#i like my coworkers but man. man. man. i only have so much patience

[autistic-shaiapouf]

For the love of GOD can we stop changing my work schedule

[enkas-illusion]

The Worst Kept Secret

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre/Theme: Co-workers to lovers; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff but not too much, smut, oral (f & m receiving), piv sex, dom!Toji, sub!reader, overstimulation, unprotected sex, explicit sexual content, language, Toji has a filthy mouth.

Summary: Your colleague Toji only has eyes for you, despite having a reputation of sorts. Porn with a plot… or more like a build up.

Author's Note: Co-worker Toji is instantly attractive cause a) he’s not a bum and b) he’s Toji-fucking-Fushiguro – that’s all in my defence, your honour! This shit is nasty… no, I won’t explain myself (I'm pretty sure i was possessed while writing this). 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one shot, please write to me and let me know your thoughts. I love reading whenever people have elaborate things to say T.T Thank you for reading! 

-Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Talk by Hozier

“Rat!” you exclaim as you hold your phone up to display the word written boldly on the screen.

“Ummm…. It’s not a rat, it's not a patootie, it’s a ratatouille!” your coworker, Lisa, blurts out excitedly.

You both look at each other, trying your best to control before you burst out laughing. This goes on for about a minute till your bellies hurt and you’re wheezing. You quiet down as you wipe the tears forming in the corner of your eyes. 

“Why don’t I know that one?” your other coworker, Ema, mutters with furrowed eyebrows, confused at what could possibly be so funny about the sentence.

You’re too drunk to realise that sober you would not find it as funny as you do right now. But that’s what happens when you party a little too hard with your coworkers on a work trip and then hang around the hotel bar because nobody wants to go to bed even at 3am.

You look around at the handful of your coworkers, randomly occupying different spots at the bar, all too dazed and into their own conversations to pay attention to the stupid game that the three of you were currently playing – A word game your genius minds had developed, using a random word generator app and use it in a meme-able sentence.

“Oh god… next word. Feminism!” Lisa squeals, snatching your phone from you to generate the word for your turn.

“Fuck… I suddenly can’t think of anything,” you admit and giggle, trying hard to work your brain.

“Seriously…” 

“Wait, Wait… I need a few seconds,” you laugh, trying to save yourself. You look around and your eyes land on your office crush, Toji Fushiguro, sitting at the bar with your boss, Kento Nanami. 

You look back to your group with a determined look in your eyes, ready with your sentence. “I want him to do things to me that feminism wouldn’t agree with,” you giggle like a teenager, “hah! I’m a genius.”

However, your friends have fixated on something else entirely, ignoring your perfect answer, since their eyes follow your line of vision to the bar. “So, what’s the scene?” Ema looks back at you.

“It's your turn, next word–”

“Nah, we’re bored… this is far more interesting,” her eyebrows wiggle, as she scoots closer to you on the sofa. By the looks of it, Lisa has also forgotten about the game in a second. You realise you’ve dug this hole for yourself, yet you don’t mind sharing a drunk confession with your friends.

“Let’s head out for a smoke,” you get up from the sofa. Lisa is quick to grab her purse as both your friends spring up, hurrying to happily follow you out onto the secluded porch outside, ready for gossip.

As you light up your cigarette, Ema looks at you expectantly. Looking at her face makes you snort and you cough out the smoke before speaking, “Have some patience! Besides, there's nothing too juicy about this gossip.”

“Pleaseeee, literally everyone saw the way Toji was glaring at the man who asked you for a dance tonight… not gonna lie, he looked kinda hot when he got mad,” Lisa catches your lie as she fawns over Toji, something that has become a regular thing among the female coworkers at the company. 

“I know right? And I said no to the guy! What was he so pissed about anyway?” you protest.

“It's all because you agreed when the dude was like ‘at least let me buy you a drink sweetie’!” Ema imitates the stranger from the bar from hours ago.

“Hey! Who says no to free drinks?” you defend yourself.

“Okay, fair,” Lisa nods her head before realising, “aye, focus on the matter at hand! Why did you say no to the guy? He was cute.”

“Was he really though?” you retort.

“Yeah, like you’d notice anyone else when Toji's around… Please fuck him, I need some office drama!” Lisa snaps back before taking a long drag from her cigarette. 

“Yea right… I’m serious though,” you ponder between slow drags, “I doubt anything is going to happen between Toji and I.”

“Why not?!” Ema whines and you laugh at how it seems like they’re more desperate about this whole thing than you are.

“Need I remind you I literally just got out of a relationship? This is no time to be having stupid crushes. I need some alone time… besides you know how his reputation is. Sure, he flirts with me and I enjoy it a lot but I don't know,” you explain as if it’s an automated response stored in you.

“So what? Then just fuck him and get it over with. They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone!” Lisa giggles, “Besidesss, I've heard he’s really good in bed… heard it from a mutual– uhhh, I don't really remember her name.”

“Oh wait, shit I remember that!” Ema squeals, almost dropping the cigarette from her hand in excitement, “But didn’t she also say that he basically ghosted her after? He just fucks around, I guess.”

“Hence the reputation… Men like Toji are the most charming kind. They know exactly what to say to get you to sleep with them but disappear when it comes to commitment,” Lisa ponders, staring into the distance.

“Exactly, everyone says that Toji doesn’t do relationships. And as horny and curious as I might be, I don’t just want us to fuck and leave it at that. It’d be way too awkward to have such a dynamic at the workplace,” you reason and they simply nod. There’s a beat of silence as all three of you smoke quietly.

“Still though… would it be so bad to just give it a shot? Simply see it as a one night stand and get it over with? If he’s that indifferent about it, I doubt it’d be awkward at work,” Lisa presses.

“I know right! I dont get why you’re thinking so much about it. At least the sex would be killer even if nothing else is assured,” Ema advises.

You take another big drag before dropping the bud to the ground and crushing it with your heel, “Hmmm… that’s true, I’ll think about it.”

“Think soon and try to seduce him in the three days we have here!” Lisa squeezes your shoulder encouragingly. 

“Yes! If you don’t want to, please allow me to! He looked so delicious yesterday,” Ema sighs and by the look on her face, you can tell she’s probably recalling memories of a shirtless Toji playing volleyball at the beach from yesterday. 

“Be my guest… but do it tomorrow, you’ve had a lot to drink tonight,” you snort.

“Please, drunk or sober, if there is one hook up I wouldn’t regret, it’d be him… after our boss of course,” Ema confesses.

“Yeah right. Either of us could still have a shot with Kento. Toji only flirts back with you,” Lisa looks at you with narrowed eyes.

You laugh before a sudden chill runs down your spine, and you cuss at the feeling, “Motherfucker– Should’ve gotten a coat. It's getting cold.”

Your coworkers eye each other mischievously before Lisa snickers, “Why don’t you ask loverboy to help you with it instead? That way you’d be warm inside out.”

“Oh yeah, great idea! Let me go back inside to find him–” you cut off when you see a figure walking outside towards your group.

You signal Ema, who has her back turned to the encroaching new presence, to shut up but it's too late as she fake moans, “Exactly… I’m sure he’d love to indulge you, he’d basically been eye-banging you all night, harder Toji, fuck yea–” 

“HEY TOJI! What’s up!” you’re basically shouting at the guy when he’s a few feet away, hoping to cover up and save yourself.

Maybe he senses your embarrassment, or maybe he didn’t hear her (hopefully) but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead he greets the group and there’s an awfully awkward feeling in the air.

“Ladies,” he speaks coolly as he stands next to you, “Glad I found you here since boss man was looking for you two.” 

“Kento?!” Ema’s ears shoot up at his sentence as she exchanges a grin with Lisa. They rush ahead inside and as you are about to follow them, you feel a hand on your wrist holding you back. You turn to look at him with a confused frown.

“Where do you think you’re going? I was just getting rid of the two of them,” he smirks, making you look at his pillowy lips. 

When he catches you staring, you look down quickly, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear nervously, “Oh… So, Kento wasn’t really looking for them?”

“Nope.”

“Oh… that’s– they’re gonna be disappointed,” you chuckle lightly as you fidget with your phone’s cover.

“Well, sucks for them, I guess,” he holds two fingers under your chin to make you look up at him, “You look pretty… you usually do, but even more so in that tiny dress.”

Your eyes grow wide at his confession as you feel the heat rush to your cheeks and you mutter a quiet ‘thank you’. You move to the front of the porch as you stare out at the vast night sky, partly to avoid feeling so mushy and partly because you feel the alcohol toying with your nerves. 

Another chill rushes down your spine and you’re pretty sure it makes you shiver visibly. As you mutter a quiet ‘fuck’, you feel him wrap his denim jacket around your shoulders. Your eyes widen at him in surprise.

“What? I’m a gentleman,” he teases, standing closer next to you. You laugh at this, turning to face him as you shake your head.

“Sure… a gentleman with a reputation,” you roll your eyes as you wrap your arms around your torso in an attempt to keep yourself warm. What you don’t realise is that this action further pushes your boobs together, causing Toji’s eyes to wander down briefly before he looks back into your eyes again.

“Aren’t you ever curious to know if I live up to that reputation?” he raises an eyebrow as he leans down closer to your face.

“Hmm, sure… if you were a stranger at a club and not someone who I had to see at work 9 hours a day, 5 days a week,” you roll your eyes at him as you bring up one hand to slowly run a finger down his shoulder to the outline of his bicep.

“Well, we see each other everyday anyway, so why not turn it into something we actively look forward to,” his fingers graze your jawline softly while his eyes shamelessly fixate on the dip of your cleavage, giving him a better view from the way he’s towering over you.

“As tempting as that is… I don’t do one night stands Toji–”

“Who said anything about just one night?” he interrupts and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, “I’m not stupid to approach someone I work with if I was simply looking for a quick fuck.”

“Oh… then please tell me what exactly you’re looking for?” you speak softly but it comes out more arrogantly than you’d like.

“You. I intend to fuck you more than once.” he’s direct yet his calm demeanour never wavers. 

You let out a nervous chuckle, “Look Toji… you’re hot, charming and oddly easy to get along with but I just got out of a relationship, it’s barely been two months–”

“I know… his loss for letting such a sweet thing go. Didn’t he initiate the break up? What a loser,” Toji laughs as his hand cups your face. 

You simply stare at him in bewilderment, you had no idea the news of your breakup had travelled even to the non-gossipers.

“Why me?” you ask, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“For starters, you’re hot. Two, I like it when we hang out outside of work, you put me at ease with your conversations. Three, I haven’t been able to hook up with anyone else for about a month since I found out about your ex… such a pretty girl should be cherished the way she deserves to be,” his fingers slide down to your collarbone, threatening to dip down even lower.

“Hmm… that’s a good enough pitch, so you want us to be fuck buddies? Exclusively?” you play with the collar of his shirt, entertaining the idea.

“Yeah, I’m not one to share,” his other hand comes up to brush his thumb against your bottom lip.

“Nothing serious?” you pout at him with fake disappointment.

“Not until the both of us feel like it,” he dips his thumb inside your mouth while his other hand snaked around your waist. You suck on his thumb as you stare into his eyes and he feels his blood rush straight to his cock.

“I can work with that,” you give him an innocent smile, “But let’s not be too obvious about it, I’d hate for our little arrangement to mess with our work life.”

“Perfect,” he smiles as he cups your jaw, staring at your lips while sliding his tongue over his lips to wet them instinctively.

Just as he’s about to lean down to kiss you, you pull back when you hear distant footsteps approaching. You see your two friends walking back towards you, talking among themselves.

“Hey, we couldn’t find Kento at the bar,” Ema mumbles.

“Really? He must’ve gone back to his room. Maybe ask him about it tomorrow,” Toji speaks innocently and you press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing.

You see Ema eyeing the jacket you’re wearing suspiciously and you suddenly take it off to hand it to Toji.

“Keep it. You’ll get cold again… return it tomorrow morning.” Toji speaks before you have a chance to give it back to him. You nod as you hold it closer to your chest.

“Alright then. Good night ladies,” he smiles politely before walking back inside. When your eyes shift from his diminishing silhouette to your two friends, they’re both staring at you with hopeful eyes.

“Nothing happened!” you exclaim and their faces drop.

“Fine, that’s it! I’m calling dibs, I’m gonna flirt with him,” Ema retorts. You simply chuckle and shrug, diverting your attention to your phone when it vibrates in your hand. You look at the notification and it’s a text from Toji.

Toji (Work):

Room no. 9010

Don’t leave me hanging, pretty

You lock your phone quickly as you look up again to force yourself to focus on the conversation.

“Could you not get the bottle from the cute bartender? We could’ve taken it to the room,” Ema sighs.

“No but I gave him my room number soooo…” Lisa giggles.

“Guys, I’m feeling a bit too drunk and tired to continue so I’m just gonna go to my room and sleep, okay?” you make up an excuse, hoping it seems believable. However, the girls are too drunk to analyse your lies and they simply pout and bid you ‘goodnight’ in a singsong voice, giving you a group hug.

You quickly make your way to the elevator and press the button to the ninth floor. And although you’re wearing his jacket again, you still feel your body shiver. You take a deep breath when you hear a ding, signalling your arrival. You walk out into the long passage quietly, skimming over the numbers till you spot his room, your heart feeling like it's about to fall out of your chest due to the thrill.

You knock on the door twice and fix your hair nervously. When no one answers, you unlock your phone to call him. You almost let out a scream when you hear the door unlock and he pulls you inside, catching you by surprise and making you stumble.

Before you have a chance to speak, Toji slams the door shut behind you, pushing your body against it before kissing you hungrily. You place your hands on his chest, creasing the fabric as you pull at it, humming into the kiss when his tongue shoves into your mouth. You close your eyes, the fluttering in your stomach making its way down to your core as his tongue plays with yours, making wet smooching sounds in the otherwise quiet room.

“I think you’ve misunderstood this. I’m simply here to return your jacket,” you tease, huffing as you catch your breath when your lips part. He smirks as he slides the jacket off your body till it pools near your feet before caging you against his body with his arms locking around your waist.

“Of course, this is me simply thanking you for returning it,” he moves one hand lower till it’s massaging the flesh of your thigh just below where the fabric of your dress ends.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” you give him another innocent smile as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his head down for another kiss. 

His hands lift up your dress to your stomach before going back down to squeeze your ass. He deepens the kiss as he towers over you, making you arch your back, causing you to hook your arms around him to keep your balance.

When you break the kiss for another shallow breath, he moves to your jaw, biting and pulling your skin with his teeth as he makes his way down to your neck. You tilt your head to give him more access, letting out soft sighs as he leaves sloppy kisses all over the expanse of your neck.

While his left hand hooks around your waist to keep you steady, he brings his right hand over to your mound, pressing the sticky lace of your thong into your folds. When he feels how wet you are, he groans against your skin, biting it again.

He rubs over the fabric again and you moan out of frustration, he's so close yet there's a tiny barrier between. You try to grind against his hand, whining when he pulls away.

He gets down on his knees before you can complain and lifts your right leg over his shoulder, securing it in place. You lean your whole weight against the door, feeling like you'd fall if you didn’t have something solid to hold onto, so your hands make their way down to tug at his hair.

Toji hooks two fingers into the lace, pulling the fabric to the side to expose your puffy folds to him. He slowly slides two fingers over to separate them, your wetness coating the tips of his fingers immediately. 

“Knew you had a pretty cunt,” he murmurs as his eyes remain fixed on the way his fingers are working you. You let out a breathy moan, tightening your grip on his hair.

He brings his face closer to your core, peppering the entire area with soft kisses. You thrust forward into his face but it only makes him slap the inside of your right thigh harshly.

“Toji… please, stop teasin– ngh,” you plead but your words get caught in your throat when he licks a stripe up your cunt like it's a melting ice cream. He darts his tongue out to wiggle it over your clit and your legs feel as if they're about to snap and go limp.

“Toji– wait… I n-need to take off my heels,” you huff.

“No. They stay on,” is all he says before sliding two fingers into your hole with ease, and at the same time getting back to making out with your clit.

“Fuck– Toji please– ah,” your straight knee buckles forward as you yank at his hair some more to steady yourself. You let out an involuntary yelp when he lifts your other leg over his shoulder as well, burying his face into your pussy, hooking both his arms around your thighs. While this angle hits better, you feel a different kind of thrill about completely having given up control and trusting him not to drop you to the floor.

As you lean your head against the door, your hips rut further into his face and Toji doesn’t relent even for a second. As you hook your feet behind his neck, he brings his right hand down to your hole again, pushing three fingers in this time, meeting with a bit of resistance. The squelching sound of his fingers fucking your hole mixes with the sound of his lips sucking your clit.

“Feel s-so good,” you pant as your thighs twitch around his face. You shaky hands run through his hair weakly as you try to steady your ragged breathing. Each time Toji hits the right spot inside your walls, you moan out praises and encouragement for him to keep going.

He curls his fingers as he picks up the pace and it's brutal. You hold his hair so tight that you hear him hiss momentary before getting back to fucking you with his tongue.

You close your eyes shut as your hip involuntary thrusts forward, twitching uncontrollably as you come all over his fingers. You bite your tongue to control your moans, turning them into muffled whimpers instead. He pulls his hand out to hook it back around your thigh as his tongue starts lapping at your juices to lick you clean.

“Ngh– Toji, too much!” You squeal as you try to move your hips away from his touch but it causes him to poke his tongue out further over your sensitive skin.

“God– please, baby I can’t take it anymore,” you cry as your body jerks violently again. You hear him chuckle before kissing your clit one last time and pulling your legs off his shoulders and standing up again.

When you land on your feet, you're glad he’s holding your waist to keep you from crashing to the ground. He kisses you on your lips and you taste yourself on his tongue. It's enough to take your already intoxicated mind to a new level of high.

He slowly lets you go before stepping back to create distance as he hurriedly takes off his clothes and your eyes widen when you see the way his erect dick hangs low and heavy.

He grabs a condom from his wallet, tearing off the cover before sliding the rubber over his hung cock smoothly. The smug smile on his face grows wider when your eyes peel away from his dick to meet his gaze. You stare at him with a look of astonishment mixed with nervousness. 

“Toji… you're–” you whisper silently. Toji is blessed to say the least.

“It's okay, don't be scared, pretty. I'll make it fit perfectly,” he cooes as he closes the distance between your bodies.

You gulp when he pressed his hands on either side of you, caging you against the door. As he's kissing your shoulder, his hands move to your back to undo your zip. He struggles a bit, fiddling with the zip of your dress and you’re pretty sure you hear a rip when he grows impatient, tugging at the fabric harshly.

“Did you jus–”

“Shh… later,” he blurts out, not giving you a chance to complain as he pulls the dress down your body, unhooking your bra to yank it down. He quickly takes off your thong as well, leaving you exposed as you stand in front of him in only your heels.

“So much better than what I had imagined,” he stares at your naked figure hungrily and you pull him closer to kiss him once again, already missing the way his lips feel.

You wrap your hands around his torso to feel his muscular back with your fingers, growing wetter at how huge his body feels compared to yours. He pulls away to lean down, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples. 

You let out a satisfied hum and he repeats the action on your other nipple. Your eyebrows furrow as your back arches at the sensation and you weakly claw at his pecs.

“Fuck– I can't wait any longer… Just let me know if it hurts too much,” he groans as he scoots you up off the floor completely, hooking your knees over his elbows, opening you up wider as he readjusts his pelvis under you.

You bring a hand down to guide his tip to your entrance, sucking in a deep breath as you look down, anticipating his movement as he begins pushing his dick inside you. 

With your legs spread apart firmly, he presses his hips up, almost losing his shit at how tight you feel. You bring both of your hands up to hug them around his neck. You steady yourself, resting your cheek onto his shoulder briefly when you feel his movement come to a halt. You feel so full, there's a delicious ache in your lower belly.

“Shit– I'm gonna move now, okay?” he grunts. You simply nod your head as he grabs you by your sides to push your lower body away till only his tip is inside before pulling you in closer to fill you up again.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head while your mouth hangs open when Toji begins to slam you onto his hard length, repeating the motion over and over again as you let out broken cries of his name. When he picks up speed, your pussy flutters at the abnormal feeling, causing him to pounce into you harder.

“Oh god– nghh– Toji!” You cry into the crook of his neck.

“Mmh– look at me, let me see that pretty face,” he orders breathily. You pull away from his neck reluctantly, eyebrows still knitted as your lips stay fixed in a silent O shape.

“Look at how well you take my cock… ‘ts a perfect fit,” he hisses when your pussy squeezes him again at his words. You'd always thought that Toji would be the silent type, just like he was at the office, but seeing him spew such vile praises just adds more to the intensity of it all.

“Fuck– Toj–” you whimper as you rest your forehead against his.

‘Hmm? Yes, pretty? Cock got your tongue?” He laughs but it's strained. You tilt your head to kiss him on the lips and he shoves his tongue into your mouth to kiss you back hungrily. You moan into the kiss when he thrusts harder. In a swift motion he pulls away from the kiss, dropping your legs to the ground as he pulls out of you to turn you around.

He pulls your hips back to meet his, while pushing your face flush against the door to arch your back for him. He slides back into your hole in an instant, rutting into you from behind. Your hands press against the surface of the door while he grips onto your hips tighter to keep them from jerking forward due to the force.

You bring your left hand down to rub your clit, the pressure building up further as you get closer to your release. Toji leans forward to press his chest against your back, hooking his hand down to swat yours away. Instead, he replaces it with his fingers to toy with your clit and it feels so much better than your own dainty ones.

When your legs start to shiver as the pressure in your stomach builds up, Toji brings his other hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, pushing your chest further into the door.

With the way you're screaming his name, you're pretty sure anyone passing by outside can hear you. You wonder if that's the reason he's doing it, to show people just how good he's fucking you.

“Toji fuck– I'm coming– fuck!” You cry as your legs shake as you cum hard, threatening to give out, not being able to hold your weight. Despite wanting to finish himself, obsessed over how your pussy is sucking him in, he knows it'll be a bit too much for you to handle at the moment. So, he slows down as he secures one hand around your waist before pulling out completely. 

