#he's too busy trying to make sure echo gets eggs

[stars-n-spice]

Another One:

Couldn't resist after seeing this banger by @here-comes-the-moose

[danikamariewrites]

Hiding in Plain Sight

Cazriel x reader

Warnings: eating disorder/disordered eating, anxiety, angst, comfort at the end

If reading about Eating Disorders/Disordered Eating makes you uncomfortable please don’t read. Your health comes first.

Azriel stares at you across the table, a worried frown pulling at his lips. He watched you push your breakfast around the plate. His hazel eyes occasionally dart to Cassian, silently begging him to notice that there is something wrong with their mate.

But nothing. Cassian was busy joking with Amren and making sure Elain found it funny that he picked on the ancient being.

There wasn’t much on your plate to begin with. A small scoop of eggs, one piece of bacon, and half of a bagel. Placing your fork on the plate you nudge it away from you. No one would notice that you barely touched your food anyway.

Besides, you had a big dinner last night. There was no need for a big breakfast.

That was the problem with the River House. Every meal was big. And your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed.

The edge of the plate presses against your fingers gently. Looking up from your lap you see a shadow discreetly moving your plate closer to the edge of the table, urging you to eat.

You raise a brow at the shadow before it scurries back across the table to rest at Azriel’s shoulders. Your eyes dart to your mate, briefly making eye contact with him.

You start to fidget nervously feeling the scrutiny of his gaze. Swallowing hard, you stand from the table, excusing yourself to your office for the day.

You were just too anxious. A permanent knot has formed in your stomach over the last week. It feels like your throat closes up on you and you can’t breathe when you try to eat. The only thing you’re able to stomach has been water.

Having Azriel look at you like that had your heart racing in panic. You feel like a burden to your mates at times, especially when your anxiety lasts long periods of time.

Sitting at your desk you take deep breaths, pouring a glass of water. After taking a few sips you get to work, focusing on the needs of the city and keeping your side of the bond closed.

Up in the training ring Azriel’s mind is still on you. Were you not eating again? Or was it just this morning? Last time you struggled with eating it ended you came to them for help. It wasn’t like Cassian and Azriel judged you or thought less of you. They worry about you only because they love you.

Cassian nudges Azriel’s shoulder as he strolls by, leaving the Valkyries to their warm up exercises.

“What’s wrong?” He crosses his arms trying to keep a stoic facade up. Azriel knew Cassian was worried and stressed. He could feel it in his own chest. Knew there were thoughts of you running through Cass’s mind because they echoed in his own.

“I think y/n is struggling again.” Azriel says bluntly, not wanting to dance around the topic as they have before.

Cassian’s jaw muscle feathers. Hurt and anger bubbling in his chest quickly. Azriel lays a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. “Listen,” Azriel growls. “I know how this makes you feel. Angry and powerless, we can’t fight this, only she can. But we can help her.”

Azriel holds the general by his shoulders, forcing Cassian to meet his gaze. “Talk to me Cass.” He inhales sharply, eyes lined with silver as he looks up. “I just…I feel useless to her.” Azriel gently holds Cassian’s face. “You aren’t. We aren’t. I promise, she needs us.”

Deciding to skip dinner, you head straight for your rooms. Exhausted from anxiety making you physically sick.

Opening the door you’re taken aback seeing Cassian and Azriel sitting on the couch. “Oh, Hi my loves.” You put on a fake smile, trying to convince your mates to not ask questions.

Azriel gives you a sad smile, striding across the room to hold you. At his touch you crumbled.

Sobbing into Azriel’s chest he rubs your back in soothing motions. “It’s ok,” he whispers against your temple.

Cassian watches from his spot on the couch. Tears of his own silently sliding down his cheeks. Feeling your anguish through the bond had Cassian wanting to crawl out his skin.

Gods, if this is what you’ve been struggling with on a daily basis you must be stronger than him.

He quickly makes his way across the room, holding you from behind. Cassian presses a long kiss to the back of your head. Scooping you from Azriel he walks you over to bed, cradling you to his chest like you’d cease to exist if he let go.

“Tell me what to do, how do I fix this?” Cassian pleads quietly. You bury your face deeper into his chest, no longer holding your emotions back from your mates. Your shoulders shake as your sobs continue.

Taking deep breaths makes your sobs calm. Sitting up you wipe at your face. Cassian pulls you right back to his chest, needing to hold you.

“I don’t know how to fix this. I can’t make it stop. Every time I think I get better it all comes back worse.”

Cassian looks at Azriel, both males giving each other a pained look. “I’m sorry, sweet pea. I’m so sorry.” Cassian whispers. “We’re here for you. And I swear I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

“We won’t let you face your problems alone, y/n.” Azriel says, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. You reach out to hold his hand.

Settling into your mates’ comforting embrace you focus on clearing your mind. “Thank you,” you say softly. Your mates respond by squeezing you between them. “We love you, y/n.”

“More than you can imagine.”

You curl into them, letting their love reach you through that precious golden string.

[giuliettagaltieri]

A Very Bad Day

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Everything burns right before the eyes of Charles Leclerc.

Warning: Swearing and intoxication

Word Count: 2996

Chapter: 1

Charles Leclerc couldn’t quite grasp how his life could turn a total 180 in the last 24 hours.  Over the phone, his girlfriend broke up with him.  Ferrari decided to void the contract after he got drunk at some bar.  And now, he has no idea where he is as he hops on one leg, trying to get the other foot inside his pants as he runs away from a hysterical woman he didn’t know.

And to put the cherry on top, his foot got caught on a table and he came plummeting down on the hardwood.

“Ah fuck.”

Yesterday started like any other day.  Nothing conspicuous about it.  Charles woke up in his apartment in Monaco.  His still droopy eyes stare out at the busy streets and tall buildings of Monte Carlo.  Charles scratches his hip, yawning.

Excited barks soon echoed around the room and he didn’t even need to look to know who it was.  His lips quirk to a smile.  “Morning to you too, pal.”  The goofy dog kept his owner’s attention for the next five minutes before Charles had to have his breakfast.

The man was simply trying not to burn his sunny side up eggs when he got a call from Alexandra.  Charles smiles, which quickly disappears as he tries to avoid a splatter of oil.  

“Charles?”

He inhales deeply.  “Since when was I Charles to you? I’m caro-”

“I’m so sorry, I can’t just do this anymore.”  Alexandra sobs from the other line.

Charles scratches his head.  “What, you want to find another petname?”  He chuckles awkwardly.

“I just…I want you to understand that it’s not you, okay?”

Damn.

Well, this is it.  He thought.

“You breaking up with me or something?”  Charles mumbles as he switches off the stove when the bottom of the egg starts burning.  Alexandra sobs again from the other line.  “You could’ve done it in person, you know.  Like how a decent person should.”

Alexandra was silent and Charles used the spatula to try and salvage the egg which stuck to the pan, its burnt stench made Charles step back and sit on the chair.  He runs a hand over his face.

“Hello.”

“Listen.”  Her voice is much stable this time, making Charles think if she really had been crying thirty seconds ago.  “I really can’t see any future in this relationship.  We should start seeing other people.”

Charles starts swinging the spatula lazily, his eyes now drained.  “Well, I can’t exactly stop you if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, Charles.”  Alexandra responds a little softly this time, fooling him for a second that this was just another phonecall they have everyday.  Or was it every week?  Charles can’t remember as their relationship has been getting more dull and dull.  “I’m really sorry.  I tried to resist him for months but you just can’t…give me the love that I want and I want to end it between us before I start another relationship.”

So there is another man.  Charles nods somberly, forgetting that Alexandra can’t see him.  “Yes.  Thank you for being honest…you sure he’s a good man?”  Despite his relationship with Alexandra losing its flame, she was still his girlfriend once.

He hears the smile in Alexandra’s voice.  “He is really kind.  He has a daughter whom I love very much.”

“Yeah?”  Charles tries to sound cheerful for her sake, his eyes following the slow drip of the oil from the head of the spatula.

“Yeah!  He can be really busy with his mining company so I get to spend time with her a lot.”

“Good for you.”  His jaw ticks.  “I don’t appreciate you spending time with him while we were still together but I’m glad you broke up with me before you started dating the man.”

Alexandra sighs gratefully from the other line.  “Thanks, Charles.  I knew you’d understand.  What we had, it was good…but it was not going anywhere.  I’ll still come to watch you race though, see you around.”

Charles thinks it is better if she didn’t.  Leo paws at his leg but Charles can’t bother to do anything but scratch behind his ears sluggishly.  

What kind of person breaks up over the phone?  He was so good to her too, getting her anything a girlfriend could want.  Charles was a busy guy but he tried to make it work with her, spending time with her anytime he could.

This wasn’t how he planned his Saturday to start at all.  Charles can already think of the headlines surfacing in the internet soon.

His PR team would kill him.

Well, it’s not entirely his fault.  They can’t pin this on him.

Although the next thing that would happen that day would totally be his fault.

Charles really tried to keep the whole drinking and getting wasted part in his own apartment but the half empty bottles he kept stocked on his mini bar weren’t doing their job.  So he went with the next best thing.  Go get hammered in a bar.

He could have sworn he only had a few glasses.  How was he supposed to know the alcohol content in those drinks were beyond the roof?  That’s what he gets for ordering drinks he has never heard before in his entire life.

It couldn’t have been Alexandra that caused this much of an impact on Charles that he’d go out his way and get shitfaced in some bar where anybody with a phone could post him on social media.  He gulps down his drink, giving up on the puzzle he had no intentions in solving in the first place.

The bar was getting too cramped and Charles felt like he was fighting for every gulp of air.  He had to get out.  Which was a bad idea.  He could barely hold up his own weight, let alone walk.  Charles was stumbling to every person that passed by him in the busy streets of Monaco, he’s yet to be recognized thanks to his cap but he knows this won’t end well.

Next thing he knows, he is being thrown inside a car, the absence of street lights blinding him, the sudden change in colors disorienting him.  Loud voices of people he should know echo around the cramped car.  Someone he recognizes from his PR team is beside him, there’s another one in the passenger seat, trying to talk to him, trying to get his attention but Charles can’t peel his eyes off the floor.  He’s sobering up bit by bit now.  He hears his name being called over and over but he doesn’t respond, not even when somebody holds him by his collar.  

Questions are thrown his way and he can’t even process a single one before another is being thrown at him again.  They keep asking what has gotten into him.  What happened between him and Alexandra that she had to reveal publicly that their relationship was over.  They have no business in prying in that matter.  They repeatedly fume that he could have been arrested for public intoxication had they not gotten there on time.

The car comes to an abrupt halt, sending him forward.  Hands grip him under his armpits and he’s being forced out of the car and on his feet.  Charles doesn’t even know if it’s him making the steps or he’s simply being dragged.  He’s made to sit on the couch and he recognizes his own apartment.  He sees Leo growling at the people who invaded his home.  Charles hunches on the couch, his hands raking on his hair.

Was he stupid?

He is a Formula 1 driver for goodness sake!

It wasn’t easy to deduce that this would harm his career.  A blotch on his record.  Forever known as the Formula 1 driver who was intoxicated in the streets of Monaco, and it was barely even evening!  A fucking embarrassment is what he is.

A loud ringtone echoes and he hears the brief exchange of words.  A phone was then shoved in his hands and he brought it up to his ears.

Charles was used to hearing the calm and humorous voice of Frédéric Vasseur, never like this.

He knew he fucked up.

And like how Alexandra snipped whatever they had, Vasseur did the same to his contract with Ferrari.

“I am very disappointed in you, boy.  I’m afraid Ferrari will have to let you go.”

This is rockbottom.

Charles wordlessly hands the phone back and it’s replaced with his car keys.  For a moment he just stares at the dark stallion.  He hears them saying that someone picked it up from the bar for him.  

I’m fucking stupid.

Charles grips the key so hard it threatens to dig through his palms.  He gets up and heads to the direction of the door.  They call his name over and over but he just cannot deal with them at the moment.

“Get Leo to my mom.  I’m stepping out for a bit.”

He finds his car in the parking space and immediately gets in it.  Just like that, he threw his career under the bus.  What other team would want him to race for them, after this incident, he’d be lucky if some team with shit cars even looks at him.

For years, he built his name, trying to make those he loved proud, only for it all to unravel before his eyes in a single day. 

He needs to get out of here.

The engine roars as he speeds away from his place, going somewhere and nowhere in particular.

The city lights of Monte Carlo were a blur as he sped through.

Charles is never really one to run away from his problems, but there’s nothing here for him, is there?

The girl he trusted to be by his side went and broke up with him.  Their relationship lost its spark long before this day but Charles thought they were stable.  He was blinded with the comfort brought on by the convenience.  He drank not for losing her but for self-pity, which made him two times more horrible.  Charles would just love to blame anybody but himself right about now.  One stupid decision cost him his deal with Ferrari.

They had a fucking contract.  He was going to race for them for the next season, goddammit.

Charles pulls at his glovebox and sees his passport.

He drove to the airport of Monaco and hastily parked his car and gathered his stuff from the glove compartment.  For a moment his hands hovered over his phone yet he hesitates before deliberately leaving it.

He will deal with this later.  He just needs to get out.  Cold sweat was breaking out in his temple when he entered the air conditioned airport.  Charles pulls his hat down after security, feeling like everybody is looking at him.  His heartbeat accelerates and his breathing visibly picks up.  He’s going to be sick if he stays here a moment longer.

“Ticket to LA, please.”  Charles breathlessly said.

The ticket agent glances at him worriedly, familiarity clearly crossing her eyes.  “Sir, are you okay?  Do you need to sit down?”

Charles quickly shakes his head, giving her a forced grin.  “I’m fine.  I just need the ticket to LA.”

The woman types in her computer and her face becomes apologetic, making Charles grit his teeth.  “The plane just left.  The next flight is in six hours.”

“Shit.”  Charles runs a hand through his face.  “Uh…what about Las Vegas?”

“Next flight’s in eight hours-”

“JUST-…”  He inhales sharply.  “Just tell me which flight leaves now.”

The woman’s lips turned thin at his outburst but she chooses not to comment.

“Well, a flight to New York leaves in an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll need a ticket.”

New York was probably not the best choice but he was in a rush to just get out as soon as he can.  LA and Vegas would have been preferable.  He had friends there, somewhere he can crash for a while as he waits for everything to blow over.

But as he stands there in New York, he looks at the bustle of people.  Nobody looked at him yet and for some reason it felt good to be ignored.  To not be a spectacle for once.  But he doubts it will last.  Charles adjusts his watch to the time and has his money changed to dollars so he can use it and he exits the airport.  

The warm, polluted air of New York slaps him in the face.  He got on a taxi and it drives him out of New York.  He was dropped off at a bar in some town where he got a few drinks.  He remembers glancing at his watch, a little past midnight.  Considering he crossed continents, he thought it would be much later than that. 

He repeated the process of riding a cab and stopping by a few places to eat and drink until he lost himself.  He was black out drunk.  Playing Dora the explorer was not on his bucket list for this year but he was stumbling on a sidewalk of some town he doesn’t recognize.  No landmarks or anything to help him.

He’d probably die from alcohol intoxication if he didn't stop drinking.  But the flashing neon light of the word ‘PUB’ in the corner just invites him over.  He opens the door and sees nobody inside but the old bartender, wiping glasses.  How fucking cliché, it made him chuckle.  He trudges to the counter and he frowns at the empty glasses, some still decorated with different colored liquid on the bottom.  Charles awkwardly pushes them to the side and sits on the bar stool as his eyes squint on the menu.  Aside from the typical hard drinks, he sees a variety of unfamiliar ones and decides to order a spiced apple cider from the hot section of the menu.

Alcohol was still running through his system like crazy, making the rush of his blood thrum.  He needed a warm drink to wake him up.

“Hey!”

Charles whips behind him.  A bad idea.  He grimaces and he clutches his head as the sudden movement makes the room spin.

“That’s my seat.”

He blinks hard and looks up to see a woman with red bold lips.  She was pissed by the looks of it.  But Charles knew that the flush on her cheeks was not because of her anger.  She hiccups and Charles grins.

“Yeah?  Sorry about that.”  He moves to the other stool, still watching.

“What are you smiling at?”  The woman glares at him before looking at the bartender who brings over his drink.  “Tom, I’ll have sour cherry vodka.”

“Young lady, you had eight drinks already, I think that might be enough for you.”  The old man chastises gently, an accent thick on his voice.   “It’s wee hours of the morning already.”

Charles grins behind his glass when she visibly deflates, lips pouting as she rests her flushed cheeks on her hand, hiccupping once more. 

“I’ll just have a hot buttered rum then.”

“It still has alcohol in it.”  Tom replies but starts preparing it for her anyway.  He brings over two glasses of water for them in the meantime.

Charles quietly sips on his drink, ignoring the glass of water.  The woman beside him sighs loudly, her finger tracing something on the fogged glass.

“You know.”  She starts as she straightens up in her seat before turning to him with bedroom eyes, making Charles gulp thickly.  “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“It’s my first time here.”  He says before sipping his drink again.

She smiles at him this time.  “You’re a tourist?”

He shrugs.  “Uhm, I guess you can say that.”

Tom places her drink on the counter and she thanks him without taking her eyes off of Charles.

“You a local here?”  Charles asks as his eyes follow how the glass presses on the plumpness of her lips.

She hiccups before giggling, as if he said something really funny to her.  “I think so but I just moved here three years ago for work.”

Just watching her giggle makes Charles chuckles too, he doesn’t know why but he just does.  He clears his throat to sip his drink once more.  Cheeks flushing slightly at the effect she has on him.

She gulps down her drink without pause and Charles follows how her throat moves.  When she places the glass down, she has a goofy grin on and Charles groans out a chuckle upon seeing her whipped cream moustache.

“You have something on your…here, let me get that for you.”  Charles leans closer and he cups her cheek and glides his thumb over her upper lip.  He stared into her wide glassy eyes the entire time.

He feels his skin buzzing, heating up under her gaze.

And he gives in to the pull.  Charles leans closer to plant his lips on hers.  She hiccups once more, making them both laugh but he deepens the kiss, enjoying the flavor of her on his tongue.

A sharp cough makes them part.

Charles glances at Tom the bartender and he sheepishly scratches his neck but she grabs his hand. 

“Uhm…you wanna…”

“Yes.”  Charles answers for her, pressing his lips on hers briefly before he clumsily pulls out his wallet to pay for their drink.  He turns to Tom.  “Is this enough?”

Tom sighs and shoos them away with his hand.  “Just get outta here you two.”

The woman laughs and thanks Tom before she pulls Charles out of the pub and as soon as they’re outside, he pulls her close to him, just needing to kiss her again.  She was like a breath of fresh air from all the craziness that took place today.

“Fuck.”  His hands roamed on her body, making her laugh.  “I need you, baby.”

At this point Charles is just willing to throw everything out the window if it meant having her.

Overdrive

[iliveformanyfictionalcharacters]

The One Who Believes Chapter 3

Bernard (The Santa Clause) x Reader

Summary: [Reader] stopped believing in soulmates a long time ago - around the same time she stopped believing in Santa. What happens when she's finally given a reason to believe in both.

<Chapter 2 Chapter 4>

When I awoke the next morning, Mrs. Dorothy’s words still rang in my ears. But after a few minutes of lying in bed, I realized I had too much to do to just stay there and wonder what she meant. Still, her words—His favorite color is burgundy—kept echoing in my mind. No matter how hard I tried to push it aside, it lingered like a puzzle piece that refused to fit. Ever since I’d gotten home from the bookstore, I couldn’t shake the odd sense that something was happening—something I didn’t fully understand. But I had no time to dwell on that right now. I dragged myself out of bed with a grunt and got ready for the day. I brushed my teeth, showered, and got dressed. As I finished getting ready, I grabbed my To-Do List and skimmed over it to make sure everything was written down.

Pick up groceries Pick up dry cleaning Bring new books to store Visit antique store

I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had settled over me since Mrs. Dorothy's cryptic comment. Today was busy enough to distract me, I hoped. The list in front of me was fairly straightforward. I grabbed my coat, my purse, and headed out the door, feeling the cold air bite at my cheeks as I stepped outside. My first stop was the grocery store, which, thankfully, wasn’t too far. I made my way through the aisles, mentally ticking off items as I placed them in my cart: eggs, milk, some fresh vegetables, and, of course, ingredients for holiday cookies. I lingered in the baking aisle, debating between chocolate chips and peppermint extract, when a flash of burgundy caught my eye. It was a deep red ribbon, sitting right there on the shelf, nestled among a row of other holiday decorations. I paused, staring at it for a moment, feeling an odd pull toward it. I shook my head. It's just a color, I told myself. I’m being ridiculous. I grabbed the ribbon and tossed it into the cart, then continued with my shopping, but Mrs. Dorothy's words returned to haunt me. His favorite color is burgundy. After checking out, I made my way to the dry cleaner’s. I was surprised when I walked in to find the place nearly empty. The owner, an older gentleman named Mr. Thompson, smiled warmly as I handed him my bag of clothes. “Got some special occasion plans, eh?” he asked, noticing my Christmas sweater. I chuckled. “Nothing too special. Just getting ready for the holidays.” I glanced around the store, and once again, something caught my attention. In the corner of the room, there was an antique-looking chair with a burgundy cushion. It was simple, yet elegant, with fine detailing on the wood. I had never noticed it before, and I certainly hadn’t expected to see anything so striking in a dry cleaner’s. “That's a new addition, isn’t it?” I asked, trying to push down the strange feeling in my chest. Mr. Thompson nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, it just came in. I thought it’d make the place feel a little more festive.” I smiled, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the universe was trying to tell me something. Burgundy. Again. It was starting to feel less like a coincidence and more like a sign. After picking up my dry cleaning, I decided to follow through with my list and head to the bookstore. As I stepped inside, the familiar smell of old paper and fresh coffee wrapped around me like a warm hug. Mr. Lou was behind the counter, sorting through a pile of new stock. He looked up and smiled when he saw me. “Ah, [Reader], just in time! Mrs. Dorothy said you were coming by with some new books today.” I placed the stack of books down on the counter, then glanced around. The bookstore was cozy, with its little nooks and crannies. But something felt different today—like I was on the cusp of something, as if I were standing just outside of a door that was about to open. “I brought the latest Christmas novels. The holiday rush should keep us busy this week,” I said, trying to focus on the task at hand. As I turned to arrange the books on a nearby shelf, I froze. On the table next to the window, there was an old, leather-bound book—its cover a deep, rich burgundy. I couldn’t help myself. I reached for it, brushing my fingers across the smooth surface, and I immediately felt a strange warmth spread through me. My heart skipped a beat.

"What's this?" I muttered to myself, as I opened the book. The pages inside were filled with handwritten notes and sketches, like some kind of journal or diary. The title was in faded gold lettering, but I couldn't make it out. Just then, I heard Mrs. Dorothy’s voice, soft but clear, in the back of my mind: His favorite color is burgundy. A shiver ran down my spine, and I quickly closed the book. What was going on? “Is something wrong, dear?” Mr. Lou asked, noticing the way I hesitated with the book in my hand. “No, nothing’s wrong. Just… thought I recognized something,” I said, placing the book back down gently. I felt unsettled, but I brushed it off, deciding to focus on the rest of the day. I finished stocking the books and made my way out of the store, my mind still whirling with the strange events of the day. Next, I went to the antique store—my final stop. The little shop was filled with dusty treasures, and the faint scent of lavender and old wood lingered in the air. I roamed through the aisles, eyeing vintage trinkets and furniture. And then, tucked away in the back corner of the store, I saw it. I wandered deeper into the antique store, my senses overwhelmed by the scent of aged wood and lavender that seemed to seep from the very walls. The soft creak of the floorboards under my feet only added to the atmosphere of timelessness. My mind was still spinning from the strange series of events, but I pushed it aside, focusing instead on the little treasures scattered throughout the shop. The rows of shelves were filled with vintage trinkets, old paintings, and delicate china. I paused at a display of antique clocks, their tick-tocking filling the air with a steady rhythm, before my gaze shifted to something more familiar. At the far end of the store, tucked away on a high shelf, I spotted a small glass ornament. I stopped in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat. There, in the dim light, hanging delicately on a gold string, was a small ornament. It was made of glass, shaped like a delicate ball, and it was painted in a deep, velvety burgundy. A faint swirl of gold and silver leaf traced over its surface, giving it an ethereal glow.

