve called me.” the corner of his mouth tugs into a smile, a note of unexpected happiness in his voice.

“I didn’t think you were home.”

“Ouch. What a way to sound unsuspicious.” He pauses, pensive, because clearly Gojo wants to savour his next words “Were you trying to rob me, Suguru?”

Of course. The article run his full name.“We’re not on first name basis.”

“Yet you sleep in my bed.”

“With your consent.”

Gojo’s eyes glints. In the daylight, sun caressing the angles of his face, they’re a clearer blue. Softer, almost, or maybe that’s only in how he’s looking at Suguru. It’s the first time he sees Gojo properly, instead of registering his presence under neon lights and the influence of sleep-deprivation.

There’s a compulsion to get closer, feel him closer, to see for himself if those eyes are shielded by coloured contacts or are the byproduct of winning a rare genetic lottery. Mostly, he wants, but the ending to satisfy his desire doesn’t lay in giving in to the physicality of Gojo Satoru.

He doesn’t understand it. Quite frankly, he doesn’t want to.

“I forgot my pass.” Finally, Suguru’s brain reboots. He shuts the door behind him. “I’ll take it and leave. So you don’t need to…” he waves a hand at him.

“What?” Satoru looks down, blind to the drops of water shimmering down his chest, to the trail of white hair disappearing behind the towel draped around his hips.

So his hair aren’t bleached.

Suguru wishes he found that distracting, rather than the droplets of water pouring from Gojo’s locks down to his neck, right behind his ear. A spot to bite.

“Dress?” he deadpans.

“Oh,” Gojo looks up, quickly. “Right. Dress.”

Of course, no action is taken because why Gojo would ever do as he’s told. After a moment of silence, Geto says “Have you seen it?”

Gojo tilts his head slightly “Uhm?”

“My pass?”

At that Gojo jolts back to life, shifting from one feet to another, “No?”

“Help me find it then.”

So they move. Geto takes off his shoes and inspects the kitchen while Gojo rushes to change, moving between the flat surfaces he cleaned under Megumi’s supervision, bending to look under tables and sofas.

Filling in the paperwork to request a new pass is, in his company, a well-known path to insanity. On top of the corporate inflicted excruciating admin intertwined with the entire process, he’d need three levels of approval and two new HR checks before they can grant him a new one.

As if Geto hasn’t been working there for ten years. There’s no trust, really. Which doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t trust them either. He sees their numbers, where their money goes and how much Geto and Yuki have to play around higher egos for their own careers. It doesn’t make sense.

Plus, Geto doesn’t want to go through the company’s data security training once again.

Gojo remerges wearing joggers and a white t-shirt, pass in his hand “Was in the bathroom.”

Where Geto changed clothes that morning. Figures.

“Oh, thank —“

The lanyard flips above his head, rigid plastic hitting his chest with a swing, fingers adjusting the collar of his borrowed shirt, Gojo’s face so close Suguru can count his eyelashes, feel his breath brushing on his skin. A soft, lingering warmth of an almost touch tickles his nape, and he sees Gojo indulging, hazy and lost, and Geto remembers. With lucidity — one rarely attached to his brain in those undescriptive long days — he knows the feeling of that hand on the back on his neck.

Except, of course, that he can’t. That’s a dream more than a memory, and uneasiness travels down his spine.

It’s not the intimacy nor the familiarity of it to nauseate him. It’s how he yearns; and equally, how that yearning’s alien, because it feels attached to a body that isn’t his own.

Something shifts in the air, which is tense now, and makes Gojo deliberately step away.

There isn’t a inch of regret in his face. The audacity.

“Your pass picture is awful.”

“I’ll pass your feedback to the photographer.”

“It’s a selfie, isn’t it?”

Suguru tilts his head and smiles. Gojo shakes his head “Unbelievable.”

Suguru plays with his pass to push back the ticking remains of Gojo. “I’ll get going then.”

“No,” Gojo fumbles for a second, fidgeting. Geto raises an eyebrow at him. “Have you eaten? Would you like to—“

“My break’s almost over.”

“Oh.”

His expression unravels in something vulnerable, too open, so that Suguru bites his tongue and doesn’t ask, did you feel that, too, just a moment ago? because it would sound deranged and like a cheap pick up line, playing into Gojo’s shameless flirting.

“Thanks for the rice, then.” Gojo clears his throat, starting to look a little bit like the man he meets at night.

It takes Geto a moment to understand he’s talking about the rice cooker. He nods, despite that machine not leaving him any other choice — minimum capacity was half a kilo. The design was for a family rather than a single man.

“Weirdly how the smell of fresh rice,” Gojo adds, “can make a place feel like home, uhm?”

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

After, when Geto’s back in the office and his heart is rushing in the right anatomical places, the world realigns.

Of course, he’s probably catching a cold. He’s tired. The heat’s suffocating, never something he dealt well with at any point in his life, and his project’s deadline approaching. That’s all. Because what was he actually thinking. What was he actually feeling.

Maybe he should give in to Gojo. They should fuck. That will make him snap out of it.

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

At night, he dreams of a warm blue spring.

There are flashes of lights — lazy days rushing to get the train; sun reflecting on transparent water; orange petals falling on an open cola can.

Waters ripples in perfect circles around his body, and there’s something else. It’s warm and dense on his face.

He thumbs it away. It’s blood.