He turns you around till you're facing him, taking deep breaths to calm your breathing. He bends down to swing your body over his shoulder with ease as if you weigh nothing at all. He walks over to the bed before slamming you back down onto the soft mattress. 

He gives you another cocky smile, proud of how deliciously fucked you look. You recognize this look and just as he's about to lean forward to make his way to you on the mattress, you place one foot onto his chest as the heel digs into his skin.

“Time out… you’re too much,” you sigh and he lets out a snort.

“Better get used to it,” he smiles as he brings his hands up to take off your stiletto, tossing it on the floor before bringing your other leg up to take off the other pair. 

He holds both your feet firmly, pushing them into your torso till you're practically folded in half as he brings one hand down to rub your swollen clit.

“No,” you turn to the side to get out of the position before sitting up straight, looking at his still erect cock in front of you. You lean closer to him as your hand wraps around the length, “Let me make you feel good.”

You roll the condom down before discarding it to the side, leaning forward to kiss his tip, swirling your tongue around the angry swollen head before licking a strip up his shaft. When you open your mouth wide, he grabs his length to tap it on your tongue a few times before you wrap your lips around the thick head. You make eye contact with him as you take in more of him, letting your mouth adjust to his size slowly. He mutters a quiet ‘fuck’ while grabbing the back of your head to push it closer. You gag before you can even take his entire length in your mouth, tears slipping out the corners of your eyes.

“Yes, right there… such a pretty mouth. Come on, I know you can take some– ugh— more,” he grunts and you relax your mouth to deep-throat him.

As Toji lets out breathy cusses, you move a hand down to massage his balls. Your other hand moves between your legs to part your folds and rub soft circles. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the man and you see a mischievous smile creep up on his face.

“Let go, babe,” he smiles while firmly pulling at your hair. You move your head back and you can already feel your throat aching as it readjusts to the emptiness. You’re still stimulating his tip with kitten licks, lapping at the precum, all the while touching yourself desperately.

Toji grabs both of your wrists as he pushes you back up on the bed, climbing up before lying on his back. As you await his instructions, you’re confused when he signals you to sit on his face. You hesitantly straddle his chest but it all makes sense when he tells you to turn around. You giggle as the heat rushes to your cheeks as you lie face-down on top of him to sixty-nine him.

“Now, stop being so greedy and focus on sucking my dick,” he speaks as he pulls at your asscheeks to part them, parting your folds with his tongue. Your toes curl in as you lean down to take him in your mouth once again.

As you bob your head up and down, sucking his entire length, his groans vibrate against your pussy as he eats you out just as fervently.

You steady your hands on his thighs as the muscles flex and relax every time his tip kisses the back of your throat. You close your eyes to focus on your movement as it gets harder and harder with Toji slurping at your pussy ruthlessly.

When you bring your hands over to play with his balls, it has him unravelling quickly. After edging himself unintentionally the whole night, he can’t help but feel like this is the tipping point.

“Do you– mmh– mind swallowing?” His voice is strained. You shake your head no, not parting from his cock even for a second. His nails dig into the flesh of your ass as thoughts of you flood his mind.

He can’t help but feel his pride swell that he's the one who gets to ravage his seemingly innocent co-worker like this. As if it weren’t already hard enough, imagining the things he’d do to you when he saw you at the office – now he had actual memories in flesh to make it harder.

Two months ago, he wouldn’t have imagined you'd be going dumb over his dick this way. Your interactions had always been respectful, despite him flirting with you occasionally. It was only about a month ago that you took him by surprise when you give a witty reply,  flirting back with him.

Toji knew a thing or two about breakups, so when he subtly inquired and eavesdropped in conversations around the office, he heard your loudmouth friend talk about how sad it was that your ex had the audacity to dump you when you clearly were out of his league.

Sad indeed, Toji thought, wanting nothing more than to finally get to fuck his pretty colleague. But when you both were assigned on a project together about three weeks ago, the flirting had gotten out of hand and your talks were no longer just a few words exchanged out of courtesy. Toji knew he wasn't made for relationships but a part of him wanted to make you his and greedily keep you to him.

As he enjoys the way you’re sucking his dick with your pretty pussy fluttering under his touch, his desire to have you has only grown stronger.

He leans his head back when he feels himself shoot his load into your mouth, his dick twitching as he feels you lick and struggle to swallow him.

“Fucking hell–” he sighs, kneading the flesh of your ass lazily. When he feels the weight of your body lift up, he grabs your waist to pull your ass back to hover it over his face.

“Where do you think you're going?” He huffs and before you can answer, he's eating you out at a faster pace than before. You already feel overstimulated as is but when Toji pushes two fingers inside, it turns you into a blabbering mess.

You arch your back as you lean forward with your fingers denting the skin over his abdomen. You grind your hips to feel his tongue on your cunt. Your head hangs limply when you cum once again on his tongue and Toji continues to slurp at your juices.

You body twitches violently and you beg him to slow down. He chuckles as he licks you clean before placing a quick kiss over your folds, relaxing his grip to let you get off.

You roll over to the side till you're lying on your back, your chest heaving as you take deep breaths. You look down when you feel a hand on your shin. He smiles lazily at you as he caresses your skin. You smile back before closing your eyes to relax, but open them back again when you feel the mattress dip as the figure beside you shifts.

You find Toji caging you with his arms on either side of your head as he leans down to kiss your lips. You close your eyes, humming into the kiss. He dips his head down to give you another mark on your neck, bringing one hand down to play with your nipples.

“Let me rest!” you push his chest but it doesn't faze him at all.

“Okay fine,” he laughs, “I'm only going easy on you cause it's our first time.”

“Easy? You really live up to your reputation,” you stare at him in disbelief. This makes him laugh and it’s the first time you hear his real laughter and not the smug, cocky chuckles of usual. You grin when you feel a warm fuzzy feeling in your heart, maybe Toji Fushiguro has more to him than he lets on.

He creates some space between you when he gets off and before you can ask him what he's doing, he lifts you up in his arms to carry you to the bathroom. 

When he sits you down on the sink counter to run the hot water tap to fill up the tub, you giggle.

“What?” He walks back to you.

“Nothing… just… Now, I get why women apparently call you unforgettable,” you mumble, trying hard not to blush.

“I don't do this for them,” he shrugs. You roll your eyes at him, not believing his words.

He chuckles, “I'm serious! I don’t fuck around… much. It's not a communal dick.”

“Oh really? What have I done to deserve such special treatment?” You tease.

“If I want to keep seeing you, I have to make you want to see me again too,” he smiles, leaning closer till he’s standing between your parted legs, brushing a finger over your lips.

“I think you guaranteed that right after you made me come the first time,” you laugh.

“That easy? Why's that?”

You shake your head no and he raises an eyebrow, urging you to speak.

“Well… if you must know, I rarely came with my ex. He said he got tired quickly so often I'd finish myself off in the shower later,” you confess, feeling a bit embarrassed at admitting this to him.

“Damn. What a fucking loser,” Toji chuckles dryly as he lazily rubs soft circles on your inner thighs, “Well, I'm glad he sucked. It really was time for an upgrade.”

You laugh as you play with the hair on his nape. You wonder out loud, “Have you ever thought about anyone else from the office?”

“Like who? You’re the only one there who I’d get blue balls for,” he laughs.

“Seriously? Not even Ema or Lisa? They’re pretty hot,” you push.

“Not my type.”

“Hmm”

“Why do you ask?”

“Nothing… just…”

“They’re painfully obvious about their crush if that’s what you’re asking,” he lets out another dry chuckle as he brushes your loose strands to the side, “Well they won't bother from tomorrow.”

“Why's that?” your eyebrows furrow.

“Unless you have a top that covers your entire neck, they’re going to figure shit out instantly,” he smirks as he traces the light red/purple bruises on your neck. You twist to the side to look at your reflection in the mirror.

Your eyes widen as you gasp, “Toji! How am I going to cover these?”

“Maybe don't... it doesn’t matter if they find out– maybe that way the gossip will reach your loser ex and he’ll know just how well I take care of you,” he teases, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

“God, you’re obsessed,” you giggle as you slap his chest lightly.

“Hmm, maybe. Told you I'm not one to share… especially not when your pussy tastes so good,” he kisses down your body till his face is in front of your core again. 

“I never said yes to our little arrangement… I can always back out,” you tease but your breath hitches when he presses his tongue to your core once again.

“Hmm, maybe I need to try my best to convince you then,” he nibbles and you instinctively tangle your fingers into his hair, closing your eyes as you enjoy the way Toji fucks you with his tongue once again.

“Toji… the bathtub,” you sigh when you hear the water overflow. Toji pulls away, holding his hand out and pulling you to the bathtub. Once in, he closes the tap and turns you around till your back is flush against his chest. He kisses your shoulder from behind when you're nestled against his broad torso.

As you straddle his lap, you feel his boner poke your skin.

“Leave some for tomorrow,” you let out an exhausted chuckle.

“Ignore it…,” he speaks softly and you lean back, dropping your weight onto his chest. You close your eyes as you feel him rub and massage your skin with a soothing pressure all over.

You don’t realise you begin drifting into light sleep but blink a few times when your head jerks up, feeling his body shift underneath you. You lean forward to allow him some space and he gets out of the tub. You eye the way the water drips down his body, trickling over his toned back muscles before he grabs the towel to pat himself dry. His damp hair falls over his temple and you smile to yourself – you could definitely get used to this.

He holds his hand out to you and you take it as you get out of the tub. You undo the towel around his waist to dry your own body, feeling your skin prick due to the cold air after having spent a good few minutes in the hot tub.

Just as you’re about to wrap the towel around your torso, Toji tugs it out of your hand to drop it to the floor and instead lifts you up again to carry you out into the bedroom.

“Toji, I’m cold,” you hug your arms around his neck.

“I know… don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm,” he says as he lays you down on the bed, readjusting his position till he’s on top.

“I really think we should get some sleep,” you giggle when he kisses you cheek.

“This is how we build up your endurance… with more practice,” he leaves open mouthed kisses down your throat.

You laugh as you yank his hair to pull his face away from your skin. “Let me sleep! Good night.”

“You can sleep… I don’t mind,” he mumbles as his tongue teases one of your nipples, biting the hardened bud lightly.

“Toji! Behave!” you scold him in a not-so-convincing tone.

“If I had behaved, we wouldn’t be here,” he rolls his eyes as he gets back up to give you a long, lazy smooch till you’re both out of breath. When your lips part, he rolls to the side, collapsing on the bed next to you. 

He covers the thick blanket over your bodies before pulling you to his chest and kissing your shoulder with a soft ‘good night’. The act is surprising as you hadn’t really taken him for the cuddling type. You feel his boner stick out against your back once again and you laugh.

“Shh, this is all very new. Give me some time,” he teases, snaking his arm around your waist. You wrap your hand over his, letting yourself melt into his arms when he rubs soft circles over your belly. You involuntarily rub your ass against his hard on and he presses your stomach to still your movement.