I slowly walked over, my fingers trembling as I reached up to gently pull the ornament from its place on the shelf. It felt almost warm to the touch, as if it had been waiting for me to find it. Holding it in my hands, I marveled at the intricate details of the glasswork. The gold and silver swirls seemed to shimmer in the low light, and I felt an overwhelming sense of recognition, like this ornament had been a part of my life for far longer than I could remember. "Ah, you've found it," came a voice from behind me. I jumped, startled, and turned to find the shopkeeper standing just a few feet away, her silver hair glinting in the soft light. "How did you…?" I began, but she simply smiled, her eyes twinkling with an almost knowing glint. "That ornament has been here for a long time. But I knew it would find its way to the right person eventually." Her voice was soft but laden with meaning. "Some things are meant to be passed on. Some things are meant to be found." I stood there, clutching the ornament, unsure of what to say. Mrs. Dorothy's words echoed in my mind, and a strange feeling of destiny began to settle in the pit of my stomach. The shopkeeper continued, her voice gentle. "There’s more to that ornament than just its color. It’s part of a set. A set that’s been separated for many years." I blinked, confused. "A set? What do you mean?" "The set has a story," the shopkeeper said, her voice now carrying a hint of mystery. "But it’s not just about the ornaments. It's about something more. Someone who has been waiting for you." I felt the ground shift beneath me, as if the room itself was tilting toward an unknown truth. I looked down at the two ornaments in my hands, now reunited. Burgundy. The color. The message. It was no longer just a coincidence. This was a sign—a puzzle, finally coming together. "Do you know who this is for?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The shopkeeper smiled knowingly. "You will know when the time is right. Just hold onto the ornaments. When the moment comes, you’ll understand." I felt the weight of her words, as if they were a key to something much larger, something I had yet to discover. But one thing was certain: these ornaments, and the color burgundy, were no longer just a simple detail—they were the beginning of something much bigger.

I carefully placed the second ornament in my bag and paid the shopkeeper, my hands still shaking with the overwhelming sense that I was on the brink of uncovering something important.

As I walked out of the store, the cold winter air hit me, but it didn’t matter. I was no longer just going through the motions of a normal day. The universe was speaking to me, and it was up to me to listen. As I stepped outside the antique shop, the cold air felt sharper than before, biting at my cheeks and nose. My mind raced, the strange pull of destiny still lingering in the back of my thoughts. What was all of this leading to? I glanced down into my bag and something caught my eye. A small book. I took it out. It was The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. I must have accidentally taken it with me instead of leaving it at the bookstore. I sighed. I glanced at my watch. It was getting late. My next stop was the bookstore, and then I could finally head home for a much-needed rest. When I arrived, the soft jingle of the doorbell echoed in the quiet space as I entered. The bookstore smelled like coffee and old pages, a familiar comfort. Mr. Lou was behind the counter, his face lighting up when he saw me. "Ah, [Reader], what are you doing back already? How's your day been?" "It's been… interesting." I set the book down next to the others. My eyes caught the little journal from earlier again. “That book,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s been waiting for the right person. Sometimes, the right books find you when you need them most.” “You know, that's not the first time I've heard that today.” “I’ve never seen it before,” I said, looking up at Mr. Lou. “Is it new stock?” He shook his head, a twinkle in his eye. “No, it’s been here for a while. You just haven’t noticed it yet.” I hesitated, still feeling the pull of the book. "It… feels familiar somehow." Mr. Lou’s smile grew a little wider. “Books often have a way of doing that, don’t they?” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I could feel my curiosity growing. “I—” Before I could finish, Mr. Lou leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “You know, there’s a man who might be able to help you understand all this. He’s been around for a long time, helping people just like you.” “Who?” I asked, almost breathlessly. Mr. Lou's eyes flickered toward the window, where a figure in a long coat was walking past. The man’s face was obscured by the dark evening light, but there was something unmistakably familiar about his presence. “His name is Scott Calvin,” Mr. Lou said, his tone serious. “He’s someone who can help you make sense of the things you’re starting to notice. I’d suggest you seek him out. He’s accessible in town right now, visiting family. You know the Millers?” I did; I used to babysit Charlie. I blinked, startled by the sudden turn in the conversation. “Scott Calvin?” The name echoed in my mind, but I had no idea how they could help me. Mr. Lou nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “Trust me. If you’re meant to meet him, you will. And when you do, you’ll understand everything. The color, the ornaments, the book… they’re all connected.” I didn’t know what to say. I stared at Mr. Lou for a moment, then at the book in my hands. Something inside me told me that this wasn’t just some bizarre coincidence. With a shaky breath, I nodded and left the bookstore. The chill of the night air hit me once more, but this time, I didn’t feel as lost. I felt… guided. It was as if something—someone—was leading me toward a deeper understanding.

[estellan0vella]

Absolutely Fucking Perfectly Imperfect: L.F Lee Felix x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 10.9K

CW: Guns, robbery, Felix uses the word cunt, inappropriate reactions in the face of danger

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist Part I

The room is steeped in the low thrum of Felix's game. A constant, chaotic melody of clacks, pings, and loud swearing. His three monitors shift between shades of brilliant neon, painting the walls with flickers of pink, green, and blue. Felix is leaning forward in his chair, elbows braced on his desk, the hood of his oversized sweatshirt falling halfway off his head. His messy blonde hair sticks out at odd angles and his jaw tightens as he glares at the screen.

"You absolute blind fuckwit," he growls into his headset, his Australian accent sharp with irritation. "I pinged the gank five fucking times! What do you cunts even do when you play? Draw fucking pictures?"

The venom in his words makes you snort softly, but you quickly press a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. You're sprawled across his bed, one leg hooked under you while the other bounces idly in time with the lo-fi beats playing softly from your phone. Your paramedic science textbook is open in front of you, drowning in sticky notes and highlights, and yet you've barely absorbed a single sentence in the past fifteen minutes.

Felix slams his mouse against the pad, his free hand running through his hair as he mutters to himself. "Goddamn trolls. How the fuck am I still stuck with people like this?"

You bite your lip, trying desperately to keep your focus on the diagram in your book. But when Felix groans, loud, dramatic, and utterly exasperated, it's impossible to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest.

"You're not fucking slick, sweetheart," Felix says, his voice cutting through the space without warning. He doesn't even glance your way, still hammering keys with laser-sharp precision. "I can hear you giggling."

You glance up from your textbook, feigning innocence. "Me? Laughing? At you losing? Never."

"Bullshit," he shoots back, finally pulling one ear of his headset off and swivelling in his chair to look at you. The glow from his monitors casts soft shadows across his freckled face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the mischievous tilt of his grin. "You live for my fuck-ups. Admit it."

You raise an eyebrow, sitting up straighter. "I live for many things, Felix, but your decade-long inability to climb out of bronze isn't one of them."

Felix's eyes narrow, his grin widening. "Oh, you're fucking bold tonight, aren't you?" He spins back to his screen as another ping echoes from the game. "Just remember, sweetheart, payback's a fucking bitch."

You snicker, flipping a page in your book with deliberate slowness. "I'm not worried. You're too busy getting carried by your teammates to ever come up with anything clever."

"That's rich," he fires back immediately. "Coming from someone who cried over her med math assignment last week."

Your mouth drops open in mock offence, a highlighter frozen mid-air. "I did not cry. I had a moment of academic distress."

Felix laughs at that, the sound loud and warm, cutting through the tense clicks of his keyboard. "Right, sure. You were so distressed you fucking threw your pen across the room and yelled, 'Fuck it, I'll just die.' Real professional of you, future paramedic."

You chuck a pillow at him without thinking, laughing when it bounces harmlessly off his back. "Eat shit, Lix."

"Gladly," he shoots back, not missing a beat. "But only if you're cooking."

"Oh, fuck off," you retort, biting back a grin. "I wouldn't trust you to boil an egg without setting the kitchen on fire."

"I'm insulted," Felix says, slouching back in his chair as the death screen flashes across his monitors. He peeks at you over his shoulder, an exaggerated pout on his face. "You've eaten my fucking food, Y/N. Tell me it's not amazing. Go on."

"It's okay," you say, shrugging nonchalantly as you highlight another passage in your textbook. "Like, solid six out of ten. Very edible."

Felix gasps, spinning his chair around to fully face you, his hands flying to his chest in mock betrayal. "Six out of fucking ten? Are you kidding me? You fucking licked the plate last time I made pasta!"

"You're delusional," you say, fighting a laugh as you flip another page. "Maybe I was just really hungry."

Felix leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his grin sharp and unrelenting. "You talk so much shit for someone who can't even scramble eggs without making them look like roadkill."

Your jaw drops again, this time with genuine indignation. "Okay, fuck you, those eggs were fine. Rustic, even."

"Rustic?" Felix repeats, his laughter spilling out before he can stop it. "They were burnt. I had to scrape them off the pan with a fucking chisel."

"Fuck off," you mutter, but you're smiling, the textbook in front of you momentarily forgotten. "At least I can make coffee without putting half a kilo of sugar in it."

"First of all," Felix says, holding up a finger, "I put exactly the right amount of sugar. Second, that's fucking rich coming from someone who adds four sugars to hers and then drinks it like it's a health tonic."

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off with a smug grin. "Yeah, sweetheart, I fucking count."

You glare at him. "You're the fucking worst."

"You love it," Felix says smoothly, leaning back in his chair and spinning slightly, his grin turning softer as he watches you pick up your highlighter again.

"Debatable," you mutter.

For a moment, the room falls into a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint hum of Felix's PC and the soft rustling of pages as you flip through your textbook. Felix glances over at you occasionally, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches you scribble notes in the margins.

"You know," he says eventually, his voice quieter now, almost tentative, "you look kinda cute when you're all focused like that."

You glance up, surprised, and find him watching you with an expression that's softer than usual, his teasing grin replaced with something more genuine. The glow from his monitors cast warm shadows across his freckled cheeks, and you feel your heart stutter at the sight.

"Don't be fucking mushy," you mumble, burying your face back in your book.

Felix laughs, soft and low, his chair creaking as he leans back lazily. "Fine. I'll save it for when you're crying over your next quiz."

"Fuck off, Felix."

"You're so fucking cute when you're mad."

You're elbow-deep in your notes, eyes scanning a particularly dense passage about hemorrhagic shock, when Felix lets out a groan loud enough to rattle the walls. His voice is full of pure, unfiltered frustration as he slams a hand onto his desk.

You glance up and it's almost comical how over-the-top his expression is. Head tilted back, eyes shut, like the world has personally wronged him.

"For fuck's sake," he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. The League of Legends screen vanishes from his screen with a decisive click, the rage-quit both swift and inevitable. He swivels his chair slightly, his freckled face twisted in a mix of defeat and irritation.

"Done with your self-imposed torture?" you ask, leaning back against the wall behind Felix's bed.

Stretching your arms overhead, you feel the hem of your black lace-trimmed camisole ride up slightly, and you tug it down absentmindedly. Felix's gaze flickers toward you at the movement, but he quickly turns back to his screen, pulling up another game launcher.

"Fuck League," he huffs, opening Call of Duty with a few sharp clicks. The new interface floods the room with aggressive reds and blacks. "Let's play something where I can actually ruin other people's days."

You smirk, tapping your pen idly against your notebook. "You mean something where you let other people ruin yours?"

"Oi," he snaps, spinning his chair to point an accusatory finger at you, but the grin tugging at the corner of his lips betrays him. "Shut the fuck up. You don't get to talk when you're the one who cried over a fucking dosage calculation last week."

"I didn't cry," you shoot back, glaring at him. "I had a moment. And don't deflect, we're talking about your fragile gamer ego right now, not my future as a paramedic."

"Fragile?" Felix snorts as he throws on his headset, the mic resting against his cheek. "Sweetheart, I'm about to emotionally destroy some poor cunt in a CoD lobby. You're about to see mental fortitude at its finest."

"Oh, this I have to see." You close your textbook with a snap, crawling to the edge of the bed to get a better view. Felix raises an eyebrow at your movement, his grin widening.

"Come here," he says, patting his thigh with one hand while the other adjusts his mouse sensitivity. "Sit in my lap and listen to me eviscerate these dickless pricks."

You roll your eyes, but the grin you try to suppress betrays you. "You're a fucking idiot," you mutter, standing up and crossing the short distance to his chair. "You know that, right?"

"Yup," he says cheerfully, grabbing your waist as you climb into his lap and his arm wraps around you like it belongs there, securing you against him. "But I'm your idiot."

"Unfortunately," you mutter, but you're smiling as you settle into him, your legs dangling off one side of the chair. Felix's fingers fly over the keyboard as he queues into a match, his in-game mic already unmuted.

The game loads, and almost immediately, Felix's shit-talking begins. "Oi, you camping piece of shit!" he shouts gleefully as he sprints across the map, his character firing wildly. "You gonna spend the whole fucking match in that corner, or are you gonna grow a pair and actually play the fucking game?"

You laugh before you can stop yourself, the sound light and genuine. Felix's grip on your waist tightens slightly as he leans back, turning his head just enough to smirk at you. "What's so funny?"

"You're deranged," you say, shaking your head. "It's just a game."

"It's not just a game," he retorts, spinning back to face his screen. His tone is dramatic, dripping with mock sincerity. "It's about principle. I will not let this dipshit out-insult me. Watch and fucking learn."

You nestle closer, resting your chin on his shoulder as the match kicks into full gear. Felix's hands are a blur on the keyboard and mouse, his voice rising above the chaos of explosions and gunfire. "Oi, you fucking rat bastard! How about you aim for once in your goddamn life, you useless cunt?"

The other player doesn't miss a beat, his crackly voice shooting back through Felix's headset. "Says the guy who sounds like he's 12 and still jerks off to hentai."

Felix barks a laugh, sharp and incredulous, his arm tightening around you. "Hentai? Bro, how about you crawl out of your mom's basement and maybe speak to a woman for once, you dickless clown?"

You burst out laughing, burying your face in Felix's shoulder to muffle the sound. His shit-eating grin only grows wider as he continues. "Yeah, you hear that? That's the sound of a woman's laugh, mate. I know you wouldn't recognize it, but that's what it fucking sounds like."

The other player falters, and Felix pounces on the silence like a predator. "What, got nothing to say now? That's what I fucking thought. Bitchless loser."

You're practically crying at this point, clutching at Felix's hoodie as your laughter spills out uncontrollably. "Oh my fucking God," you manage between gasps. "You're insane."

Felix chuckles, clearly pleased with himself. "And you fucking love it."

"I do not," you shoot back, though the warmth in your tone betrays you. "You're a menace."

"Yeah," Felix says, leaning back slightly as his character reloads. "But I'm your menace."

The other player finally speaks again, his voice wavering with frustration. "Whatever, man. You're fucking dogshit at this game."

Felix snorts, aiming down sights and taking the guy out with a single headshot. "Dogshit, huh? That's funny, coming from someone I just fucking clapped, you silly cunt."

You shake your head, still laughing as Felix adjusts his grip on you, his cheek brushing against yours. "You're the worst."

"And yet," he says, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur, "you're still here."

You glance at him, and for a brief moment, the chaos of the game fades into the background. His dark eyes meet yours, full of mischief and something softer, and your heart stumbles over itself.

"Shut the fuck up," you mutter, looking away quickly, but the smile tugging at your lips is impossible to hide.

Felix laughs, low and warm, and you feel the vibrations of it through his chest. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Now, let me go ruin someone else's day."

A familiar voice cuts through the channel. "Felix, you absolute cockwaffle, why the fuck are you yelling at strangers again? I can hear you down the fucking hallway."

Felix groans audibly, leaning his head back against the chair in a dramatic display of exasperation. "Jisung, what the fuck do you want?"

Jisung's laugh crackles through the headset, bright and unrelenting. "Just wanted to check in on my favourite blond bitch and remind you that you're dogshit at this game. Like, the kind of dogshit covered in flies and left to bake on hot pavement."

Felix's entire body stiffens, his character spinning wildly on the screen as he slams his fingers against the keyboard. "You silver-haired dick, I will walk down the hall and fight you right fucking now."

Jisung doesn't miss a beat. "Do it. You won't, you spineless sack of kangaroo shit."

"I fucking will," Felix growls, his free hand tightening slightly on your waist. The motion makes you glance up at him, amused. "Or better yet, I'll send Y/N to fight you."

"No fucking way," you chime in, leaning your cheek against Felix's shoulder as you observe the escalating chaos. "I already spend too much time patching up Jisung. Why the fuck would I make more work for myself?"

"That's valid," Jisung says immediately. "See? Y/N's on my side."

Felix turns his head slightly, just enough to send you a mock glare. "She's not on shit, mate. She's just smarter than to waste her energy on a little gremlin like you."

"You blond fuck," Jisung snaps, his voice rising in indignation. "You're the gremlin here! I swear to God, if you call me that again-"

"What?" Felix interrupts, his tone full of fake concern. "What are you gonna do, huh? Cry about it? Piss your pants, maybe? Shit and cum? I'll send you a fucking diaper, Jisung. Express delivery to your room."

"Oh, you absolute wanker," Jisung fires back. "When's the last time you even fucking did laundry, Felix? Your room probably smells like a mix of week-old pizza, gamer sweat, and poor life choices."

"Oh, fuck all the way off," Felix snaps, though he's grinning widely. His hand flies to the mouse as he takes another shot on screen. "At least I don't dress like I raided the wardrobe of a discount backup dancer from fucking Step Up."

"Big talk coming from someone whose entire wardrobe is just oversized hoodies and sweatpants," Jisung shoots back with a laugh so loud it nearly crackles in the headset. "If it weren't for Y/N, you'd look like a fucking hermit."

Felix huffs, his fingers smashing against the keyboard as his character goes down again. "Eat my entire fucking ass, Jisung. I swear to God, if you weren't such a liability, I'd uninstall this game just so you'd be forced to suffer alone."

Jisung cackles, his voice full of smug glee. "Do it, you coward. But remember, when I kick your ass, Y/N's not saving you."

"Oh, I'm not saving either of you," you chime in, giggling as Felix mutters something under his breath about teammates being actual horse shit. His hand slides against your waist again, almost as if grounding himself, while he waits to respawn.

Jisung picks up immediately, his tone back to chaotic energy. "See, Felix? Y/N doesn't even like you."

"Shut the fuck up, Jisung. At least I don't break my toe every other month running into fucking doors."

"You blond fucker," Jisung yells back, his indignation almost comical. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope," Felix fires back, leaning forward slightly to hammer out a kill in the game. "You're a fucking hazard to yourself and everyone around you. If Darwinism were real, you'd have died out years ago. Society would have culled you for the betterment of the world"

You can't hold back your laughter anymore, leaning into Felix's shoulder as the insults continue to fly. The absurdity of their exchange, Jisung calling Felix "a gutter-dwelling kangaroo-shagger" and Felix responding with "a fucking mosquito with an inferiority complex", leaves your stomach aching from the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

By the time Felix wraps up the match, somehow pulling a win out of his ass despite the nonstop shit-talking, you're practically breathless with laughter. He yanks off his headset, tossing it onto the desk with a loud sigh of satisfaction, and leans back in his chair, pulling you back against him.

"See that?" he says, grinning smugly as he glances down at you. "Told you I could emotionally destroy those bitches."

"You're ridiculous," you reply, shaking your head even as you fight to suppress your smile. His hand rests warm and steady against your waist, his hoodie soft against your skin.

"And you fucking love it," Felix counters smoothly, his grin widening as he presses a quick, teasing kiss to your temple.

You roll your eyes but let the moment linger, warmth blooming in your chest as Jisung's voice cuts through again, indignant as ever. "Oi, Felix, you absolute fuckstain. I heard that kiss. Save the mushy shit for later, yeah?"

Felix laughs, his chest vibrating against you as he glances toward the door. "Shut the fuck up, Jisung. You're just jealous."

"Damn right, I'm jealous," Jisung shoots back. "Jealous that you're still dogshit at Call of Duty."

"Eat shit and die," Felix says, laughing as he rests his head against yours. "Fucking gremlin."

The soft hum of Felix's gaming rig dims further as his monitors finally shut off, plunging the room into a calm, muted glow from his LED strips. The clock ticks over to 4:00 AM, the hour dragging its weight into the air.

It's quieter now, the kind of silence that clings to the dead of night, thick and unrelenting. You're still perched in Felix's lap, scrolling idly through social media on your phone while his hand rests warm against your thigh. The stillness is comfortable until your stomach betrays you with a loud, unapologetic growl.

"Fucking hell," Felix mutters, breaking the silence with a groan as he nudges you off his lap. "Your stomach sounds like it's trying to summon a goddamn demon."

You shoot him a flat look as you stand, stretching your arms over your head. The hem of your black lace-trimmed camisole rides up slightly, and you catch Felix's eyes flicking down for half a second before he smirks. "It's called hunger, you dick. You wouldn't know since you've been surviving on Doritos and Monster like a fucking raccoon all night."

"That's a perfectly balanced diet, thank you very much," he retorts, leaning back in his chair and spinning lazily to face you. His hoodie is skewed from hours of sitting, the hem riding up just enough to reveal the faint lines of his abs. 

"I need food," you declare dramatically, hands on your hips like you're about to stage a protest. "Real food. Not this gamer bullshit you keep calling a balanced diet."

Felix snorts, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his phone from the desk. "Good luck finding 'real food' at four in the fucking morning. What do you think this is, MasterChef?" He stretches his arms overhead, his hoodie lifting enough to give you another fleeting glimpse of his toned stomach. His voice pulls you back before your gaze lingers. "How about instant ramen? The convenience store is open, and ramen's practically fucking gourmet at this hour."

You don't hesitate, already grabbing your shoes. "Say less."

Felix chuckles, grabbing his sneakers from under the desk. He doesn't bother tying them, as always, the frayed laces dragging behind him like an afterthought. As he slips them on, you unlatch his window to test the air outside. A sharp gust of cold rushes in, making you shiver.

"It's fucking freezing," you mutter, pulling your arm back inside. Felix, now rummaging through his wardrobe, glances up with an amused smirk.

"No shit," He tosses a black cardigan at you, the fabric hitting you square in the face. "Here. Can't have my sweetheart freezing her ass off and bitching about it the whole way."

You roll your eyes at the nickname, but you slip the cardigan on without complaint. It's oversized, the sleeves swallowing your hands and the hem brushing the tops of your thighs, and it smells faintly of his cologne, a warm, woodsy scent that lingers comfortingly around you. "Thanks, Lix. I'd say you're a gentleman, but we both know that's a fucking lie."

"Oi," he shoots back, grabbing his keys and holding the door open for you with an exaggerated bow. "You wound me."

The hallway of the Alpha Phi house is eerily quiet, the usual chaos replaced by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the faint hum of the fridge down the hall.

Felix pulls the door shut behind him as you both tiptoe past the other guys' rooms, careful not to wake anyone. When you reach the front door, he holds it open for you as the cold night air hits you like a slap.

The walk to the convenience store is short, but the chill bites at your skin, making you huddle closer to Felix. The streets are deserted, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, and the only sounds are the shuffle of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves caught in the wind.

Felix's hand finds yours without ceremony, his fingers threading through yours with a warmth that contrasts sharply against the cold. "So," he starts, his voice casual but tinged with that mischievous lilt you know so well, "what's the game plan? Ramen? Energy drinks? Or are we going all out like the unhinged fucks we are and getting both?"

"Both, obviously," you reply, squeezing his hand for emphasis. "And chips. And chocolate. Maybe some of those prepackaged muffins too."