Suguru jolts rather than wake. The alarm drills a hole in his brain, sharpening reality around him. He reaches for water before tending to his loud phone, desperate to temper the disgusting taste in his mouth. When water isn’t enough, he brushes and brushes his teeth and tongue, until he’s won by sickening persistence on his palate.

It makes him reject breakfast and skip coffee, leaving in a discombobulated haste to avoid peak rush hour. His thoughts go briefly to what he has to do — groceries, help Mimiko with her club’s project, dry clean Gojo’s suit — before the emails on his work phone start to ping up. A couple of commuters shots him some nasty stares, annoyed by the noise.

“Do you think there’s meaning in what you do?”

The mechanic pencil Itadori’s dragging on a notebook stops briefly, “In selling you our annual stock of umbrellas?”

Geto gives him a genuine smile. “Maybe?”

Itadori looks up, and takes in the two plain onigiri Geto placed on the counter. “Uhm, then, yes. You’re not getting rained on most days, no?”

“Is that enough?”

“I’m helping, somehow. Even by vehiculating capitalism, if you can believe it. And you know, I won’t be here forever. After graduation—“ and then he halts, head bobbing up the same way puppies do in front of a ball.

Suguru turns to find Gojo - grinning, one hand up to say hi - and Megumi trailing behind him.

“I’m sure Fushiguro will have a better answer,” Itadori says, leaning conspiratorially towards Geto “He’s smarter than me.”

“I’m not.” Fushiguro says, on cue, unceremoniously walking behind the counter and next to Itadori. He looks down at the notebook “But this is mostly wrong.”

Itadori squints “Where?”

“Here.” Gojo points somewhere in the notebook, crunching so that he can be at the same level of the two boys. He picks up the pencil, and points again, “But the real issue is…”

“Ohh.” Itadori muses, and follow with rapt, almost undivided attention, “Sensei, you could’ve make the coursework easier.”

Gojo laughs, while Fushiguro, almost completely overshadowed by the unprompted lesson, stares quietly at Itadori. Geto leaves the 300 yen for his dinner on the counter.

Before Gojo can finish his next string of explanations, Suguru grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him upward, effectively lifting him with less strength that Geto thought he’d need. The man isn’t build to be lift as easily as a feather. Yet, past the initial faint supplies, he follows Geto's pull with little complain.

“What— are you doing?” Gojo glares at him, the down at Suguru’s grip on his collar, then back to where Suguru’s eyes are.

“Come,” he says, “Help me curse some minor criminal.”

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

“I’m not six.”

“Your previous curse was about frogs.”

“And what’s your point?”

Gojo elbows him and tried to type down the screen, sunglasses firm in the top of his head.

“You’re good with kids.” Suguru says then, watching Gojo trying to type wart and on your face on the monitor.

The man barely shrugs. “I’m pretty sure Itadori’s twenty.”

A child in Geto’s eyes. A toddler. Geto’s twenty-eight, but he doesn’t remember being twenty. All he can pinpoint from that year are Mimiko’s school recital, Nanako’s first crush, the green mold eating their bathroom’s walls. “Shouldn’t he be in kindergarten then?”

Gojo side glances him “I thought you were my age? Don’t speak like an old man.”

Geto elbows him back. He should go back to the office. There’s so much left to do before he can wrap up for the day. “I never told you my age.”

“Well, then I hope you are. I’m twenty-nine in December.”

“Yeah.”

A huff. Gojo tilts his head to watch him, and Geto wonders how’s possible that looking at someone can leave you with such a warmness rooting in your chest. He swallows, the aftertaste of the morning still there, still a reminder of his fragmented sleep.

“So you teach?”

Gojo nods, “Yeah, Jujutsu Tech is just around the corner from here.”

Humming, Geto turns to the machine again. “You don’t look like a teacher.”

“I know, I’m definitely too attractive for the profession.”

“Absolutely not.”

There’s a laugh. “Well, I also work at my family’s company.”

This is where the late nights and expensive flat slots in. “Why do you also teach, then?”

“Because there’s meaning in that,” Gojo says, not thinking about it. “I’m raising a new generation, you know? Then they can sit where we are and take better decisions.”

Gojo doesn’t know how that makes Suguru’s heart sink. How it sounds stupid, because children talked like that; or people for whom the world was a blank canvas for them to paint.

“See?” Gojo smirks at him, filling the brief moment of silence “I persist to be the number one at lame. Where’s my trophy?”

Instead of scolding him, Suguru slaps away Gojo’s hands from the screen, and proceed to cancel every single word he typed.

“What on —“ he stops, for a moment “Steal this and you’ll find the love of your life? What kind of threat is that?”

“Don’t you know?” Gojo says, “There no curse more twisted than love.”

Suguru blinks. “Are you insane? Who speaks like this, anime characters?”

Satoru startles, faintly blushing, looking tremendously younger when his shoulder bumps into his. “You clearly haven’t been in love.”

“I have,” Suguru rebuts, “But love isn’t just romantic. How can you—“

Then he stops when Gojo focuses too closely on the machine, when he catches the veil of uneasiness at being betrayed by his own words. It dawns to him how Gojo, who’s always the biggest presence in the room, who seem to waltz in the world and get what he wants, who spends hours of his days hanging in a convenience store with his students, deep dark rings masterfully covered by his shades, might, in fact, be lonely.

“I’m not printing that.” Suguru says, at the end, looking away. “I’ll wish them to be eaten by a crab.”

It’s not that funny, but Gojo laughs regardless.