“Don’t do that if you want to sleep,” he warns and you giggle as you close your eyes, the tiredness of the whole day taking over your senses as you fall asleep in his arms.

~~~

You wake up when you hear your phone ring from a distant corner. You try to move Toji’s heavy arm to free yourself but he pulls you in even closer.

“My phone’s ringing,” you whisper as you turn your head to look at him. His eyes are still closed as he grumbles in a low voice, “Let it.”

You still manage to wiggle yourself out of his grasp and quietly walk towards where your phone was lying on the floor near the door. Toji stirs and sits up, his eyes following your naked form as you pick up the call.

“Did you die in there or something?”, you wince when you hear Ema’s voice on the other end.

“Open the door, we’ve been out here for, like, 5 minutes now,” Lisa’s voice is more distant.

When your brain registers what they’re talking about, you slap a hand over your mouth as you stare at Toji.

“Give me 5 minutes,” you mutter before hanging up, not giving them a chance to protest. Toji gets off the bed and walks towards you.

“Ema and Lisa… they’re outside my room… and I'm here,” you sigh as you pick up your garments off the floor.

“Told you there’s no point in hiding,” he says, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, “I’ll walk you to your room.”

You simply narrow your eyes at him with a ‘yeah, right’. He takes the dress from your hand.

“I’m not joking…” he holds the dress up in front of you and shrugs, “Besides, you’re gonna have to wear my clothes anyway.”

You see that the zip is broken with the fabric looking frayed where the zip ends – you had heard it right, he did rip your dress last night.

“I really liked that dress,” you pout but it’s far from a complaint. You know you cannot complain after a night like that.

“I liked it too… it gave me a really hard time the entire night,” he gives you a quick peck, far from apologetic, “I’ll get you one just like it.”

You simply blush at his words before pressing your hands on his chest, “Fineee, get me something to wear.”

He squeezes your ass once before walking away to his suitcase. You put on your thong and bra back on just as he returns with a t-shirt and sweatpants. You snatch them out of his hands and put them on quickly. 

He laughs at how baggy his sweats are, the compression t-shirt is still okay in comparison, “Guess it’s too big for you?”

You crinkle your nose, cringing at his joke as you secure the drawstring tightly to keep the pants from sliding down, “No, it’s not that big.”

“Is that so?”, he wraps his arms around your waist, caging you in, “Do I need to refresh your memory?”

“Toji! My friends are waiting!” you slap his chest and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you.

“Let them,” he moves his lips down to your jaw.

“No, let’s leave,” you wiggle your way out of his arms, shoving your phone in the pocket of his sweats before picking up your heels to carry them in one hand. He quickly puts on a different pair of sweatpants with an oversized t-shirt and sliders before grabbing his keycard. 

“Oh wait… I think my keycard is in your jacket from yesterday,” you turn around when you’re at the door to find him already rummaging through the pockets to retrieve it. You grin at him and he simply shrugs, “Told you, I’m a gentleman.”

You roll your eyes again as he opens the door and you quickly make your way to the elevator. Toji’s hand is resting on your lower back when the elevator dings and the doors open. 

You know there’s no point in hiding, yet you walk ahead of him as you notice your two friends standing outside your room. Before you have a chance to greet them, you hear Toji’s booming voice from behind, “Morning, ladies!”

You brace yourself for their reaction and it’s just as animated as you’d expected. They don't try to be subtle about it as they smirk at you while greeting the man in unison and you realise it's a lost cause trying to keep it a secret.

And it surely doesn’t help that Toji makes it a point to grab your jaw and kiss you goodbye in front of the two for no damn reason, as if it weren’t already obvious about what had transpired between you two. 

As he leaves, you smile at him, watching him walk away. The heat rushes to your cheek when you hear Ema fake a cough and you turn around to look at your friends. 

“Open the door ASAP! I wanna know everything,” Lisa squeals and you know your friends would not leave you alone until you went into heavy detail about the whole night.

~fin~

[judasgot-it]

There Was Only One Bed

"We tend to get into these situations a lot, now, don't we? Maybe we should make the most of it this time and stop dancing around each other."

Orter Madl ver.

Scenario: Travelling the countryside when of course, your inn sucks and leaves you no choice but to share the smallest bed imaginable.

Spending the night with Kaldo all seemed up to chance.

Both of you happened to be in the area, not even knowing that you would find each other there. The town, being the hellscape it was, had been snowed in by a blizzard and forced the both of you to book a night at one of the smallest inns you had ever stumbled across.

Of course, knowing each other for so long, it wasn't a problem for either of you to stay in the same room. Far from it.

Multiple times before did you share one - with multiple beds, with one bed. It never bothered either of you, seeing as you could both remain professional to each other.

Even outside of work. It wasn't weird to be so close to one another - at least you kept telling yourself that.

But wow. This time was testing your patience.

One bed.

Usually, there was enough space for you and a grown man. The beds you shared were large enough to let both of you stretch out, or at least have space between you when you both curled up.

If either of you woke up touching one another, nothing was ever said about it.

But this bed was ridiculously small. There was barely enough room for Kaldo to stretch out on it - his feet hung out on the side whenever he laid down, forcing him to curl up to keep all of his limbs from dropping out onto the floor.

How the hell were you both going to lay there together? You would have to pack yourselves in like sardines. The thought was making your face warm already.

"Um. I can take the floor Kaldo. There isn't enough room for the both of us."

It was easier to be the bigger man, letting him take the bed that you both had paid far too much for while you shivered on the floor. The room was still cold, even though you had tried to shut the windows tightly. The blizzard chill managed to seep in no matter what, stealing your warmth.

"Absolutely not. I'll sleep on the floor. The bed is warmer."

Kaldo sat up from the bed, only in one layer despite the blizzard outside. His hair was outside of its usual hairstyle, and his eyebags were sagging as he was already prepared to drop dead to the dream world.

"But I don't want you to be sore. You said you had to fight a lot today - I didn't really do much."

"We can fit in. It'll be fine, we both paid for it, and we should both use it."

You couldn't disagree with that logic. Arguing made you anyway.

The room was way overpriced, considering its size. How could this bed be considered for two people?

Sitting down next to him, you tried to avoid making eye contact with him. You felt how warm your face had already gotten, and you could feel how your thighs were touching as you both sat next to each other on the bed.

You had never really shared a bed this intimately with Kaldo before. It really shouldn't have made you so nervous, but even being near him made you want to run away. He made you feel like a little kid sometimes, it was embarrassing.

It was just something about him. Maybe it was the smile he had on his face right now, and the way it made your stomach turn.

Really, it was normal to be in situations like this with your coworker, so you didn't need to make a deal about anything. This was normal, professional behavior - there were worse things that happened inside of the Divine Divisionaries meetings than shared beds.

"Are you cold? I don't really need the blanket that much, my magic keeps me warm."

Huffing, you pulled the blanket to your side, laying down and glaring up at him.

"Of course, you don't feel cold. Thank you, I appreciate the consideration."

You tried to cover every part of your body with the thin blanket but found that it had the same problem as the bed - it was too small and the blanket was too thin to really keep you warm.

At best you could cover your legs, but it stopped just short of your chest and shoulders, leaving you bare and exposed to the elements. The sleep shirt you wore did nothing to stop the chill that seeped into the room, so you crossed your arms across your heart, glaring at the ceiling.

"This sucks."

"Yeah, It does. But we can't fight the weather."

Kaldo shrugged, laying himself next to you. His shoulder was nearly on top of yours, his arms holding his legs so he didn't fall off the small bed. You felt a little pity for him, seeing as he struggled to stay on the bed.

"I wish we could. Couldn't you use one of your heat spells to stop this blizzard and let us walk home?"

Kaldo laughed, the sound deeper than usual and laid with a thick tiredness. It was different from his usual airy voice, sounding less refined and more like a deep river basin.

"You think I can do that?"

His eyes looked to you, ruby eyes open and boring into yours. It felt rare, to see him serious about something.

"Maybe I could, but then I wouldn't be here, now would I?"

His lips upturned into a smile, looking back at the ceiling. The air from his lungs was warm enough to breathe out plumes of steam, and your eyes couldn't help but stay entranced as it poured out of his soft lips.

"We would have an easier time if we were on our sides, you know?"

It made your face red for some reason, voicing that thought out loud.

You both were already so close, but the idea of lying like that made you feel even more embarrassed. Spooning like you were a couple, all because of some blizzard outside.

That's where your thoughts had started to lead, anyway. You didn't want Kaldo to see your face as you got embarrassed, so you wanted to simply turn around and sleep away your cold and the fast beating of your heart.

Glancing to your side, you couldn't escape the man next to you, who was looking at you with a grin as his legs had already started to take up your space. Right, he was taller than you - there was no choice.

With a sigh, you turned to him, slightly hoping that your conversation wasn't over. His voice was soothing, and you liked looking at his face a little too much to be considered normal for just a coworker.

"Are you still cold?"

You blinked, not sure how to answer.

"Well, y-yea sorta. It's fine."

It was a hard line to toe, but you didn't want to intrude and ask Kaldo to use a heat spell. You both had already gotten into bed, and that might be asking too much. He wasn't a fan of using his magic too much anyway, so it was rather invasive, wasn't it?

Without words, Kaldo wrapped his arm around you, his warmth apparent as his limbs wrapped around you like a snake. His legs entangled with yours, your thighs stacking over one another as his lips lay right against the crown of your head, nose blowing heat against the shell of your ear.

You hoped he couldn't feel how fast your heart had started to beat through your chest.

Yes, you had shared a bed before with him. But god, never this close before.

Slowly, you pulled your arm from in between the two of you, the palm of your hand cradling the pulse point along his neck. You could feel how fast his heart was beating, like a raging river.

Maybe it was your imagination that made you think that last part up.

"Hey, Kaldo?"

The man hummed, the vibrations from his throat ringing underneath your fingers.

"This isn't awkward for you, is it?"

"Far from it, actually. I don't think anything could be uncomfortable when it's with you, darling."

Darling?

Your breath hitched, as your mind reeled around what he just said, his lips brushing against your forehead, kissing you gently in a way that spread fire across your skin.

"What do you mean by that?"

Hiding yourself deeper against the man, you felt the skin on your cheeks begin to warm as you pressed them against his bare neck.

Darling. Kaldo had called you darling.

"We should just stop beating around the bush with this. We act like more than just coworkers, don't we?"

You were shocked into silence, feeling how Kaldo pulled his hand higher against your back, his fingers feeling your upper spine. It made you curl in on yourself, feeling how his chest pressed against yours with each breath he took.

The feeling of wanting to run away was strong, coursing through your entire nervous system. It made your limbs ache, more than from the cold.

Kaldo might have known, as he grasped the back of your shirt, his breath heavy and warm against your skin.

You didn't feel cold at all in his arms.

"Why do you keep running whenever it gets like this?"

His voice was so quiet, but it practically reverberated against your skull.

"I don't know. This is a little much for coworkers."

"We've been doing this for years. Shouldn't we call ourselves more than just that?"

You breathed a sigh. It was hard to say the quiet part outloud.

"Friends?"

"Do you really think of me as just a friend?"

Kaldo's voice was incredulous, unserious with an undertone of hurt.

"No. I wouldn't lay like this with anyone else."

The both of you froze at that. It was the truth - there was no one else you knew who could even make you feel this way. Not even an ex or a crush.

"Then why don't we stop lying to ourselves."

You felt him shift away, his nose brushing against yours as he stared at you with hooded eyes, face to face on the small bed. There was nowhere to run, so you could only look back at his ruby gaze, feeling how he tried to pierce through your soul.

"Ah, I don't..."

It was hard to know what to say. The words were lodged in your throat, and you felt like you staring down a flaming dragon. Right, feelings.

"We're practically kissing already, so why don't we just do that instead?"

It was time to stop being a coward.

Pulling yourself up, you smashed your lips against his, trying to ignore the need to breathe. It was messy and all over the place, and you could feel how Kaldo's hand traveled to your jaw, his forearm trapping your shoulder.

His lips were warm, moving against yours and leading them in a direction you tried to follow. You tried to find space to move, feeling the cut off of oxygen from your brain as you still hadn't breathed.

Pulling away, you looked at the ivory-haired man, your face flush with emotion. It was hard not to heave heavy breaths, the nervousness making you want to take in ten times the amount of air you usually would.

"You know you can breathe, right? Or do I leave you breathless like that?"

Kaldo smiled, his eyes looking between every single one of your facial features. His hand brushed away a crease in your brow, making the feeling of blood in your cheeks more evident.

It wasn't fair, not being able to hide or run away.

"I don't know. I'm not a good kisser."

"I can teach you." There was a stupid grin on his face as he said this, not even registering how corny he was.

Pushing against his hold, you attempted to bury your face away in between the two of you. It was futile, as Kaldo's grip only tightened against you.

"Stop saying that stuff!"

It made you feel embarrassed for no reason, listening as Kaldo spoke to you as if you were in a cheesy romcom and not your coworker for the last few years.

"It got you to kiss me, didn't it?"

Kaldo was reveling in the victory, his words laced with a tired laugh.

Sighing, you relaxed against him once again, feeling how fingers found themselves brushing against your scalp.

At some point, you heard his voice speaking to you, but your eyes had begun to close, soothed by his warmth and the feeling of his body entangled with yours.

And in the morning, it was the first time you both had talked about the night before. And you didn't even feel like running away.

This is for my valentine's event, it's still open btw, there are still prompts open so go ask <3 Anyway to the anon who asked this I love u, thanks for asking for my shmookie Kaldo. Honestly praying you liked it cause there really isn't a lot of characterization on him so I'm kinda just making shit up, and also I wrote the majority of this while ill but I want to make this readable. I also began an Orter Madl ver. so look out for that (when i get to it).

Tagging @fellow-anime-weeb927 because I feel like it's obligatory, Kaldo stans must rise.

[scaranation]

hi hi !! could you write an ANGST with Dottore and Zhongli where we break up with them? maybe in dottore we break up because we can't bear(?) his experiments anymore and in Zhongli one we feel not enough/that he loves someone else (maybe Guizhong?)

Gn reader or Fem!reader(if u write for fem. sorry if u do not,i couldnt find rules and im really really sorry ! :( ... )

p.s will there be To love another 3rd part? it's my fav fanfic ever !!

love your work ♡♡

hihihi i know this is like super late but this prompt is literally so good 😭 also im thinking of writing another part to that fic, but i just dont know where to take it so ive been procrastinating haha

dottore’s part is kinda ooc bcs let’s be real if he’s that whipped for reader he wouldn’t let them break up with him, but im going to pretend that he’s not as much of a red flag as he actually is 🤭🤭

༊*·˚ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅

Pairing: Dottore x GN!reader, Zhongli x GN!reader (separate)

Content: Angst, no comfort. Mentions of canon typical violence, assumed past Guizhong x Zhongli

DOTTORE

“It seems my beloved has finally thought to visit me.”

You cringed from the overpowering metallic scent as you stepped into your boyfriend’s laboratory, trying hard not to look at the borderline gruesome sights on the clinical beds.

Dottore cleaned the blood off a bone saw he was holding, setting the instrument down carefully before walking towards you - eyes lit up, but holding a gleam different to the maniacal one he usually possessed.

“How was your day, my love?” His voice was humorous. He seemed to be in a good mood, humming lightly while opening the door for you.

“It was fine.” You sighed as you felt the weight of Dottore’s harbinger coat settle across your shoulders, registering the touch of his hand as he pulled you into him and away from the Snezhnayan cold.

“Has that coworker of yours still been bothering you?”

“… Don’t try pretending.”

“Whatever could you be talking about?” The Doctor’s grip on you tightened.

“I wouldn’t wish death on anyone, even if they annoyed me to that extent.” You sighed, finally tilting your head to stare into the planes of your lover’s mask.

“Oh, they’re not dead. Rather, they’ve been subject to some biological modifications of an experimental kind - would you like to see?”

You gritted your teeth.

“I’m hungry, don’t make me lose my appetite.”

“Good thing I have a nice place booked for dinner, my love.”

His compliance was almost uncanny.

-

Normal couples gazed affectionately into each other’s eyes over meat and wine, fingers fondly interlaced over the dining table. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to return Dottore’s adoring scarlet gaze, and his hold on your hand felt more like a death trap.

“Is the food to your liking?” He asked. He hadn’t touched any of the vegetables on his plate, only biting into the steak.

“Yes. You should eat greens, too.” You commented.

“Mm. Why don’t you feed me, then?” Dottore only tilted his head, smiling eagerly. Recently, a fear of you being turned into one of the harbinger’s countless experiments had taken hold, and it was this same fear that drove you to play right how he wanted. And so, lifting your fork, you fed him with all the patience you could muster - staring into those deep red eyes, feeling like nothing more than prey. Those eyes would’ve been the last thing many others had seen before their death, the end of their lives marked by that sadistic grin. You almost shuddered at the thought.

Normal couples slept under starry nights reflected in their star crossed hearts as they cuddled close under soft sheets. Normality was such a strange concept, you decided. Despite the fact that you were doing just what normal couples should, the situation was still absurd. However, your fear of becoming another one of the harbinger’s lab rats wasn’t unfounded. You mulled over this fact, almost snorting at the juxtaposition. Here you were - wondering if the man who cradled you in his arms would strap you down to a table in the name of research.

“My love, are you still awake?” You felt Dottore’s breath ghost over your neck, his face pressing into your nape. With a rustle, he readjusted the blanket over your shoulders.

“Yeah, I can’t sleep.”

“Nightmares, perhaps? I have a pill you can use for those.”

“No, just… thinking.” You squirmed in Dottore’s hold. His comment only reignited your spiralling train of thought, pushing you further to the point of resolve.

If he could kill his clones - literal versions of himself - then what would stop him from doing the same to you? Even if you remained alive, would you have to continue to tolerate being exposed to such grotesque horrors?

It was simply better to break things off, before you no longer had the option to.

Breakfast.

The first meal of the day, and the last meal you’d share with your boyfriend.

“Dottore.”

“Yes?” The Doctor’s head jerked up immediately from where he was chewing. You could feel the undivided weight of all his attention sinking into you, and for a moment, you faltered. He was notorious for paying little mind to anyone else, and yet, he treated you with the utmost attentiveness. You steeled your resolve.

“I think… we should break up.”

Silence. Then, the grating scrape of cutlery against crockery.

“Why.”

Not a question, more of a demand. You gulped.

“Do you want me to be honest with you?”

“Yes. Is it something I did?”

“I can’t bear your experiments anymore, Dottore. They’ve gone too far, and I don’t think I can stomach living normally with you as if I don’t know the kind of things you do. Even worse, every day I’m wary that I might be your next test subject - whenever I walk into your lab, I wonder when I’ll be the one under your needles. It’s exhausting.”

Another beat of silence. You could see Dottore’s chest rising and falling at an increasingly fast pace, his jaw tensing.

“I would never, ever do that to you. It’s ridiculous that you’d even think that, and as for your prior reason… I can arrange for you to come to the lab less often…”

“So you’re just going to cover my eyes and act like you’re not doing anything with those experiments? I just can’t be ignorant here, nor can I trust you. If you can get rid of your clones so easily, then what am I? What value do I hold-“

“Those creations do not even compare to you.” Dottore finally snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. You flinched, and he felt as though his lung capacity had been halved. His head spun in tandem with the rapid tightening of his heart, his mouth twisting into a scowl.

It hurt Dottore, realising that you didn’t trust him. That all those fond, intimate memories together were just you acting out of fear - or at least, the most recent ones were. It hurt, beyond anything Dottore thought he could inflict on his patients. And even worse, you were frightened of him. The light shaking of your shoulders and the way you flinched were enough indication.

The Doctor enjoyed seeing his victims become terrified, but that same terror on you almost made him feel like he’d been the one stabbed with a scalpel. Foolishly, he’d fallen victim to his own maniacal research tendencies.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just meant to say… that you can trust me.” Dottore raised his hand towards you to cup your cheek, wincing when you avoided the action.

“I tried to, I really did. But I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

“My love, please.”

The second harbinger was begging. What a strange sight.

“Let me go, Dottore.” You murmured shakily. You saw hesitation, hurt, and anger flit through those vermilion eyes you’d used to love. But that love you held for him had only smouldered into disgust and fear.

“… Then go. Get out of my sight.” Dottore hissed, his teeth clenching at the wary expression on your face.

It was painful, how you walked out without a second glance.

“My love…” Dottore whispered. He stared at the closed door, almost expecting you to return. He repeated the phrase, over and over to himself - his face contorting into an expression he himself couldn’t name. Was there truly an emotion as human as this? It was a twisted, unimaginable feeling the Doctor couldn’t categorise. The syllables came off his quivering lips, as though by uttering them he could make you come back.

But the truth was, your not-so-normal relationship was over. Perhaps, Dottore would return to the normality of his heartless experiments, and you’d return to the normality of a better fate than one you’d endure by his side.

He only regretted not being able to hold you more.

ZHONGLI

There were only two letters between you and your lover, but those two letters seemed to stretch wider every day - ‘I’, and ‘M’. The seemingly infinite synapse between mere ‘mortal’, and ‘immortal’.

Zhongli was undeniably a mortal vessel, but he as a being was not. He’d lived eons before you, loved and hated thousands. He’d experienced things you couldn’t even fathom, and yet, you couldn’t comprehend how he treated you as though your fleeting existence was the centre of his much larger world.

Whenever you looked into Zhongli’s amber eyes, heard his deep laugh, or felt his gentle caress, you could only feel insignificant. After all, he used to be a literal god. You couldn’t help the guilt that gnawed at your conscience, couldn’t stamp out the incessant feeling that he was too good for you, that you couldn’t compare to whatever lovers he’d had in the past.

“How’s the tea, darling?” Zhongli prompted. He sat with his back to the window, basking in an almost ethereal glow.

“Ah, I have yet to try it.” You shook yourself out of your thoughts to raise the cup in front of you. Zhongli only smiled warmly, but the gesture made your hand shake a little. You’d planned to break up with him today, and yet the way he still stared lovingly at you - full of infinite trust - made you feel terrible.

But how many others had he also treated this way? In his life, those others were probably far more special than you, possessing talents far more worthy of a god’s attention.

Suddenly, a shattering sound pierced your ears, and a scalding warmth set into your thigh. You looked down in a daze, before snapping out of it upon realising that you’d dropped the teacup.

“Are you okay?” Zhongli was at your side in an instant, mopping up the spilled tea and collecting the broken fragments of the cup.

“Yeah.” You gritted your teeth again. How dare someone as insignificant as you make Rex Lapis get down on his knees to clean the mess you’d made. It simply made you feel as though you didn’t deserve such a wonderful man at all.

“You’ve been distracted lately. Is there anything I should know about?” Zhongli asked slowly.

“No. Well, yes.” You stammered. You hadn’t planned this out very well, and your heart squeezed tighter.

“Go ahead. You know you can tell me anything, darling.”

A warm hand came to rest against your cheek. You closed your eyes, feeling tears build and slip down your face.

Zhongli wiped at your tears, holding your hands in your lap as he looked up at you worriedly - his thumbs tracing comforting circles on your knuckles. He thought of saying something, before deciding against it. He knew it was better to let you speak first.

“Let’s break up.” You blurted, feeling Zhongli’s fingers come to a complete stop.

“We can work through this, tell me why first. Has something been upsetting you?”

Your tears fell harder. He still showed you so much kindness, never jumping to any conclusions.

“I feel like I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, it makes me feel guilty that someone like me can have you.” You sobbed.

“Darling, you know it makes me happy to just spend time with you. That in itself is fair exchange, no?”

“But what makes that so special? You’ve lived for so long, you could’ve done this with anyone else, and you probably have. Who am I in comparison to someone like Guizhong?”

Through your blurred vision, you could still see Zhongli’s form kneeled by your side. He seemed to be choosing his next words carefully.

“You and her are both special, in your own way. Why don’t you calm down a little first? I can pour you some more tea.”

“I’m so selfish, Zhongli. I really don’t think I can stay with you.”

“Do you really want to leave that badly?”

Your heart twisted. You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay in his warm embrace, his soft understanding gaze. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“… Yes.”

“Very well then. You know I won’t stop you, because I just want what’s best for you.”