He snickers, pulling you closer as another gust of wind whips past. "You're gonna eat all that, feel like shit, and then somehow blame me."

"First of all," you retort, grinning up at him, "I'll feel fine. Second, I'm buying you snacks too, so maybe don't be such an ass about it."

Felix hums thoughtfully, his lips quirking up at the corner. "Alright, fair. You're forgiven."

"Oh, I'm forgiven?" you say, feigning disbelief. "Thanks so much, your majesty. Truly blessed to have your mercy."

"You're welcome, peasant," he replies smoothly, then, without warning, he spins you in a circle, his grip on your hand firm as he twirls you like a dancer mid-performance.

You let out a startled laugh, stumbling slightly as he catches you with both hands. "What the fuck, Felix?"

"Couldn't resist," he says, his grin wide and unapologetic as he tugs you back beside him. "You looked like you needed a little excitement."

"At four in the morning?" you ask, still laughing. "You're fucking insane."

"And yet," he replies, his tone smug as his hand squeezes yours again, "you're still here."

The two of you continue down the street, Felix twirling you every few steps just to hear you giggle. By the time the neon glow of the convenience store sign comes into view, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and you've threatened to shove him into a bush at least three times.

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzz faintly, casting a sterile glow over the shelves stocked with instant noodles, candy, and cheap energy drinks. The air smells faintly of burnt coffee and plastic, a strange but familiar comfort to you and Felix.

 It's the unspoken backdrop of your late-night snack runs, the kind of ritual that feels absurdly sacred at this hour. The automatic doors shut behind you with a quiet whoosh, and you grab one of the red plastic baskets stacked near the door.

"Alright," Felix says, clapping his hands together like a man on a mission. "Let's stock the fuck up, sweetheart. We've got a long night of doing absolutely nothing ahead of us."

You smirk, shoving the basket into his chest. "You're in charge of drinks, chef boy."

Felix salutes you mockingly before strolling to the refrigerators, his sneakers scuffing against the tiles. He doesn't even hesitate before yanking open one of the glass doors and grabbing cans of energy drinks like he's on a game show and every second counts. Red Bull, Monster, Rockstar, the classics, pile into the basket with abandon.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Lix," you mutter as he lugs the basket back toward you, the drinks rattling ominously. "You planning to die of caffeine overdose or what?"

Felix grins, his freckles dancing as he shrugs. "Fuck it. If I die, I die. At least I'll be wide fucking awake when it happens."

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch in amusement as you grab a handful of chocolate bars and throw them into the basket. Felix matches you tit for tat, grabbing sour gummy worms, chips, and a suspiciously large bag of candy-coated chocolates. By the time you reach the ramen aisle, the basket is teetering on the brink of disaster.

"We're going spicy," Felix declares, grabbing a red-and-black packet of ramen and holding it up like a trophy. "You game?"

"Always," you reply, grabbing your own packet. The two of you quickly stock up on more, just in case the apocalypse hits and ramen is the only thing that will save you, and Felix carefully balances the new additions on top of the precarious pile in the basket.

You're halfway through debating the merits of sea salt chips versus barbecue when the automatic doors behind you whoosh open again. A loud, frantic voice booms through the store, tearing through the quiet like a gunshot.

"Everyone on the fucking floor!"

You whip around, and sure enough, there's a man standing in the doorway, a gun clenched in his shaky hands. He's wearing a black ski mask that's slightly crooked, revealing part of his sweaty face, and his body language screams desperation. The store clerk lets out a strangled yelp before diving behind the counter, leaving you and Felix standing frozen in the snack aisle.

Felix meets your gaze, his expression calm but incredulous, like he's just been inconvenienced by the universe itself. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he mutters under his breath.

You can't help it, a disbelieving snort escapes you as you glance at the gunman, then back at Felix. "Of course this happens while we're here."

Felix sighs dramatically, setting the basket down on the floor with a deliberate thud. "Fucking typical. Can't even get some fucking ramen without some prick trying to play GTA in real life."

The gunman notices you and Felix standing there, clearly unimpressed by the gravity of the situation and waves the gun in your direction. "I said get on the fucking floor!"

You exchange a look with Felix, then slowly lower yourselves to the ground. Felix lies down with all the enthusiasm of someone forced to participate in a group project they didn't sign up for, folding his arms under his head like he's on a beach. "Of all the fucking convenience stores," he mutters under his breath, "he had to walk into this one."

You shoot him a look, biting back a laugh as you settle onto the dirty tiles. "Shut the fuck up, Felix."

"I'm just saying," he whispers, propping his chin on his hand like he's bored. "This guy couldn't pick a different store? A bank, maybe? Literally anywhere else?"

The gunman slams his fist on the counter, yelling at the clerk. "Hurry the fuck up and open the register!"

You glance toward the counter, then back at Felix, who has now rolled onto his side like he's posing for a calendar. "Do you think it's real?" he murmurs, tilting his head toward the gun.

You stifle a laugh, clamping your hand over your mouth. "Felix, shut the fuck up."

He grins, his voice dropping to a low, amused whisper. "I'm just saying, what if it's, like, a water gun? Or some shitty BB gun he got off eBay?"

You shake your head, trying to suppress the absurd giggle bubbling in your chest, but it escapes anyway. Felix shoots you a triumphant look, clearly pleased with himself.

"Oi, you two!" the gunman barks, his voice cracking with frustration. "Shut the fuck up back there!"

Felix doesn't even flinch. "Sure thing, Mr. Criminal Mastermind," he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

"Felix!" you hiss, your voice a mix of a scold and a laugh. "You're gonna get us killed."

He shrugs, his grin unrelenting. "Doubt it. He's all talk."

To prove Felix wrong, the guy fires a shot into the air. The deafening crack makes you flinch instinctively, your hand flying to Felix's arm. He stays completely unfazed, his expression almost bored as he mutters, "See? Terrible fucking aim."

You choke on a laugh, burying your face in your arms to muffle the sound. Felix, ever the shit-stirrer, grins like a Cheshire cat.

"Shut the fuck up back there!" the guy yells again, his voice higher now, tinged with panic.

Felix leans his head closer to yours, his voice still low and dripping with amusement. "Think he's ever been laid?"

"Felix," you whisper, biting your lip to stop another laugh. "For fuck's sake-"

"What?" he says, feigning innocence. "It's a valid question. He's got serious incel energy."

The gunman stomps toward the back of the store, still yelling at the clerk, and Felix lets out another exaggerated sigh. "Fucking rookie," he mutters, shaking his head like he's genuinely disappointed.

You glance at him, half-laughing, half-mortified. "I can't take you fucking anywhere, Lee Felix."

"And you fucking love it," he replies, his grin widening. "Now, let's see how this plays out."

The guy spins back toward you and Felix, his gun raised and pointed directly at the two of you. His posture screams tension, shoulders hunched, chest heaving, hands shaking slightly.

But you and Felix? You're fucking useless. The absurdity of the whole situation has a death grip on both of you, and neither of you can stop laughing.

"You think this is fucking funny?" the guy barks, his voice vibrating with equal parts rage and disbelief.

You're clutching Felix's hoodie sleeve as your shoulders shake. The laughter bubbles uncontrollably out of your chest, your face pressed into Felix's arm in a desperate attempt to muffle the sound. Felix isn't helping. He's snickering like a teenager in church, his lips twitching upward every time he glances at the guy.

"Funniest shit I've seen all week," Felix mutters, wiping at his eyes like he's genuinely emotional about the comedy of it all.

"Stand the fuck up!" The guy waves his gun wildly at you, his voice cracking as he shouts.

Felix lets out a long-suffering sigh, tilting his head back as though this is the greatest inconvenience of his life. "Alright, alright, keep your fucking panties on," he mutters, nudging you gently with his shoulder. "C'mon, sweetheart. We wouldn't wanna upset Mr. Very Serious Crime Guy."

You both get to your feet, but the laughter doesn't stop. It's fucking ridiculous, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to take this seriously. not when Felix's mouth is twitching like he's fighting back the punchline to a bad joke.

The guy points his gun directly at Felix now, his knuckles white against the grip. "You wanna get shot, pretty boy?"

Felix blinks at him, utterly unfazed. "Not particularly, but thanks for the offer. Generous of you."

The sound that escapes you is half-snort, half-laugh, and you slap a hand over your mouth immediately. The guy's eyes snap to you, his glare sharp enough to cut glass, but you can't stop the way the giggles keep bubbling out of your throat.

"You're really leaning into this whole 'angry criminal' vibe, huh?" Felix says, tilting his head at the guy. His tone is light, conversational, like they're discussing the weather. "Bit cliché, though, don't you think?"

"What the fuck are you on about?" The guy's voice is rising now, his frustration palpable.

"Oh, you know," Felix says, gesturing vaguely toward the gun with a casual flick of his wrist. "Big scary man with a weapon compensating for some deeply-rooted insecurities. Classic projection."

"What the fuck did you just say?" the guy spits, his stance bristling with barely-contained rage.

"You heard me," Felix smirks, his voice laced with mockery. "Screams small dick energy."

Your laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it, loud and breathless, and you double over slightly, gripping Felix's arm to steady yourself. Felix looks down at you, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. The guy's face, what little of it is visible beneath the ski mask, flushes an angry red.

"You little shits," the guy growls, his voice trembling with rage. "Keep running your mouths, see what happens."

"Oh no," Felix deadpans, leaning closer to you like he's letting you in on a joke. "He's threatening us, sweetheart. Whatever will we do?"

"I don't know. Maybe if we laugh hard enough, he'll rethink his life choices."

"You're fucking insane!" the guy shouts, taking a menacing step forward. His hands shake harder now, the barrel of the gun wobbling slightly as he points it between the two of you.

Felix raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Us? You're the one waving a gun around at four in the fucking morning. You might wanna reevaluate some things."

Before the guy can reply, there's a sudden, sharp crack from behind him. The sound echoes through the store, followed by a guttural thud as the guy stumbles forward and crashes face-first onto the dirty tile. The gun clatters to the floor, and behind him stands the cashier, gripping a battered wooden baseball bat like it's his lifeline.

The cashier's eyes are wide, his chest heaving as he stares down at the unconscious man. For a moment, no one moves. Then Felix lets out a slow clap, each exaggerated smack of his hands ringing out in the silent store.

"Fucking hell," Felix says, his tone downright cheerful. "Didn't think you had it in you. That was beautiful. Poetry in motion."

The cashier glares at him, his grip on the bat still tight. "Nice job distracting him with your dumb fucking jokes and fake giggling," he mutters. "Really helped."

"Oh no, that wasn't a distraction," Felix replies, shaking his head with a shit-eating grin. "That was one hundred percent real. Funniest fucking thing I've ever been part of."

"You're kidding," the cashier deadpans, his face a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.

"Not even a little," Felix says, grinning wider. "You're a goddamn hero, though. Iconic. Sweetheart, wasn't that iconic?"

You nod, still laughing as you lean against Felix for support. "To be fair," you say, your voice breathless, "who even robs a convenience store at four in the fucking morning? Deserved it."

The cashier stares at you both like you're clinically insane, but his shoulders sag as he lets out a heavy sigh. "You're both fucking crazy," he mutters. "Anyway, whatever you want? It's on the house. Just take it and get the fuck out of here before I have to call the cops."

Felix's eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Oh, sweetheart, you heard the man. Free shit. Quick, grab more ramen. And vodka. Lots of vodka."

"Lix," you groan, though you can't keep the laughter out of your voice. "We don't need-"

"Sweetheart," Felix interrupts, grabbing another basket with one hand and slinging his free arm around your shoulders. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You don't say no to free snacks."

You roll your eyes but let him lead the way, watching as he raids the shelves like a man on a mission. Chips, candy, booze, more energy drinks, instant ramen, it all goes into the basket with reckless abandon.

You grab a few more chocolate bars and a pack of cookies for good measure, and by the time you're done, the two of you are weighed down with enough junk food to survive a nuclear apocalypse.

"Thanks, legend," Felix says as he carries the overloaded basket to the door. "You've earned that Employee of the Month title."

The cashier doesn't even respond, too busy dialling the cops as you and Felix step out into the chilly night air. The faint wail of sirens carries in the distance, and Felix glances down at you, his grin softening slightly as he balances the bags in his hands.

"You alright, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice quieter now.

You nod, leaning into his side as you start the walk back. "Yeah. You?"

He hums thoughtfully, then smirks. "Honestly? Best fucking night of my life."

The streets are eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the faint breeze as you and Felix stumble your way back to the Alpha Phi frat house. The neon-lit chaos of the convenience store feels like a fever dream now, the vodka in your systems the only tangible evidence it even happened.

Both of you are giggling like fucking lunatics, swigging from your bottles with zero regard for the fact that it's nearing five in the morning. The night air bites at your exposed skin, but the vodka burns hot in your veins, a liquid fire keeping you both upright. Barely.

Felix pauses mid-step, his sneakers scraping against the pavement as he takes another long drink from his bottle. His cheeks are flushed a warm pink, and his eyes gleam with sloppy amusement as he holds up the now-almost-empty bottle like it's the fucking Holy Grail. "Fuck me, this is some good shit. Tastes better 'cause it's free."

You laugh, tipping your own bottle up for another swig. The sharp sweetness burns your throat, but it's the good kind of burn, the kind that makes everything seem a little funnier. "Cherry vodka might actually be the love of my life," you say with a contented sigh, lowering the bottle. "Sorry, Lix."

Felix gasps in mock offense, clutching his chest like you've just personally betrayed him. "Sweetheart, how could you? I thought we had something special. Something real."

"Not as real as this vodka," you tease, stumbling a little as your foot catches on a crack in the sidewalk. Felix reacts instantly, one arm looping around your waist to steady you.

"You're fucking hopeless," he mutters, grinning as he tugs you closer to his side. "You fall for vodka faster than you fall for me. What the fuck is that about?"

"It's vodka," you reply, deadpan. "What do you expect?"

By the time you reach the corner leading to the frat house, both of your bottles are empty. Felix stares at his in mild disappointment, tipping it upside down and watching the last drop cling stubbornly to the glass before giving up with a huff. "We're not even fucking home yet, and we're already out," he mutters. "What's the plan? Drink more when we get back?"

"Obviously," you say, leaning into his shoulder. "We've got enough booze to kill an entire marching band."

Felix throws his head back and laughs, the sound echoing into the empty streets. "Alright, operation 'drink until we don't remember shit' is a go."

The sight of the frat house looming ahead sends another wave of laughter through you both. By the time you reach the front steps, you're practically doubled over, clutching Felix's arm as you try to keep your balance. He's no better, leaning heavily on the railing with the bags of stolen snacks and booze swinging precariously from one hand.

The front door creaks open just as you're about to fall inside, the sound startling enough to cut your laughter short. Heavy footsteps echo from the stairs, and you both look up to see Chan and Changbin at the top landing, their faces an unholy mix of confusion and irritation.

Chan's hair sticks up like he's been electrocuted, and his hoodie is lopsided. Changbin leans against the railing, squinting at you like you're a cryptid that wandered into their territory.

"What the fuck are you two doing?" Chan asks, his voice hoarse from sleep. "It's almost five in the fucking morning."

Felix, unbothered, beams up at him like he's just spotted his long-lost soulmate. "Cahn," he says, waving a hand dramatically. "You wouldn't believe the night we've had. We almost got shot."

Your nod is enthusiastic, but your balance is shit, and you clutch at Felix's sleeve to keep from toppling over. "Yeah! Gun! Right in our fucking faces."

"A real one," Felix adds helpfully, his grin spreading wider. "With bullets."

"Pew pew bang bang!" you chime in, mimicking finger guns to drive the point home.

Felix, clearly inspired, joins in with his own finger guns. "Yeah, pew pew bang bang! Dude fired into the ceiling, real bullets and everything."

Chan's jaw drops. He looks from you to Felix and back again, his eyebrows knitting together in sheer disbelief. "I beg your fucking pardon?" he finally says, his voice rising an octave.

You wave your hands like you're trying to explain quantum physics to a toddler. "So, we were at the store, and this guy walks in with a gun, and-"

"And we started laughing," Felix interrupts, his tone as casual as if he's explaining what he had for breakfast.

Changbin throws up his hands, his voice thick with exasperation. "Why the fuck would you laugh?"

"Because it was hilarious," Felix says, slinging an arm around your shoulders like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Chan's expression darkens, his voice low and deadly as he points a finger at you both. "I'm telling my mother."

Your gasp is immediate and full of melodrama. "Noooooo! Jess will lecture me for hours! I don't have parents! I'm supposed to be allowed to make dumb fucking decisions!"

Chan crosses his arms, his face blank but his tone sharp as a knife. "Tough shit. You're getting a lecture."

"I'll be good!" you plead, clasping your hands together like you're in front of a judge. "I swear, I'll be so fucking good."

Chan raises an eyebrow. "You've never been good a day in your life."

You let out a loud, mock-serious sigh. "It all started when my mom left me as a safe haven baby."

"Nice fucking try," Chan says. "That shit stopped working on me years ago"

Felix, still grinning, leans into you conspiratorially. "You're really playing the abandonment card?"

"It's my trump card," you say, throwing your hands in the air. "But apparently it doesn't work on Chan! What's the point of being parentally abandoned as an infant if I can't use it to get out of shit?"

Another voice slices through the quiet, low and laced with irritation. "It's five in the fucking morning. What the hell is going on down here?"

Everyone turns to see Minho standing at the top of the stairs, his red hair sticking up in every direction, a messy halo around his head like he's some pissed-off, sleep-deprived god of chaos. He leans heavily on the railing, his hoodie half-zipped and sliding off one shoulder.

His eyes narrow as he surveys the scene. the bags of snacks and booze, you half-drunk and clinging to Felix for balance, Chan and Changbin looking like disapproving parents. It's a tableau of absolute fucking nonsense.

Felix takes one look at Minho's dishevelled figure and immediately bursts out laughing, doubling over and clutching his stomach. "Oh god," he wheezes between giggles, his voice echoing down the hall. "It's all three dads. We're so fucked."

Minho raises an unimpressed eyebrow, his tone flat but deadly as he crosses his arms. "Alright, my dear children, tell Daddy Minho why you disturbed his very precious fucking rest before I drag you both into the front yard and bury you alive."

"We almost died!" you announce, pointing a dramatic finger in his direction like you're presenting damning evidence. "Gun! Right to the face!"

Minho doesn't flinch. His expression doesn't even flicker. "Yeah, okay. What did we tell you about going to the convenience store at stupid o'clock?"

Felix grimaces, scratching the back of his neck like a guilty kid caught sneaking snacks. "Uh... don't?"

"Exactly," Minho snaps, his voice sharp as a whip. He gestures vaguely toward the bags and the bottles in Felix's hands. "And yet, here we are. Grounded. Both of you."

"Nooooo!" you and Felix groan in perfect unison, your voices overlapping like two toddlers being told to go to bed early.

"Wait, wait, wait!" you blurt, holding up a finger like you've just had the best idea ever. "Vodka! We got vodka for free! The cashier gave it to us!"

Felix nods enthusiastically and hoists one of the bags up as proof. "Yeah, we've got vodka, tequila, energy drinks, snacks—everything you could ever fucking want. We're heroes, Minho."

Minho's eyes narrow further, but there's the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Tequila?"

Felix gasps, looking genuinely insulted. "What do you take us for, fucking amateurs? Of course, we grabbed tequila."

For a moment, Minho stares down at you both, his silence heavy, his expression unreadable. Then his arms drop, and he lets out a low, resigned sigh before a sly grin creeps across his face. "No longer grounded," he declares, his voice light with amusement. "Let's get pissed."

"Minho!" Chan yells, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. He storms down the stairs, his face a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. "It's five in the fucking morning! They're already half-drunk! You're supposed to be the responsible one!"

Minho shrugs, stepping off the last stair with the calm, unshakable determination of a man who has long since stopped giving a fuck. "It's cocktail hour somewhere."

Felix throws his hands in the air like he's just scored the winning goal in overtime. "That's the fucking spirit! Come on, sweetheart," he says, grabbing your hand and dragging you toward the living room. "We've got three pseudo-dads, a liquor stash, and zero self-control. Let's make some fucking memories!"

Changbin, still leaning on the railing, shakes his head with a groan. "I'm not babysitting these drunk fucks," he mutters, gesturing vaguely toward you and Felix.

You, Felix, and Minho collapse onto the massive couch. Felix pulls you onto his lap without hesitation, his arms circling your waist in a loose, easy hold as you lean back against his chest. The bags of snacks and booze are scattered across the floor, casualties of your impromptu raid on the convenience store.

Minho lounges on the other side of the couch, unscrewing the cap of the tequila bottle with the kind of dramatic flourish that makes it clear he's ready to wreak havoc.

"Straight from the bottle," Minho declares, holding the tequila aloft like it's the fucking crown jewels. "Let's go, my child. Make Daddy proud."

You laugh, reaching for the bottle of vodka Felix just cracked open. "Honestly, Minho, you and Chan are the closest things I've ever had to father figures. You've been promoted."

Minho immediately slams his free hand over his chest, his face crumpling into a mask of mock emotion. "You are my child. I birthed you."

Felix chokes on his drink, shaking with laughter as his chin digs into your shoulder. "Birthed? Minho, what the actual fuck are you on about?"

"I did!" Minho insists, his voice rising in indignation as he takes a long swig from the tequila bottle. "Chan impregnated me, and I carried her for nine long, beautiful months. I sacrificed my body."

You nod solemnly, raising your vodka bottle in agreement. "That tracks. Explains the trauma."

Minho gives you a look of absolute reverence like you've just said something profound. "I will give you away at your wedding. You are my legacy. Always."

"Okay," Chan cuts in, his voice sharp and disbelieving as he hovers by the arm of the couch with his hands on his hips. "What the fuck is happening right now?"

Minho points at him with the tequila bottle, his expression stone-cold serious. "Our child is seeking validation, Christopher. As her other father, you should be supporting this."

"How many times have we had this conversation?" Chan demands, his tone flat but laced with exasperation. "You pull this shit every time you drink."

"Denial is a river in Egypt, my friend," Minho replies smoothly, taking another swig of tequila. "And it doesn't look good on you. Accept that you have a daughter."

"I mean, can I have, like, a trust fund or something? That'd be nice."

Chan's glare turns to you, his voice dripping with judgment. "I'm not giving you a trust fund. But, if we're doing this whole 'parent' thing, can we at least ban her from having boyfriends?"

Felix's arms tighten around your waist, his laughter cutting through the air as he jerks his head toward Chan. "Oi, what the fuck, Chan? You can't just ban her from dating!"

"Yeah, Chan," you add, your voice teasing as you twist in Felix's lap to face him. "What are you, the fucking dating police?"

Minho shakes his head, waving the tequila bottle in the air like a judge passing a decree. "It's fine. My daughter is a virgin anyway, right?"

You nod seriously, lifting your vodka bottle in toast. "Absolutely. Pure as snow. As virginal as Mary"

Felix lets out a snort so loud it's almost a honk, his lips pressed to your shoulder as he tries to suppress the full-on laugh threatening to escape. "Oh yeah," he says, his voice trembling with barely contained laughter. "Virgin. Totally. 100%."

Chan raises an eyebrow, his tone dry as a fucking desert. "Yeah, sure. Do you know how many times I've had to pick her up so she doesn't have to do the walk of shame?"

Minho gasps so dramatically you're surprised he doesn't pass out. "My baby! My sweet, innocent child! Grounded. For life."

"Still drinking vodka, though, right?" you ask, already taking another swig.

Minho waves a dismissive hand, sighing like a man resigned to his fate. "Yeah, fine. But get off that man's lap. Disgusting. My daughter will not date a man. It's unnatural. Foul."

Felix nearly spits out his drink, laughing so hard he doubles over, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You just raise an eyebrow at Minho, unimpressed. "You're gonna let me drink straight vodka at five in the fucking morning but not sit on my boyfriend's lap?"

"Correct," Minho says without hesitation. "I have standards."

Changbin, perched in the armchair across from the couch, has been quietly watching the entire exchange with wide-eyed amusement. Finally, he snorts, shaking his head. "You're all fucking insane."

Before anyone can respond, a loud, rapid thud thud thud comes from the stairs, and Jisung bounds into the living room like an overexcited puppy. His silver hair is a mess, his hoodie half hanging off one shoulder, and his eyes immediately lock onto the chaos on the floor.

"Ooh! You woke up Daddy One, Daddy Two, and Daddy Three. Naughty, naughty. Ooh, tequila! Vodka! Energy drinks! Gimme, Gimme, Gimme-"

Felix raises his vodka bottle like it's an offering to the gods. "A man after midnight!"

Jisung cackles, flopping onto the arm of the couch next to Minho and swiping the tequila. "So what's the occasion?"

"We almost got shot," Felix says casually, taking another swig of vodka.

"Cool, cool, cool," Jisung replies, nodding along. Then his eyes widen, his hand freezing mid-air. "Wait, WHAT?"

You and Felix burst into laughter so hard you're practically wheezing. Jisung stares at you both like you've grown a second head. "Shot? As in bang bang, bullet-in-the-head shot?"

"Yep," Felix says, popping the "p" as he grins at you. "Sweetheart and I were just chilling at the convenience store, and this guy walks in with a fucking gun."

"And we got the giggles," you add, waving your vodka bottle like it's a fucking magic wand.

Jisung turns to Chan, Changbin and Minho, his expression pleading for sanity. "Are they serious?"

Changbin pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering, "Oh, they're serious. They think almost dying is fucking hilarious."

"It was hilarious!" Felix insists, his grin widening. "The guy told us to get on the floor, and we just couldn't stop laughing."

"I hate both of you," Chan says flatly.

"And I love them," Minho announces, clinking his tequila bottle against your vodka. "Idiots, the lot of you, but you're my idiots."

Jisung, still processing, raises the tequila bottle. "Alright. To not dying, I guess."

"To not fucking dying!" Felix and you cheer, clinking bottles with him as the chaos spirals deeper into drunken absurdity.

Two hours later and the living room looks like a warzone. Empty bottles are scattered across the floor like casualties of a battle waged entirely with booze. Crushed chip bags and forgotten ramen cups lie abandoned among the chaos, the salty smell mingling with the faint tang of spilt tequila. 

You're sprawled on the couch with Jisung, the two of you draped over each other like a pair of drunk koalas clinging to the last branch of sanity.

Between you sits a half-empty bottle of vodka and a pot of ramen Chan reluctantly made because, as he so eloquently put it, "There's no fucking way I'm letting you absolute morons near a kettle."

Felix is next to you, his legs spread wide as he lounges back comfortably. He's working his way through a family-sized bag of Doritos with the lazy satisfaction of a man who knows he's witnessing peak entertainment.

Minho is perched precariously on the arm of the couch, swaying slightly as he holds a bottle of tequila. His hands gesture wildly as he launches into yet another drunken tirade, his words slurred but his enthusiasm unrelenting.

"You see," Minho begins, pointing dramatically between you and Felix, "Y/N is my child. Chan's child. Our love child. I birthed her myself. With pain. Like a hero."

You snort, nudging Jisung with your elbow. "See, Ji? I told you. Minho's my real dad."

Jisung clutches his chest with mock emotion, lifting the vodka bottle in a toast. "To Dad Minho, the strongest mother we know."

Minho beams like a drunk king accepting his coronation. "Exactly. And you, Jisung, you're the sad little bastard we found under a bridge and decided to keep out of the goodness of our hearts."

Jisung gasps, clutching at his hoodie dramatically. "You mean... I'm adopted?!"

"Of course you are," Minho replies, patting him on the head like a puppy. "But don't worry. We love you anyway"

Felix crunches loudly on a Dorito, raising an eyebrow at Minho. "Alright, then what the fuck does that make me?"

Minho's face twists into an exaggerated grimace, and he waves a dismissive hand in Felix's direction. "You? You're the boyfriend. The bad influence. We don't approve."

Felix gasps, pressing a hand to his heart like he's been mortally wounded. "Excuse me?! I am an amazing influence."

"Bullshit," Minho snaps, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You're corrupting my firstborn."

Felix turns to you, his eyes wide and filled with mock sincerity. "Sweetheart, am I corrupting you?"

You shrug, slurping a mouthful of ramen before replying, "If by 'corrupting' you mean ingraining the word cunt into my vocabulary, then yes."

"Traitor," Felix mutters, stuffing another Dorito into his mouth as Minho grins triumphantly.

Across the room, Chan and Changbin sit squished together on the loveseat, sipping coffee like two parents forced to watch their kids self-destruct in real time.

"I love them," Changbin says after a moment, his voice soft but full of incredulity. "But their brains need studying. Like, properly. By professionals."

Chan groans, rubbing a hand down his face. "At this rate, I'm going to need a fucking PhD just to figure out what goes on in their heads."

Before either of them can say more, footsteps echo from the stairs, and the rest of the frat stumbles into view. Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin stop dead at the sight of the living room, their faces a mix of confusion and barely contained horror.

"What the fuck?" Hyunjin snaps, his long black hair falling into his face as he surveys the scene. "Why are you all awake at seven in the fucking morning?"

Chan points vaguely toward the couch, his voice flat. "Y/N and Felix almost got shot. Now they're doing... this." He waves his hand in a wide arc at the mess of people, booze, and crushed chips. "Minho decided to turn it into some Freudian family shit."

"Shot?" Jeongin asks, his eyes wide as he looks at you. "As in... bang bang, shot?"

"Yes!" you pipe up, raising your hand like a kid in class. "Gun! Bang bang! It was awesome."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Seungmin mutters, rubbing his temples. "What is wrong with you people?"

Minho, still perched like a drunk king on the arm of the couch, lights up at the sight of Jeongin. He spreads his arms wide, nearly toppling over as he grins. "Innie! My youngest! My pride and joy! Come here, baby boy."

Jeongin's face twists into a scowl, his voice flat. "I'm older than Y/N."

Minho waves him off. "Shush. You're my baby. Deal with it." He then swivels to Seungmin and points the tequila bottle at him. "And you, Seungminnie, you're the family dog."

Seungmin blinks, his face deadpan. "The what?"

Minho doesn't even pause. "And Hyunjin!" He turns his wild grin on the tall figure standing in the doorway. "Hyunjin is the obnoxious aunt. Definitely had plastic surgery but denies it."

"Excuse me?" Hyunjin's voice cracks. "What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"Just own it, darling," Minho says serenely, taking another swig of tequila. "Oh, and Hyunjin's married to Changbin."

Changbin nearly spits out his coffee, coughing. "What?!"

"You're married," Minho says, gesturing between them with the tequila bottle. "And you want to kill yourself because of it. Classic sitcom material." He claps his hands, grinning widely. "And that's our family!"

Chan groans, burying his face in his hands. "Why the fuck am I friends with any of you?"

"Because you love us," you chime in, poking your head up from Felix's shoulder with a grin.

"I fucking tolerate you," Chan fires back, glaring.

"That's basically love," Felix says, laughing as he pulls you closer into his lap. "Don't fight it."

Hyunjin throws his hands in the air. "I'm going back to bed. Good luck with... whatever this is."

"Coward!" Minho yells after him, raising his bottle like a battle cry.

Jeongin and Seungmin share a look of pure exhaustion before turning and trudging back toward the kitchen, muttering about the need for industrial-strength coffee. The door swings shut behind them, leaving the rest of you in the thick of the chaos.

"Still don't approve of you dating my firstborn," Minho mutters, pointing a finger at Felix.

"Still don't care," Felix replies with a grin, popping another Dorito into his mouth.

Minho groans dramatically, flopping back against the couch. "Why do my children hate me?"

"Because you're fucking insane," Changbin says dryly, his voice muffled by another sip of coffee.

"And yet," Minho says, raising his bottle for the umpteenth time, "you all love me."

"Unfortunately," Chan mutters, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, we do."

The clock ticks closer to 9 AM, and the booze has finally won the battle. The four of you are sprawled across the couch in varying stages of disarray. Minho's top is half off, Jisung's hoodie is somehow inside out, Felix's hair is sticking up at impossible angles, and you're pretty sure there's a chip stuck to your thigh. The room smells like tequila, vodka, ramen, and regret. A recipe for both a headache and a lecture from Chan later.

"Bed," Minho groans, dragging a hand down his face as he pushes himself off the couch. His steps are slow and heavy, like his body might give out at any second. "I'm fucking done with all of you."

"Noooo," Jisung whines, already crawling after him like a determined, overgrown toddler. "Your bed's huge, Minho! We're coming with you."

You and Felix exchange a glance and with zero hesitation, you stumble off the couch after them, your legs wobbly as Felix laces his fingers with yours and tugs you close. His hand is warm, steadying you as the four of you shuffle down the hallway like a drunken parade.

Minho's room, as expected, is pure chaos disguised as order. The space is spotless, the faint scent of cedarwood lingering in the air, but the bed is unnecessarily massive, a king-sized monstrosity with pristine white sheets and an unreasonable number of pillows. Jisung faceplants into it immediately, sprawling out like a starfish as Minho looms over him.

"Move, you little shit," Minho mutters, shoving Jisung's leg with his foot. "You're not hogging the whole fucking thing."

Jisung groans but shifts over just enough to make room for Minho, who flops down beside him with a dramatic sigh. You and Felix follow, collapsing onto the bed like marionettes with cut strings. Felix lands on his back, pulling you down beside him, his arm slipping around your waist as you curl into his side.

"Holy fuck," you mumble, pressing your face against Felix's chest. "This bed feels illegal. It's too soft."

"Minho's bed has diplomatic immunity," Felix replies, his voice laced with a teasing slur. He nuzzles into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp. "It's like sleeping on a goddamn cloud."

Minho grumbles something unintelligible, half-buried in a pillow. Jisung lets out a contented hum, his arm flopping lazily across Minho's stomach as his eyes flutter shut.

The room settles into a hazy quiet, the only sounds the occasional rustle of fabric and the soft rhythm of breathing. The morning light streams through the curtains, painting the room in a muted gold.

Jisung and Minho are the first to drift off, their bodies going slack as exhaustion finally wins. You're tucked snugly against Felix, your head rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"Sweetheart," Felix murmurs, his voice low and thick with exhaustion. "You awake?"

"Mmhm," you reply, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes are heavy-lidded, but there's a familiar warmth in them, his lips quirking into a lazy grin.

"Good," he whispers, his hand slipping up to cup your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. "Because I've been wanting to do this all night."

Before you can ask what he means, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that's as messy and uncoordinated as it is perfect. The taste of vodka lingers between you, sharp and heady, but you don't care. His lips are soft, warm, and slightly chapped, and his fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls you closer.

You kiss him back, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as the world narrows to just the two of you. The kiss is desperate and imperfect, all teeth and alcohol-fueled fervour, but it feels right. Time blurs as his lips move against yours, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your waist.

The moment is broken by a sharp, muffled grumble from beside you. Suddenly, a pillow smashes into Felix's face with enough force to make him jerk back in surprise. You both turn to see Minho glaring at you, his expression a mix of grumpy and murderous as he wields another pillow like a weapon.

"Absolutely fucking not," Minho snaps, shoving Felix with one hand and using the other to wedge himself between you. "Not in my bed. I will not be subjected to this bullshit."

"Minho!" you protest, groaning as you roll onto your back. "We weren't even doing anything."

"Bullshit," he fires back, scowling as he claims the space between you and Felix like a petty landlord. "You can only have sex in my bed if I'm involved. House rules."

"Sweetheart," Felix says, his voice half-laugh, half-exasperation as he props himself up on his elbow. "Your pseudo-dad's cockblocking me."

You burst out laughing, turning away from Felix and burying your face in Jisung's chest to stifle the sound. Jisung stirs slightly, blinking up at you with a sleepy smile as he instinctively wraps his arms around you.

"Hey," he mumbles, his voice thick with drowsiness. "You comfy?"

"Comfy," you reply, snuggling closer to him. His chest is warm, his heartbeat a slow, steady rhythm against your cheek.

Felix, now fully displaced, groans as he flops onto his back on the other side of Minho. "Fine," he mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Guess I'll just cuddle you instead, Minho."

"Don't fucking touch me," Minho snaps, though he doesn't push Felix away when the blonde drapes an arm across him with a shit-eating grin.

"You smell like tequila and bad decisions," Felix quips, his voice full of amusement.

"And you smell like vodka and desperation," Minho shoots back, though there's no real venom in his tone. "Perfect match."

Across the bed, Jisung hums softly, already half-asleep again, his arms tightening around you. The room falls into a peaceful quiet, the warmth of shared bodies and the morning sunlight creating a cocoon of comfort. Minho grumbles one last time about "fucking kids" before burying his face in a pillow and letting sleep take him.

Felix shifts slightly, resting his chin on Minho's shoulder as he murmurs, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

You smile, your eyes drifting closed as you reply softly, "Goodnight, Lix."

And finally, the chaos fades, replaced by the gentle cadence of steady breathing and the warmth of four idiots crammed into one bed. It's messy, unconventional, and absolutely fucking perfectly imperfect. 

[suniix]

05 | miyamura x reader

synopsis | baking with miyamura makes you realize something you’d rather not think about. an unexpected encounter in the school hallway brings up an old memory

word count | 2k+

note | so sorry for taking so long to update 💀 im not really in the fandom anymore but i don’t wanna abandon this fic.. also i wrote most of this awhile ago so sorry if you notice a style change, once im done with this fic everything is going to be rewritten. i had some formatting issues with this chap so if it seems like a chunk of the chapter is missing pls let me know 😭 ALSO IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST PLS SEND AN ASK!! REPLIES GET LOST IN MY NOTIFS EASILY SO I MIGHT NOT SEE IT!!

previous | mlist | next

“Wait, did we need baking soda or baking powder?” You ask while holding the two small boxes in each hand.

Miyamura peeks over your shoulder. “Baking powder.” He says while plucking the box from your hand.

It was early in the afternoon when Miyamura stopped by your home to drop off some cinnamon rolls. A few weeks have passed since the first day of school and it was common for him to stop by after school or during the weekends, occasionally bringing sweets with him. When you opened the door the first thing he noticed was flour all over your hands and face. He quickly noticed the messy kitchen behind you and asked what happened while struggling to hold back a chuckle.

You explained that it was your grandma’s birthday today and you wanted to bake a cake for her and have it ready by the time she got back. One small problem though— you had no idea how to bake a cake.

“Thanks again for helping me out, and sorry you had to waste your Saturday doing this for me.” You say while gently cracking an egg, letting the yolk fall into the mixing bowl. You peer inside, noticing an eggshell had fallen in. Grabbing a spoon you scoop it out.

“It’s not a bother, really.” Miyamura shrugs. “I didn’t have any plans for today, so I’m glad I have something to do.”

You watch as Miyamura expertly cracks an egg open with one hand, letting the yolk fall in without any eggshells. “How do you do it? Each time I crack it open an eggshell always falls in.”

Miyamura chuckles. “It’s just practice, watch.” He grabs another egg and taps the side of the bowl with some force. Then with both hands he opens up the egg and out falls the yolk. “Now you try.”

Grabbing the last egg, you tap the side of the bowl with the egg and get it to crack. Holding it over the bowl with one hand, you look to Miyamura for guidance.

“First, grab the egg with both hands.” He gently grabs your other hand and brings it up to the egg. His hands are warm, the kind of warm that reminds you of being under your favorite blanket on a cold night. “Make sure one thumb is on the left side of the crack while the other is on the right side.”

You nod, placing your thumbs on both sides. “Now you just gently pull the egg apart, slowly.” He says, letting go of your hands.

You nod once again, gently pulling the egg apart as the yolk slips out without any eggshells falling in. “I did it!” You cheer, turning to face Miyamura.

He’s already staring at you with a genuine smile on his face. You don’t know why, but it makes your heart skip a beat. “I always knew you could. Now, the next step is to..”

You don’t process what his next words are, you’re too busy wondering why lately your cheeks heat up around Miyamura and how any sweet gesture he does for you makes your heart beat a little too fast. It’s been happening too often and you’re not sure how to feel about it. You snap out of your thoughts when he turns on the mixer, the noise echoing throughout the kitchen.

“Pass me the sugar please.”

Passing the sugar to him, you watch as he slowly adds sugar into the mixing bowl. “While I’m doing this you can get the flour mixture ready.” Miyamura looks up at you and you nod, quickly turning around to prepare it.

Miyamura had already set the flour in a bowl, all you needed to do was add the baking powder and salt. Looking at the recipe on your phone, you couldn’t find the measurements anywhere.

“Uh, Miyamura?”

“Yea?”

“I can’t find the measurements.”

“What?” He sets down the sugar, walking over to you and leaning over your shoulder to see your phone’s screen. “It doesn’t say?”

You shake your head, scrolling all the way to the bottom to find nothing. “That’s odd, try adding two and a half teaspoons of baking powder and one fourth teaspoon of salt.” He says before walking back over to the mixer.

You silently repeat the measurements in your head, trying not to forget. After adding the baking powder and salt you mix it in then bring the bowl over to Miyamura. “Alright, what’s next?” You ask.

“Add the flour into the bowl.” He says while patting the side of the mixing bowl.

“Alright!” You lift the bowl, tilting it so a good amount of flour would fall into the mixing bowl.

“But make sure to do it slowly, or else!—”

It was too late, you poured the flour in too quickly, resulting in the flour puffing up in your face because of the mixer. You look up at Miyamura, making him burst out laughing.

As soon as your grandma arrived home you rushed towards her and brought her to the kitchen to show her what you (and Miyamura) had made. Her eyes twinkled in surprise. “Goodness! I can’t believe you remembered!” She said in awe, walking up to the counter and examining the cake.

“I made sure to leave sticky notes everywhere to make sure I wouldn’t forget today!”

Your grandma walked over to you and brought you close, hugging you tightly. You immediately hugged her back, relishing in the warm embrace. How long has it been since you’ve been hugged like this?

“Thank you so much Y/n.” She whispered to you before pulling away. She turned to look at Miyamura before pulling him into a hug that surprised him. “And thank you as well young man, I can only imagine how cooking with my grandkid went.” She chuckled, which prompted a ‘hey!’ from you in response.

Miyamura couldn’t help but laugh as well. “It wasn’t a bother at all, Y/n is my friend and I don’t mind helping them.”

Your grandma nodded. “You’re such a kind young man, I hope Y/n finds someone like you in the future.”

You found yourself silently agreeing with your grandma. While Miyamura appears quiet and gloomy, he is actually really kind and caring. He’s patient, that much is certain after he helped you bake a cake, and he doesn’t get frustrated at you when you forget the simplest of things. Yeah, you wouldn’t mind dating— wait.

Once you fully processed her comment you let out an awkward chuckle. “Come on now, let’s eat!”

There’s no way you just thought about dating him.

Monday came a lot quicker than you’d like.

Sunday was uneventful, apart from you constantly thinking about your grandma's words from the previous day.

Scratch that, Sunday was the day your perspective on Miyamura changed.

You hadn’t thought about it much before, but why would you? You were content with just being friends, it was the whole reason you decided to stay with your grandma! To make friends!

But your grandma’s words left you thinking. You were happy to be his friend, truly, but was it okay to want more? To want to have something that was more than just friends?

Hugging your pillow you quickly shake your head. No! No way! You refused. I don’t like him that way! I don’t! You argued, squeezing your pillow tightly as if it were the one confronting you about your feelings.

Those words were meant for you and you alone, for no one was accusing you of liking him. There was no one to convince but yourself. You let out a sigh as you loosened the grip on the pillow, asking yourself the dreaded question.

Do I like Miyamura?

The immediate answer you thought of was yes, but you paused. Why do you like Miyamura? Was it simply because your grandma brought it up and you felt the need to make her happy, to show her you were happy with him just so she could be happy for you?

You thought of the moments you shared with Miyamura and had your answer. No, this was not because of a silly comment your grandma made. Your feelings were always there, deep down. You just never realized you wanted more until you realized you could have more.

Now what to do with your newfound feelings.

Should I just cut him off completely and hope my feelings die? You contemplated for a second before quickly shaking your head. Simply thinking about cutting contact with him hurts your heart, so there’s no way you’d actually be able to go through with it. No, be mature about this! There’s no need to do that! Just.. pretend our feelings don’t exist!

Despite your plan, sleep didn’t come easy. You spent the whole night thinking about scenarios that could happen on Monday. Maybe you walk into school and Miyamura somehow figured out you liked him and stops being friends with you, maybe he suddenly announces he’s dating Hori, maybe—

You quickly stop yourself. There was no need to overthink this, Miyamura doesn’t even know you like him! This conflict is completely one sided which means there is nothing to worry about— yet.

Before you knew it, Monday morning came and you had gotten absolutely no sleep. You sluggishly put on your clothes, wanting nothing more than to just crawl back to bed, but school was waiting for you. Miyamura was waiting for you.

You quickly shake your head to get rid of your thoughts. Running down the stairs you quickly spot the clock on the wall and notice the time. You were currently a few minutes ahead of schedule so you slowed your pace, taking your time to put on your shoes.

Ok, since I’m early, maybe I can surprise Miyamura at his door this time! You smiled at the thought. He had always been kind enough to wait for you to walk to school together, it’ll be nice to surprise him this time. Thinking about his possible reaction made you giggle, but you quickly stopped yourself. If anyone else were in the room with you they’d think you’d gone mad for laughing for no reason.

Leaving your home you make sure the door is locked before heading out. The morning air is crisp, making you wish you were back in your bed. It’ll be worth it though, seeing the surprised look on Miyamura’s face—

No! You shake your head. Gotta snap out of it! You walk up the stairs to his apartment door, footsteps echoing against the walls. You’re so lost in thought, trying to get your mind off your feelings when you bump into something, or rather, someone. You immediately jump back, ready to apologize when a voice cuts you off.

“Y/n?”

His voice was a bit deeper than usual, but you’d recognize his voice anywhere. You look up to see Miyamura, a surprised look on his face. You take a moment to recollect yourself, clearing your throat and standing up straighter. “I woke up early so I thought I’d surprise you by picking you up this time! But jeez, you left so early I didn’t even make it to your door before you left.” You explained.

He chuckles in response. “Well you got me, I’m surprised.”

He gestures to the stairs. “Since you technically got here first, lead the way.”

You don’t argue, happily going down the stairs first while Miyamura followed close behind. Once the two of you are out on the street you walk side by side, your shoulders occasionally brushing against each other.

Time goes by so fast that you sometimes wish it’d slow down.

It feels as though just a few minutes ago you had arrived at school with Miyamura, but now the school day had reached its end. It was relatively boring, except for the part where you couldn’t seem to act normal around Miyamura. He asked you a couple of times if you were feeling okay, even brushing his hand against your forehead to check your temperature (which did not help you at all). If your friends noticed they didn’t comment on it and for that you were grateful.

Forget your earlier thought, you’re glad time passed quickly.

The sun was low, painting the empty hallways a golden color. You were walking alongside Hori, helping her carry some files to put away in the student council’s room. Your shoes squeaked with each step you took, but neither of you seemed to mind. The silence around you and Hori was no longer tense, in fact, it was quite peaceful. Hori seemed content, as though whatever was bothering her before was resolved. The doors to the student council room come into view when Hori breaks the silence.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

You nod in response. “Of course! What is it?”

“Do you like Miyamura?”

The question catches you off guard, making you stop. Hori walks a few steps ahead before slowing her pace and stopping completely, keeping her back to you.

“What do you mean?” You’re not sure how else to respond. You had just barely found out you had feelings for Miyamura, so you’re not even sure if you’re ready for your friends to know yet.

She turned to face you. “You’ve been acting off today, and I don’t want to seem nosey, but.. I was just curious.”