The light grip on your hands released, and as you stood up everything seemed to spin.

“Thank you… for everything.” You murmured, stealing one last glance at the man you loved - before leaving.

Zhongli remained where he was for some time. In his life, many things came to an end, but this hurt a little more. When Guizhong had left him, it was due to her passing - the youthful Rex Lapis had found someone to blame, to ventilate his grief. But the most crude fact in this situation was that you were still alive, and had chosen to leave him of your own volition. Zhongli himself had made this happen.

However, an archon’s most prized trait was impartiality. Therefore, Zhongli knew that he had to maintain indifference. He refused to let himself chase after you, or force you into anything. It was only unfair, if an immortal were to impose such a fate onto a mortal.

And so, he could only watch as you faded from his life, like the cyclic ebb of waves on an ocean shore.

[lila-lou]

✨Rough around the edges - Pt. 1✨

Summary: Jack's day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Exhausted from a grueling shift under the scorching sun, he just wanted to crash at home with some wings and a football game. But his plans for a quiet night were shattered when the racket from his new neighbor echoed through the walls.

Pairing: Jack x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap

Word Count: 4385

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

"Fucking shit!", Jack grumbled as he yanked the heavy piece of wood back into place, his muscles straining from the sudden weight. His colleague had almost dropped it from his side, barely catching it in time. Jack's patience was wearing thin after hours of working under the hot sun. They were up on the fifth floor of a building still under construction, the framework barely holding together as they handed over beam after beam to meet the firm’s relentless deadline.

"Watch it, man", Jack muttered, glaring at his coworker, and best friend, who shrugged it off with a nervous chuckle. He wasn’t in the mood for apologies or excuses. He adjusted his grip, steadying the beam as they maneuvered it into place, his hands rough and worn from the constant grind. The city skyline stretched out in the distance, a reminder of how much work still lay ahead.

They were only halfway through the shift, and Jack could already feel the familiar ache settling into his shoulders. It wasn’t like he hated the job — he was good at it, and it paid the bills — but days like these made him wonder how long he could keep it up.

One misstep up here and things could go bad real quick.

A few hours later, as Jack made his way toward his car, the heat of the day still clung to him, though the sweat on his body had started to dry. His shirt stuck to his back, and every step felt like a reminder of the long, grueling hours spent on the site. His muscles ached, and all he could think about was getting home.

Just as he unlocked his car, he heard footsteps pounding behind him. Anthony, his best friend, jogged up with that usual grin plastered on his face. “Hey, man! You wanna grab a beer in town? Some of the guys are heading over to O’Malley’s”.

Jack groaned inwardly, barely holding back an eye roll. The last thing he wanted right now was to be surrounded by loud voices and more chaos. He glanced at Anthony and waved him off. "Dude, even my fucking balls are sweating. I'm beat to hell after this week".

Anthony laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, but Jack wasn’t in the mood.

“Nah, man. I’m heading home. All I wanna do is watch the football game, grab a bucket of wings, crack open a six-pack, and call it a night”. He paused and smirked, half-joking. “Might jerk off if I can stay awake long enough”.

Anthony let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. “Sounds like a hell of a night. Alright, man, catch you next time”.

Jack nodded, climbing into his car and slamming the door shut. As soon as the engine roared to life, he felt the weight of exhaustion settle over him. His mind was already on the couch waiting for him. Nothing fancy. Just a little peace, a little food, and maybe, if he wasn’t too worn out, a moment to himself before crashing into bed.

Half an hour later, Jack trudged up the stairs to his apartment, the bucket of wings tucked under his arm like a lifeline. His body ached with every step. Man, he was tired. All he wanted was to collapse on the couch.

As he reached the top of the stairs, nearing his door, a loud bang jolted him out of his thoughts. He froze, listening, and sure enough, there were more sounds—soft curses, followed by another series of thuds—coming from the apartment across the hall. The one that had been empty for months since the old lady who lived there had moved to a retirement home.

Jack paused, glancing over his shoulder at the door. Whoever it was clearly wasn’t having the smoothest move-in. He heard something fall again, accompanied by a muffled groan of frustration.

Jack groaned in annoyance, rubbing a hand across his face. Just great. As if the week hadn’t been exhausting enough, now he had to imagine his weekend being a noisy mess thanks to whoever was moving in. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. Instead, it seemed like his weekend would be filled with endless bangs and thuds coming from across the hall.

Another loud thud echoed through the hallway, followed by a soft “Ouchy” that made him roll his eyes. He could already picture some clueless person fumbling around with boxes, knocking stuff over, and generally making a racket. The kind of person who probably had no idea how to move without turning it into a circus.

Jack shifted the bucket of wings under his arm, debating whether or not to knock on the door. Part of him wanted to just ignore it, retreat into his apartment, and hope for the best. But the other part, the more frustrated part, was tempted to knock and tell them to keep it down. He’d had a long week, and he deserved a break, damn it.

Finally, he took a deep breath and approached the door, raising his fist to knock.

Just then, the door swung open unexpectedly, and there you were, looking frazzled and clearly unprepared for company. You were wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts and a tank top, your skin glistening slightly from the heat. Your hair, a messy bun on top of your head, looked like it had been thrown together in a hurry, and you had no makeup on, not that you needed it.

Jack blinked, momentarily caught off guard, staring at the younger woman standing in front of him.

You, on the other hand, were equally surprised to see the man standing in front of you. He had to be at least double your age, but damn, he was handsome—broad-shouldered, his shirt sticking to his body in places from what looked like a long day of work, and those tired, slightly irritated eyes that made him seem like someone who didn’t put up with much nonsense.

“Uh… hi”, you blurted, your voice a little breathless from all the moving. You glanced down at the two boxes sitting in front of your door, which you had come out to grab. “Sorry about the noise. I swear, I’m almost done”.

Jack let out a deep breath. “Yeah, I was kind of wondering if you were trying to tear the place down before you even moved in”.

You laughed, a soft, self-conscious sound, running a hand over your face. “Feels like it. I’m not exactly an expert at this moving thing. Been here all day, and I’m pretty sure I’ve destroyed more stuff than I’ve unpacked”.

Jack’s eyes flicked over you, taking in the sight of your casual shorts and tank top, the slight sheen of sweat on your skin. His gaze wasn’t lewd, but it was unmistakably assessing, like he was trying to figure you out. The tiredness in his eyes gave way to something more skeptical, maybe even judgmental. He crossed his arms, one eyebrow raising slightly as if he couldn’t believe someone as young as you could afford a place like this without some help from your parents—or worse, without a party lifestyle attached.

“You’re not planning on partying every day, though, right?”, Jack said, his voice carrying an edge of suspicion. His eyes lingered just a moment too long before meeting yours again. It was clear he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of noisy neighbors—especially younger ones.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the implication. Seriously? He didn’t even know you, and already he was sizing you up like you were going to turn the building into a constant rave scene. You clenched your jaw, irritation bubbling up despite the exhaustion from moving.

“Uh, no”, you mumbled, crossing your arms defensively. “I actually have to work. So no, I’m not throwing parties 24/7”.

His eyebrow quirked slightly at that, as if reassessing you now. He didn’t say anything, just gave a small grunt in response. It was hard to tell whether he believed you or not, but he didn’t press the issue.

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling judged by this man who you had just met. He was rude, but still frustratingly handsome, even if you hated to admit it. “Anyway”, you added, trying to keep the edge out of your voice, “I just moved in today, so I’m probably more exhausted than you are right now”.

Jack glanced at the boxes again, the annoyance in his posture easing just slightly. He seemed to realize that you weren’t what he’d assumed at first glance. “Fair enough”, he said after a moment. “I’m not trying to be a dick. It’s just been a long week, and I wasn’t expecting… all this noise”.

“Yeah, well, me neither”, you said, rolling your eyes and grabbing one of the boxes. “Last thing I wanted today was to turn my move into a construction site soundtrack”.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you before Jack let out a small sigh, as if he were finally letting go of the tension. “Alright”, he said, softer now.

With that, Jack simply turned around, seemingly content to let the conversation end there. His broad shoulders shifted as he took a few steps toward his door, the tension finally draining from the air between you. You stood there for a moment, watching him, still feeling a bit stung by the way he had sized you up but relieved that the exchange hadn’t escalated into anything worse.

“I’m Y/N, by the way”, you called after him, hoping to salvage at least a shred of neighborly civility. Maybe if you introduced yourself, it would take the edge off his attitude.

But he didn’t stop. He was already at his door, turning the knob without so much as glancing back. The heavy sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the hallway, leaving you standing there, feeling awkward and a little insulted. Clearly, Jack wasn’t the friendly type—or maybe he was just having a bad day.

You exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the box a little tighter as you shuffled it into your apartment. Shutting your own door behind you, you leaned against it for a second, shaking your head. Great, you thought, this is going to be an interesting neighbor dynamic.

Moving boxes and unpacking was hard enough, but now you had to deal with the grumpy guy across the hall. You couldn't help but wonder if he’d always be this much of a grump or if this was just his post-work exhaustion talking. Either way, you figured you wouldn’t be getting on his good side any time soon.

Meanwhile, Jack made his way into his apartment, the door closing behind him with a thud. He set the bucket of wings down on the counter, exhaling as he ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He couldn’t shake the image of you—frazzled, yet oddly composed—out of his mind. It annoyed him, mostly because he knew he’d been unnecessarily rude.

Shaking it off, he emptied the bucket of wings into his air fryer and set the timer. He had earned this meal after the week he’d had, and he wasn’t about to let anything ruin that. As the air fryer whirred to life, Jack peeled off his work shirt, which clung to his skin, then kicked off his boots as he headed toward the bathroom.

The mirror caught a glimpse of his reflection as he stripped down, his body still sore from the grind of lifting and hauling all day. He sighed, stepping into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him. It was like the heat and frustration of the day started to melt away the moment the water hit his skin.

Jack leaned his head against the tile, letting the water cascade down his back, rinsing away the grime.

Around two hours later, Jack sat slumped on his couch, the room dimly lit by the glow of the TV. The low sounds of a porn scene played in the background, but his mind was barely focused on the screen. His head rested back against the couch, his eyes half-lidded as he worked his hand around himself, having slipped out of his sweatpants. This was his way of letting off steam after a week like the one he’d just had.

It was routine by now—something easy, quick, and without the complications of dealing with a woman who might end up being clingy or demanding more than he was willing to give. This was uncomplicated, his way of zoning out and shutting off the outside world. No messy emotions, no obligations—just a quiet moment for himself.

Jack exhaled heavily, his hand moving in rhythm as the sounds from the TV filled the otherwise silent apartment. His muscles were still tired, but there was a certain release in this moment. The frustrations of the day, including the brief encounter with you, seemed distant now. This was about turning off everything for a little while—no thoughts, no stress, just the physical release he needed.

And after? He’d down the rest of his six-pack and knock out on the couch, forgetting the world entirely, at least for a few hours.

But Jack had planned it all without accounting for you. Just as he was about to finish, his stomach tightening with that familiar tension, the loud, jarring sound of a hammer hitting nails into the wall echoed through the apartment, shaking the thin wall behind his TV.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”, Jack muttered, his mood immediately broken as the banging continued, louder now. He clenched his jaw, frustration boiling up again. He had been so close to just letting go of the entire day’s stress, and now this. The relentless thud of hammering kept going, pulling him completely out of the moment.

His hand stilled, and he slammed his fist against the side of the couch in frustration. Of course, he thought, it had to be the new neighbor. You were likely trying to settle in, oblivious to the fact that you were ruining what little escape he had. Jack exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face as he sat up, the mood thoroughly killed.

The hammering continued, and Jack could feel the tension in his body shifting from desire to pure annoyance. He thought about just letting it go, but every time the hammer hit, it felt like another push against his patience. Grumbling under his breath, he yanked his sweatpants back up and stood, glaring at the wall as if that would somehow stop the noise.

For a second, he considered banging on the wall in retaliation. But he knew that wasn’t going to help. Instead, he grabbed a T-shirt from the floor, pulling it over his head as he stormed toward the door.

Time to have a little chat about the noise.

Jack was beyond fucked up. His head was pounding with the frustration of being yanked out of the one bit of peace he’d managed to carve out for himself. The incessant hammering felt like a personal attack. His mind was still half-focused on the release he had been chasing, now replaced by a surge of raw anger coursing through him.

He stomped to the door, yanking it open with more force than necessary. He didn’t care anymore if he looked like a pissed-off wreck. This was supposed to be his time to unwind, to shut the world out, and here you were, ruining it without even knowing. His thoughts raced, blending his frustration with the earlier judgment he’d passed on you. Young, new neighbor—probably clueless about the noise, or just didn’t give a damn.

He crossed the hallway with long strides, already regretting not saying something earlier when you’d first made a racket. Without bothering to calm down, Jack raised his fist and banged on your door with the same intensity as the hammering that had interrupted his night.

The hammering stopped suddenly, and Jack stood there, his jaw clenched, waiting. His breathing was still heavy, fueled by the adrenaline from both the frustration and the situation he had been pulled out of. He heard footsteps approach the door, and it opened to reveal you, looking slightly surprised and flushed, probably from all the effort of settling in. You still had that slightly frazzled look, your hair in a messy bun, and a hammer in hand.

“Hey, I—”, you started, but Jack cut you off before you could finish.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”. His voice was sharp, almost a growl. “I’ve had the longest fucking week, and all I wanted was to relax for once, but instead, I’ve got you hammering away like it’s a fucking championship".

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the aggression in his tone. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”.

“Yeah, well, now you do”, Jack snapped. “Some of us don’t want to listen to that shit at this hour”.

You stood there for a second, staring at him. Then, with a deep breath, you said, “Look, I didn’t mean to bother anyone. I just moved in, and I’m trying to get this done before it gets too late. But I didn’t think it would be this loud. I can stop”.

Just then, a heavy crash echoed from inside your apartment, cutting the tense moment between you and Jack short. Both of your heads snapped toward the source of the noise—your bedroom. Your face paled as realization hit you.

“Oh no”, you whined under your breath, eyes wide in horror.

Jack leaned slightly to the side, peeking over your shoulder, and sure enough, he saw straight into your bedroom. The massive bookshelf you’d just tried to hang with nails was now lying crookedly on your bed, surrounded by scattered books and what looked like pieces of drywall that had fallen from the wall.

He stood there for a moment, staring, trying to process what he was seeing. Then, almost involuntarily, a muttered, “Are you serious?”, escaped his lips. The disbelief was clear in his tone, but there was also a flicker of amusement breaking through the anger. His lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smirk.

“You really tried hanging that… with nails?”, Jack asked, incredulous, but there was something different in his voice now—a touch of dry humor.

You flushed, your embarrassment reaching new heights as you buried your face in your hands for a moment, groaning. “I thought it would hold! I didn’t realize it was that heavy!”.

Jack huffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “That thing’s massive. Nails? Really? You need anchors or brackets for something like that. Not nails”.

You glanced up at him, your embarrassment deepening, but his tone had shifted enough that you felt less defensive. He wasn’t ripping into you anymore, at least. “I didn’t think it through, clearly”, you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “I just… I wanted to get it done, you know?”.

Jack exhaled, still standing in your doorway, but some of the anger and tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by the undeniable ridiculousness of the situation. He crossed his arms, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

He sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced from you to the chaotic scene in your bedroom. He seemed torn between frustration and reluctant amusement, clearly trying to figure out how he got roped into this situation. After a moment, he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, “If I put that stupid bookshelf on the wall… are you actually gonna go to fucking sleep after?”.

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected offer, and despite the roughness in his tone, there was a hint of something almost… helpful? You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or just resigned to the situation. Either way, you couldn’t believe he was volunteering to help after everything.

You nodded quickly, still flustered. “Yeah, absolutely. I’ll be out of your hair for the rest of the night”.

Jack rolled his eyes but stepped back into the hallway. “Fine. Let me grab my tools. I’m not doing this again tomorrow”. He shot you a look as if to say, You owe me for this, and turned back toward his apartment.

As he disappeared into his place, you stood in the doorway for a second, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over you. This wasn’t how you expected your night to go, but at least you weren’t completely on your own with the bookshelf disaster now.

A few minutes later, Jack returned with a drill, a level, and some heavy-duty wall anchors, looking every bit like the reluctant handyman he had somehow become tonight. “Alright”, he grumbled as he walked past you into your bedroom, “Let’s do this before I regret offering”.

You followed him into the room, standing awkwardly off to the side as he inspected the damage. He shook his head, muttering under his breath again. “Shit, the whole thing could’ve taken the wall down with it”.

You couldn’t help but let out a small, nervous laugh. “Yeah… definitely didn’t think it through”.

Jack just gave you a look before getting to work, drilling into the wall with quick efficiency. You watched in silence, half-grateful and half-embarrassed that this grumpy, tired stranger was now saving you from your own DIY disaster.

Within ten minutes, the bookshelf was back up, this time secured with proper brackets and anchors. Jack stepped back, giving it a firm tug to test its stability. “There. That’s not coming down unless you drive a truck through the wall”.

You grinned, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Thank you. Seriously”.

Jack gave a half-shrug, packing up his tools. “Just keep it quiet, alright? I wasn’t kidding about the long week”.

You nodded, grateful. “I promise. No more hammering”.

“Next time, get your damn boyfriend to do that shit before you and your furniture end up breaking through my wall”, Jack muttered, nodding toward the picture frame sitting on top of a moving box. In the photo, you were smiling alongside a tall, athletic-looking guy with his arm wrapped around you. Jack’s comment was laced with a hint of irritation, but also that same dry humor you’d been getting used to.

Your smile faltered for a moment as your eyes followed his to the photo. Little did he know, that guy in the picture wasn’t in your life anymore—and that was the whole reason you had moved into this place. The sting of your breakup surfaced briefly, the memory of catching him cheating on you still raw. You swallowed hard, quickly deciding not to let Jack in on that painful detail. It wasn’t like he needed to know, and the last thing you wanted was pity from a man who had barely tolerated your existence for the last few hours.

“I’m Jack”, he grumbled, finally acknowledging your earlier introduction. It was a reluctant gesture, his voice still rough with exhaustion, as though even saying his name was a chore. He barely looked at you as he muttered it, his eyes already shifting toward his door like he couldn’t wait to escape the interaction.

Before you could respond or even offer a polite “nice to meet you”, he was already halfway back to his apartment. The door closed with a soft click behind him, leaving you standing there in the quiet hallway, feeling the weight of everything settle on your shoulders again. His abruptness wasn’t surprising, but it still stung a little after the tense back-and-forth of the evening.

You let out a sigh, glancing back at the photo on the box. Jack, you thought, rolling his name over in your mind. He was clearly rough around the edges, quick to frustration, but at least he hadn’t been completely heartless. He’d helped with the bookshelf, after all—something he absolutely didn’t have to do.

You stood there for a moment longer, gathering your thoughts. The apartment felt quiet now, too quiet, after the chaos of the last few hours. The silence brought your mind back to why you’d moved in the first place, and without meaning to, you found yourself thinking of your ex again—how easily he'd broken your trust, how it had shattered everything you'd built together.

You shook your head, pushing the memories away. This was a new start, and you weren’t going to let thoughts of him ruin it. No more looking back.

Turning back to the room, you tidied up the last of the scattered books and straightened out the bedding. As you moved around, Jack’s gruff demeanor kept replaying in your mind—his judgmental comments, his unexpected offer of help, and the brief glimpse of amusement when the bookshelf came crashing down. You couldn’t quite pin him down, and that intrigued you in a way you weren’t expecting.

By the time you were ready to settle into bed, you found yourself glancing at the wall you shared with Jack’s apartment, half-expecting to hear some noise, but it was completely silent. You lay down, pulling the covers over you, and for the first time in a while, you felt a strange sense of calm. Despite the chaos of the night, the disaster with the bookshelf, and the awkward introduction to your grumpy neighbor, things didn’t feel quite as overwhelming as they had earlier.

Maybe this place would turn out to be a fresh start after all.

———————————

A/N: I had way too much fun writing this. This story will definitely be a multi-part one.

I guess there will be also more from Jack in the future.

Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 2

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Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @cheynovak @ookidoki @deans-spinster-witch @n-o-p-e-never @riah1606 @stoneyggirl2 @saintnourah

[diagonal-queen]

Your blog is very safe, me thinks. Very comfort, if that makes sense lol. I have a request, feel free to ignore this but I can't help but to wonder what a few BSD men would be like with a very mature/maternal and responsible s/o who tends to put themsleves last and burn themselves out (preferably fem, as I am an older sister who has taken on the role of caregiver and project HEAVILY) I'd like to see Fyodor, Poe, Ranpo and Jouno. (You can throw in anyone else if you want)

BSD boys with a self-sacrificing girlfriend

♡ pairing: Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Edgar Allan Poe, Ranpo Edogawa, Saigiku Jouno x fem!Reader

♡ synopsis: How are they with a caring and self-sacrificing girlfriend?

♡ cw: Swearing, use of fem titles, she/her pronouns, mentions of stress and burnout.

note: Thank you for the sweet message anon <3 it's truly a shame that you and i are the exact same person who have experienced the exact same burden of raising children we didn't choose to have. but i've moved out now so i'm free!! come live with me queen tf we're besties now. apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Fyodor:

Fyodor is a trad man. I'm sure he has some weird beliefs about how women are supposed to have some normalised feminine traits, but this is too much even for him.

It really pains him to see you be so selfless, truly. Though he admires your kindness and patience, he just wants you to be content. He wants you to be comfortable.

Does he enjoy having what is basically a personal maid around? Yes, yes he does. Does he feel guilty for feeling that? No. But does he recognise that your current self-sacrificing routine is unhealthy? YES HE DOES.

So...he simply does not make you do anything at all. If you want to do something for him that's on you.

If you want to do something for someone *else*, he probably won't really let you. Unless it's like family or something, then he understands, but no, you're not helping that random child get their kite unstuck from that tree no matter how much you want to, myshka.

Fyodor absolutely doesn't involve you in his work. He knows that'll only stress you out more, and that's the last thing you need. As such he keeps you away from his coworkers (especially Mykola. Sorry Mykola lovers)

He comes to value his time spent relaxing with you, because he also acknowledges that he could use a break every now and then as well. There's nothing quite as comforting to him as lounging around alongside you- you don't have to be talking or even doing the same thing, as long as you're there together.

Listen, Fyodor does care about you, and he values your health and wants you to be relaxed and uncaring as much as is possible. But if you, his sweet woman, wants to make him a cup of tea, who is he to turn you down?

Poe:

I don't know exactly how to explain Poe here. Just hear me out

He is genuinely so like stressed and anguished about your lack of self-preservation in favour of caring about others. He constantly thinks about it and writes tragic poems about it and shit

Like he's like 'my love......she does not see herself as i do, as a beautiful star....with every act of kindness her light dims ever so slightly...until she's reduced to nothing.........the irony of the good deeds of man..............;-;'