You’re silent for a moment, still unsure as to how to respond. Hori takes that as an answer. “Listen, it’s okay if you—”

“I don’t.”

Hori shoots you a confused look. “You don’t?”

“I don’t.” You reaffirm, hoping she doesn’t notice the shake in your voice.

Hori simply stares at you before turning and continuing to walk. You let out a sigh of relief— you’re not sure if she bought your lie, but you’re at least happy she didn’t press you to tell the truth. You don’t think you’d be able to handle admitting it out loud.

Before Hori has the chance to open the door it slides open, revealing a guy with pink hair. “Oh, sorry.” His voice is so soft you almost don’t hear it as he steps aside for Hori to enter. She thanks him and enters the room to file away the papers and your eyes briefly meet his pink ones.

For a moment you remember something you’d thought you’d forgotten. Suddenly you’re six years old again, stretching out a hand to befriend a lonely boy.

Your eyes remain on his figure as he walks away, not noticing Hori was waiting for you to hand her the files until she taps your shoulder. “Oh! Sorry!” You hand her the files and she places them inside a cabinet before walking back out to the hallway with you.

“Hey Hori..”

“Mm?”

“Do you by any chance know the guy that was just in there?”

That question catches her attention and she looks at you confused before shrugging. “No, but I can probably find out.”

You shake your head. “No it’s alright, it’s just.. he seemed so familiar.”

thank you for reading till the end! :D

please send an ask to be added to the taglist

if your username is bolded then that means i can’t tag you!

taglist | @swtstrwbrri @anime-for-the-sleepless @nagiswifey1 @shojislady @dreamlessnight @ozalysss @en-vys @hoonobono @jkeluv @yannvi @riya-song @syyyy4ever @suyaaachin @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @hiqhkey @xomingyu @emmytrezz @hertaqueen

[questforgalas]

Code Red Training

···

GIF by mlmanakin

Summary: Kix has to give a training on the menstrual cycle to the 501st. It goes exactly how you think it would

Characters: 501st legion (Jesse, Fives, Rex, Kix, Echo, Dogma, Appo, and made up clone names), Ahsoka Tano

WC: 2.4K

Notes: This is based off another silly HC I posted the other day I couldn't get out of my head. I think the idea of the engineered clones raised surrounded by men learning about the menstrual cycle is a hilarious concept. Very silly stuff. The boys are in awe of their commander after

Tags: descriptions of the menstrual cycle and what occurs. Swearing

Tay's Masterlist

Read on AO3

Kix was running out of tasks to keep his hands busy. The informational flimsies were on the fourth variation of stacking, and he’d rearranged the educational sculptures in every possible space on the desk. He wasn’t nervous. He just could make a list of 1000 other duties he’d rather be doing than, well, this.

Kix had the 41st Elite Corps to thank for this one. The poor padawan commander of the 41st apparently wasn’t prepared for her cycle, and while she was trying to retreat to her quarters to remedy the situation, she was caught with a noticeable blood stain that, understandably, caused her troopers to go into a panic. Chaos ensued as an entire corps sprang into action to save their commander who, to their knowledge, was bleeding to death for no reason.  

There’s no official report on the matter, but the message from Insi, the medic of the 41st, simply said “The troopers involved won’t be looking Commander Offee in the eye anytime soon”.

So now, all battalions led by a female general or commander had to sit through educational training on the menstrual cycle.

A 3-D model of the uterus taunted him from across the desk.

“Gotta say, don’t exactly envy you with this one, Kix,” Captain Rex’s voice interrupted Kix’s internal battle to cancel the next session and run, but instead, he turned to face his Captain, standing at attention and offering a short salute.

“You envy everything else I get to deal with, sir?” The medic offered a sly smirk as Rex put him at ease.

“You got me there,” Rex chuckled. “Although, last I remember, it wasn’t too long ago you’d be right next to Fives and Jesse when I’d be threatening another ‘fresher duty to ward off any antics.”

Kix brought a hand to his chest, feigning hurt, “Me, sir? Antics? I’d never.”

“Just because you knew how to hide the evidence better doesn’t mean you were more innocent.” A playful shove on his shoulder broke his performance.

“It’s called a medic’s attention to detail, sir.”

Rex offered a hum in response, the fond smile on his lips softening the threat of his eye roll, and he continued to make his way across the room to the chair set up in the back corner. As the commanding officer, Rex had to give his approval on the training which meant Kix already took him through the session – The captain remained professional the entire session, but the increasing crimson of his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed – so his presence here now only meant one thing.

Rex knew who was on the roster, and he was here for a show.

“You think you’re being sly Captain, but I see right through you,” Kix accused.

“I’m not sure what you mean. It’s my duty as captain to perform surprise training inspections. It’s for the good of my men.” Rex’s face remained impassive, but the medic didn’t miss the smirk tugging at his lips or the glint in his eyes.

Before he could answer, he heard voices coming down the hall. Kix went through the same mental routine he did when he boarded a LAATi, and with one last deep breath, he readied himself for battle.

_____________________________________________________________

“Wait, wait, wait! A tube?! They have an actual tube in them?”

“Not just a tube, Hardcase. Two tubes!”

“Can females create metal?!”

“How does a baby even fit in there? Like, the same size as us in the tube? Come out of THAT!”

“FEMALES LAY EGGS?!”

The first ten minutes of the session went about as well as Kix could hope for. Characteristic of this group, they were rowdy when they filed in, most coming in from the mess hall, and many in the middle of glorified battle stories that their audience wasn’t buying. As they took their seats, they settled in, and most conversation had quieted down, but when Kix stood upfront waiting for a second too long, pointed looks by Echo and Dogma had the room quieting down quickly.

Much to Kix’s surprise, the group remained attentive and curious during the first parts of his notes as he walked them through the anatomy. Not to his surprise, all hell broke lose when he started to explain conception and gestation. When the questions erupted, Kix stole a glance to the back of the room. Rex was barely holding his composure, and it looked like Jesse’s outburst broke the professional dam as Rex quickly hid his face behind his hand, shoulders shaking.

“Alright, alright, alright. Calm down! One question at a time,” Kix barked. “First, the fallopian tubes are not metal tubes, Hardcase. It’s just what they’re called because they connect two sections. Second, yes, babies as big as we are when we come out of the tube are born through the vagina. If necessary, they can be cut out, bu-“

“THEY CUT THEM OU-“ Smack “Ow!”

“Cut it, Appo,” Echo scolded.

“As I was saying, they can be cut out, but that’s in emergency situations. And lastly, they don’t lay eggs. Not females with this anatomy. They carry eggs, and once a female hits puberty, their ovaries release one egg once a month for it to be fertilized,” Kix finished.

“Oh I can tell you allll about how they’re ferti-“ Smack. “Ow!”

“Fives, you’ve never even talked to a girl,” Echo was on a roll Kix very much appreciated.

Taking a pause before moving onto the next section, Kix swept his gaze across the room. Dogma furiously scribbled notes while Hardcase and Oddball looked like they were trying to solve the equation of an ion engine. Echo lazed with his arms across his chest, attention trained on the medic, but gave Appo another swat when he noticed his head nodding to the side. Fives still rubbed the back of his head where Echo hit him, looking like a hurt loth pup not getting to make his crude joke.

Crowded in the middle, a hand raised. Kix recognized the trooper as one of the newest 501st.

“Yes, Doma?”

“Thank you, sir. I’m just curious. What, what happens to the egg if it isn’t fertilized? Does it just…fall out?” The trooper looked around on the ground as if expecting to find a scattering of eggs around him. A soft laugh floated from the back corner of the room.

“Well, Doma, that leads us into the final part of this training. If the egg isn’t fertilized, then the female body goes through what is called the ‘menstrual cycle’ in common. It’s possibly called other things in other languages, but it all refers to the same process.”

Kix picked up the 3-D model and moved back to the front and center of the room, pointing to the uterine lining.

“When released, the egg settles in the lining of the uterus. If it’s not fertilized, the lining sheds and discards the old lining and the egg through the vagina. Then the lining builds up again over the next month preparing for the next egg,” Kix explained. Silence settled over the room and not a single trooper moved. Even Echo looked like Kix just explained a 10-page battle strategy to him with one minute to learn it. “Ok, where did I lose you all?”

Eyes glanced around, no one wanting to speak first. Finally, Dogma raised his hand.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘sheds and discards the old lining’?” he grimaced.

“Here goes nothing,” Kix thought.

“Well, exactly what it sounds like. The lining literally tears itself from the uterus, falls through the vagina, and exits.”

Eruption.

“YOU MEAN-“

“THEIR BODY IS LITERALLY TEA-“

“HOW OFTEN DOES-“

“SHEDS? LIKE, THEIR BODY JUST-“

Fives, Hardcase, Jesse, and a trooper Kix didn’t recognize jumped to their feet, yelling questions. Dogma turned pale. Doma was bracing his head in his hands. Echo’s eyes went wide, stare fixed on a spot in front of him, and troopers around the room reacted with a mix of horror and confusion. The quiet laugh in the corner of the room mingled with the ruckus. Acting fast, Kix brought his fingers to his lips and let out a whistle the patrol across camp could probably hear. Immediately, the questions ceased, but the looks of horror remained. His narrowed eyes got the message across, and all the troopers settled back into their seats. Once he was sure they were focused back on him, Kix went on.

“This is where we’ll open up the question portion of the training.”

Every hand shot up.

“Fives, if this is a joke,” Kix warned.

“No, it’s serious I promise!” Fives pleaded. Kix nodded for him to go on. “When they’re going through this men-menstrol? Mens-“

“Menstrual.”

“Thanks, vod. When they’re going through this menstrual cycle, is it painful?”

“Yes. Pain can vary female to female, but common symptoms are severe cramps. Many females experience cramps painful enough to cripple them anywhere from a couple hours to days. Other common symptoms are muscle cramps in their lower backs and legs, interrupted sleep cycle, severe mood swings, bloating, digestive changes, and headaches or migraines.” Kix explained. A room of faces grimaced back at him.

“How long does it last for,” Echo asked.

“Again, it varies female to female, but on average 3 to 7 days.”

“7 days?! They’re just…bleeding! For 7 days!” A trooper exclaimed in the back.

“Maker, I didn’t think of that,” Jesse mused. “They’re just walking around with their bodies tearing itself on the inside, and they’re just…ok?”

“Well…” Kix started. “I wouldn’t say they’re ‘ok’, but they’re expected to go through life with it. So yes, many females you encounter could be in their cycle.”

“And this happens, every month?” Jesse asked, amazement in his voice.

“Yes, once the female becomes of age, and as long as everything is regular, it happens once a month.”

“Whoa,” Awe passed over the troopers.

“Wait,” Appo shot up in his seat. “Commander Tano!”

Kix’s eyes instinctively found Rex’s. The captain’s smirk turned into a wolfish grin, and it took all of Kix’s respect for the decorated captain to not flip him off.

“What about the commander?” Kix returned to the group.

“Well, she’s a female!” Appo blurted.

“Appo, are you asking if Commander Tano experiences a menstrual cycle?” Kix asked. The captain answered with a vigorous nod of his head, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Well, I can’t disclose patient information, but Commander Tano is of the age that it’s common for females to begin theirs.”

“That..is so…fucking…cool!” Oddball exclaimed.

“You mean our Commander is out there kicking clanker butt while her body is literally tearing itself on the inside? I mean, can she be any greater?” Echo proclaimed, a proud twinkle in his eye.

“Ohhhh is that why she randomly hordes all the chocolate cakes in the mess?” Fives mused.

“I don’t think I need to remind all of you that it is not procedure or polite to bombard the commander with questions about this,” a stern voice interrupted from the back. Amusement still danced in his eyes, but the expression on Rex’s face shut all conversation down immediately.

“Yes, sir,” echoed unanimously.

“Alright, well, if there aren’t any more questions, that concludes the training,” Kix dismissed. While his brothers filed out of the room, Kix allowed himself to relax his shoulders for the first time since Fives entered.

Rex appeared in front of him, hand clasping down on his shoulder, “Not bad trooper. I think you’ll only be getting questions from Hardcase for the next 20 rotations.”

____________________________________________________________

“Hey, Rex. Have you noticed the boys have been…odd lately?” Ahsoka asked while she and Rex made their way through the halls of the Resolute,

“Not sure I know what you mean, Commander,” Rex responded.

Walking through the narrow halls, a few troopers stepped to the side to salute the commander and captain as they passed. Ahsoka noticed two things. First, their eyes went wide when they first took her in. Second, their force signatures spiked instantly with something mixed with astonishment and pride. Once they passed, she could swear she heard one of them murmur, “An absolute legend.”

These types of occurrences had been happening regularly over the last few weeks, and Ahsoka grew more confused with each one.

“I don’t know. All of them have been looking at me like the shinies look at Anakin when they meet him for the first time. It’s, unnerving,” she explained.

Rex did his best to hide the chuckle rumbling in his chest. Of course, he’d noticed his brothers completely obvious demeanor change towards their commander. Ever since Kix’s trainings finished, the whole 501st viewed their vod’ika in a whole new light – one that put her on par, if not higher, than their general.

“Eh, I’m sure it’s nothing. You know how they get, especially in between missions. Restless and bored. Start actin’ weird. Don’t pay attention to it,” Rex tried to deflect.

Making their way around the corner, Fives and Echo were spotted leaving the mess heading in their direction. When the ARCs recognized who was ahead of them, Fives bounded their way.

“Commander! Lucky running into you. Here, I grabbed an extra chocolate cake just for you. Figured you can stash it away, save it for later,” Fives suggested, giving a wink like he and Ahsoka were in on a secret only the two of them know.

“Uh, thanks, Fives. That was, kind?” Ahsoka shot a look to Rex that said “See?”, but he just shrugged her off as if Fives giving her chocolate cakes happened every day.

“Oh, and commander, I stopped by the med bay earlier. I saw they were low on high strength painkillers, so I requested that Kix put in a supply order right away so we’re well stocked. Wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared, right?” Echo added.

Rex groaned internally. For ARCs, these two were the most obvious troopers he’d ever known.

“That’s, good to know, Echo. Thanks, I think?” Ahsoka tried her best to sound polite, but the whole interaction just confused her more.

“You’re welcome! Well, we’re off to the rec center for some sparring. Rex, join us later?” Echo asked.

“Another time, Echo. I have a briefing at 1500,” Rex answered, dismissing the troopers.

Later that day, Ahsoka stashed that cake in her quarters and made a note to stop by the med bay to grab some of the painkillers before next week. She didn’t know what was going on with the boys, but she wasn’t going to not take advantage.

[galexibrain]

WIP Wednesday!

“My parents are away too by the way,” she tells Vegeta. She doesn’t ask him what he’s doing just leaning against the wall in the hallway outside the lab with his arms folded. “And?” “And with only the two of us at home it’s not really worth bothering the cook.” She can see Vegeta’s face darken. He has gotten way too used to living here. “So, either we go eating out, or we order pizza.” “Eating out?” Vegeta echoes. Bulma tries to imagine him sitting in a fancy restaurant and suppresses a giggle. “Yeah. Or, of course, we could cook something together!” That would be exciting. And dangerous. Bulma can cook, but she doesn’t like it enough to actually pay attention and thus will more often than not cause chaos and destruction. And Vegeta … she’s not sure how well he can actually cook. He does know how to make sandwiches and scrambled eggs, and she did see him once handle the barbecue when everyone else was too busy talking and he got annoyed by their lack of attention to his Saiyan appetite. But an actual meal? She tries picturing him cutting onions. “Okay, how about we do go out? It’s afternoon and I’m getting hungry. I’ll call the restaurant; they always have a free table for my family. Have you ever worn a tie before? I know you have a few collared shirts. We won’t have a jacket that fits you but it’s so hot outside we can let it slide. And I haven’t worn that little dark blue dress ever since I had Trunks ...” “What are you talking about, Woman?” Vegeta asks. “Come on, I know you’ve never actually eaten at a restaurant, but you do know them, right? You should like it; you can just sit down and order people to bring you loads of food.” He throws his hands in the air. “Fine! Do what you want! But I’m not wearing a tie!” That was easier than Bulma thought. Maybe it’s because Vegeta didn’t realize that they’re going on a date yet. Does he know what that is? Or did he skip the romantic parts of Earth life in his research?

Bulma is really really trying to get laid but she can't ask outright because if she does the guy will run away :(

[wr-n]

Bleeding Trail

A Snare and Tag fic

683 words TW: Abuse, unsympathetic character, hurt/no comfort, blood, mention of past abuse

[PLEASE BE CAREFUL]

Blood stains slowly drip down the drain, their plip-plip-plips echo around the bathroom walls. The sink below him was dyed a caution orange, matching the small trickle from his nasal passage.

"A...ngh..." He bit his tongue to suppress the whimper clawing up his throat. He felt pitiful like all the other times he was here. But he couldn't linger, no, he couldn't tempt another punishment for being away. ____________________________________________________________

"What were you doing?" Snare snipped at him, suspicious eyes zeroing in on his form in the hallway. Tag had to swallow thickly to clear the anxious clog in his throat, "I w-was just c-cleaning my f-face."

They stood in tense silence then, but it took mere moments before Tag's mind broke down and started self-destructing. His eye lights waver as his vision swims, his body quaking like he’d suddenly caught a seizure. Please, please don’t hurt me, is all his mind could conjure up amidst the maelstrom of paralyzing fear.

He felt the beginnings of a scream claw up his throat like a wild animal desperate for escape before something snapped his head to the side. It was a moment before his sight cleared and registered that he had been slapped across the face.

“Fucking pull it together. And don’t take so long next time or I’ll give you a real reason to lose your shit.”

____________________________________________________________

Newly motivated by the memory, he reached for the roll of toilet paper and with trembling hands cleaned the blood from his face and clothes. A stain he no doubt would have to try and get out later when Snare let him be.

He made quick work of it and moved down the hall once more to see his abuser on his phone in the kitchen. He must’ve been too busy with whatever he was doing on it because Tag’s arrival hadn’t caught his attention. Tag lowered his head and moved to sit on the floor beside the stool Snare sat on, barefoot on the icy floorboards. If he had gone anywhere else, he was sure to invite more bruises.

The last time he sat in a chair was just before moving in, and then was promptly ‘educated’ once Snare was sure he’d never be able to run away. He was almost ready to spiral when a large warm hand settled on his head and his body grew rigid. What was it this time? Did he do something? Was he going to be punished again?

“Did you do your chores?”

Tag scrambled and desperately pulled at the memories to see if he had. No, he was sure he had. He always did.

“Y-Y-Yes. I-I did them like you told me t-to…”

A pause and then a hum. Uh oh.

“Like I told you to? You mean if I go in there and find them done wrong, you’re going to blame me?”

The grip on his hooded skull tightened and caused a sob to escape Tag’s throat. Fuck, no, that wasn’t what he meant.

“N-No, I w-w-would never blame you…! I-I just did them w-wrong…” He rasped desperately, eyelights fizzling into scattered particles in his mania. If he messed this up- god, he already did, didn’t he? He should just get hit now and get this over with.

But the silence was far worse than the pain that accompanied it, a firm impact to his skull left Tag’s thoughts scattered across the dining room floor. Stars dance in his vision as he tipped forward and caught himself from planting his face in the wood.

“.... Make me something to eat”, as all he said.

And that was all he needed to say for Tag’s body to go into autopilot. His mind was spiraling but his body knew the way. By the time he was functional again, he had finished eggs and sausage. He blinked dumbly down at the sizzling pan before plating the food and placing it in front of Snare.

… Maybe he’ll like the food this time.

… Maybe he won’t put his hand in the pan this time.

… Maybe he’ll let him sleep tonight.

[End.]

Phew! It's been a while since I've written a story, sorry it was short. I hope this was fun for some of you to read ^^

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Twenty

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~3,000

Start from the beginning    Previous Chapter  Next Chapter  

Masterlist            Read on AO3

Eva pulled down the hem of her dress yet again in the short time it took for Josh to drive from their home to Diego’s apartment. The exposed skin of her legs and thighs left her feeling vulnerable even though no one could possibly see her through the car window.

The dress was soft black velvet with a square neckline. It clung to her body in a way that Eva didn’t like. Too constricting. She would never pick out something like this in a store, but Josh insisted. He needed a guarantee that Diego would notice.

The car pulled to a stop and Josh turned to look at her through the gap between the driver and passenger’s seat, “You remember what you’re supposed to do?”

It was not the first time that question was posed to her.

In the early morning, Eva was pulled from her bed by Alexei and dragged all the way to the dining room table where Josh was waiting. She was immensely grateful that she’d taken a thorough shower the night before while the both of them were busy elsewhere. The smell of Horacio and sex would have been very difficult to explain away.

Alexei, who stewed the whole ride in cold silence, scoffed, “You’ve told her at least five times, Josh. She gets it.”

Eva did, in fact, get it.

Josh needed the new shipment in within a day so that he could get the raw product mixed and ready for his first foray into Texas. He made a promise and needed Diego’s cooperation to keep it. So, with his back against a wall, he was going to offer Diego a little ‘stress relief’ to move things along.

She didn’t know how Horacio was going to react, especially because he wasn’t going to be Horacio when the time came for Josh to make his move. When she left him the evening before, Horacio assured her that he would turn Josh down.

I won’t let him use you, he said fervently while they waited for the cab to show.

Eva shook her head, saying, You do what you have to do to keep your cover. I can take care of myself. Just be Diego.

His response still echoed in her mind, Diego wouldn’t care if he fucked you in front of your husband, Eva.

Thinking about what he said and how he said it warmed her despite the anxiety of actually having to go through with Josh’s plan. Her worries didn’t stem from the knowledge that it would inevitably fail. Whatever promise Josh made was of no consequence to her. Eva’s fears were more simple than that. Her body already knew that it wanted Horacio and she wasn’t at all sure that she could keep the tumultuous desire at bay well enough to keep Josh and Alexei from noticing.

Alexei helped her to get out the car without revealing to the world that she wasn’t wearing underwear (another of Josh’s requirements). She followed the two of them up the stairs and into the building with her purse held defensively in front of her. It did nothing to hide her outfit, but she felt better with it pressed to her belly all the same.

The ride up to the top floor was far too quick. Eva barely had the time to draw a few calming breaths before she was stepping into the hall and crossing to the penthouse door.

Alexei glanced over his shoulder, “Just do what he wants, Birdie.”

He didn’t clarify if he meant Josh or Diego, but Eva suspected that it didn’t matter. She was at the mercy of two men—or was it three? Josh, Diego, Horacio, all so vastly different from one another, all with their own agendas. Eva only trusted one of them and he couldn’t be there with her as the other two locked horns.

The door opened and Diego smiled at them in greeting, “Come in! Welcome to my home.”

Eva caught his eye as she filed past him. A subtle nod was all he gave her before he closed the door. As was polite, the company was offered drinks, and a round of bourbon was poured. The four of them sat on a pair of couches that were divided by a coffee table. Eva and Josh on one side, Alexei and Diego on the other.

She sipped at the liquor and looked around, pretending that she hadn’t already seen the place. Horacio had put up some art—abstract splashes of color—and a new floor rug. Otherwise, not much was changed.

“You said you wanted to talk about our deal,” Diego prompted.

Josh leaned heavily into the cushions of the couch, one arm laying across the back of it. Eva sat straight up with her ankles locked together and waited for Josh to tell her it was time. Already she could feel sweat beading at her hairline. Her stomach was tied into anxious knots. She had to hold tight to her drink so that her hands didn’t shake.

“I need the shipment by tomorrow,” Josh said in a matter of fact tone.

Diego smiled, “I told you I need three more days. We had a hold up at the border.”

“I’m sure there are ways to get around it,” Josh replied easily.

A shrug, “Its a lot of work just to get it here two days early.”

There was Josh’s opening. Eva could feel the muscles in her husband’s body tense as he, too, saw it. She drank deeply from her glass, hoping that the bourbon would give her the courage to do what had been asked of her.

Alexei’s position to the right of his target was deliberate. If Diego got too rough with Eva, if things went wrong, he could easily step in and stop it. The relaxed posture was a ruse, a smoke screen for the potential violence he could mete out without warning. His proximity didn’t make Eva feel any safer.

Josh cocked his head to the side, “What if I gave you an incentive?”

Diego’s brow rose, “More money?”

“Not quite,” Josh said with a light, calculated chuckle, “Something worth a little more than money.”

Expression dubious, Diego replied, “What is worth more than money?”

For several seconds, she allowed herself to marvel at the act playing out before her. He knew exactly what Josh was aiming for and yet looked completely at a loss. She wondered how far he would take it, wondered if he would make Josh say it clear and loud.

Eva carefully drew in and let out a long breath. A hand brushed her cheek and it took every ounce of her willpower to remain still when her body wanted to pull away. The silence that followed left her heart beating painfully in her chest. She kept her eyes on the rug below, not wanting to chance a look at any of the men in the room.

“You’re offering me your wife?” Diego concluded, “To keep?”

The intrigue in his tone was so believable, so genuinely surprised.

Josh coughed a laugh, “No. Not to keep. To borrow—might help you figure out how to speed up our delivery.”

More silence. Eva held very still.

A tap to her knee, “Why don’t you go over and show him?”

This was her cue. Eva swallowed what was left in her glass and set it on the coffee table as she stood to cross the space between. She still couldn’t pull her eyes from the rug.

Josh caught her hand, “It’ll be nicer if you crawl.”

Face burning with humiliation, Eva dropped carefully down to her knees and balanced her weight on her hands. Then, knee over knee, hand over hand, she crawled until she sat before the shining leather of Diego’s shoes. Leaning back on her heels, Eva folded her hands in her lap and waited for further instruction.

“I know you like her,” Josh taunted, “You’re a busy man. How often do you get to indulge? Especially with an omega.”

The body before her shifted and a hand lifted her chin. Eva looked up at Diego, noting that his gaze was on Josh. It was hard to imagine that this was the same man she was with the night before. Every little detail was meticulously curated to appear as both brash and dangerous. Only his scent could reveal that he was not quite was he seemed.

“I am often amazed by the differences in our cultures, Dr. Moore,” he said lightly, “For example, where I come from, we don’t put omegas on their knees.”

The movement was so fast that Eva didn’t have time to react. She went from kneeling on the floor to sitting astride his thighs from one second to the next. It was a reflex to steady her body by placing her hands on his shoulders, to use her thighs to grip his hips. Her spine remained straight and stiff as she tried to convey discomfort.

“This,” he said, “is where our omegas belong.” He cupped her jaw, “Let me look at you.”

Eva kept her eyes diverted as he turned her head one way and then the other. They landed on Alexei’s hand as it dangled from where he propped his elbow on the couch cushion. The fingers were loose, but the muscle of his forearm was tense. She didn’t need to glance at his face to know he was watching every move Diego made intently.

The scent of him hit her. And, suddenly, it wasn’t Diego holding her. It was Horacio. Eva met his eyes. They were a comforting warm brown that, despite the hard expression on his face, were sparking with affection. This was not a man that was going to hurt her. He was only playing a role to keep the both of them safe.

“Was this your idea, hmm?” he teased as his thumb brushed her mouth, “Bored little housewife needs a little excitement?”

Incensed by the implication, Eva snapped her teeth at him.

He laughed, delighted, “You told me she was cold, Dr. Moore. I don’t think that’s true.” His voice dropped lower, “I think she has some fire in her.”

Horacio’s arm wound around her waist and pulled her closer. Eva let him. Dress pulled up around her hips, she settled higher into his lap and tried not to enjoy the rough slide of his slacks against her skin.

“She’ll do what I tell her to do, Diego.”

Eva’s jaw worked as she tried and failed to hide her ire. Fucking Horacio was something she would do willingly. The implication that Josh could order her to do so made her want to turn her middle finger up at him.

“Is that true?” Horacio asked as his fingers pushed under the hem of her dress. Eva watched him realize that there was nothing underneath and pressed her lips together to hide the smile. His eyes widened briefly, turned molten, “You do what he wants?”

Eva struggled to maintain her composure as his thumb brushed her clit ever so softly. The feather-light touch was a tease, a promise that Horacio already told her he wasn’t going to fulfill. She pushed her hips into it, anyway.

Leaning forward, he tried to catch her mouth in a kiss. Eva hissed and once again snapped her teeth at him, which only amused him further. His hand left her center and joined the other to circle her neck. The pressure stilled Eva’s movements, her breaths heavier as she stared at him.

“I think you’re wrong, doctor,” he pronounced, “I think your little bird is more bold than she lets on.”

The hand opposite Alexei’s narrowed gaze rotated so that Horacio could massage her gland gently. Eva thought that he might be trying to soothe her. The soft touch sent little waves of pleasure rolling all over. She realized too late that she was already wet with arousal, that her body didn’t care that they were pretending.

“Regardless,” Josh said, “She’s my offer. You can have her for a few hours if you can get my shipment to me within a day.”

Horacio leaned forward until his head blocked Eva’s view of Alexei. The pressure of his chest against her bent arms made it very clear to her that she had no room to move. All she could do was sit and wait for the men around her to make a decision.

Which was oddly freeing.

Eva didn’t have to do anything. All she had to do was sit. And, for the most part, that’s what she did. The line of her vision was limited to the bend of Horacio’s neck and the high back of the couch. She focused on his skin, his scent, and the plush flesh of the gland behind his ear.

Horacio, like Eva, might be playing a role. But, the barely perceptible pulse of his gland made it clear that he was also enjoying it. The realization sent a palpable shiver through her body. Horacio’s hands flexed in silent question. Conscious of the eyes in the room, Eva ran her fingers over his shoulder in silent assurance.

“What if I want more than a few hours?”

Is he negotiating? She though incredulously. Followed by, Do I want him to negotiate?

“I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”

He was negotiating.

Feeling spiteful, Eva tilted her hips forward against Horacio’s. She was rewarded with a harsh breath and a warning squeeze. Not to be deterred, Eva pursed her lips into an ‘o’ and pushed a focused burst of air onto his gland.

Horacio reached up and grabbed a chunk of her hair, pulling her head back until her spine was taut, “The shipment delivery is out of my hands. Getting it here two days from now took more effort than I like to use for this kind of deal. I can’t make it move any faster.” He paused, letting that sink in, “I don’t like being manipulated, Dr. Moore. The next time you throw your wife at me, I will make you regret it.”

Then, casually, he let go of her hair and pushed her to the side and into Alexei’s arms. Eva let the Russian rotate her so that he sat between her and Diego, adjusting the hem of her dress the whole way.

Across the coffee table, Josh was red with fury, “Then, I guess our business is done for today.”

Diego, undisturbed, stood, “I agree. Thank you for your visit and for your offer. I am glad we can work so well together.”

They argued the whole way home. Josh thought Alexei’s info about Diego’s preferences was wrong. Alexei thought Josh was wrong about Diego’s integrity. Neither of them spoke to Eva.

She sat in the back of the car and silently reveled in the way Horacio’s scent clung to her clothes and skin. For once, she didn’t have to worry about one or both of them figuring out that she’d been with him. The tiny bit of relief that came with that knowledge made up for her body’s disappointment that they were once again separated.

Eva had the good fortune of being ignored long enough for her to walk inside the house and saunter up the stairs to her room. She sat at her vanity and took off her jewelry, carefully putting each piece back where it belonged. Then, she plucked a tissue from the box sitting nearby and rubbed off her lipstick. Tossing it away, Eva stood and yelped.

Alexei was standing in her doorway.

Hand to her chest, she gasped, “Don’t do that!”

He laughed, “I’m sorry, Birdie.” Then, “May I come in?”

Eva nodded and crossed her arms, waiting for him to say whatever he was going to say.

Alexei pushed his hands into his slacks as he approached, “You did well today.”

“He didn’t take the bait,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

“I think,” he said thoughtfully, “that we learned a lot about our Diego today.”

Eva’s stomach dropped, “Oh?”

He hummed in confirmation, “I think we learned that he is a bit more than your average drug dealer.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “Almost anyone would take the opportunity to get leverage over their business partner, especially one who makes so many demands of them.”

“I don’t understand,” she murmured.

It was true. Eva had no idea where Alexei was going with this little speech.

“Josh has been a bit of a brat with Diego, if I’m honest,” Alexei explained, “I’ve had to mediate more than a few little spats between them. And now we have Josh offering to let the man fuck his wife in exchange for expediting product. As I said, most men would have taken that offer.”

Eva passed hand over her face, “Okay?”

“So,” he continued, “we can conclude that Diego either has higher morals than our other partners. Not likely. Or, he’s playing the long game.”

Does he know? She asked herself wildly.

Making a soft, soothing sound, Alexei grasped her shoulders, “Don’t worry so much about it. I can handle him. He won’t get near you again.”

Eva would let him think she feared Diego if it meant that he looked no further than that. She could play at a the tiny, terrified bird Alexei thought she was. That was, at least, comfortable.

“Now,” Alexei said as he pulled away, “I need to go downstairs and prevent your husband from having a meltdown.”

She mirrored Alexei’s wry smile as he turned to walk away. When she heard his step get down the stairs, she hurried to close the door so that she could let out a huge, relieved breath.

Yet another test passed.

Eva’s secret would remain a secret for another day. She hoped that it stayed that way until she could extricate herself from the house. In her closet was more money than anyone had any right to have. If she rationed it, Eva could live a free life for years. It was getting to that free life that was the problem.

A thought drifted forward. A reminder, really. Eva had one resource she hadn’t yet tapped to bolster her plan. She almost didn’t want to drag her friend into the mess that was her marriage, but she had offered.

Sighing, Eva made her decision.

She was going to have to plan a visit with Bobbi Lynn.

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two 120

Morning came to Nyota slow and quiet, which surprised her after how much effort yesterday had taken. After a lifetime under Miniknog rule, she was by no means surprised at how hard it was to choose words with such care. But it did surprise her how easily she could recover now. It wasn’t a matter of being used to using caution, she realized, as she got up and washed the sleep off her face. She would have woken up gently for most of her life if all it took was being used to that. But the answer still eluded her as she finished working a comb through her mane, so she set it aside for now. It would come to her later.

“Ya get beat half to heck and back again, and ya still get up earlier’n the rest of us?” Lumen asked, voice hollow and echoing in something like a Novakid yawn as he caught up with her in the kitchen.

“I took a few days to sleep in,” Nyota said mildly. The sugar was still in the right place, which meant Namina had been busy last night.

Lumen made a funny whirring sound and swiped the egg out of her hand. “Sure ya did. An hour ain’t sleepin’ in enough, ma’am. Now sit, I’ll treat today.”

Nyota gave him a curious look and took up another egg. “You can help, but I won’t ask you to cook. We will be feeding quite a few people today.”

He neatly cracked the egg one-handed, which was admittedly impressive, given that she’d never seen him make anything but mixed drinks before. “Ya still oughta sit. You’re favorin’ that leg again.”

Nyota hissed a short curse as she realized he was right, and another as her half-conscious attempt to shift her weight to hide it sent a shock of pain up through her hip. Through sheer force of will, she managed to not to crack the countertop with an involuntary grip, but it was a near thing.

Lumen hissed softly, sympathetically. “Worse than I thought, huh? Hold still a tick, ma’am.” He slid a stool over to her and helped her sit down. “Easy does it, there ya go.”

“It’s from using it so much yesterday,” Nyota said with a sigh. Her face was a little tight from pain, but she made her voice relax again with long practice. “I nearly forgot. This happens sometimes if I go too long without walking, then try too much at once. Don’t worry about it. I can work it through. It is temporary.”

Lumen shook his head and knelt down to lay his hands on either side of her knee. The warmth smoothed away the remaining needles of pain, leaving just the dull ache behind as Nyota sighed in surprised relief. Lumen looked up at her, glowing a little brighter. “Still don’t like to see ya in pain, ma’am. But I know better’n to stop ya from cookin’. Talk me through this. Bet we can still make breakfast if ya stay put in yer cozy seat.”

Nyota learned very quickly, as she talked Lumen through cooking, that he was not used to cooking for organic people. Or very good at it, either, despite his trick with the egg before. But there was love in what he did, and he followed her directions close. By the time a sleepy Arjun shuffled in, on the hunt for caffeine, they had three batches of muffins steaming on the counter, and Lumen was pulling a fourth out of the oven.  

“Finally got her to sit back a bit?” Arjun asked with a raspy chuckle, swirling coffee in the pot to gauge how full it was before he poured some into his mug.

“Much as she lets me,” Lumen replied before Nyota could think up a remark that would defend her honor. “And I didn’t burn down the kitchen.”

“Only because she’s minding you,” Arjun said, pointing his mug at Lumen. “Sonny’s told me stories.”

“What sort of stories?” Nyota took a sip of her own coffee to hide her smile as Lumen made a sound like a deflating accordion.

“The fun sort.” Arjun took a long drink, letting the steam fog up his reading glasses. “Made it strong today, huh? My Nana’d say this would put hair on your chest. So. We got a plan?”

Nyota lowered her mug to watch him, thoughtful. “I doubt Lumen will let me do much. Why do you ask?”

The old man smirked at her. “You only brew coffee this strong for three reasons. Tormenting me, stripping paint, or to get your mind sharp. And there’s easier ways to torment me than wasting good bean. You got a plot cooking.”

“Perhaps I do.” Nyota sloshed the dregs around the bottom of her mug, thinking. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, brewing it strong, but… Arjun was likely onto something. “I know I need to rest a while more. But… we should still work out our next move.”

“After breakfast,” Lumen said firmly. At least he didn’t shut it down. “If we go anywhere, ya gotta tell the whole crew.”

“I will. Well, let’s test these muffins, shall we? The smell might lure them down.”

[worldwidewizardingweb]

The Post (draft 1, pt 1)

It was March 25th, two weeks after Cyrus Sinclair’s 11th birthday and he was waiting anxiously at the breakfast table as he did every morning since. The room was filled with the savory smells of breakfast, all thanks to Winnifred Sinclair, though only three of the six chairs were occupied.

“Has the post come?” He asked for the umpteenth time, fork tapping at the aging wood, not even bothering with his eggs.

“Not yet Cy, don’t worry it’ll come.” A woman with curly auburn hair reassured the boy, she affectionately ruffled his hair, which he took after his mother. The unruly mass of curly hair, large and unkempt after a night’s sleep, seemed to never sit quietly despite years of trying. 

“Sure it will, you’ve been showing signs since you were three.” His older brother Noah grinned, patting at the younger’s back. Noah, though years younger, looked nearly identical to the man who was sitting directly across from Cyrus, and was busy reading the newspaper. They both sported rimmed glasses that smartly finished their appearances, light brown straight hair neatly combed back. Noah was four years older than his brother but seemed much more mature, but he had always been like this since Cyrus could remember. 

“But what if it got lost?” His appetite seemed to have deserted him and he pushed the plate away from him with great distaste. His mother smiled softly and slid the plate back towards him. 

“Dumbledore’s a smart man, it wouldn't have gotten lost.” 

As if on cue, Felix, the family owl, flew through the kitchen window, a small white letter landing promptly in Cyrus’ open hands. 

“See, smart man, that Dumbledore.” Cyrus’ father smiled warmly at him, sounds of newspaper ruffling loudly as he set it down, “But I’d best be going, the Daily Prophet isn’t going to write itself, is it now?”

“Oh Eddie, don’t forget your lunch. Your mother has been pestering me about keeping you fed, honestly it’s as if that woman thinks I’m starving you.” She eyed his slightly rounding middle with contentment. “For Merlin’s sake, you could do with losing a few pounds.”

“Winnie, you’re a peach.” Her husband grinned, kissing her cheek quickly before grabbing the sack and hurrying out the back door, where he promptly disapparated. 

“Mum, have you seen my robes? I’ve been looking all over for them, I think I’ve lost another pair. I swear if Ev is– oh! Your letter’s come? Well, go on, open it.” A voice carried down the stairs, loud stomps echoing through the small room. A girl with long hair down to her waist stopped short as she stared at the youngest boy of the family.

Though a foot shorter, a carbon copy of her sister followed behind, green eyes peeking enviously at the paper held tight in Cy’s grip.

With shaky fingers Cyrus tore the envelope at the red seal and pulled the parchment out. 

“Oh wonderful, they’ve attached the list of supplies have they? Well, we’ve got plenty of time to get it all, I suppose we’ll have to make a trip to Diagon Alley.”

Tatum lifted her head at this, pausing for only a moment before sliding into the chair her father had just vacated, “Mum, can I go as well? I might be needing new robes, and I wanted to have a look at the Nimbus 2000. I heard it’s the fastest yet.”

A snort came from across Cyrus, Noah wasn’t trying too hard to hold back the smile on his face. “What do you want with a Nimbus 2000? You don’t even play Quidditch.”

“Well, I was thinking I might try for team–”

“For the team? Oh that’s right you’ve got a thing for the Hufflepuff seeker, don’t you?”

“Shush Noah.”

“Cedric Diggory isn’t it? Of course all the girls fawning over him, why wouldn’t you?”

“Stop it Noah.” But Tatum was blushing fiercely at the mention of Cedric, a dead giveaway. “I only thought I’d give it a try.”

Noah grinned at her as if he was going to say more, but then thought the better of it. “Actually mum, I think I’d better go as well, I heard Weatherby’s come out with a new edition of Professor Dippet’s memoir. I’d like to get a headstart on it, I just know that Professor Binns is going to require it. They were friends, did you know?”

“Certainly, why don’t we make a trip out of it? We’ll stop by Gringotts before we pick out Cy’s robes and we’ll make everyone’s stops.”

“Can I get my wand then?”

“Of course, we’ll swing by Ollivander’s.”

“Mum?”

“Yes Ev, you’re coming.”

Evangeline’s face lit up with excitement at the idea of going to Diagon Alley, it just meant that she was one step closer to Hogwarts.

©Copyright 2024. World Wide Wizarding Web. All rights reserved.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Thirteen: Proceed To The Exit

Summary- 5.9 Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Winter Break is swiftly coming, making you busier than ever with getting your drama club ready for its first performance. There is also the aquarium date Curtis invited you to just before Thanksgiving, which is some much needed adult time for you both.

Warnings- Adult sexual activities, oral, some talk about critters like bats.

A/N- Hello hello! I've been waiting for this chapter because personally, I love aquariums and museums. The one I described in this chapter is very reminiscent of the one where I live. I have been going since I was a kid, still, try to make a once a year trip to visit. I was always that kid that pretended dinosaurs still existed, picked up snakes, lizards, and toads, makes sure to catch spiders to release them, and brought home frog eggs to hatch them. Anyways the huge fish like the sturgeon in our Echo Center always fascinated me, like living dinosaurs. The readers' love for this is my love for all this. As always thank you to everyone who reads and shares. Special thank you to @what-is-your-plan-today for the edits. Divider made by @firefly-graphics.

Chapter Twelve / Masterlist

The following days flew by, You and your class were getting ready for winter break and doing evening rehearsals with the drama club after school. Then there was prepping for sending out packages for your sister and her family in Florida as well as a package of gifts to your parents in New York, not to mention Christmas cards to your aunt, uncle, and cousins that you still kept somewhat in touch with. All while trying to keep up with life in general. The first couple weeks December was turning nothing short of hectic.

Curtis remained just as busy himself with the train yard, as well as helping Paulie at the bar during the busier time of year. It put some extra cash in his savings and you had insisted he does it since you were busy most evenings with after school projects. A few days a week he would stop off at the school on his way to Paulie’s, catch sight of you working with the kids on stage finalizing lines. When you would notice him standing in the back watching, you would slip away from them to go do a quick visit. 

Curtis never missed the enthusiastic grin that would cross your face when you would weave your way through the cafeteria that doubled as the school auditorium. “I didn't think I would get to see you today.” Your eyes would gleam in relief when he would hold up the to go package of food he picked up on his way over. “Or that you would be bringing me dinner.” You would go to your tiptoes to give a thank you kiss and Curtis would take advantage of you being in his space to draw you in closer. 

After all, these were few and far between on weekdays when you both were doing what life required of you, anxiously waiting for the weekend to roll around. “Figured you were probably too busy to make yourself something proper tonight.” Setting the bag down on one of the nearby tables, you would look a tad sheepish as he made an accurate assumption. You hadn't even given a thought to what you would have for dinner and most likely snack on whatever random thing you would find in your apartment before you went to bed exhausted. Your hand slid down his chest to tangle lightly in his chain, not wanting to separate the two of you quite yet. 

“Okay, you caught me, I would have remembered eventually.” You confessed and he gave a slight grumbling sigh that he knew he had been right. “But thank you, for looking out for me Curtis.” 

“Someone needs to. The kids look good up on stage, they must be excited for opening night?” 

You beamed, proud of how hard your students have been working and excited as well for the first big show at Mason Academy you have been a part of. “Tomorrow night, they are so excited and have worked really hard. I just hope the weather holds out so we don’t have to cancel.” 

“It will be fine.” Curtis assured you, a frequent weather checker due to working outdoors most of the time. “Save me a seat, I’m coming to watch with Tanya tomorrow. Timmy has been talking non stop about it she said.” 

“As director, I get prime seating options.” You promised. One of the students called your name, making you look back. “I should probably get back.” You sighed tiredly. 

“I also got to get to Paulie's for a shift,” Curtis stated, cupping your chin and drawing you into a goodbye kiss, bringing his lips to yours with a gentle brush. It made you tingle from the top of your head to the tips of your toes feeling his whiskers tickle you and the press of his plump bottom lip to yours. “Text me before bed?” 

“Promise, don’t cause no trouble at the bar.” 

“Tell people stop testing me then.” He winked as he gave a quick wave to Timmy who was on stage. “Talk later Honey.” 

You gave a little wave goodbye before grabbing your food, and when you looked in the bag you saw he sent enough for you to have for a couple days at least as he always did, and made your way back to the stage. “One last run through guys, then I think we are ready for tomorrow!” The cheer from the kids echoed through the cafeteria. 

The night of the play proved to be a success, Curtis showed up with Tanya, finding out that you had reserved some seats for the two of them. Their names were written in sharpie with smiley faces on a piece of paper.

Tanya was the proud mother, taking many pictures and excitedly whispering to Curtis about how hard Timmy had worked at home memorizing his lines. For Curtis’s part, he enjoyed the show. The kids certainly had done a good job and he saw all those costumes you had diligently worked on over at his house. He also caught glimpses of you behind the curtain, helping out. It wasn't till after the show you finally stepped out into the spotlight with the rest of the kids, and very much like every time he sees you, he is caught up in just how beautiful you looked. 

Curtis could tell you were enjoying yourself, thanking all the parents who had come to see the play, your energy was open, full of smiles and laughs. You were steadily shaking hands and giving praise to how hard the kids worked. Curtis waited for the stream of parents to start to thin out before he approached you with a small bouquet of carnations to gift to you. When you turned to him, there was no missing the excited relieved look you had at seeing him, your eyes were shining bright and a smile was permanently on your lips. You looked happy.

“What a great show Honey.” He held out the bright yellow and pink flowers. You dipped your head to them, your eyes closing as you inhaled there sweet scent. 

“They did all the work Curtis, I just helped. These are beautiful, thank you.” 

“Mmmh, I saw a lot of you in the play, even if no one else knows it.” He let his hand rest against your back to tuck you close. 

It was infectious, your energy and Curtis deemed himself lucky to get to bask in it. 

That Saturday night had you getting ready for the special date. Curtis had invited you before Thanksgiving to attend the adult night at the Aquarium, the function to raise money for the care of the animals living there and you were beyond excited to attend. It required a bit of dressing up, which now you felt much more confident in your choices. You chose a dress that was appropriate for evenings out- a little black dress that shaped around your curves. Your makeup done up a bit more then usual and your hair whisked in a style that pinned it back, allowing the slope of your neck to show off. 