HE'S SO SAD OKAY HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH AND WANTS TO SEE YOU RELAX FOR ONCE

He will go all out in his attempts to make you feel calm and comfortable and happy. Oh he will buy you SO many presents it's disgusting. He will rent out whole restaurants and like even theme parks and shit if that's your thing. He'll stop at no lengths to give you some respite, and it's honestly quite sweet

All that being said, he does love that you're so attentive and caring about Karl. He's definitely watched you play with him and then started blushing super hard because the word 'parents' suddenly crossed his mind and now he's thinking about children and aaaaaa

ABSOLUTELY writes a scenario in which you can relax. Whatever you want- an empty beach, a forest, a liminal space, he'll write it all for you, and gift you the book so you can go there whenever you want :>

He's basically a sugar daddy, except you're in an actual relationship and it's not all about the money. Your boyfriend just happens to be loaded as fuck

At the end of the day, Poe is such a hypocrite because he himself is such a workaholic that he practically lets it consume him, too!

You're both absolute messes. Drink some water and sleep for god's sake. And for the love of all things good take care of each other.

Ranpo:

Bro knows exactly what's up. Sorry, he's got you all figured out fr

That doesn't mean he won't let you baby him though. At first. He'll just let you, along with everyone else, clean up after him and buy him shit

BUT soon, soon he realises that this behaviour is rather detrimental to your health. He sees the circles under your eyes, he notices these things. And he's like '...oh shit'

Ranpo doesn't have any shame or reservations. He straight up confronts you about it. 'Why don't you ever take care of yourself?' And he's not playing around this time

And no matter what your excuse is, he's like 'not good enough. We're going to get ice cream RIGHT NOW and you're going to talk to me about this. Now lead me to the ice cream parlour immediately'

(I may or may not be paraphrasing this particular quote)

The point is that he presents you an avenue to open up about your struggles, stress and psyche. And he really does want to help- the fact that he gets ice cream out of this is just a bonus

From here on out he'll keep an eye out for you. Every time you find yourself getting overworked or burning out he'll make you take a break. This could be a nap or sending you home or a surprise outing- anything to get your mind off work and people.

Ranpo is a stickler for the rules, sure, but he's also lazy as shit. Any time he doesn't feel like working, you're now not allowed to work either. You have to hang out with him or else (he'll be a little sad)

He doesn't necessarily introduce any...permanent solutions to your predicament, but he does have you looking forward to your couples-down time each day, and that's something!

Over time, you do learn to balance yourself and external responsibilities. And he will absolutely be taking credit for it lmao

Jouno:

Jouno is very...self-important, we'll say. Not like, completely selfish or anything, but very much tends to prioritise his own opinions and time and such.

You make him do a complete reassessment and breakdown of all of his thoughts and beliefs he's built up over the course of his lifetime

/j but really, you're unbelievably different from him. You're both willing to put yourself in danger or wear yourselves down, but *you* don't have anatomical medical adjustments that practically make you invincible.

Jouno wants to protect you- and he's not willing to negotiate. He's not letting anyone hurt you, even if on accident. He's especially not willing to let anybody take advantage of your generous nature, which is probably more likely anyway.

He's such a scary dog actually (lol get it?? get it cause he's one of the Hunting Dogs? DO YOU GET IT-) he'll accompany you anywhere if you ask him to.

When he wants to do something for you, he will do it. You're not lifting a finger miss girl

Like he really will take care of you! When he's off work, of course. His job is kind of important, but you best believe you're getting pampered when Jouno is off the clock.

My mans is romantic as FUCK: cooking you nice dinners, reading to you before bed, massages, cuddles- as well as engaging in your interests alongside you of course

He just thinks it's so cute to see you engrossed in something that YOU enjoy, and will encourage your down time

Jouno is gonna make sure that you take care of yourself too, because when he's not around, who better to look after anybody than you? That's the most important thing to him.

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

[tobifuyu]

Snowflakes In My Stomach When We’re Kissin’

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, fwb to lovers, oral (male reciving), tiny bit of angsty themes with happy ending, sappy fic, ran being a simp as always to feed my “he’s a self-centered bitch until he finds the one” agenda.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: surprise… i’m back with a christmas present! this is the first fic in a three pieces installment, which can all be read as standalone but come from the same universe and evolve in the span of three different christmases. in case you didn’t know, in japan christmas is a holiday in which people spend time with their partners because they reserve new year’s for family (not only i’ve seen it in a whole lot of shoujo anime but i’ve asked my japanese coworkers to confirm eheh). it’s also customary to eat cake! ;)

“Though you said you just wanted to get a coffee.”

The only thing peeking from the red scarf is the tip of his nose, flushed with the same color of the fabric that���s wrapped around his neck. You imagine his lips curved in a smirk under it.

When he came to pick you up earlier this morning, you thought he made a bold choice pairing the red garment with the unusual color of his hair. Up until then, you always believed red and purple would clash.

But Ran made it work, somehow. Like most things in his life, he did it with a confidence that made you question your world and how you view it even if for just a second.

“Well, that we did,” He shakes his hand, his long fingers easily supporting the weight of the full cup. You can see the steam rise from it and wonder if he’s not drinking it because he’s scared to burn his tongue or because he’s not ready to go home yet.

The two of you are currently walking around Shiba Park, not too far from Roppongi Hills. The peak of Tokyo Tower is hidden in plain sight behind the trees, stripped naked by the season, and adorned by strings of fairy lights.

In daylight they look clear, void of color, and empty, they come alive at night. Just like we both do, thinks Ran.

Ran does like winter. He believes winter poses more opportunities to forgo going out and staying in bed. He loves to gaze out of his apartment’s window and spot rain pit patting against the glass, watching the water droplets leave streaks behind as he lets himself get lulled back to sleep.

He also likes that he can layer more clothes, the more the merrier, he says, it’s easier to style it. You would agree, because he looks particularly elegant with his long black coat, left unbuttoned to glimpse at the nice sweater under it. The sight of his tightly clad body alone ignites a fire inside of you, one that is meek but insistent, and will soon start to burn you inside out.

What Ran doesn’t like it’s the cold. The wind is not fair against his pale skin, it leaves it red and stinging, much like his heart when he wakes up after a night together and doesn’t find you there. He does not like the cold, the cold of the sheets around him when you’ve left hours before.

He would like to pretend he’s clueless as to why, the same way you’re staring at him now, but he knows the reason behind it.

“Are you gonna tell me why we’re wandering around without a destination in freezing weather?

“Can’t you just live a little?”

You scoff at his words, taking another sip out of your hot chocolate to bite back an insult. He’s already testing your patience, and you have very little of it left today of all days.

“We should go eat some cake, I’d love an excuse to grab a Mont Blanc for later at that bakery by your apartment. Y’know I like it there.”

Cake. You don’t like cake, and you don’t like what eating cake with him would mean today of all days.

“Why do you have to make everything so complicated, Ran?” You sigh, head shaking in disappointment.

When you decided to start this with Ran, it was because you believed the man to be on the same wavelength as you. Ran had seemed like someone who knew what he wanted, and you had been sure that was not you.

He had promised that would stay the case. Your heart could not afford to be cared for by somebody.

When you look at him this time, you don’t notice how the wind is whipping the skin of his high cheeks red because his scarf is now covering everything but the lidded eyes staring at you.

At this rate Ran might end up hating winter: you seem to get colder with the season. He doesn’t think he would pick sleeping in over you, so if he could, he would like for summer to last all year long.

He’d like for you to cling to him even when the temperature is so high you can barely breathe in your cramped room, sweat sticking to both your skin and his, like your very first night together.

Because where the holidays bring glee to most, to you they’re a reminder of times that are long gone. A childhood spent decorating the tree and wishing for the perfect Christmas gift, now turned into a life of solitude. Your fast-paced job and lonely apartment away from home don’t leave space for the frivolity of Christmas.

“Didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he speaks so clearly of his intentions you almost feel shame, “Did ya think I would’ve left you bask in your gloominess, today? ‘M not that bad of an ass.”

You don’t think Ran owns you anything. He shouldn’t be picking up the pieces of you that other people left scattered and putting them back together as if it were a kids’ puzzle.

Ran knows you don’t really have anyone, he thinks he’s much like you, and would be just as bitter if he didn’t have his brother.

“You left Rin by himself?”

You hear his muffled laughter, “‘course not. Haruchiyo’s there. Y’know how they are.”

Yes. In love, you suppose. And you wonder if Ran thinks that is what it is. And what is it between you two?

You can feel his body warmth as he gravitates closer to you, “‘M cold,” is his excuse when his now ungloved hand catches yours. He intertwines your fingers, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb, before hiding them away in his coat pocket.

Gotta warm your cold heart up, he thinks.

“Saving you from this freezing weather,” is what he says out loud.

But you know it’s because the movement brings you closer, he pulls you so you’re now shoulder to shoulder, and you’re not strong enough to keep your head from falling on his. As if you were fresh snow in the sun, you melt in his presence.

“Let’s go get cake,” your voice is but a soft whisper, running past him like the breeze through the dying leaves, the wind finally settling down.

And that’s how he ends up in your apartment. Sounds of wet skin slapping against one another fill the void as he buries himself deep inside of you.

The sweet pastries Ran bought long forgotten over your kitchen counter, as he’d much rather taste the honeyed nectar spilling from between your thighs.

He’s grabbing at them now, the hold on your flesh sure to leave marks behind as he folds your legs so that he can loop his arms under your knees, keeping you spread open for him.

Big body caging you under his warmth with his forehead pressed against yours, and open mouths a breath away from the other, sharing sounds of pleasure without ever meeting in the middle.

It had been a tantalizing dance when you first started sleeping together. Like most people in your situation, you had both concluded that it would be best if you refrained from kissing. Deeming it too intimate.

Ran had caved after the third time you ended up in his bed, lips too needy to be kept from yours. He had let out a soft plead before you met him in the middle.

From then on you made it your mission to never kiss him outside of your bedroom activities, too scared of the power his kisses held over you. He and his annoying self had taken it as a challenge, always on the edge of his seat waiting to see who’d kiss the other first.

“Oh fuck this,” Ran groans before giving in.

You catch sight of his eyelids fluttering shut, hiding that violet color that you love so much, and your lips lock in a kiss that takes your breath as much as the hips still snapping against yours.

The coarse patch of hair on his navel repeatedly brushes against your puffed-up clit, making your hips jump up to chase the friction. The man is shamelessly shallowing your moans and caressing your tongue with his, teeth closing around your bottom lip when you go to pull away.

“Ngh, you taste like cake.”

Ran had snuck a bite of one of the pieces the moment he stepped out of the bakery, and the sweet taste on his tongue was, in your opinion, way better than the real deal.

His hand grasps your chin with firmness, the tips of his fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your blushed lips pucker up.

“So you do like cake, mh?”

“No, I don-“ Ran squeezes harder, and your mouth parts. A glob of spit falls on your tongue, one that you shallow under his scrutinizing gaze.

The moan that he lets out at that reverberates through your chest as he bends so close your bodies are now completely pressed against one another, sharing body heat.

This is what sex with Ran is, a concoction of rough touches and fucking that turn soft and slow when you least expect it. He likes to tease and surprise you, stealing the prettiest sounds from your lips and making them his. Making you his.

“Y’don’t like cake, s’okay. I know you like me,” one of his hands teasingly pinches your right nipple, respective eye closing in a wink.

You like that he makes sex fun, cracking jokes as if his cock weren’t pumping inside of you. You like it, you like him, but you can’t have him know that.

“That’s not-“ he interrupts you once again, this time with the snapping of his hips. He starts fucking you like he means it. Calculated thrusts hitting against the sweet spot only he knows how to find.

Ran is on his knees now, hands firmly planted on your raised hips, guiding you back and forth over his length.

“Fuck! Ran, fuck that feels good- so good-“

Slurred words leave your panting mouth as your hands hold onto the pillow behind your head for dear life, back arched and chest exposed to the greedy eyes that are raking over your body. From your perked-up nipples, begging to be played with, to the way your cunt is stretching around his cock.

“Don’t have enough hands for the things I wanna do to you,” Nonetheless, he repositions his right one so that it’s splayed over your navel, thumb reaching down to rub tight circles on your slicked clit.

“Fuckin’ cunt squeezing me so good,” moans spill from your mouth at his words, his voice is strained but maintains that hint of icy superiority and poise that is characteristic of Ran.

The way your hole flutters around him is maddening, Ran can feel your walls clenching against his length so perfectly. He can feel everything.

As a matter of fact, so do you. No matter how dumb he fucks you, you can’t ever miss out on the sweet feeling of his bare skin caressing your wet cunt. The squelching sounds are filling the air around you, making your cheeks heat up and your head lull to the side, trying to avoid his eyes in shame.

Half face buried in the pillow, you beg for him, “Ran, please, please. I need to cum so bad.”

His thrusts slow down, thumb stilling over your clit, and you hear him hum, pensive.

“Maybe if you looked at me, pretty, I might think about letting you.”

Gathering your remaining strength, you open your eyes to the sight of his glorious body above yours.

The wetness of his skin shines under the light of the outside street lamp, peeking in from the window, full body tattoo so enchanting, you watch it move and bend over his rising chest.

With violet eyes fixed on yours, he stands tall, unreachable.

The purple strands that fall from his gelled-back hairstyle are the only giveaway that he’s not so perfect and pristine after all, but he still looks like a god in your devoted eyes.

“Ran,” you call his name so softly he tumbles from the skies right to you.

His body bends to lay over yours, weight supported by his arms at your sides. With a snap of his hips, he breaks the longing stare you’re both sharing, mushroom tip hitting the spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh my god, that feels so-“ “I know, baby, s’okay.” One of his hands caresses over your head, before stopping at your neck and closing around your windpipe. The pressure of his touch against your feverish skin is delicious.

Your nails are now creating indents in the flesh of his arms. You want more, you need him to break you.

Ran can’t stop thrusting, pounding, burying himself inside of you to the hilt. He’s never wanted to be this close to someone before, never needed their warmth as he does yours.

He stops you before you can reach your clit with your fingers and, wanting to be the one to take you over the edge, he uses his free hand to rub over it vehemently.

“Coming, I’m coming,” are the rushed words that fall from your lips before you hit your peak. Wanton moans are gracing Ran’s ears, making his balls strain from holding back, but he wants you to bask in the glow of your orgasm before he reaches his.

“Doin’ so well fo’ me, look at this pretty pussy. Gushing all over my cock.” He looks down as he says this, watching how good he’s splitting you open, his cock coming out of you covered with the white sheen of your arousal, then plunging back in.

Your spent body is overstimulated, twitching in his hold as if trying to run away from the pleasure.

“You’re the only one, baby.” Ran lets slip, the sight of you in your most vulnerable state makes him just as weak, “S’all yours, so take it.” And he means it, you’re the only one.

Before you, life used to be in black and white. Ran had tried everything to paint it some other color, from violence to sex, but nothing ever came close to holding you in his arms.

Color is always all around him, but Ran’s devoid of it until you touch him.

You pull him down to you at the confession, arms wrapped around his neck, chests pressed against one another, hard nipples tickling the soft skin.

The pace suddenly turns slow, and you wonder if Ran does not care about coming anymore. His focus is on you, and you’re staring back at him with just as much affection.

“Let me take care of you,” it’s what you suggest once you’ve come down from your high, fingers pressing against his shoulders to have him lay back in the sheets. Short hair sprawled over the white pillow like a halo behind his troubled head.

Both of your thighs are circling his hips, too scared to have Ran pull out, and be prevailed by that sense of emptiness and cold that comes from being away from him.

Fighting a whirlpool of emotions, you feel the need to silence your mind with his lips on yours. The clashing of your noses does nothing to stop you from kissing each other passionately.

The blame should be on Ran for making you fall for him and gifting you a brand new reason to celebrate Christmas, but you should’ve known better when he walked into your life with that snarky smirk that makes you sigh just thinking about it. You bite his lip in retaliation.

The feeling of Ran’s hands traveling over your skin and sinking with his strong grip on the flesh of your hips is what makes you separate your two halves, pussy clenching around the length that has been filling you up so perfectly. The need to make him feel just as good swells up on the inside.

“Fuck, please,” A choked whisper, falling from the pearlescent of his lips, wet with your love, blood pouring out of the bitten skin.

Purple and red do look good together, you think.

Your hands are warm, trailing up his stomach like the ink on his skin. He feels as if you’re moving too fast, scared he might blink and lose the moment, and at the same time too slow for his liking. He’s begging and he doesn’t know what he’s begging for. But you do.

Ran’s hands tighten around the bedsheets. He wants to touch everywhere you’ve been, wants to get stained in you. Like fresh paint that sticks on skin, he’s now colored in your shades.

Wet kisses are being left on the top of his shaft. Ran’s right hand finds your hair, waving his fingers between the loose strands to uncover the sight of your pretty face.

Lidded eyes are watching you glide your tongue down his hardness, caressing the bluish veins running across its sides, tasting yourself on it.

When your lips wrap around his sensitive tip you have to hold down his hips with both hands.

The peace you set is slow, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. His girth stretches your lips and he thumbs the lower one as you look up at him with tears forming at your lashline.

“Mouth feels like fucking heaven, angel.”

Ran can barely contain himself, dangling from the edge, his balls heavy with his release.

When your nose is buried in the hair at the base of his cock, you know you’ve successfully taken him whole. A huge accomplishment on your part, considering how blessed he is.

With your throat clenching around him, it doesn’t take long to feel him twitch in your mouth.

“Yeah, pretty girl, just like that. Make me cum, fuck!”

Bobbing your head at his request, you’re hasty in sucking your checks around his length, letting him come on the back of your tongue with languid moans that contain your name.

No need for him to ask, you’re one step ahead by swallowing his semen, making a show of it before leaving a wet kiss on his tip, to collect the white drop that was spilling over.

“Better than any cake.”

Booming laughter fills the space around you as you scoot closer to his tired body, laying on his naked frame and stealing all his warmth.

“I do like you.”

“I know,” Ran looks down at you, left check cutely smushed against his pecs, “Let’s spend New Year’s together.”

The faint movement of your hair brushing his skin tells him you’re agreeing, “And what about… next year?”

“Let’s spend them all together.”

You’re warm in his hold, and he figures the fairy lights might’ve come on in the park.

Ran thinks back to the rest of the untouched cake on your kitchen counter and is happy enough that the two of you have exchanged Christmas gifts in your own special way.

After all, he took away the cold, and you’ve brightened up his life.

That’s more of what you could’ve wished for.

[ghost-proofbaby]

EDDIE MUNSON - OURS

😭😭😭

ours (eddie’s version)

warnings: none. just tooth-rotting fluff &lt;3

wc: 1.4k+

a/n: i got a little carried away. but i wish i had an eddie munson to go home to each night and just kiss and cuddle goddamn it

“Oh, is that your boyfriend?”

“He’s… interesting.”

“I guess when you said you had a boyfriend, I never envisioned someone like him.”

“You two are such… opposites! I mean- no! No, not a… bad thing, I suppose. Just… interesting.”

You were growing tired of it. You know people didn’t mean for their incessant questions or comments to get under your skin so badly, but they did. Any time someone at your new job caught sight of your phone’s lock screen – a joyous selfie of you and a sunburnt Eddie at the lake – or your work computer’s screen saver – a photo taken at dusk of Eddie on your couch, strumming on his guitar completely unaware – they had something to say. Something to point out. Whether it be the way you two didn’t seem to fit in their minds, or how rough around the edges he seemed to be. Some coworkers even pressed on how long you two had been together, pulling out the marriage card at a completely inappropriate time. One coworker had even made a snide remark on his long hair, saying “oh, I thought that was a girl! What a relief!”. It just…. It dug beneath your skin every time without fail, making you uncomfortable and irritated all in the same breath. 

You don’t understand why they cared so much. It wasn’t their relationship – they didn’t know you. You’d only started the job a few months prior. They could eat shit, for all you care.

Today had been a bad day. Maurice, one of the elderly women who worked at the front reception desk, had just been awful. She was always talking of you going on a date with her grandson, each time conveniently forgetting that you were already happily in a relationship, but today she’d crossed a line. She’d had her grandson physically come into the office at lunch time, and caught you just as you were on your way out the door to try and pick up something to hold you over until five o’clock would finally arrive. 

The one day you didn’t pack your own lunch. Go figure. 

“Oh! Dear! Over here!” she called  to you as you tried to scurry past her desk. You had held out the hope that the young man standing beside her would have occupied her, but no. No such luck for you on this wicked Thursday.

You took a deep breath before you turned slowly, forcing a polite smile as you faced the elderly woman, “What can I do for you, Maurice?”

“This is my grandson!” she animatedly motioned to the blonde boy at her side, and as he looked up, your stomach dropped, “Jason! The one I was telling you about!” 

Jason fucking Carver.

“Oh,” you tried to keep kind in your tone, but you were already feeling hatred prickle at the back of your neck. You knew all about Jason — he’d made Eddie’s life living Hell too many times to count. He was nothing like the angel Maurice had tried to paint, “I… It’s nice to meet you, Jason, but I really should get going. I’m on my lunch.” 

Jason didn’t take the social cue, stepping forward and stretching out his hand towards you, “Pleasure to finally meet the beautiful coworker my grandmother has been going on and on about. Words really didn’t do you justice.”

Gag. “You’re too kind. I do hope she also mentioned I’m already spoken for.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up, glancing at Maurice for a second. “You’re taken?” 

You opened your mouth to say, yes, I am happily taken, but Maurice was already waving her hands about as if that fact of the matter was nothing more than trivial smoke. “Technicalities. She has a fling with that Munson boy-“

“It’s not a fling,” you stressed, your patience meeting its end, “We’ve been together for years. We live together. I’m really sorry, Jacob,” you purposefully say the wrong name as you turn to Jason, exasperated and not sorry in the slightest, “But I’m not interested. I’ll see you after lunch, Maurice.” 

You think you heard Jason call out a correction of his name from behind you, but you paid him no mind. Fuck him.

You ended up taking a longer lunch, not even caring for the consequences just so you could sit in your car and call Eddie. You described each person who walked into the building that you caught sight of, completely forgetting to scavenge a snack, too wrapped up in giggling at every ridiculous joke or story he makes up for the strangers.

He made it feel better. Maurice and Jason and everyone’s incessant comments forgotten. Their judgments never took this into consideration — this tranquility and Eddie’s ability to make you laugh until your ribs ached. They never considered the love that carried you home each night.

Five o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

You practically speed the entire way home, forgetting to watch for any police cars half the time. Your poor front door cries out on its hinges as you barrel through it with only one thing on your mind: Eddie.

“Hey baby-“ Eddie tries to greet you, but he hardly has the time to set his guitar to the side before you’re falling into his lap where he sits on the couch. “Oof, bad day?” 

Your thighs bracket his hips and your nose is already nuzzling into his neck, his soft laughter shaking his shoulders slightly as your arms wind themselves around him to the best of your abilities. He returns the favor without hesitation; arms hold you close to his chest and you can feel his nose dip to graze along your temple.

“The absolute worst,” your voice is muffled by his neck, but he doesn’t seem to mind, so you continue, “I swear to God, if I had know this office was full of such judgmental assholes I would have never-“

“Woah, woah, woah,” he pulls you back slightly, bringing his hands up to hold both cheeks between his palms as his thumb trails softly against your cheek bone, “Are they being mean to you? Because if they are, just say the word – I’m not afraid to kick a couple of grandmas’ asses.” 

You laugh, sniffling a bit, still on the verge of tears out of relief of being home with him finally, “No, no. You don’t need to go and kick any elderly ass – today.” 

“What about tomorrow?” 

You pretend to think about it as you finally slide off his lap, sitting to his side as your legs remain draped on his lap. He’s quick to reach down and let his calloused fingertips graze a trail down your thigh, ending at your ankle before he wraps them around it and squeezes softly, “Hmm, I’ll have to think about it.”