Curtis as well was giving it his all, dress shoes were swapped out from his typical boots or sneakers, black dress slacks that accentuated his long legged stature up to a slim waist. A blue button up shirt was tucked into his pants. 

He was messing with his shirt in the hallway mirror, scowling at himself as he tried getting the collar to straighten out. His eyes lifted to see you coming down the stairway, and his eyes got wide before turning to face you.

“Honey, you look…” You felt your chest tickle with pride and wanting to downplay what he was saying. “You look incredible Honey.” 

You took his compliment to heart instead, not disputing it or trying to brush it off. You licked your lips nervously but gave a smile. “Thank you, do you want some help with that?” 

Tilting his chin up to give you plenty of room, he nodded. “Please? I’m no good at this stuff.” 

“Oh, I think your pretty damn fine with it Curtis.” You stepped in close to reach him. 

He kept the top of his shirt open, choosing not to go with a tie, but when you tucked his collar down, admiring him up close, you couldn’t help but find the entire look and effort very enticing. He had even been sure to trim himself, cutting back the shagginess of his beard and making his hair crisp with a fresh buzz. 

“Everything okay?” His blue eyes a tad nervous as he fiddled with the buttons and you covered his hand with yours to stop him from fretting. 

“I was just caught up in how damn good you looked Curtis.” You were rewarded with a slight pink tinge to the tops of his ears, well aware the back of his neck would be red as well. “Can you go warm the truck up? I will be out in a minute?” 

He patted his pants pockets while glancing around before you handed him his wallet and phone. “Right, lock up on your way out? I got the garage door open, come through there. I already pulled your car in.” 

Assuring him that you would, while he went to do that you went through the house one last time making sure everything was off, leaving the light on above the stove for when you two got back, you made your way outside. 

This time you two went to dinner before the aquarium at the French restaurant Curtis had taken you two at the start of your first date. This time you both enjoyed yourselves, delving into conversation while eating dinner. There simply wasn’t any awkwardness. Curtis opted for grilled Angus steak in a red wine sauce and you had a piece of snapper, also grilled in its own fresh sauce. 

By the time you both finished, there wasn't room for another bite for dessert, and having whatever was left boxed to go, you two proceeded to the museum. 

It was high school since Curtis last attended the freshwater aquarium, but his guess had been right that you would enjoy it. When he led you inside to show his online tickets to require the wristbands needed, you were already clutching at his hand excitedly. Ushered through one last set of doors and out of the cold for good, your jackets were checked and a glass of champagne was offered to both of you. Your arm hooked through his as you sipped from your flute, your eyes roving around to take in the different directions that you two could go.

“Where should we go visit first?” 

Curtis took a look around himself, getting reacquainted with the space. “Well, I think that way was displays of local habitats you will find on Lake Superior which includes otters…” 

“Otters?” You perked up and Curtis nodded to confirm. “I want to see the otters.” 

He chuckled and winked. “Anything you wish Honey.” Leading you in the general direction that the crowd was going, the area leading towards the otters was brightly lit, with glass turtle tanks built into the wall where the reptiles swam and lounged on great log displays.

Something under the water caught your eye and carefully you lowered to look at the lower part of the tank, Curtis bent from the waist to look into the display to see small minnows darting in schools from one particular turtle going for the chase. You admired the underwater set up, it did indeed look like a piece of the lake was set up in the tanks. 

“Think they catch any of those little bastards? They are quick in the water.” Curtis observed while he moved back to a stand, offering his arm for you to get back up as well. The surface of the display hid the chaos underneath, the row of turtles slowly slipping off one by one. 

“That many turtles, I’m sure they don’t stand much of a chance. Turtles are faster then anyone gives them credit for. You ever see one of those race across the road?” 

You two wander from the display, glancing in others showing woodland frogs peeping loudly but well hidden so you and Curtis had to search them out, garter snakes lazily stretching under the heated lamps and toads blinking at the two of them before giving a lazy hop in the small enclosure. You paused at some earthy colored newts creeping along damp moss.

“I used to love these guys. Only ours were fiery orange with dots on there backs. Oh… these too.” You shifted to the next tank, the salamander was much longer and black in color, yellow spots dotting its back. “My sister and I used to go out in the springtime at night and go looking for them. They would always cross through our yard.” 

Curtis peered into the tank. “I remember my grandfather caught one of these at the freight yard, runs right along the river so we see them there all the time in the spring while they are migrating. Came home with it and sent my grandmother just about through the front door.” Curtis laughed at the memory. “I can still hear her now ‘Wilford you get that thing out of my house.’ She wasn’t too keen on any of them indoors. Especially snakes.” 

“What did he do with it?” You asked, having lost focus on the small amphibian in the tank. You were much more keen on watching Curtis’s expressions recalling the memory. 

“He loaded me into the truck and we went back to where he found it. He insisted I let it go so I got to hold it for a bit before it scurried away.” His arm loosely fell around your waist, tucking you in close and smiling to himself. A genuine smile, you could see the way it crinkled the corner of his eyes and made his features relaxed.

“I think.. Yup. The otters are next.” He led you along, keeping you closer now since the crowd started filling out more. You made a mental note of the location for when you brought your class down on a field trip. Know where the otters were because they would be the popular exhibit.

The crowd broke to a large glass wall, the bottom half was much like the turtle tank, filled with water that mimicked the bottom a lake bed. More eye level was the otters above ground display, which featured logs and brush, a slide made to look like a hollowed tree, caverns for them to dart into. 

There was also a large amount of snow dumped in it, which the otter pair were rolling in and sliding into theirwater tank before rushing out to hop into the pile again. Their handlers stood among the pile, giving the presentation, drawing in the crowd. Curtis let his hand settle on your waist, listening to the display given which he knew would help draw in the funds the aquarium was looking for. 

You snapped a few pictures from your phone, listening to the info given while you sent the pictures to your sister with plenty of heart emojis. You inched closer, trying to weave your way through the crowd but you suddenly felt self-conscious, like you were in the way of people. You drew yourself into a corner, glancing over your shoulder to make sure you weren't blocking anyone. 

Curtis ended up following you, pulling you to stand in front of him and tucking your head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around you, seemingly knowing that you suddenly were feeling so in the way and to big in your space. He had no problem easing you two to a better spot in front of the tank. His head dropped to whisper in your ear. “Take a couple more pictures, I'm sure your sister would love these shots.” 

You eased up, and started to forget about being nervous or anxious as you felt his hands resting on your waist and the firm length of his body behind you. You did just as he said, take more pictures and enjoy the show of the otters playing in the snow. You would occasionally lift your phone to show him your sister's response before you moved away from the display. In the less crowded area, he came back up beside you, his arm lifting to drape over your shoulder, still relaxed as ever. Stepping from the bright light room that featured the otters, you two entered an area with large aquariums featuring some of the different styles of lake habitats and aquatic species. 

Curtis let you lead the way the rest of the time, catching a glimpse of who you must be in the classroom as you talked about different species of fish, pointing out the shape of fin patterns for different streams of water, what kind of food they would hunt and what animals would hunt them.

“I didn’t know I was dating a regular outdoors woman.” He arched a curious brow at you and you shrugged a bit, feeling suddenly shy about it. 

“If I wasn’t a teacher, I would have been a biologist. I always loved wildlife. Outdoors woman? Yeah, that is stretching it. I really hate mosquitos.” You shuddered in his hold, making him burst out laughing at your confession. 

“Really hate them Honey, like a lot?” He teased as he couldn't contain his laughter, his hand falling from your shoulder to slap against his chest. You scowled at him in play, elbowing his stomach in retaliation. 

“Okay Mr.Big Shot, you like everything out there?” 

He finished off his champagne in a swallow and you both set your emptied glasses on a bypassing host. “Thank you.” He said, both of you declining another glass. “Oh hell no, know what I hate… Bats.” 

“Bats? Bats are adorable.” While you two ducked into another section, coming up to a huge large tank casting the room in a soft blue glow. You both paused in front of it, watching huge fish, some as long as your body, swim lazily around. 

“They used to scare the shit out of me.” Curtis admitted. “They come swooping down out of nowhere and just barely miss you. I got stuck up in the attic once and there was a whole colony that had set up house. I just about broke down that door to get out.” 

You bit your lip at the mental image of big giant Curtis running from a couple of bats. His gaze looked down at you. “I’m sorry, I know its not okay to laugh.” Your voice bubbled while you tried to keep it somber and he nudged you, winking. 

“You can laugh, it is funny.” 

You let it out, a real genuine laugh, making him join right in while you two watched the lake giants in the tank. Once you two died down, your face lifted up to catch the tanks glow just right, your eyes sparkling in admiration at one in particular.

“That your favorite? The lake sturgeon?” He asked and you nodded, your head tilting as a small smile appeared. 

“Always, they are kind of like looking at the past, you know? Like a living dinosaur. They look intimidating and dangerous, but so rarely will hurt anyone. Plus they are just beautiful, something so large and yet elegant in how it moves.” You sighed almost wistfully at your statement and Curtis grasped your chin gently to look at him, away from the tank. 

“I see what you mean, but I think the only thing I can actually call beautiful in this room is you Honey.” He firmly reminded you, pressing a kiss to your mouth before you could rebut him. “And I refuse to accept anything else.” 

“You are stubborn Curtis, you can’t compare me to fish.” 

“I kinda just did and don’t take anything back.” He smirked and you shook your head at him while he took your hand. As more people came into the area, you two retreated, following the flow of the room till you two went into a river display. 

You continued to let Curtis lead you along, loosing concentration in what the displays were now. Your attention was focused more on the pull of Curtis’s shoulders under the light blue shirt, shifting just right so you could see the muscles in his back with his movements, the shirt tucked firmly in his black dress pants, that in your opinion made his ass look just as good as a pair of jeans could. Whenever the two of you would pause, he would squint just slightly to read the smaller print once in a while when he was really interested in something he would mouth the words along with what he was reading. 

It struck you just how nice this date out was for you, no one would have ever considered taking you to an aquarium. Most certainly not your ex, you had invited him once to something like this and he immediately shot it down. But, not only did Curtis bring you, he fully engaged in it as well, making sure to ask you questions and making his own observations. Even opening up to tell you things about his past. All of it just caught up to you how lucky you were to have met him. It also made you want to show him how much you appreciated him. 

You sidled up closer to him, running your hand along the expanse of his back while leaning up to his ear. “Curtis…” 

He paused from his reading to turn his attention to you. His gaze narrowed slightly at the way you were biting your lip. “You okay Y/N?” 

“Come on, I have another place I want us to check out real quick.” Your hand weaved with his and this time you took the lead, by passing groups of people who were listening to hosts discuss the importance of the display. But you didn’t pause, not till the groups of people started to thin out, leaving behind the more interesting features of an aquarium. As a teacher, you knew the ones people tended to ignore. 

Stepping through a curtain under a large sign that said ‘History of The Great Lake.’ Just as you suspected, it was almost empty. A few couples wandered from old grainy photograph to another, reading the history. You turned to Curtis and put a finger to your lips for quiet. You knew what you were looking for, and when you saw the corner enclosed mostly in darkness, a curtain covering a red exit sign. 

Pulling him around the curtain, you faced Curtis and cupped his face to bring him in closer, urgently kissing him, drawing him in till his hands grabbed at handfuls of your ass to arch you into him as the kiss turned greedy, both of you going breathless to draw away from each other for gasps of air. This is when you prayed to everything you could think of that there wouldn’t be an alarm on the door. And when you backed into it and it clicked open, the two of you stumbling through, it stayed silent. 

Perfect. 

Once through, you pushed him lightly against the wall, dropping your hands to his belt with a smirking look before you dropped to your knees in front of him, fingers easing his belt out of the loop.

“Oh, shit. Right here?” He looked down at you with a wide-eyed surprised expression as you popped it open, along with the button holding his pants closed. The tip of your tongue slid along your lips as you glanced up at him through your lashes. 

“As long as it is okay with you Curtis.” Your fingers found the hidden away zip, tugging it down with a swipe of the zipper's teeth. You started kissing along his hip through his pants, not yet tugging down, but your fingers curled in the band of pants and boxers. “If you want me to stop, I will stop right now.” 

Did he want you to stop? Hell no, his brain was screaming at him while you looked up at him just as sweet as always, the hint of lust in your eyes as you waited for his answer. Your lips kiss swollen red and your tongue just adding to the image of you kneeling right in front of him, inches away from his cock that was now very hard and straining the front of probably the only decent pair of pants he owned. If you didn’t do something now, the likelihood they would be cum stained before this night ended was a real possibility. 

Curtis’s hand dropped to cup the side of your face that you leaned into. “I don’t think I will ever want you to stop.” He said seriously and you broke into a grin, leaning forward once more to kiss against the skin showing, sliding your tongue against the vein leading down as you eased his pants down far enough to give you room. His cock strained the front of his boxer briefs and you kissed there too, still staring up at him as you worked those down too till he was free. Very stiff and erect, you took a second to admire just how well-endowed Curtis was before you wrapped your hands around him, stroking upwards. 

Curtis did his best to remember this image of you, your eyes were all wide eyed and glancing from his cock to his face continuously checking in with him, hovering so close to his now weeping cock head that when you ran your tongue over him, he didn’t know how he was gonna hold out. He let his hand find a place in your hair, not to lead you but just to hold onto you while you wrapped your lips around him. 

Those lips, soft and supple as they stretched around his cock, to see you start to ease him with lots of spit from your mouth and flutters of your tongue teasing his length, he wanted a video. More than anything, he wanted to have this for later when he was alone in bed, horny as fuck picturing you riding his cock. 

Somewhere you must have realized, cause you dragged yourself off him, kissing against his swollen tip once more as your hands now worked him. “Feeling good?” 

“Fuck, It’s uh-” He stammered for a moment, distracted at the way you nipped the inside of his thighs and pressed your face in close to use your mouth to tease his balls. It cut off his train of thought, his grasp in your hair tightening, now this time to lead you. “-Like that, again Y/N.” 

Your mouth wrapped around his sac, sucking and teasing with strokes of your tongue, your nose nuzzled in close to him while you still worked on jerking him off. You started squirming at Curtis’s feet, wrapping your mouth around him again and bopping your head as your hands worked him, humming and moaning the more you took him down. It was turning Curtis into a babbling mess above you. Every time something he liked in particular happened, like your tongue wrapping around him, his hold would twist into your hair and he would break out into praising.

“Pretty Girl, I gotta be in you.” He finally declared, making you pull off him with a panting gasp, nodding that you understood. 

He was rougher than usual with you, but you felt that rush in your core at how he hauled you to your feet and twisted you to lean against the stair banister, looking down at the floor below while large hands pushed the back of your dress up over your hips and his fingers stroked your now soaked panties.

“Fuck, you get this wet suckin’ my dick?” A hook of a finger into the fabric slid them aside to feel your pussy welcoming him. 

“Yes! Fuck me Curtis, I need it bad.” You wriggled back against him, his chest draped over your back and his whiskers scratching at the side of your neck. You felt him groan so deeply that it made you shiver excitedly, arching your head back so he could kiss and nip at your neck. 

“Spread your legs wider.” He plunged fingers into you, finger fucking you with urgency while he grasped your hip with his other hand, holding you in place. You twisted your hands against the banister to steady yourself while doing just as he said, whining out when he moved his hand from between your thighs. But the wide tip of his cock pushed into you and you cried out at the sudden stretch when he filled you. A hand wrapped around your mouth to quiet you. 

“You gotta keep quiet Honey.” He grunted. 

Curtis waited long enough to see the tiny nod from you before dropping his hand to your throat, not tight enough to cut off air, but enough to see his fingertips press against your softer sides, feel you swallow back your cries as he picked up his thrusting pace, fucking into you hard and quick. Your body jolted against the banister in time to his movements while giving little soft cries you did your best to muffle till your mouth dropped open and you became silent. Squeezing around him so perfectly that his cock throbbed against your velvet walls.

“Curtis” You whined out his name in that needy way that confirmed what he knew; you wanted to come. 

“Let me feel you soak my dick Pretty Girl.” he hissed in your ear, tilting himself once more to find your sweet spot and have you break for him. 

Curtis felt it, the way you stiffened suddenly and pushed back against him. He was quick to muffle your cry as you came, slowing down enough to ride you through it, but when he felt you sag against the banister, he ran his hand at your hip to your breast, cupping through your dress and pushing you back against his chest.

“One more Honey, and I will come with you.” A kiss at your jawline was his promise to you. 

This time his fingers found their way into your mouth, sucking on his digits that he had fingered you with. Feeling your tongue wrap through them and your moan made him groan into your shoulder, biting down slightly as he sped up again. Now the sound of you being fucked loud sounded through the emergency exit of the aquarium, your wet pussy squelching with every slap of his pelvis into your ass, and Curtis fought that heated spiral raging in his gut, resisting the urge to fuck his cum into you till you were ready for him. 

He saw your hand loosen its hold on the banister, dropping to between your messy thighs to rub yourself, whining against his hand muffling you. “Come on Pretty Girl, get yourself off.” He hoarsely grunted in your ear while untangling his hand from your mouth back to your throat. You felt so fucking good under his body, soft and giving that he could just keep holding himself in you while you came for him. 

“I gotta, please Curtis.” You pleaded with him. “Tell me your close?” 

“Just keep squeezing me like that Honey.” The heat in his gut spiraled, rushing for that release. “I’m with you, fuck.” 

You came again, moaning out his name once more in relief while he fucked his cum into you, burying his face into your neck to keep himself from giving the two of you away with a yell while you both found your moments of mindless bliss. 

You were thankful for the banister holding you up, because Curtis was heavy behind you, holding you around your waist but still leaning into you. He groaned against you, bracing a hand against the banister next to yours to practically peel himself off your back.

“You okay?” he ghosted his lips against your neck before moving fully to a stand and easing his softened cock from you. Immediately followed by his spend, making you squeeze your thighs together briefly while he fixed your panties back in place. Heavy hands settled to your hips while he flushed kisses against any skin showing on your shoulder while you took a deep breath to clear your head of the fuzziness following an orgasm. 

You felt so fucking good. 

“Never better.” You eased around while he situated himself. You could see the tips of his ears were bright red as well as his neck, you imagined that flush travelled down his chest. He glanced at you and still had that dazed look like his world was just rocked in a good way, making your heart skip a beat and pride filled you that you gave him that. 

“I just… fuck Honey.” He immediately reached for you, drawing you into his hold while cupping your face and kissing you with a bit of teeth scraping at your lip. “Thank you.” 

“You are welcome.” You giggled as you circled your arms around his neck, accepting his affection. The embrace was cut short, a yell at the bottom of the stairwell making you both jump in surprise. Curtis took a quick glance over the banister and motioned that you two had to go. Slipping back out, he slung an arm over your shoulder and steered you out from behind the black curtain and off to a display. Keeping you tucked into his side, you both gazed at the picture of a lighthouse on Lake Superiors shore when the exit door burst open, two aquarium employees stepping out and glancing around.

“Did anyone come out from here?” One asked Curtis, you turned away, sure not to let them see your face in case your makeup was smudged from giving head. 

“You know… a couple came out and headed back towards the animals.” Curtis was sure to point them away from you, sending them off before they figured out it was indeed you two. Once they were gone, Curtis took one look at your face and gave a small grin. “We need to clean you up.” 

“Bathrooms should be up here a bit.” You ducked your face from other patrons and the two of you ended up near the giftshop restrooms, Curtis waiting outside while you went to go fix your smudged makeup. 

When you came back out, you looked back up at him, a nervous little grin on your lips. “Better?” 

“Well, I was pretty fond of the ruined look.” Curtis shrugged with a smug look. “But better. Did you want to go back in the aquarium?” 

“No, I think we have gotten into plenty of fun tonight. I do want to stop in the gift shop though. See what they have, I might find something for the classroom.” You suggested and Curtis took your hand, ready to follow you. 

Browsing the giftshop proved to be fun. Since most of the other people were still browsing the aquarium, there weren’t many people there. You managed to find a couple books you wanted, one for your classroom about the wildlife and habitats of the lake, the other a personal book for yourself about legends and ghost stories surrounding the lake. Curtis as well found himself a book about the lake's history to add to his expansive collection. Then you two were going through posters when you happened across one of the constellations. Curtis picked up that one too, with a pile of glowing star stickers as a Christmas gift for Sophia. 

All in all, probably one of the best dates you have ever had.

[sukirichi]

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz 

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist ! 

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

[nobody7102]

I Don’t Hate You: Chapter 1

Warnings: none

Pairing: tasm! Peter Parker (Andrew) x Reader

A/N: So, I came up with this after re-watching "10 Things I Hate About You" Let me know if you'd like to be tagged

Main master-list

Series master-list

Chapter 2

_________________________________

The bustling sound of the hallway echoed from the counseling office as Harry sat looking around the small office bouncing his foot, he glanced around the room for the second time before he read over the name plaque stating “Miss Rosie” before he looked up and met the eyes of said counselor Miss Rosie who temporarily looked up from her computer. 

“I’ll be with you in just a minute, I just have to finish this…” she started to trail off as she typed. Reading over her words one last time she closed her computer, “So Mr. Osborn, this is the nineth school you’ve been to in the past ten years, Military Brat?” she asked, looking over his file.

Harry shook his head “No, my father’s a business man so he tr-”

“Alright that's enough” she stopped him moving to lean against her office window “Listen Mr. Osborn, I'm sure you won't find Midtown any different than your old schools because-” before she could continue an egg was thrown at her office window “The same little asswipe mother-fuckers are everywhere.” Not looking away from Harry, Miss Rosie raised her left arm, flipping off the students outside of the window before pushing off of the window and shifting through some papers on her desk “Now here is your schedule and locker combination, any questions?” she smiled. 

Shaking his head Harry gave a timid smile “No Ma’am” 

Miss Rosie nodded “Then go forth, scoot! I’ve got plenty of other people to see” made a shooing motion as she sat back down at her desk. 

As she started typing on her computer once more, almost mouthing the words as she typed them before a knock came to her office door frame. “Miss Rosie?” her secretary popped her head in. “Mr. Parker is here” she walked in further giving Rosie a slip of paper. “Oh dear… send him in” she motioned.

When the secretary left it only took a few minutes for a face all too familiar with the counseling office leaned against the door frame with a smirk upon his face “Mr. Parker, I see we’re making our visits a weekly ritual now” she motioned to the chair in front of her desk.

“Oh only just because I missed you, should I grab the lights?” he joked sarcastically.

“Very funny, It says you exposed yourself to a lunch lady” she waved the slip of paper slightly.

Rolling his eyes he said “It was a bratwurst…. It was a joke” she raised her eyebrow at him “I was eating” he hummed.

“With the teeth of your zipper Mr. Parker?....Bratwurst…” she shook her head “Aren’t we the optimist?” looking back down to her computer typing out something before looking back to Peter she sighed, and then wrote something down onto a piece of paper “Mr. Parker, try not to do anything else this week. I can only give out so many warnings a week before you get detention” she handed the slip of paper to him. “Next time keep it in your pouch, okay Mr. Parker?”

Nodding, he rose from the seat before exiting the office.

Shaking her head, Rosie hummed for a moment before turning to her computer “Bratwurst….” she hummed as she typed.

Out in the hallway Harry looked around at the lockers before he felt a tap on his shoulder, looking over he was met with a guy dressed in a button-up t-shirt and khakis. “Excuse me, are you the new guy?”

Harry just nodded “Yeah” he extended his hand “Harry Osborn” 

“Ned Leeds” Ned hummed “Now listen if you need anything I am your man” Ned wrapped his arm around his shoulder leading him down the hall. 

“Okay cool, ya know normally its like the debate team guys of the tech nerds who show the new guys around” Harry joked,

“Oh yeah, what losers” Ned laughed as a group of kids with blazers on passed one stopped grabbing Ned by the shoulder.

“Ned, the auditorium’s taken for we need a place to practice for the debate-” quickly shoving the guy off of him Ned shrugged his shoulders.

“Ned, who the hell is Ned?” He quickly caught up with Harry, as they approached a corner of the hallway Ned started to explain things to Harry “We've got your basic beautiful people.” Ned motioned to the group “Never talk to them unless they talk to you first”

“Why?”

Rolling his eyes as they approached the group “watch this”  he waved to the group smiling “hey guys” To which he was met with death glares. Pulling Harry to walk quicker they enter the quad of the campus, before motioning to a new group of people “The cowboys” he leaned closer to Harry to whisper “none of them have ever seen a horse, they all just jack off to Clint Eastwood” 

Motioning to a new group he continued “To the right, we have the Coffee Kids. Very jittery, always on edge. Don't make any sudden movements around them” to which Harry nodded “Future MBAs-” Ned started listing off multiple groups around them before he pointed to people dressed very similarly to him “We're all Ivy League, already accepted. I used to be with them-”

Harry cocked his brow as he cut Ned off “Why aren’t you doing it now?”

Shaking his head Ned sighed “Yesterday I was their god, but then Johnny Jameson, pack leader because his dad’s the head of the local newspaper. Told everyone that I got my computer parts second hand from a strip mall, so they kicked me out…. But I’ll get back, someday I’ll be sipping merlot and they'll be fixing my computers.  Yuppie greed and petty revenge is back, my friend”

Just as Harry and Ned are about to continue walking, Ned puts his hand out in front of Harry to stop him as two girls walk past them talking. As the girls walk by Harry’s eyes meet the Blonde to his right, she smiles at him before continuing on her way. He caught a glimpse of their conversation.

“I know there’s a difference between like and love. I like having clean notes but I love having study guides” The blonde stated to the dark haired girl walking next to her.

“Study guides really?” The other cocked her brow.

The Blonde laughed “At least you’re allowed to use the study guides on tests, where as your notes suck Liz” The Blonde hummed as they continued to walk

“I think I just witnessed an angle” he mumbled once the girls were far enough away. “What group is she in?” he turned to Ned. 

“The ‘Don’t even think about it’ group. Gwen Stacy, Sophomore, trust me you don’t want that” Ned brought Harry over to an empty table. 

“Why not?” he huffed.

“First off I could start with your haircut, but it doesn't matter. Secondly she has an incredibly uptight father, and it’s a widely known fact that the Stacy sisters aren’t allowed to date.”

Harry raised his eyebrow at Ned “She has a sister?!” 

Ned nodded once more “Y/N, and don’t even think about going for her either”

______________________________________

As notes flew around the classroom along with absent minded chatter, a clap emitted from the front of the room. “Now, Class… What did everyone think of The Cuckoo’s Calling?”

A girl from the back of the room raised her hand and then spoke “I thought it was so interesting how the brother w-” but she was quickly cut off by a voice from the front of the room.

“J.K. Rowling, Interesting? She's a racist, and she's transphobic, what's so interesting about that?”

The teacher rolled his eyes “Always with your opinions, Y/N…..” he mumbled shaking his head “Yes, Ms. Stacy?”

“Oh come one Mr. Dillon, you of all people can't say that I’m wrong” Y/N looked to Mr. Dillon.

“Well at least she’s made a name for herself” A boy seasted kitty corner to Y/N spoke “As opposed to a bitter self-righteous hag who has no friends.” causing a few students to laugh.

“Pipe down Flash” Mr. Dillon continued “Now Ms. Stacy I know Rowling isn’t as well liked anymore as she was, but this book has valut to the schools curriculum and I’m sure she's not like the authors you’re used too like Shakespear, Platt, Bronte-”

“Are you really just naming female authors that society has things against?” Y/N questioned but before Mr. Dillon could answer, Peter burst through the door looking around at the class. 

“What’ve I missed?” he hummed

“The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education” Y/N answered.

Peter gave a quick smile “Great” before he turned around and left.

“Hey, Hey!” Mr. Dillon yelled after him.

Flash quickly raised his hand “Mr. Dillon? Is there any chance we could get Y/N to take her Midol before she comes to class?” which earned more laughs from the class.

Mr. Dillon pointed to Flash “Some day you’re gonna get bitch-slapped and I’m not gonna do a thing to stop it” he turned around walking back over to his desk “And Y/N I want to thank you for your perspective,” This caused Y/N to smile before he continued “I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of upper middle class suburban oppression.  It must be tough.” 

As soon as Mr. Dillon said Y/N’s smile deflated and she became bitter again as Mr. Dillon continued “But the next time you storm around the PTA crusading for better lunch meat, or whatever it is you complain about, ask them why they can’t buy a book written by a black man so I can teach about it in my own class” 

Nodding as he spoke Y/N looked up “Anything else?”

“Yeah” Dillon continued nodding “Go to the office. You’re pissing me off” Letting out a gasp Y/N raised her arms up as if to ask what she had done but before she could speak Dillon cut her off “Later, Ms. Stacy” he pointed to the door.

Letting out a huff she gathered her things before she exited the classroom making her way to the front office. 

_______________________________

Chattering with buzz as always people swarmed the office as Miss Rosie sat reading over her work. “... Undulating with desire, Adrienne removes her crimson cape...excitable, stiff and…” she paused thinking over the wording before calling out “Judith!” the secretary popped her head into the room “What’s another word for...engorged?

The lady thought for a moment “I’ll look it up” 

Miss Rosie went back to typing as she mumbled off words to herself “...swollen...turgid…”

             “Tumescent?” a voice interjected

Looking up form her work she met Y/N’s eyes as she thought about what she had said before typing it out “Thank you!” she moved the computer off to the side “So I hear you were terrorizing Mr. Dillon‘s class……. Again.”

Taking a seat Y/N crossed her arms “Expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action.”

Rosie raised her eyebrow at the comment “And The way you expressed your opinion to Eddie Brock? By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went quite well, in case you're interested.” she hummed.

Y/N smiled and thought about it “No, I wasn’t interested but I still maintain the fact that he kicked himself in the balls.”

Shaking her head Rosie brought them back to the subject at hand “The point is Y/N, people seem to think that you’re somewhat-”

“Tempestuous?” Y/N asked to cut her off.

“I believe ‘Heinous bitch’ is the term I hear used most often. You might want to work on that” 

Y/N rolled her eyes collecting her things once again. “As always, thank you for your excellent guidance.  I’ll let you get back to Anthony’s quivering heat” she spoke before she left.

Rosie hummed “Quivering heat….” she mumbled to herself “... I like that” she pulled the computer back over to her typing.

___________________________________

As people shuffled through the quad, Flash and Eddie stood watching as the people passed by. Watching as Gwen and Liz entered the quad Eddie nudged Flash.

“Hottie alert, your favorite virgin” Eddie laughed as Flash smiled giving Eddie a light shove. 

“I gotta say, the Stacy girls are just so something to me” Flash smirked.

Eddie shook his head “They’re outta reach, even for you Thompson”

“No one’s out of reach for me.” Flash’s smirk grew bigger.

Eddie crossed his arms “You wanna put money on that?”

Flash shook his head “Money I’ve got. I’m gonna do this for fun” he laughed.

As Eddie and Flash continued discussing the details of their deal, Harry and Ned watched them in their compromised “Who’s that asshole?” he hummed, eyeing Flash.

“That would be Flash Thompson, he’s a jerkoff,  footballer, and a model” Ned looked down at his book.

“He’s a model?” Harry scoffed

Ned thought about his words “Let me rephrase that, He’s a model for the school, the star and face of the football team. Rumor has it NFL has already offered him a deal”

Harry’s eyes widened “No shit, really?!”

Ned nodded “Really”

They’re gazes followed Flash and Eddied as they looked over to Gwen and Liz.

“Man, look at her.” Harry sighed 

Cocking his eyebrow Ned hummed “Is she always so...vapid?”

Harry’s eyes widened hearing Ned’s response “How can you say that?  She’s totally_

“Conceited?” Ned cut him off

Hitting Ned on the shoulder Harry shook his head “What are you talking about?  There’s more to her than you think.” he looked back at Gwen “I mean, look... look at the way she smiles. And look at her eyes, man.  She’s totally perfect.  I mean, you’re missing what’s there.”

Ned shook his head “No, Harry.  I’m sorry but what’s there is a snotty little Princess wearing a strategically planned skirt to make guys like us realize we can never touch her” Ned looked over to Gwen and Liz “and guys like, Flash realize they want to… and they can” he patted Harry’s shoulder “She, my friend, is what we’ll dream of having for the rest of our lives. It’s better to just move on now”

“No you’re wrong about her Ned, I just know you are” Harry hummed.

“Fine you wanna try and fall on your ass like an idiot?” Ned sighed “She’s looking for a French Tutor”

Harry’s eyes widened with a smile “Really?! That's perfect”

Ned dead eyed him “Really?” Harry nodded, “You speak french?” 

“Well-” Harry started “well no but I will.”

Pulled out of their conversation via the end of the day bell ringing, everyone started to make their way into the parking lot of Midtown.

Walking with her arm hooked to a redhead Y/N spoke blocking the sun from her eyes as they walked down the lot “I still can’t believe that you’re trying to put this show on”

“A modern telling of Much Ado About Nothing is exactly what the school needs” the redhead hummed. “Besides, can’t you picture me as Beatrice” she stopped to pose.

Y/N smiled shaking her head “Mary Jane you’re absolutely-” before she could finish she was cut off by the honking of a horn

“Hey.” Flash's voice called out “Haven’t you heard that Shakespears the new wuss, Watson?” he laughed.

As he slowly drove closer, Y/N flipped him off “Run along home Eugene” she smiled.

Watching the car drive off, it stopped in front of Gwen and Liz. Y/N and Mary Jane watched as Gwen and Liz exchanged a few words with FLash before they climbed into his car. 

“That's charming, Gwen likes Flash” Mary Jane rolled her eyes.

“It’s disgusting” Y/N shook her head before the pair split up making their way to their separate cars before pulling out of the parking lot.

As Y/N headed for the exit Ned’s bike dashed across her path earning him a honk from Y/N before she stuck her head out the window “You signal and then dive!” she yelled before getting back in the car and driving off.

Pulling his bike over to meet Harry, he shook his head “Are you okay?” Harry looked him over.

“Yeah I’m fine, Just a minor encounter with the devil…” he mumbled “I mean, your girlfriend's sister.”

“What?  That's Gwen’s sister?” Harry’s eyes widened watching the car leave.

“Mmhm.” Ned nodded watched the car with “The mewling, rampallian wretch herself.” he turned back to harry “Well I gotta go, don’t do anything stupid my firend.” Harry nodded watching as Ned took off down the road.

________________________

A/N: Taglist is open, let me know if you's like to be tagged!

[todoscript]

making out until your phone interrupts you two

characters: bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff, suggestive

word count: 2.8k+, 850-1000 words per character

warnings: characters are aged up, suggestive and mature content, implied sexual content, minors please beware

author’s note: how did these get as long as they did 

copyright 2021 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

As your soft hands brush along the nape of his neck and pinch at strands of ash blond hair, you feel his larger, calloused hands run along your thighs. Your lips come back for each other, hot and needy. Bakugou bites down harshly on your bottom lip, eliciting a squeal that grants him an opening to pry his tongue into your mouth to melt with yours. You follow in the frantic rhythm he sets, barely keeping pace as your grip on the slim fabric of his black tank top wrinkles in your curled fingers. Smirking, his hand runs up the skin beneath your shirt. He finds your squirming all the more amusing the more he rubs and gropes.

“Aw c’mon, babe. No fun if you’re already turning into pudding this fuckin’ early. Show some resistance, why don’t ya?” He eggs you on, but doesn’t cease in his ministrations, and in fact, only makes it harder for you to show any kind of fight. You detach your lips from his, pouting profusely with a scrunched nose. He looks back at you, expression sly and slick, well aware of what he’s doing. Well, you’re going to be sure he doesn’t get the last laugh.

Shifting all your weight onto his upper body, you move him over to lay down on the couch. He peers at your form towering above him, curious as to how you go about turning the tables against him tonight. His palms are flat on your thighs, remaining there as you settle your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself. You move your head down so your lips can touch and Bakugou cranes his neck slightly to meet you in the middle. However, a clamor sounding from a phone on the coffee table sends a rift in the atmosphere you’ve established and the incessant chime captures both of your attention. Your eyes go wide before blinking in realization that it’s your phone that’s going off right now.

Much to Bakugou’s dismay, you begin moving off of him. You get up to reach for your ringing phone, but his hand grabbing your wrist is faster.

“Don’t you dare answer it,” Bakugou orders, failing to suppress the blunt annoyance in his tone.

“What if it’s an important call from work?”

Hearing your response, he begrudgingly lets go of your wrist, sitting back on the couch, and grumbling beneath his breath.

“Fuck, it better not take long then.”

You playfully roll your eyes at him. You take a glance at the screen before pressing the green icon and nestle your phone next to your ear.

As you converse with the person on the other line, the blond is glaring knives at the device, no doubt mentally sending curses to whichever asshole decided to interrupt the mood just when things were starting to get good. Now he’s contemplating as to why he was generous enough to let you answer the damn phone in the first place. Shoulda just chucked that thing into the next room, left to be forgotten as the two of you would’ve been occupied with much more important matters.

In retaliation with his thoughts, he abruptly pulls your body into his lap, legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him. Being so occupied with your phone call, you don’t have much opportunity to comment on his behavior. In fact, Bakugou actually doesn’t allow you any opportunity.

Without warning, he plants his mouth on your neck, proceeding to nibble and suckle with just the right amount of pressure that makes you jolt in his lap. A small squeak leaves you, the noise eluded by the other person on the line thanks to you shifting your phone away from your mouth in time. You glare at the blond, silently asking with pointed brows what the hell he thought he was doing. But Bakugou only finds amusement in your struggles.

“Go on, keep talking, princess,” he mumbles loud enough for only you to hear and you feel his lips curl against your skin. You notice his hands busying themselves, tugging at the hem of your shirt, but despite that, you can’t do anything but continue with your conversation, unless you want your caller to start suspecting you’re undergoing other… activities as you were speaking to them.

You are so gonna get it later, mister. You mentally note your promises of retribution before returning to the chat while trying to ignore Bakugou’s mischief to the best of your ability.

After powering through the next couple of minutes of exchanges—your replies hastening and voice hitching whenever Bakugou’s ministrations became impatiently persistent—you finally say your hurried goodbyes, hitting the end call button.

That acts as Bakugou’s cue to pounce on you. He swipes your phone right from your fingertips and tosses it half-hazardously on the couch, out of your reach.

“Katsuki, you—!”

The moment you open your mouth to say something in retort, your words are cut off. Bakugou’s lips slot with yours to resume your intimate lip-lock, even more intense than earlier by how he barely allows you to draw a single breath.

“Oh no you don’t. No fucker is going to interrupt us this time, I’m going to make sure of that,” is the last he says before hoisting you up from your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist, and leading you both to your bedroom.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

Entering your living room, Midoriya finds you lounging on the couch with the TV on, curled up with a blanket and watching the latest episode of a show you’ve been following. He stretches out his muscles as he approaches you, body aching at every extension of his limbs. With his groans sounding rather exasperated, you face in his direction.

“Tired?” you question as Midoriya takes a seat beside you.

“Yeah, just a bit. The villains keep getting tougher these days,” he answers, cracking his knuckles, craning his neck to relieve a particular spot that’s been bothering him. You open up the blanket to let him take refuge in your warm haven and he scoots closer to you.

As expected of being the Number One Hero, his duties to the populace only grow more challenging with each passing moment. But he knows better than to complain about the job he was so heavily entrusted to by All Might. Besides, nothing beats saving the day and putting a smile on every citizen’s face. Well, nothing… except maybe spending time with you at the end of the day.

“I’m proud of you though, Izuku. You’ve been working so hard lately,” you say sweetly as your hand goes to massage Midoriya’s neck, rubbing at just the right areas that make him relax beneath your touch. “So proud of you.”

“Y-Yeah?” Midoriya doesn’t mean to stutter, but he fights back a groan when your fingers slowly travel up to his scalp.

“Yeah…” Your voice is tenderly hushed between you two, leaning in closer, to the point where your faces are seconds from touching. With your fingers still twined in his curly green hair, you angle him ever so slightly to meet the smoldering look in your eyes. It doesn’t take much for him to mirror the expression, eyes growing equally lidded and just as desirable. Then, before you had even realized it, you both closed the distance.

Tongue and teeth immediately clash. Midoriya is quick to overpower you as you let out a giggle, being forced to lay back on the couch. With your show inevitably about to be forgotten, the green-haired male smoothly reaches for the remote on your side before pointing the off button at the TV and tossing it to the ground.

He cradles your head from behind to bring your lips impossibly closer. Your hands remain laced through unruly emerald strands, occasionally tugging at his scalp, evoking a hum that vibrates between your lips coming together again and again.

When you finally separate after a rather lengthy session of lip-locking, your breaths are ragged—faces hot. He stares down at you, transfixed by your swollen, plush lips that he wishes to dive down again for more kisses.

“God, what did I ever do to deserve you?” he asks—a rhetorical question, but you smile at it nonetheless.

“I should be asking you that, Number One Hero.” You cup his face in your hands, thumb delicately brushing against those endearing freckles of his as you’re about to pull him down again.

But, just as your eyes close, waiting for your mouths to meet, the world splits open at a blaring echo crashing upon you. You abruptly halt your movements, watching as Midoriya does the same, eyes blown wide. You both turn your heads in the direction of the sound coming from the phone next to the kitchen.

“The phone…” Midoriya murmurs, wondering who would be calling at this hour. But upon glancing over at the wall clock, you remember something. It was actually around that time you were expecting a phone call from a friend of yours anyway. It had entirely slipped your mind after being so caught up in your make-out session with him.

“Sorry, Izuku. It’s probably for me,” you inform, an apologetic smile on your face as he slowly gets off you, allowing you to cease the ringing in the distance.

Sitting up on the couch, he watches you traverse to the kitchen, his elbows resting on his thighs. He drops his head into his hands, noticing his leg hopping up and down restlessly. It’s hard to come down from his high after getting worked up like that, and with that phone call appearing out of nowhere, he’s not sure what to do with himself other than not to get too excited.

Despite that, Midoriya musters the most patience as he possibly can. I mean, the amount of times you’ve been interrupted by Midoriya’s own urgent calls coming from his agency warrants him to exercise some self-restraint, knowing how riled up you could get at times, yet still kindly letting him go about his work like the saint you are.

But after a long day of patrolling the city and defeating foes, all Midoriya desires at the moment is to drown in all the love you have to offer him and leave everything behind to think of only you and him together. He overhears your conversation due to the silence spread across your living space, making out bits and pieces but never taking the time to distinguish the topic of your discussion.

No good, he thinks. Midoriya resigns to the fact he simply can’t keep as still as he would like, already getting up from the couch to seek you out. When he finds you, you’re laughing into the phone, likely finding whatever your friend said humorous, but when he wraps his arms around you, you jerk in surprise, that same laughter replaced by a quiet squeal. You feel Midoriya’s head tuck itself in the space linking your neck and shoulder, planting a single delicate kiss on the exposed skin. He glances at you, emerald eyes gleaming in a silent plea.

You smile in reply, understanding what he wants as you hold up a finger to tell him to give you a moment. “Um, sorry, I’ll have to call you back later. There’s something I have to do right now,” you say into the phone and after exchanging farewells, dismiss the call.

Turning in his arms, you come face-to-face with the relieved look in his eye. “Baby couldn’t wait?”

He releases a sigh, smiling warily. “You know I can never wait when it comes to you.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

Fresh and clean out of the shower, you toss your towel around your slightly damp hair as you walk into the bedroom. Todoroki is already there waiting for you, sitting on the edge of your shared futon while checking something on his phone. Upon hearing your footsteps, he glances up, and smiles as soon as your eyes find each other. He clicks his phone off and sets it to the side before beckoning you over with spread arms.

You kneel in front of him and lean into his comforting embrace. His body is just the right temperature against you that soothes the heat abiding your skin from your steamy shower. Feeling you melt into his chest, he tilts his head, pressing his nose into your hair, and notes the fragrant scent of your shampoo that harmoniously washes over his senses.

“You smell… nice,” he comments, nuzzling his nose to your neck.

Honey… and vanilla…

You giggle at the tickling sensation. “I would hope so, considering I just took a shower.” Todoroki hums at your humor, lifting his head to find your eyes. He takes a moment to pay every detail its utmost attention, from your misty hair to the warmth flushed on your cheeks as his knuckles graze over your skin. You look away from his punctilious gaze, his gray and turquoise eyes making you feel small.

That won’t do, he thinks.

Before you can even process his actions, he leans forward to capture your lips. Taken by surprise, a faint sound floats above your mouth that is quickly swallowed by him.

Again… and again… and again.

As you let yourself surrender to the fervent kisses, Todoroki maneuvers you two onto your futon, where he hovers over you, lips never once parting throughout your movements. You hum in delight when his tongue immerses itself in your mouth. The gratuitous feeling doesn’t stick for long though.

A ringing sound resonates above the futon, and your attention is immediately diverted. Your motions falter beneath him, causing you to fall off beat now that your mind has one more thing to worry about. On the other hand, Todoroki is least bit concerned over the noise, unrelentingly nibbling at your lips to try and elicit more sweetness from them. Unfortunately, his fun is cut short as you lay your hand on his chest, lightly pushing him away so he removes his mouth from you.

“Shouto... My phone.”

Todoroki glances at the phone in question before returning to your form, disheveled under him. He gives you a look of indifference. “It can wait,” he states simply, about to dive down to resume what he started, but you don’t concede so easily.

“It could be important,” you reason.

Releasing a sigh, Todoroki allows you some space to turn over on your stomach and reach out for your phone, the chiming desisting as you answer it and greet whoever decided to call you at this time of night.

The conversation you’re having flies over Todoroki’s head. The only thing on his mind right now is you finishing the call and continuing where you two left off, praying it won’t take long.

However, eventually his impatience gets the best of him. His eyes wander the room simply to return to you—laying with your upper body propped on your pillow as you hover the phone next to your ear. He peeks at the small droplet of water trailing your hair just before it falls atop the skin of your neck. He seems almost mesmerized by it as it begins its trek down your collarbones, reveling in the enticing sight despite how ordinary it must be to the common eyes. For him, it just makes things all the more difficult to sit still.

Needy and with little to do, he shifts toward you.

“Right, and I– Ah!” your sentence slips on you mid-speech as you feel something cold touch the nape of your neck.

“Y/n? Everything alright?” your caller asks, static voice laced with concern that you almost overlook when the chilling sensation on your neck returns. You turn your head and discover Todoroki bending forward to place his lips repeatedly on your neck. You can’t tell if his lips are particularly colder than usual or if you’re still a little heated from your shower. Either way, the heightened sensitivity raises goosebumps on your skin.

“I-I’m fine! I just bumped into something, is all!” you reply, though your voice pitches, feeling Todoroki’s equally cool hands graze your back under your shirt.

“Oh, please be careful! The fatigue must be catching up with you after such a long day, and I did call you at a pretty late time, huh? Tell you what, we can talk about this again tomorrow morning so you can get your rest for the night, okay?”

You are beyond grateful for the convenience bestowed to you. Though, you honestly think resting is surely the last thing on a certain someone’s mind right now.

“Right! Thank you..! Have a good night!” With that, you promptly end the call. Repositioning onto your back, you cross eyes with Todoroki, making a point at hardening your expression and seeming offended. Though the man knows it’s more so a facade than anything and that you’re not actually angry at him.

“Oh, you..!” You emphasize your words with a bump of your fist against his shoulder, albeit with minimal strength.

He chuckles at your pouty lips, leaning down for a peck before moving some hair out of your face. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he admits, the curve of his lips bordering on a smirk and a genuine smile that you find hard to be mad at.

“Shall we resume where we left off then?”