“Yeah?” he questions, leaning his face down to your shoulder, peppering kisses there, eyes still attempting to glance up at you in adoration through thick lashes, “So not a no. Got it. I’ll have my boxing gloves at the ready.” 

You both laugh as Eddie continues his short assault of kisses. 

Your coworkers can say whatever they want. They can judge the two of you based on short snapshots all they please – they can’t take this from you. Not as his lips brush your collarbones, not as his palms massage your calves, and certainly not as he murmurs soft declarations of how much he missed you all day against your skin. 

“Say, you wanna play a song for me on that guitar, rockstar?” you say as you thread your fingers through his curls, noting the way they’re extra soft, as if he’d done a hair mask like you always pestered him to. 

He lifts his head and leans back casually against the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded as he smiles at you like you hold his entire world in the palm of your hand, “Maybe later. Right now, I just wanna spend some time with my baby.” 

“Oh, I see,” you snort, “You’re gonna break out sweetheart instead? No more dragon-slaying for today?” you joke, referencing his nicknames for his two guitars. 

He only shakes his head and rolls his eyes at you, surging forward and capturing your lips against his, teeth clashing a bit due to both of your wild grins. He has you falling backwards into the couch cushions in an instant and lets his weight settle between your thighs, enveloping you in smells of home. Just him, just you, just the love that you two have gardened here. No opinions of others ever needed.

“Shut up. I love you.” 

“and it’s not theirs to speculate if it’s wrong. and your hand’s a tough but they are where mine belong.”

[catscidr]

hi.. hello... may I request a dottore fic w/chronically ill reader? chronically ill as in, can't get enough sleep due to pain, doesn't clean themselves/shower, or doesn't eat a lot due to the pain and loss of appetite.

this part is a bit self indulgent but maybe reader can't walk properly due to it and needs assistance by dottore (or his segments) to hold her hand and let her cling onto them as they walk?

absolutely understandable if not! hope you have a good day :) 🕊

yes!! absolutely!! (included this other ask too bc i felt they were similar enough) im sorry i disappeared for a bit, life happened and this and that and i didn't have time to write and when i did i just.... couldn't write LOLヽ(；▽；) i don't have a chronic illness so i did my best with what i had (google and my own experiences with body pains n stuff(?) ) so pls lmk if there's like. any wording i should change and whatnot. big smoochies to u nonnie i hope this makes you feel at least a little better ♡♡ ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: a whole lotta fluff, established relationship, dottore is probably a little ooc bc he's very soft, him and The Clones are doting on reader HARD. reader is shorter than the men includes: fem reader, dottore and his segments (Omega is the oldest, Delta is webttore, Iota is the youngest), Columbina is mentioned, fatui npcs are also mentioned wc: 2,3k

The doctor was infamous for being cruel, aloof and barbaric. From his experiments to his way of treating his coworkers, practically everyone that worked in the Fatui wanted nothing to do with him, since even if they happened to not get on his bad side, even being associated with him meant other members of the organization would look at them funny. The only people the Harbinger spoke to daily, apart from you, were his many segments. 

The same couldn’t be said for you though. When you could, you’d spend time with Viktor or Ekaterina whenever they were in Snezhnaya, hang out with Damselette when she was free or simply just make small talk with anyone willing to stop by for a chat. Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to enjoy other people’s presence since your body’s been feeling quite sluggish as of late, exhaustion seeping into your limbs much quicker than it should. Your predicament made it so that you were confined to the four walls of your room most days, human interaction being limited to Dottore and his clones. 

Not that you particularly minded, since they were an entertaining bunch. Dottore took care of you most of the time, but since his job was quite demanding, he couldn’t be there for you all the time. Which is where his segments came in. 

“The soup isn’t that hot, and I already blew on it! Just eat already,” Delta grumbles loudly, his patience wearing thin as it made way for aggressive worry to take place. You stick your tongue out at him, a tired and petty act of rebellion despite your situation. 

“I dare you to take a sip. For sure it’ll be able to melt your mechanic tongue right off,” you huff in annoyance, both from the minimal hours of sleep you’d been getting and your own patience coming to an end. The man makes a tsk sound, torn between wanting to prove you wrong by humoring your suggestion or wanting to just grab an ice cube and tossing it in the bowl in malicious compliance. He doesn’t have time to decide though, because two people come into your room right as he opened his mouth to reply. 

“Prime told me to check in on you,” Omega says as he breaches the doorframe. “You’re taking too long.” he adds, crossing his arms. The older segment stares down at his maskless coworker, lips curling down in a frown. Delta scowls, readjusting himself on your bed- he was sitting to your right, his legs thrown over the side of the bed. He glances over his shoulder at the interruption, scowl now much more genuine as he glares daggers at the older segment. 

“I would have been back a long time ago if someone,” he doesn’t hide the way his eyes glance over at your sulking form, “had cooperated with me.” Still holding up the spoon he had tried to feed you previously, he lowers it into the bowl while gesturing for Omega to come closer. The latter walks over to the bed calmly while Iota saunters over to your left side, chatting up a storm about how he’s missed you and asking when you’ll be joining them back in the lab again. 

“Maybe if you knew how to speak to women,” the oldest taunts, lips curling into a small grin, the only feature visible on his masked face. You giggle as Delta bites back an insult, purposely ignoring his superior to instead try to make you get something in your system one more time. 

“Where’s Dottore?” you ask the Omega segment, turning your face away from Delta. The latter glares at you, handing over the bowl of soup to the other man. Iota suggests feeding you but is quickly dismissed by the other two, much to his dismay. 

“Busy. Although he said he would come by to test something, if I recall correctly... didn’t mention what it was, though,” the masked segment says, blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it off. You nod, eating the spoonful when Omega presents it to you, earning a look of disbelief from Delta. “How are you feeling today?” the oldest asks, tuning out Delta’s many choice words aimed at him. You do the same, focused on eating and taking your time swallowing the food so as to not upset your already sensitive stomach. 

“Could be better,” you respond with a sigh. “I feel pain... everywhere. And I’m tired but I can’t sleep,” you add between spoonfuls. Omega nods, letting you rant as he silently listens to you while subtly observing the way your chest heaves up and down, as if your lungs were working overtime to accommodate to an elevated heart rate. 

He hums, dipping the spoon in the bowl to feed you again. You shake your head at him and put a hand up in front of your mouth, your brows creasing your forehead. The clone doesn’t push further and instead hands Iota the unfinished bowl of food, quietly asking for him to put it away. The young boy nods eagerly, happy to be of use as he scurries away. Delta follows after him to make sure he doesn’t break anything, but glances behind his shoulder to take one last look at you, worry obvious on his usually irked face. 

“How long has it been since Prime has last given your previous dose of aspirin?” he asks, leaning closer to you to push your hair out of your face. Expression scrunched up in discomfort from the sudden food intake, you make a noise of discontentment, a vague answer to his question. He frowns but doesn’t voice his displeasure aloud, instead comforting you through your nausea. Noticing pearls of sweat beading up on your hairline, Omega pulls your bed sheets away slightly, making you more comfortable. 

“Can you try swallowing for me?” he asks gently, tilting his head forward and to the side to look at your throat. It takes you a hot second but after some struggle you do as he instructed and swallow, your throat bobbing up as you do, and the segment hums in satisfaction. “Good,” he murmurs quietly, placing one hand on your shoulder to help you straighten your back. 

“Let me help you up. Hold onto my hand for me?” Omega asks, helping you slip out of bed, putting a strong arm under yours to help you stand up. You wordlessly interlock your fingers into his own and wobble slightly, knees weak and devoid of strength, but he holds you up, bending his own knees slightly to accommodate your height. The wave of nausea comes and goes, making your legs unsteady as the clone helps you walk towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom. 

Delta comes back without Iota in tow and immediately notices your discomfort. His legs work faster than his mind and he’s to your left in the blink of an eye, supporting your weight as well to help you and Omega out. The three of you reach the sink counter and as the oldest helps you sit up on it, Delta squints at his fellow clone. 

“Can one of you get my bucket,” you manage to croak out between deep breaths, head slumped forward to rest against Omega’s shoulder. While he rubs soothing circles on your back Delta quickly grabs the bucket you kept in your room, footsteps as silent as he could as to not disturb you. You murmur a quiet thank you to him, sitting up to the best of your ability as you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Are you feeling well enough to bathe or are you still lightheaded?” Omega asks, one of his gloved hands coming up to your forehead. He feels some heat seep through the leather fabric but waits for your answer nonetheless, crimson eyes covered by his mask staring into you. You nod, leaning into the coolness of his hand. 

“Mmhyeah, jus’ help me out a bit,” you mumble sleepily, exhaustion taking over your nausea. Delta doesn't need to be told twice as he turns on the tap to fill up the bath, keeping a hand beneath it to make the sound of water splashing in the tub quieter to avoid bothering you. 

✧✧✧   

With a towel resting over your head and newfound energy flowing through your limbs, you saunter into your partner’s main lab to find him. Omega had left shortly after you finished bathing, begrudgingly telling you that he had to go back to work- but Delta stayed with you long enough to keep you company while you let your eyes rest. He gave you some painkillers- nothing like what Dottore gave you to keep the pain at bay, but it worked as a temporary solution- and you felt energized enough to leave your bedroom to get ahold of Dottore. 

Delta walked behind you, not wanting to go back to the laboratory just yet but the last thing he wanted was to leave you alone, his mind working up a multitude of scenarios in which you’d get hurt. Although he was all bark and no bite, he still cared about you immensely- more than he’d ever admit. He watches your hair drip water onto the pristine white tiles as you walk and steps on the water with his boots, smudging the liquid to wipe it away. 

“Dottore!” you exclaim happily, eyes lighting up when you finally catch sight of the familiar mop of blue hair paired with his matching tired eyes and scarred skin adorning his face. The Harbinger looks up from his work, eyes displaying a mix of surprise and something akin to irritation- a result from catching him off guard. 

“Darling,” he says softly, quietly enough that you barely catch the loving nickname slipping past his chapped lips. “Did you eat?” he asks, brushing the dirt off his hands on his slacks. You engulf his torso in a warm hug, immediately comforted by the familiar faint scent of his cologne and whatever cleaning supply he used in his lab. He returns the hug gently and Delta looks away immediately, flustered at the sight of his boss being publicly affectionate. 

You respond with a muffled mhm, refusing to pull away. “Didn’t eat much but it was something. Omega ‘n Delta helped me bathe. Took something for the pain. Now I’m here,” you summarize, face still smushed against him. He hums in approval, but concern still creases his brows as he uses one of his hands to rub up your back and the other to dry off your hair completely using the towel on your head. Delta murmurs an excuse before leaving the premises, not able to withstand the pda. 

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he says sternly but softly. “I’m working on something that’ll help you in the long run, it’ll do you good to allow your body to recuperate as much as it can. Have you been sleeping alright?” 

You slump against him. Of course he’d notice how tired you were even if he couldn’t see your face. 

“...No,” you mumble. He doesn’t respond, but you feel his head moving as he looks around his workspace, seemingly looking for something. He lets out a quiet aha when he does and he brings his arms down to your shoulders to push you away. 

“I have something you can take to help you sleep. You shouldn’t feel nauseous nor dizzy when you take it as well,” Dottore says, immediately talking about the possible complications before you can even open your mouth to refuse his offer. “I tested it out myself,” he adds, lips curling into a small smile when he sees your face change from a pout to bewilderment. 

“You? The great Dottore, ex-scholar of the Akademiya, willingly taking medication to make him sleep? You never get rest, and you expect me to believe you when you talk about sleeping medication?” you say with an amused scoff. Dottore raises a brow at your teasing but doesn’t comment on it, instead he chooses to brush his pointer finger’s knuckle beneath your eyes. 

“You should believe me because I never get rest, my love,” he says fondly. “And because your dark circles are so prominent, I could probably see them from the other side of the laboratory.” he adds. You huff but lean into his touch, eyes drooping from the burst of energy catching up on your body. You hear him chuckle under his breath as he shifts his body to grab the medication in question and a syringe with a sterilized needle, preparing the equipment to administer it to you. 

“If you get an adequate amount of rest, I’ll take two days off work to take care of you properly. How does that sound?” he asks lightly, flicking the syringe to let out any air bubbles out. You look away with furrowed brows and roll your eyes, but still give him your arm. 

“Now you’re just trying to bait me,” you say, looking at him from the corner of your eyes. He shrugs, not arguing with your accusation because you were technically right. When he’s done with the syringe you feel his arms wrap around you, the warmth of his body making you sigh pleasantly. 

You can’t tell what it is that makes your body grow so incredibly tired so suddenly; if it was the medication, the strain on your body or if it was because you just felt that comfortable in Dottore’s arms, but you didn’t really care. As you felt Dottore move you to one of his couches, you reach out to grab onto his sleeve to keep him nearby. 

He complies, crouching to be at your level as you crack your eyes open to look at him. You murmur a quiet love you and shut your eyes contentedly, smiling softly once you feel his lips make contact with your forehead as you hear him clearly say I love you too back. 

[nebulousbrainsoup]

business attire

PAIRING: fashion designer/director!kim hongjoong x assistant!reader GENRE: smut with feelings, lil bit of fluff TAGS/WARNINGS: non idol au, neutral pronouns used for reader, reader wears a dress (but in true joong fashion clothes have no gender), balmain!joong AND strawberry!joong, mentions of anxiety, hongjoong is a simp, pov shifts a lil, ash's questionable editing; lmk if you find anything else! WORD COUNT: 4.5k A/N: so, we were trying to figure out when the outlaw red hair concept photos may have been taken and sky might've mentioned that the cut looks like what he had before the european leg of tour and paris and balmain and... things escalated. tagging my enablers: @hwaightme @jaehunnyy @justhere4kpop

nsfw tags under the cut ; masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: language, they're both switches, reader has female anatomy, mildly public sex (locked conference room), brief dom/sub undertones, sex with your boss is kind of its own form of power play, mentions of punishment, use of pet/nicknames (babe, Balmain Boy, sweetheart, love), hair pulling, marking, joong is possessive, dirty talk, lil bit of degradation, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it homies), piv, finger sucking/fingers as a gag, creampie; lmk what i missed

You were so late. It wasn’t like you in the slightest, so you were hoping against hope that your boss would let it slide this once, but… fifteen minutes behind and counting for the monthly investors’ meeting was certainly pushing your luck and probably his patience. You wish you could say it was entirely not your fault, but you were the one who had both forgotten to set your alarm last night and postponed laundry long enough that, when you spilled your coffee down the front of you this morning, you were left with only two options; either your pyjamas, or the unreleased piece currently hanging on the back of your door, reserved for S(e)oul Monde’s summer release show next week. The wave of anxiety over Hongjoong’s reaction took an extra five minutes to tamp down, and by the time you’d finally figured out the clasps and sashes—having been reminded why models had dressers—you had five minutes to get out the door if you were going to catch your train. You managed it, if barely, yanking on your boots and snagging your workbag from by the door, barely stopping to lock it behind you. 

And, of course, you’d made it into the station in time to watch the damned thing pull away. Of all the days for it to be actually on time, of course it was today. Fantastic. The bus had been the only option, and between the walk back up to the street and the distance between the nearest stop and S(e)oul Monde headquarters… You’d known this would be the outcome. It didn’t stop you from trying to close as much of the gap in time as possible, though. The moment you were seated, leg bouncing feverishly, you’d sent a message to your boss, apologizing and letting him know you were on your way. 

You’d known it would go unread, but that didn’t stop the irritation that bubbled up at the sight as the bus pulled into your stop. Flying through the doors and up the stairs as quickly as you could, you gave tight smiles and murmured apologies to the coworkers you nearly trampled in your rush to the elevator. The disgruntled sounds of its occupants and those waiting echoed as you wormed your way in, a quick, scathing glare around quietling them as you pressed the button for the tenth floor. With only two stops between you and your destination, you were slipping into the conference room seventeen minutes behind schedule, tablet clutched to your chest as all eyes turned from the man speaking to the door. You immediately dropped into a ninety degree bow, apologizing profusely as you shuffled toward your seat, dropping your bag into it and taking your place. 

Hongjoong, like everyone else in the room, had looked at you the moment you entered the room, but unlike the investors, he couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away from you. His surroundings faded to a blur as you made your way to stand next to him, the breath having been knocked from his lungs. The dress was perfect, exactly as he knew it would be—a little short for a traditional office, certainly; he’d seen a few eyebrows raise at your entrance—and on you, of all people, it looked immaculate, like it had been designed specifically with you in mind. Which, well…

Every artist has a muse. Hongjoong wouldn’t be apologizing, especially not when you looked that good in his work. 

It was your voice that pulled Hongjoong out of his stupor. 

“I’m sorry for my lateness and the interruption, sir. Please, continue.”

He snapped back into himself, blinking rapidly and offering you a soft smile. “Right.”

When he had finished with his presentation and you both sat back down, Hongjoong at the head of the table and you to his left, you finally let yourself relax. The way he’d stared you down over the tops of his glasses as you made your whirlwind entrance hadn’t slipped past your notice, leaving anxiety coiling in your gut, alongside something entirely more exciting. It was no secret to either you or your boss that you each found the other wildly attractive, and the combination of his intense gaze on you earlier and the way he looked today had memories flashing through your mind that were entirely inappropriate for the workplace. He always dressed up a bit more for these meetings, but today, he’d really gone above and beyond. The custom, black velvet Balmain suit he wore made his freshly dyed red hair look even brighter, and it took a stunning amount of self-control to keep from leaning over and taking the chain connecting his lip ring to one of his many earrings between your teeth. All in good time, you supposed, if the way he was looking at you earlier was any indication. Sure enough, as he slid his chair under the conference table, a warm hand settled on your knee, and the chill of the various rings adorning it nearly made you jump. Feeling you twitch, Hongjoong peeled his eyes from the man speaking to flash you a slightly worried glance. You returned it with a slight smile and a nearly imperceptible nod, earning a quick squeeze to your leg. The touch had your shoulders relaxing further, a silent sigh passing your lips—he wasn’t mad at you. Wearing the dress had been a gamble, and if the intensity in his gaze hadn’t been anger, then it was something not entirely different but far more fun. You smiled to yourself as you turned back to face the man speaking once more. All of that anxiety, for nothing.

Or, maybe not, because the second your eyes left the woman who had, at this point, been speaking for fifteen minutes straight, running an increasingly frustrated Hongjoong in circles, you felt his grip tighten. Your jaw twitched, and you carefully brought your gaze back to hers, feigning interest to the best of your ability as his fingers danced lightly up the inside of your thigh. 

“Y/N, could you run Ms. Lim through the timeline one more time, please,” he sighed, a tight smile on his face. 

“Of course,” you agreed with a similar look, only slightly less obvious in your annoyance, once again flipping your tablet open. Clicking through a few things, you cast your sceen to the TV on the wall and stood, making your way to stand beside it. Hongjoong’s eyes followed you the whole way, eyes wandering over the bits of skin his work left deliciously exposed. He couldn’t wait to kiss his way up your thighs, to tug the sashes criss-crossing over your back free and run his hands across the plane of it, to sink his teeth into the curve of your shoulder and make you look that much more his. You once again caught his narrowed gaze over the invisible frames of his glasses, a smirk tugging at his lips that nearly had you weak in the knees. You knew that look all too well; it was both a threat and a promise. 

Maintaining an air of complete professionalism with Hongjoong staring at you like he was ready to devour you was a feat you’d be thanking some god or another for later, but right now, you simply bowed and took your seat once more as you finished your quick presentation and returned to your place next to your boss, standing over his shoulder rather than taking your seat. 

“If something is still unclear, feel free to send me an email, but we are a bit over time and Mr. Kim has another appointment over his lunch,” you stated with a polite smile, pointedly ignoring the confused look Hongjoong momentarily shot you. “I think it would be best if we wrapped up for the day, in interest of everyone’s time.”

God, he could kiss you. He would kiss you, he decided; he’d kiss you breathless the moment he got you alone for this.

Ms. Lim pursed her lips, but the look in your eyes left no room for argument. After all, who knew the S(e)oul Monde director’s schedule better than his assistant? She nodded, pushing her chair back, and the rest of your restless company followed. “I certainly will.”

“As always, thank you all for your continued support of S(e)oul Monde, and I hope my work continues to exceed your lofty expectations,” Hongjoong offered as he stood. “Thank you for your time. I hope to see you all at our showcase next week.”

The men and women in the room murmured their own parting pleasantries, phones returning to hands and bluetooths returning to ears as they filed into the hall, leaving you and your boss alone. Only a beat of silence passed before he turned to you, heat burning behind his eyes as they flicked over you hungrily. 

“Lock the door and close the blinds.” Your low-burning nerves and arousal were both lit ablaze again at his direction, and you stuttered. He raised an eyebrow, tongue darting out to toy with the lip ring you so desperately wanted a taste of. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

The warning snapped you out of your stupor in a moment, and you paused only to set your tablet on the table before rushing to comply. His gaze was warm on the back of your neck as you moved through the room, first clicking the lock shut, then moving to drop the shades on the frosted windows that faced the hall, and finally crossing the room to do the same with the exterior windows. When you reached for the controls, Hongjoong clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the noise pinning you in place. 

“Leave those. Look at me, Y/N.” 

Swallowing thickly, you did as you were told, chin held high. “Yes?”

“You were late this morning,” he commented off-handedly as he stood, and you dropped your eyes to the floor.

“I’m sorry, everything just—” you started, only to be cut off.

“Was this little number,” he gestured to the dress, using the chance to give you another once-over, “the reason?”

“Part of it, but—”

This time, it wasn’t his words that cut you off, but his lips as he lifted your chin and dragged you into a kiss that told you exactly how long he'd been waiting to do this. You squeaked in surprise and quickly melted into him, one hand clutching at the asymmetrical neckline of his suit tightly as the other grasped at the base of his skull in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer. With a sigh, your lips parted against his, tongue darting out to finally get a taste of the brand new jewelry you'd been eyeing the entire meeting. The metallic tang pulled a pleased hum from you as you took it between your teeth, shifting to catch more of his lip than the jewelry itself as you pulled away.

“This is so not business attire, babe,” he breathed against your lips, and you laughed quietly into his mouth as he captured them again.

“Are you telling me I can’t—mm—wear your designs to the office?” You teased between kisses, finally pressing him away from you. 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes heartily, his own half-smile giving away the feigned nature of his annoyance. “Not all of them, no,” he sighed, hands coming to rest over your ass, pulling you into him and groping at it lightly. “You know better than that. And one that isn’t even released yet?” He clicked his tongue again. “I was going to forgive you for being late since you look this good, but maybe I should punish you after all.”

You frowned, pulling away from him slightly as your earlier anxiety washed over you again, and Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to take his words back. “It… This was the only thing I had clean, I spilled coffee on myself this morning and I—”

“Y/N, it’s okay, I promise,” he soothed, shifting closer to you and squeezing at your hips in a way he hoped was reassuring. “If it weren’t, I could’ve asked you to change. It’s not like we don’t have clothes in every size you could ever need.” 

“That’s… true,” you muttered, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.

Hongjoong hummed in distaste of the action, reaching up with one hand to pull the skin free and immediately planting a chaste kiss where his thumb had just been. “You just look… too good,” he murmured, grip on you tightening. “This may be my best work yet.” It was your turn to roll your eyes, scoffing as you tried and failed to push him away from you. “And yours may be getting me out of that meeting.”

“How do you know you don’t have an appointment over lunch?” You grinned, ever unable to pass up a chance to tease him. “I know you haven’t checked your schedule since this morning and—mmph!” 

For the second time in the past five minutes, he cut you off with a heated kiss. “Oh, I know I have a lunch appointment,” he shot back, spinning you and guiding you backward until your hips hit the edge of the table. “And we both know it’s with you. Up,” he directed, tapping your thigh twice. 

With a little hop and loose guidance from Hongjoong’s hands, you boosted yourself up onto the edge of the table, your boss following behind quickly to spread your knees with his own body. He couldn’t get enough of your lips today, it seemed, wrapping one arm around your waist as the other came to rest on the surface behind you, forcing an arch into your back. You let out a pleased hum against him, reaching up to card a hand up over his scalp and give his hair a light tug. The action pulled a groan from his lips as he leaned back into the contact, and when his eyes blinked back open, the predatory look he pinned you with sent electricity coursing through your veins. 

You met his fire with a burning challenge of your own, tugging harsher on your fistful of red and grinning wickedly as a throaty groan left the man’s mouth. “You,” he hissed, grabbing ahold of your wrist and tugging it free from its home, “drive me fucking insane.”

“Ditto, Balmain Boy,” you shot back, and you reveled for a moment in the shine of the smirk on his face, before it disappeared into the crook of your neck.

Little pleased sounds fell freely from your mouth as his worked its way down your throat, kissing and nipping at the skin, never enough to mark—although, you knew if you let him, Hongjoong would jump at the opportunity, jealous as he was—and he closed his eyes, basking in every single one. The hand around your waist shifted to splay out against your back, the warmth of his palm in contrast to the cool metal of his rings making you shiver again, and you felt him grinning against your skin for a beat before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You choked back a sharp cry at the sudden action, grasping at his velvet suit.

“Hongjoong,” you hissed in warning, the last syllable coming out whinier than you would have liked. In your regular attire, anything below the neck was fair game for him to mar as he pleased. But between the safety pins holding together the strap on the side he was currently working over and the mesh of the other, you were working with far less coverage than usual. He let out a low noise akin to a growl at your protest, pulling a choked-off yelp from you, before soothing over the angry skin with his tongue. 

“Joong,” you tried again, and this time let it be a whimper. “Careful.”

“Who cares,” he muttered, pressing a quick kiss to the blooming mark before letting his lips trail across the collar of your dress. “Let them know.”

You squirmed, a quiet whine leaving you as heat struck through you at his words. “We… we can’t,” you protested weakly.

Hongjoong let out a low, dark giggle. “You don’t sound sure, sweetheart. You want people to know you’re fucking your boss?” Another whine, this one more frustrated than the last. “Nasty,” he chastised, but you could hear the grin in his voice. He got off on the thought more than you did, the possessive shit.

Straightening up, he pressed one more quick kiss to your lips before just as abruptly dropping to his knees in front of you. The action made you wince—not for the man in front of you, but for the pants he was wearing. You carded a hand into his hair again as you groaned in protest, tugging on it to force him to look up at you. “You’re gonna wear out the knees on th—”

“Worth it,” he shrugged, fingers immediately sliding under the hem of your skirt, kneading at your thighs. The moment they found the hem of your underwear, his hands slid smoothly from the outside of them in, fingertips dancing teasingly over your clothed core. He smiled up at you as you squirmed under his attention, the expression spreading to his signature smirk as he pressed harder and pulled a low moan from you.

“Get on with it, we don’t have all day,” you breathed, tugging lightly on his hair again. The sight of his eyes rolling back in his head—an exaggeration, sure, but you wouldn’t be complaining—sent heat rushing to your core again, the muscles in your thighs twitching as they tried to close around Hongjoong’s hands. 

The look he gave you was one you immediately wanted to wipe off of his face. “We do if you’ll clear my schedule,” he quipped back, earning a harsher yank to his hair, this time in the direction of your body.

“Put your mouth to better use, Kim Hongjoong.”

The second the words left your mouth, his fingers were hooking into the waistband of your underwear, and you lifted your hips off the table. In one fluid motion, he’d tugged the fabric free from your legs and left your skirt bunched around your waist, exposing you to his increasingly hungry gaze. Tossing his glasses onto the table beside you and throwing your legs over his shoulders, he pressed kisses up the inside of one of your thighs, breath barely ghosting over your center as he switched to the other. Annoyed, you tried to pull him where you wanted him, earning a breathy little laugh for your efforts. 

“Ask nicely, babe,” he muttered, pausing his work just long enough to properly look up at you.

His dick twitched in his pants at the sight. You stared down at him with half-lidded, pleading eyes and parted lips, lust clouding over your face. The neckline of your dress was still askew from where he’d pulled it aside, the skirt hiked up and now balled in your hand to give you a better view of him. And just as his eyes drifted lower, landing on your glistening heat, you breathed out a quiet, breathless, “Please.”

Who was he to deny his muse when they looked so breathtaking?

A weak, weak man. Weak for you, for everything you gave him and everything you let him take from you. Weak for the way you looked in his designs, in your own clothes, in a burlap sack, probably. Weak for the way you looked commanding the office—the whole operation would fall apart without you, and if Hongjoong were being honest with himself, he’d go with it. Weak for the way you tasted—your lips, your skin, your cunt; he’d drown in you if you would let him. 

And now, mere minutes after you’d saved him from the most boring meeting of his life; a few short hours after you’d strutted into the office in the piece he’d made for you, he was going to try whether you let him or not.

Biting back your moans while he ate you out like a starved man was a feat you didn’t think possible until you achieved it, muffling all but the quietest little whimpers and gasps as your orgasm coiled in your core. The closer you got, the harder it became, and the hand in Hongjoong’s hair left it in favor of clamping over your mouth. He growled against you in protest, the sensation making your thighs twitch, and wrapped his lips around your clit. With a few harsh sucks and practiced flicks of his tongue, you were clamping down around him, muffling the squeaks of pleasure he so desperately wished to hear.

You tugged him up off of the ground and he was weak for you, so of course he followed, palms hitting the table on either side of you as your lips crashed against his. When you pulled away again, he could only hope—fruitlessly—that you didn’t hear the way he whined.

Smiling softly, you tugged him in again briefly, gracing his lips with a chaste kiss before breathing a quiet “Fuck me,” against them.

Hongjoong was so, unbelievably, undeniably weak for you. Weak for the way you felt pressed up against him, the way he knew you would feel around him—and with that thought, he was scrambling to unfasten his pants, suddenly desperate and so, so weak. He hadn’t noticed how constricting the fabric had become until you shoved his pants and boxers down to his knees in one go, the release of pressure pulling a low moan from him. 

Reaching between your bodies, you wrapped your fingers around his length, delighting in the way it twitched in your hand at the same time his breath hitched. He shifted forward, bracing his hands further behind you and crowding into your personal space, slowly guiding you back down onto the table. You stroked him slowly for as long as you could reach, until finally, with a whine of protest, he pressed your shoulder back against the wood. Bracing himself with an arm beside you, he leaned down to catch your lips in a heated kiss, his free hand busying itself with lining his cock up at your entrance. His tip brushed your folds once, twice, before he pushed into you in one fluid thrust, hips falling flush with your own. 

The feeling of him filling you and the sound of the breathy moan that left Hongjoong had your walls fluttering around him, and the pause he took was as much for himself as it was for you, you could tell. So, you gave him his moment, taking the opportunity to drink in his form above you. He looked as desperate as you felt, so before he’d opened his eyes, you rolled your hips, pride swelling in your chest as his eyes shot open and he cursed under his breath. 

“You’re not the only one who doesn’t like repeating themself. Fuck. Me,” you demanded, punctuating it with another grind of your hips against his.

His gaze darkened, and electric arousal warmed your body. You saw him fight for words for a split second and quickly give up, electing instead to drape your knees over his arms and start fucking into you at a brutal pace. The suddenness punched a small yelp out of you at first, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, turning to look anywhere but at the man grinning devilishly down at you. He clicked his tongue and the rough grip he had on one of your thighs disappeared, his hand shifting instead to your chin. You were nearly folded in half as he reached for you, and the shift in angle had his length dragging over all the right places.

Securing your face between his fingers, he yanked you back toward him, forcing eye contact as he pounded into you. “Watch me, sweetheart. Watch me make you come undone again. I want you to remember this.” His rough handling had dislodged your hand from your mouth, and as a drawn out keen began to bubble up from your throat, he shoved two fingers past your lips to silence you. 

Some combination of the intimacy of looking into his eyes and the way he knew your body so well—shifting and adjusting until your legs were shaking—had your high building rapidly, and your teeth closed lightly around his knuckles as you felt the coil tightening in your gut. He tilted his head at you, a weak grin gracing his sweat-coated face as you sucked at the digits, pulling a breathy sigh from him. 

“Close?” he uttered, and you nodded rapidly, one hand snaking between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit. “Cum with me then, love.” 

Whether it was the pet name or his permission that sent you over the edge, you weren’t quite sure, but just like that, the tension lacing your body snapped, and you clamped down around his cock. Hongjoong did his best to fuck you through it, quickly toppling from his own height and pressing his hips flush you yours as he spilled into you.

When you had both caught your breath, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss and lowering your hips back onto the table. You whined as he slipped out of you, pouting at the low chuckle your reaction received. Before he could walk away to search aimlessly for paper towels or a tissue box you knew weren’t there, you kicked him lightly and pointed to your workbag. “Tissues in there.”

“Mind reader,” he hummed, a lilt of faux annoyance in his tone. 

“‘S why you hired me, Joongie.”

Another quiet laugh and a private smile graced your eyes and ears as he cleaned you both up, tucked himself back into his pants and handed you back your underwear. 

Most days, this was it—he’d be waiting by the door to make a clean exit and you’d see each other when you finally made it back to your desk. So today, when you finished dressing yourself and found him still staring at you, you turned your eyes to the ground bashfully. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Most days, he’d quip back something along the lines of “I don’t know, do I?” Today, he tilted his head at you and smiled.

“That piece was made for you. I think I should work that way more often.”

With another quick kiss to your lips and one to your cheek, he left the room, and you with it, heat rising to your cheeks. “And maybe I should wear ‘not business attire’ more often.”

You weren’t sure what had just happened, exactly, or why, or how serious he was about the dress being made for you—but one thing was certain; you were as weak for Kim Hongjoong as he was for you.

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[hobivore]

Mission 111: The Timebreaker | JYH

— Jeong Yunho x reader (f)

Prompt: "Hey, did you fall from heaven when you hurt—fuck." & "If you're trying to manipulate me us, it's not working." from this prompt list. AU/Trope: science fiction-y angel!au, coworkers to lovers (or partners to partners or whatever the angel equivalent would be) Warnings: Django!Yunho but give him wings, apocalyptic levels of violence and a little bit of blood (nothing too explicit) WC: 2.2k A/N: Surpriiiiiise, your local writer cryptid has risen from the 10th circle of hell called Adult Responsibilities! This short story draws inspiration from Ateez’ delightful space-cowboy concept, biblically accurate angels and a spoonful of Welcome to Night Vale (which I used to obsessively listen to back in 2012). Shout-out to my lovely friend @augustbutwinter for kicking my ass into gear and beta-reading this piece. I love your galaxy brain! © hobivore Do not repost, translate, edit or otherwise use my stories without my permission. ateez masterlist | ask box

“Are you trying to get us all killed?” 

The timebreaker sneezes into his elbow. He’s covered in a fine layer of dust. The chains strapping him to the seat didn’t survive the crash, but he won’t get far either way: his timepiece remains safely hidden in your pocket. 

You ignore him and survey the wreckage in front of you. There’s very little left of your spacecraft. Dawdling will only cost you precious time, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep the flames at bay. 

A few crumpled feathers stick out from under the rubble. You pull with two hands, using your weight to unearth your equally crumpled associate. 

“It’s not like I can actually die, of course. I think. Not really. I’m not afraid of death anyway,” the timebreaker continues. “He looks pretty damn done for, though.”

You turn around and fiddle with what’s left of the control panel. Your partner coughs up thick globs of blood. He wipes his mouth with the back of one wing and straightens his glasses. "Hey, did you fall from heaven when you hurt—fuck." 

“Welcome back,” you mutter. The control panel lights up once and fizzles out again. 

“Have you seen my hat?”

“This, here?” The timebreaker lifts one foot and your partner snatches the weathered cowboy hat from under his boot. “Sorry, I thought it was just a piece of debris. I didn’t mean to step on it.”

You snort. “Yunho’s awfully attached to that ugly old thing.” After a repeated bang on the control panel yields no results, you give up and grab your pocket pulsar. “Didn’t they go out of style over 600 billion years ago?”

“Real fashion is timeless,” Yunho says. “Besides, it's a keepsake from Earth.” 

You roll your eyes. “Ugh. You’re such a romantic.”

He winks at you. Behind you, the timebreaker coughs. “I’m still here.”

A glare shuts him up. Your many eyes tend to have that effect on people.

“Which way do we go?” Yunho asks. 

You check your pulsar. “We should head southwest for about 11 kilometres. We’re not that far off. You did a decent job crashing the ship.”

“Thank you.”

“You think you can walk with that leg?” 

“I’m fine, but it might take us a bit longer. Do you still have time?”

You nod. “I do. But the big boss won’t like it. You know his patience runs thin.”

“We’re bringing him a timebreaker! He ought to be happy with that.” 

Your eyes drift towards the man who’s still staring at the wreckage, appearing to be lost in thought—no doubt mourning what might’ve been his only chance at escaping.

“You’re right. Let’s go before the weather gets any worse.”

Above you the glittery storm clouds gather. With just your pocket pulsar left, navigating will be a lot more difficult if you don't cross the Great Plateau before the first rain falls. 

“So… you two are angels, then?” The timebreaker asks when the silence drags on for a bit too long. 

“Damn right,” Yunho says. “Ever met an angel before?”

The timebreaker shakes his head. “Can't say I've had the pleasure, no. They—I mean you, sorry—don’t exist in my universe.”

You grumble. He's awfully polite for a man who killed half a planet of innocents. “Just because you've never seen one doesn't mean we aren't there.” 

The timebreaker’s face turns sour. You don’t care if he doesn’t like you. There's more pressing matters to worry about: right now it's the unshakeable sizzling in your ears, the sound growing stronger with every step.

You rub your temples but the gesture brings no relief. Yunho watches you closely, rummaging through his coat pockets. After some fiddling he extracts a small bottle and hands it to you. He always seems to know exactly what you need. You down the liquid and make a mental note to thank him for that after you’ve finished this job. 

“Why does he have wings and you don’t? And what’s up with all the eyes?”

Your nostrils flare in annoyance and you’re thankful for the sudden crack of thunder that makes your captive jump. “No more time for existential chit-chat,” you say. The taste of ash lingers in your mouth. 

“If you give me my timepiece back I can get us off this planet,” the timebreaker offers. He almost trips over his feet in an attempt to keep up with you and Yunho. “Another universe maybe, just for the two of you? Something beachy? Sun, Martinis, a nice big bed, a few slaves to preen those pretty wings?”

You laugh and look at Yunho’s tattered feathers, still covered in dried blood. "If you're trying to manipulate us, it's not working." 

“Are we still heading in the right direction?” Yunho asks. He looks mildly flattered but not at all phased by the timebreaker’s implications, so you narrow your eyes at him. All he does in return is smile. If you weren't in the middle of a job you'd use his own wings to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“We’re slowly getting there," you sigh, handing him the pulsar.

“We’re heading away from the capital. The only civilised place on this planet.” The timebreaker glances past Yunho’s shoulder and points his cuffed hands at the device. His voice raises an octave when you start walking even faster. “Hey! What did I do wrong anyway? Since when is breaking time a crime? And who are you, the space police?” 

“You didn’t tell him?” Yunho asks. 

You shrug. “The less he knows, the better.” It’s a lie. It doesn’t matter: you just didn’t feel like talking to the man.  

“I’m sorry for my partner’s lack of proper protocol,” Yunho starts, and you close your many eyes for a moment to collect yourself and tune out the other angel’s lecture. The situation is starting to get on your nerves and you wonder if the flames have ignited by now. They probably haven’t—neither of your companions seem to perceive a sudden increase in heat. 

When you open your eyes again, the timebreaker’s face has gone blank.

“And that’s how we ended up here!” Yunho smiles and claps his hands together, as if he didn’t just give a detailed account of why the man will spend the remainder of his life in chains. “Any questions?”

“I—what the fuck,” the timebreaker says, “have more questions now than before.”

Yunho opens his mouth but you cut him off. Unlike the other angel, God didn’t bless you with the patience of a saint when They created you. “No one cares about obnoxious fools who run around universes breaking time. Killing innocents however? The boss doesn’t like that.”

The timebreaker tilts his head towards you. “Who’s this boss you keep talking about? God?”

You laugh. “So you’re a fool and uncultured.”

He looks ready to murder you. You’d like to see him try; it would spice things up a bit. 

Your partner shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “God died a long time ago. No, we call him the Captain.”

At the mention of his name the storm clouds rupture and shimmering glitter falls from the sky. You blink up at the sudden burst of colour. 

Suspicious.

“Dammit,” you curse, “we’re not even close.” You shake the pulsar, which buzzes sadly in the steady stream of luminescent sparkles. You huff and a small puff of smoke escapes your nose.

Yunho squeezes your shoulder. “Do you think you can do it here, if needed?” 

“It’s not ideal, but I can manage. The harvesting will be a pain, though. The soil is too muddy.”

“We can work something out. I trust you.” Yunho’s hand drops to his side and you miss its warmth already. Then he jumps in front of you, causing you to nearly barrel head-first into his chest. He spreads his wings and grins, “This is the skin of a killer, Bella.”

“Shut up.” You push him out of your way, suppressing a smile and trying not to look at the pretty glitter covering him from head to toe. Some of your eyes steal a glance anyway. “Vampires aren’t real.”

He’s still laughing. “For someone who pretends to hate Earth you sure know a lot about it. Who’s the romantic now?”

You don’t respond and push past him, aiming the pulsar at the glittery sky. Yunho doesn’t seem to mind your feigned disapproval and falls back at your side, his comforting presence grounding you like always. As annoying as he can be, you need him there. You’d trust him with your life. 

“I miss humans sometimes. It’s a shame they went extinct.” Yunho turns towards the timebreaker. “She was there, you know. During Armageddon. It was angels versus demons… pretty cool. I wasn’t old enough to join the fight yet. I’ve only heard the stories.” He elbows you in the side. “Tell him about it.” 

You groan. “There was a lot of fire. The end.”

The timebreaker raises an eyebrow. “What happened to the demons?”

“They were wiped out.” 

“That seems to be a recurring theme.” 

You turn your head and grin at him. “You could call it our… speciality.”

For the first time since you’ve dragged him from his universe, the timebreaker looks afraid. A shiver runs through him and his sharp teeth clatter. “I thought angels were supposed to be harbingers of peace. Chubby babies chanting glorias to God and all that stuff.”

“We were tasked to maintain the cosmic harmony of all universal laws,” you shrug, “but no one ever told us how to mete out divine justice.”

“You could say we’re just winging it.” Yunho grins. “Get it?”

The timebreaker doesn’t laugh. The crease between his brows deepens. “So let me get this straight: when you wipe out an entire planet it’s fine, but when I do it—” he huffs, an indignant sound, “—I get thrown in jail?”

You shrug again. “Collateral damage. It happens.”

“Fuck this,” the timebreaker says. Then he starts running. It only takes a few metres for his form to completely disappear in the downpour of glitter.

“Took him long enough.” Yunho takes the pulsar from your hands to save if from melting and sticks it in his pocket. “Are you ready?”

His glasses reflect an orange glow and you laugh. You know he loves this part of the job as much as you do. He can have this. “Go get him, partner.”

The angel spreads his wings and points at you. “I’m taking you out for dinner after,” he says. Then he disappears into the void. 

You draw patterns in the fallen glitter with one smoky foot and start counting. People tend to underestimate your partner by virtue of his angelic aura. They’re always wrong. 

It doesn’t take him long to return. The timebreaker shrieks when he sees you. “What the fuck happened to her?” He trashes in your partner’s arms. “I’ve got a family! Friends! They’ll come looking for me!”

“26 seconds. Not bad,” you comment dryly. 

“They will come!”

“Over there would be perfect.” You point at a spot a few metres away. “Thank you, Yunho.”

Your partner puts the captive down and pats him on the shoulder. He doesn’t run this time. Where would he go, hands bound, without a timepiece and with two angels on his heels? Maybe he wasn’t as foolish as you thought. Some of them keep running. 

“It’s going to be okay,” your partner says. It won’t be. “I’m sure you’ll be dearly missed. I can already picture the memorial service. Lots of flowers, sad piano music... it's going to be beautiful.”

The timebreaker pales. It appears he’s finally caught up on the plan. “What happened to jail? A proper trial?” He blinks twice, then recovers some of his rage and spits at Yunho, “You’ll regret this. My family will hunt you down and kill you both. They'll rip out your feathers one by one until there's none left.”

Yunho pushes his glasses higher up his nose. “‘I’m not afraid of death anyway’, you said.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Don’t worry, death doesn’t have to be temporary. Some of us believe in reincarnation.” Yunho lowers his voice, knowing you can’t hear him over the roaring fire around you. “Not her, of course. She believes in total annihilation.” He gives the man one last gentle pat on the back before stepping away. 

“No one but you has mentioned jail.” You have to raise your voice because of the ringing in your ears. “And your family will find a shipwreck, remember? Such an unfortunate accident.”

“Extremely unfortunate,” Yunho agrees. 

The timebreaker doesn’t answer. His skin has turned the colour of grey mud. You feel the flames rise even higher, inching closer to him.

Finally. 

The last thing the timebreaker sees before the flames engulf him is the sky breaking open. You wrap around him and burn until there’s nothing left but a heap of sand and glitter.

Yunho retrieves an empty hourglass from his pocket and crouches down to fill it with sand. “The Captain’s gonna be happy,” he says while he pours more grains in the glass. "Look at the size of that pile!"

You suppress a yawn and shiver. You always get a little cold after the fire has gone down to a simmer.

“Chinese sound good to you? For old time’s sake?” Yunho hands you the hourglass and wraps a wing around your shoulder. “I know a place.” 

You elbow him in the side and smile. “Romantic.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked this story please reblog, leave a comment, tell a friend, send me a pigeon, launch a mars rover. Your encouragement fuels my inner writer cryptid 👾

[xitadori]

"variety is the spice of life!"

summary: your stoic coworker, kento, intimidates everyone at the office, including you. he's determined to change that, however, when your favorite coffee mug goes missing from the break room.

pairing: coworker!nanami kento x f!reader

tags: office au, coworkers to ?, budding feelings, mention of reader's mom, gojo is a menace

wc: 4k

There are a few personal rules Kento tries to abide by during the workday to keep his sanity.

Never work after hours.

Avoid Satoru Gojo whenever possible.

And last, but most importantly,

3. Coffee.

The company break room feels stale as he walks in, though it's not unusual for the cramped space. It's been untouched for the morning, the motion-activated lights flicking on with his first foot through the door. Kento revels in the quiet. There's a long day of conference calls and urgent-but-not-so-urgent email chains to scour through -- he can already feel the ache throbbing inside his skull at the thought of it all.

Sighing, Kento prepares a pot of coffee with nimble fingers. The warm brew smells heavenly as it begins to drip down into the rounded glass.

Drip, drip, drip.

Whatever benevolent spirit that cursed him into running the stupid rat race has to be smiling upon him at the moment, he's sure of it.

Gurgle, pop, drip.

"Oh, good morning, Kento," a small voice breaks the blanket surrounding the room. He knows it's you without even looking. He'll blame it on your distinct voice, but really, this is all part of a little routine he'd grown a little too reliant on over the past month or so.

Over the gurgle of the machine, Kento listens to you shelf your bag and hang your coat. "Good morning," and when he says your name, it feels a little extra soft, a little too smooth in his mouth. He clears his throat with a minuscule furrow of his brow.

You only hum in response. He's pouring the coffee into the tall silver thermos he carries like a prayer, and with his back turned to you, you allow your gaze to drift over him, a little more freely than you would any other time. Kento's broad shoulders move wonderfully under the crisp button-up. You admire the taper of his cornsilk hair, how neat every strand always sits, perfect and poised just like the man himself.

"Have a good day."

And just like that, Kento, with his sharp features, offers the tiniest smile you'd ever seen before breezing past you, that deliciously robust scent of pure black coffee following him out the door.

He left some in the pot for you, with your signature mug placed directly before the machine.

Some things were unavoidable, as unfortunate as they may be. Kento Nanami is an intelligent man, with too much on his plate and perhaps a little too much patience for his own good. But patience does not equal amusement -- especially not when it comes to a specific coworker.

"And so I said, hey, my name's not on the list, but it can be in your phone," Satoru Gojo chuckles as he tosses a crinkled ball of paper between his hands, ass wedged sturdily against Kento's desk as if it were molded there. His head of white hair stands tall and stark above the partial cubicle walls separating workers. How he never gets in trouble with their boss, Kento never knows -- it's not like he's seen Satoru do much actual work in the time they've both been with the company.

Kento sighs. "So you bothered a hostess at a restaurant you knew you didn't have a reservation at," he pauses his typing to glance at his coworker, a look of disapproval etched into his angular face, "and that's a good thing?"

Satoru rolls his eyes, blowing a raspberry casually. "I didn't bother her. It's called making a move, Nanamin. That's how you get places! You see an opening, and you go for it." He tosses the paper ball extra high and snatches it out of the air with a flourish. "You're so boring, Nanami. Can't get anywhere good if you're staying stagnant!"

"I didn't know you knew that word, Gojo."

"I know a lot of words."

Kento clenches his jaw. Idly, he grasps the thermos beside his keyboard. He stands and heads off toward the break room without another word to the lean man invading his space.

"Alright, catch ya later!" is called after him, but the words slip right off his turned back with ease.

Kento mulls over Satoru's words as his long legs guide him forward. Stagnant. Is that how one would describe him? He didn't exactly live the most exciting life at the moment. Working full time, going back home, relaxing with a book before bed, waking early, repeating it all again. It isn't glamorous by any means, but... that's just being an adult, right?

Well, maybe he could do with a little variety. His life has felt very much the same for the past handful of years, since his college days are behind him and there's less pressure to become a social creature.

Maybe Satoru was right. About this one thing. Not much else.

A couple of workers are busy chatting at a table when he enters. The room isn't what it is at 6:30 every morning -- it's more lively, with different conversations and the smells of lunches and it's all a little much to handle after listening to Satoru blabber on for twenty minutes. A few eyes fall on Kento almost immediately. His footsteps, even and direct, shout a signal even from down the hall. They all quiet themselves as he walks past toward the counters.

Your gaze lumps in with the couple already trained on his form. The air had shifted upon his arrival, falling a little more chilly, but as your eyes meet from behind his glasses, you find yourself wondering why.

Your coworkers begin to bin their meals, slowly picking up where they left off just moments before, but guiding themselves back to the call floor instead. Before long only a few stragglers, save for you and Kento, remain in the white tiled room.

The smell of coffee grounds hits you like a freight train. You sip quietly from your own steaming mug, poised in a shy manner on the far end of the counter line. It's been almost two months since your transfer to this location and you have yet to make many waves when it comes to your colleagues. It doesn't necessarily bother you -- you're not here to make friends anyways -- but the utter clique-iness of these adults does irk your somewhat delicate nerves. Maybe that's why you watch Kento, or, rather, the reaction Kento elicits, with such curiosity.

"Good afternoon," he greets you by name, clearing his throat, and you feel yourself jump the slightest bit. Had he noticed you looking at him? Were you staring?

You nod softly in his direction at your side and take another sip from your mug. "Afternoon, Kento."

He unscrews the cap for his thermos, looking rigid as he stares down into the cylinder. Boring. Stagnant. Kento allows himself to take in your form from his peripheral. You're leaned against the counter, much like Satoru against his desk earlier, but you look... withdrawn, almost lost in your own thoughts. He hasn't seen you interact much with any of your coworkers. Though, he can't decide if you're naturally more reserved, or if there's simply less animated energy when he enters a room in this building.

"How are you liking the new office?" he asks suddenly, surprising the both of you.

It takes you a moment to formulate words. This has already gone off script for your usual limited banter. Was he just being polite? Were you making him feel awkward? Below you, your feet shuffle a bit. "It's decent. Kind of quiet in my corner, which I appreciate."

A tiny smile grows on his face, though neither of you are directly looking at each other. "That's great, I'm glad to hear that." The coffee machine spits out the last few drops and he hastily refills his thermos, leaving enough for you to refill if you needed. "Take care," he says, and with that, returns to his desk before much else could take shape.

Baby steps. At least you didn't shuffle away as soon as he attempted that hackneyed bit of small talk. Kento sighs, though, running a hand over his tired face.

Maybe a little change might do some good in his life.

It seems the universe hates Kento Nanami, moreso than usual. His fingernail taps impatiently against the desk, tick, tick, tick, and it's as if every word that crawls into his ear simply falls out the other side, refusing to stick anywhere useful.

7:42.

He should be pulling into his driveway by now. He should be, by all accounts, stripping down to lounge clothes and settling in for a nice quiet meal. He should be listening to the client sneering his ear off, too, but it seems none of these things are going to happen tonight, for better or worse.

Eventually, the client falls off track and loses steam, bidding Kento goodbye and leaving him alone with a shrill dial tone and a pretty screensaver to stare at while his brain catches up.

What a waste of time. What a horrible way to break one of his cardinal office rules.

Kento sighs, gathering his things. The call floor is completely dead. Computers lay blank, chairs lay empty, and the only sounds surrounding him are that of his own shuffling and, presumably, the janitorial staff starting down the hall. He just wants to get home. The next two days off are almost taunting him as he glides toward the elevator, irritation bouncing him from foot to foot.

"Oh, fuck it all."

He stops.

"This is so ridiculous."

He listens.

"I can't believe... just... c'mon!"

He sighs. He knows that voice, drifting into the slightly darker hall, from a very bright break room. Suddenly, the call of his couch seems a little less important than it had a few moments ago. Kento peeks his head through the open door.

You're sitting on the tile, head in your hands and shoulders slumped in defeat. Every single cabinet lays wide open, their contents pulled out and piled onto countertops and tables and even the floor, surrounding you in a sea of sugar packets and disposable cutlery. If he didn't know better, he'd say a cafe style bomb had gone off.

When he says your name, it drips with cautious concern.

"Oh!" You jump, throwing a frazzled look over your shoulder. Everything feels thick and staticky the instant your gazes lock together. A warm rush of embarrassment pools under your skin, replacing the icy drip of anxiety from just seconds prior. The juxtaposition leaves you feeling prickly.

Kento is quiet for a moment. His eyes scan over the scene behind his glasses. "Is everything alright?" he asks.

No, you want to admit, but instead, you smile and shuffle to your feet as gracefully as you can manage. "Yeah, I'm just-- just looking for something." Your hands shake just the tiniest bit as you work to put everything back in its rightful place. Containers click against each other as they're hastily stacked and shelved. In the blur of embarrassment, you don't notice the man come closer until his shoulder bag is placed on the table, next to his thermos.

"Did you misplace something? I can help you look." His presence behind you feels strong, some stoic aura hard against your back, despite how kind his words come out.

"It's silly. Don't worry about it, Kento." You sigh. "I'll clean this up, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make a mess."

Large, veiny hands are already working to put everything away at your side, starting with the higher cupboards above your heads. He doesn't say much else until you're both finished and the disaster of a room goes back to the boring, stagnant state you meet in every morning. By the end, the tremble has died down, but there's still a strange sense of humiliation melded with a little self-pity heavy in your chest. "Thank you. You didn't have to help, you're already here late," you thread your arms through coat sleeves and watch him duck his head under his bag strap.

"It was no issue, you seemed upset. I'm sorry you've lost something. Maybe it'll turn up soon."

This is the most you've heard his voice in one day. It's smooth, like marble, working against the jagged edges of your mood.

"Yeah, maybe." you reply softly.

Kento glances at the dark hallway while you finish gathering your things. He hopes he's not coming off as impatient. Truthfully, finding you like this was a surprise, but some part of him felt... useful, to assist you like that, even if he didn't know what in the hell you were searching so hard for. Something told him not to press it. "Can I walk you to your car?" he asks suddenly. Gripping your bag, you blink up at him. Of course, you've seen him, you know what he looks like -- yet somehow, now, he seems different. There's a softness around his eyes, around his mouth as he speaks. "It's gotten dark. I'd feel much better knowing you got to your car safely."

"That's very kind. Thank you, Kento."

"Of course. Whenever you're ready."

True to his word, the parking lot is caked in darkness when you both wander outside of the officeplex. Tall overhead lights spit out cones of harsh light over the pavement. It's a strange familiarity to the early mornings he arrives, when the sky is still dim and the birds are still waking themselves. Kento scans the lot for whichever vehicle might belong to you out of the very few that remain.

"It's this one, there," you say quietly, leading him off to the side and several lanes away.

He dutifully follows and stops just before the sidewalk dips down into the inky blacktop. Suddenly, something strikes him, a memory breaking into his thoughts like a desperate raccoon. "What is it that was lost?" Kento asks, his voice a tad louder than he intended with the both of you so isolated. Your hand pauses it's grip on the door handle and you're caught staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

"My mug." you admit. "My mom gave it to me."

He closes his mouth into a thin line. It must mean a lot to you, with the way you were acting. He hums and nods once stiffly. "Drive safely. Have a good weekend," Kento says, somewhat awkwardly, before turning to head to his own car a row behind yours.

Even in the darkness, you watch him go. "Thanks again, Kento. Goodnight."

He looks at you once more, paused at his driver's side door. "Goodnight."

So, maybe bending his own rules is okay, on occasion. Sure, he's at work even earlier than normal, and on a Monday no less, but he's not actually working, so it doesn't really count.

Kento walks briskly down the flat, dotted carpet of the call floor. He scans over desks as he passes, noting only anecdotally how messy some of his coworkers are, and sighs to himself. What is he doing? Looking for a silly little homemade mug at 5 am?

Maybe Satoru infected him with something, being so close the week before.

Light begins to pool across the floor, bleeding in from long windows spanning the far wall. He's already searched their particular hall a few times to no avail. Kento doesn't necessarily want to dig through people's work stations without proper suspicion, but at this point, even he's become a little bothered by the utter disappearance. It's not special to him like it seems to be to you -- but it couldn't simply have gotten up and walked away. What if someone broke it and threw it away without saying anything? You'd be devastated, if your stressed expression had anything to say last Friday.

Kento grumbles to himself at the end of the final pass. No white mug with scribbled little hearts.

On the way to the break room, he considers buying you a replacement. Would that be strange? Would you appreciate the idea, or think him dismissive for it?

The blonde is too caught in his thoughts to notice someone tailing him.

"Hey-- Hey! Damn, you walk fast."

Kento's blood runs cold as soon as a hand grasps onto his forearm. A cheshire grin greets him as soon as he whips himself around and claims his arm as his own again. Satoru, looking like the cat that caught the canary, beams a pearly smile, ever unaffected by Kento's disinterest in him. The confidence radiating from this man is irritating so early in the morning.

"Why are you here so early?" Kento asks flatly, not stopping his stride. Satoru jogs just a little to match his pace.

"I could ask you the same thing! You should use this time more wisely, like hitting the gym or something, not stalking around looking through people's stuff!" The sly man tips a brow. "Never took you as the nosy one between us, Nanamin."

Kento clenches his jaw and turns a corner. "I'm not being nosy. I'm looking for something that's been lost."

At this, Satoru makes a sound similar to a raowing cat, strangely amused. Kento internally groans. He's up to something.

"Did she ask you to look, or are you looking on your own?"

He stops. Satoru stops a few steps ahead.

"What?"

The white haired man smiles, mischief alight in his eerily blue eyes. He says your name so casually, as if you're a daily topic of discussion, before continuing, "you don't talk to anybody else here, besides her and I. I'll never catch you dead at a nightclub or anywhere else fun, so, hey! I gave you an opening."

Anger bubbles up in Kento's throat. If he had seen how close to tears you were a few nights ago, he wouldn't be smiling so smugly right now. And if Kento didn't want to deal with the nightmare that would be HR, he would throttle his little frenemy, looking all too pleased with himself. Instead of saying what he really wanted, Kento grumbles stiffly instead.

"Where is it?"

"In my bag--"

"Give it to me."

"Woah now, eager, aren't we? So I was right? You do like her!"

Kento pinches his bridge. How juvenile. How... strange, someone as self-centered as Satoru noticed the minuscule interactions between you both. "It was wrong of you to take it, especially for such a stupid reason. She was really upset about it. Give it to me before you break it."

Satoru mumbles something about being right under his breath before producing the ceramic like a delicate crown in his hands.

Kento takes it and continues his trek, his throat feeling a little tighter than before. He runs his gaze over the mug. It could do with a thorough cleaning after being in Satoru's possession for a few days. Down the hall where he left him, Satoru yelps out, "variety is the spice of life!" as if he's supposed to know what he means by it.

That morning, you don't join him in the break room. Kento stares into his thermos. Your bag isn't where it usually sits, and your designated hook on the wall lays empty. Did you even come in today? He feels his chest squeeze. Maybe this meant more to you than he could realize. Next to the gurgling machine, your mug lays in shining condition, the messy cursive now legible after he spent so long running nimble fingers over the glazed surface. Your name, with a hasty little good luck! tacked on underneath, surrounded by hearts.

Kento leaves the break room with both of his hands full.

A fireworks display stares at you in the form of a generic screensaver. You've been on the clock for a good while, yet, your keyboard sits cold. How silly, being so upset over something like this, at your age. Moving away to the big city, taking a leap with your career, but leaving your family behind... it's just part of being an adult, right? An uncomfortable itchy lump catches in your throat that you try to swallow away. You need some water. You need something.

"Good morning," at the sound of your name, the first thought is that you're being scolded for simply sitting on the clock -- but then it hits you, who exactly that voice belongs to. Over your shoulder, you turn to see familiar blonde hair, and those broad shoulders from before. Kento stands straight as a board. He's looking down at your bag, propped against the desk leg. He clears his throat.

"I wasn't sure how you take your coffee, so I put a little cream and sugar. I hope it tastes alright."

You find yourself gaping, a fish out of water. A hurricane lets loose in your stomach at the sight of his outstretched arm, offering you a shining gem. Steam rises easily out of the white ceramic. The smell is heavenly and you're not sure if it's from the coffee alone anymore.

"How did you..." you start, but shut yourself off before your voice can waver any more. You take the mug with care and caution and stare into the creamy tan liquid like a kid on Christmas. Kento watches your face morph from apathy to wonder as you take in the situation. You don't even take a sip, but place it on your desk and stare at it for a moment in silence.

"If you don't like it, I can make more." he says, the usual smooth tone escaping him in favor of something akin to nervousness. Maybe what he thought would be a kind favor came across as something... creepy? His jaw works against itself as he considers an exit route.

"Kento, this is... thank you so much." The chair beneath you creaks with how fast you stand and tuck yourself into his torso -- your arms wrap around him, your face smooshes unceremoniously against his firm chest. The force of your hug is enough to make you both loose footing in surprise.

Kento's body completely ignites at once. From head to toe, he's burning up, an unfamiliar swirl and flutter dancing under every inch of skin. "I know it seems silly, but... this means a lot to me. Thank you so much. You're so kind." you mutter into his shirt.

Slow to the catch, Kento lays his unoccupied hand over your back. By the way you fist the cotton between you both, he can tell you needed this -- at least, something like this, some sort of emotional relief. The turmoil wreaking havoc in his stomach pushes him to rub small circles where he dares to hold you further against him. "Of course," he clears his throat and dares to glance around, wondering if anyone had noticed, "I didn't like how upset you were. I... found it, this morning."

You peel yourself away, only partially, to look up at his face that now has a healthy glow to it. "Sorry," and you break yourself away, despite how warm he feels in your personal bubble, "that was kind of uncalled for."

"It's alright, I don't mind."

He smiles. More than the microexpressions you've previously been gifted with under the guise of general manners, his smile feels purposeful and genuine as it stretches across his angular face. And you smile back.

"Would you mind walking me to my car again tonight?"

Kento clears his throat in an attempt to kill these strange insects tickling his chest.

"It would be my pleasure."

Against the quiet monotony of the call floor, a pair of ocean eyes watches you with far too much interest. The owner leans himself against one of the cubicle walls, resting his cheek against folded hands, and utters an almost dreamy sigh. "They grow up so fast." Satoru fake sniffles.

[doumachi]

beautiful stranger

ᰔᩚ beomgyu x reader coworkers to potential lovers

ᰔᩚ sfw / just silly fluff / mentions of a cafeteria? not proofread / pictures not mine

the first time you saw him was in the cafeteria, you’ve never seen him before, but he’s with a group of other guys chatting away. you can’t stop looking at him except for when he catches you staring and returns the favor with a cheeky grin.

you can see from your peripheral vision that he's walking straight towards you and your friends.

you freak out and quickly tell your friends that you have to go to the bathroom not giving them any time to reply before you're gone. you decide to end your break early and go back to your cubical.

the second time is when you’re making copies of paperwork but, this time it was him who saw you first. he came to print a document but got distracted when he saw you through the glass door. you looked so pretty and he accidentally bumped into the door.

as a result, you jumped and turned to the side. there he was, leaned against the wall holding his face in his hands. he lifted his head and saw you trying not to laugh, a grin on your face as you propped the door open and went back to your copies.

“you okay there” you ask, trying to calm your face, grabbing your papers ready to leave. “hehe, yeah im fine,” he replies with an airy chuckle.

desperate to keep the conversation going, he quickly changes the topic, unfortunately for you, he chooses to talk about how you were staring at him earlier :)

“soooo,” he begins, “do you always stare at handsome men in the cafeteria?” he asks playfully. you freeze trying to come up with an excuse.

“handsome men? i didn’t see any. did you?” you respond back causing him to chuckle softly.

“oooh okay, i see how it is,” he laughs and turn to look at you, “then that’s a shame, cause i saw a beautiful girl in there and wanted to ask her what her name was,” he says, making you blush and look away.

“it’s-“ ”hey!” you here your friends voice calling you while banging on the glass door, signaling you over to her immediately.

you ran to her without saying goodbye to the man with you and started whining to her, complaining to her how she chose the wrong time to call you over:( she smiled and informed you that your boss was losing her patience and needed the paperwork now, causing you to bolt into your boss's office.

the third time, you’re on your way back home after an exhausting day at work. you’re on your last life it feels like until right before the doors close someone else gets on. the same pretty coworker that you saw just a few hours ago. he sees you and sits down right infront of you with a small laugh.

you can’t help but stare at him from time to time, and whenever you do, you find that he’s already doing the same to you, but you never find the courage to start a conversation.

though the ride is long, it doesn’t feel as long with him making silly faces at you whenever you lift your head to look at him. he sticks his tongue out and puffs up his cheeks to make you laugh.

your stop unfortunately arrives and you overthink, deciding that you would talk to him. as you’re about to step out though, you feel timid tap on your shoulder and turn to see him.

he’s much more beautiful up close with his chocolate brown eyes that shine, his hair framing his face perfectly, and features that most could only dream of. he pauses for a couple seconds, seemingly forgetting why he was doing this. it’s like his body moved without his mind thinking.

he finally says, “see you tomorrow, at work i mean of course, my name is choi beomgyu,” he spits out extremely quick, voice a little shaky. and before you know it he’s walking back to his seat.

now it’s your turn to get possessed because, you catch his wrist in your hand. the man, you now know is beomgyu, turns his body towards you with a hint of joy and hope in his eyes waiting for you to speak.

you breath in and speak, “ im yn. i’ll see you tomorrow then,” you respond while still holding onto his wrist.

he moves his hand up to meet yours and grasps it slightly in his before letting go.

“promise you’ll get home safely, yn,” the way he said your name sent heat straight to your cheeks and a smile to your lips.

with that you both let go, you exiting the train trying to hold back , and failing, the smile that was so wide it hurt your cheeks.

beomgyu sitting back down and looking at the ground with a lovesick smile on his lips and a dreamy sigh thinking about how pretty you were.

both of you couldn’t wait for what tomorrow held.

a/n: caught myself writing my own name a few times...

also i wrote this while listening to beautiful stranger by laufey :)

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 6

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Present

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting, alcoholism, abuse mention, lying, confrontation, crying, mutual masturbation, panty snatchin' (sorry idk what else to call it)

Notes: Hello hello hello! If you want the taglist, spotify playlist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this, thank you so much for reading. Ok love u have fun!

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Tonight, the AA meeting is being held in the conference room of a value hotel. 

The three-story venue is ripe with families on vacation and traveling professionals who likely booked their rooms as a cost-saving measure. They certainly didn’t choose to stay here because of its charming features, such as the floating island of dead bugs in the outdoor swimming pool, or the dingy low-pile carpet darkened in high-traffic areas, or the generic, faded landscape portraits in shiny golden frames. 

Its conference room is windowless, the only source of light buzzing from long fluorescents overhead, dousing everything in a twitchy, vague sort of green that grips Frankie’s stomach. 

Or, maybe it’s just the story he’s listening to that’s making him feel ill. 

Maybe a little bit of both, it’s hard to tell. 

“She had her heart set on leaving, ‘n’ I told her, nobody fuckin’ wants you here anyway, Mary Beth, go on home!” 

The haggard old man, who introduced himself as Fred, says this in a jovial, rehearsed way that tells Frankie this story has been told many times. Probably over drinks, to coworkers, or friends, or anyone who happened to be within earshot at his regular barstool. 

Fred glances around over his puffy, purpled nose, like he half expects his spectators’ laughter, but the only noise is the squeak of people’s uncomfortable shifting in seats. Either because the story is too relatable, or because these folding chairs are hell on the tailbone. 

“She told me if I didn’t get my ass outta that barstool, she’d be gone when I got home,” he looks at the floor and his cheeky grin falls, “I didn’t go home ‘til barclose. ‘N’ she was still there. Knew she would be. She always was.”

The room is silent as he gathers his thoughts. 

“She passed away, few years back,” he looks around, putting his calloused hands up defensively, “‘N’ I miss her everyday, don’t get me wrong, but—”

The well-weathered skin of his face sags into solemnity, “I kinda wish she woulda kicked me to the curb, y’know? Was always waitin’ for it, for her to get fed up ‘n’ leave, but she never did. ‘N’ I think, sometimes, maybe… she woulda lived a better life if she did. ‘Steada waiting around for some drunk, she coulda really made somethin’ out of herself. And I feel…” he frowns at the floor, trying to pinpoint the correct emotion, a skill undoubtedly atrophied by decades of avoidance.

“Regret, I think? Wasting so much of her life. It’s one thing wastin’ my life, but her’s… I dunno. It don’t sit right,” Fred clears his throat and swallows, then sighs, “Guess that’s it. Our anniversary’s coming up next week, she’s been on my mind ‘n’ I wanted to get that out.” 

The ringleader for tonight is David, as is usually the case at the Monday night meetings Frankie attends. He thanks Fred for sharing, then asks for another volunteer. 

Frankie leans back in his seat and presses his fingers to his lips as another participant clears their throat and begins to talk. He’s stuck on the old man’s story, though. His knee starts bouncing as he turns it over in his mind. 

I’m not that bad, right? I wasn’t that absent. I didn’t go to the bar every night. On the weekends, sure. And on weeknights, I’d drink myself fuzzy and numb, but at least I was at home.

Was he really present, though? 

Before you, when Angie was home with Sarah on maternity leave, he’d come home from work and visit with them for a while. Knock a few beers or drinks back. After dinner, he would continue to drink in the garage, or in the basement. Somewhere Angie couldn’t raise her eyebrows every time he finished a beverage and retrieved a replacement. 

Even after you, this ritual continued. You distracted him enough to slow the drinking those few hours after he got home. But once the table was cleared after dinner, he would tuck himself away somewhere in the house to drink alone. 

It wasn’t always that way. 

He drank, sure, but it wasn’t every day. It wasn’t to the point his mind went blank. 

No, that didn’t start until he returned from South America. 

Every time his eyelids closed, it played on repeat. The mansion. The crash. The village. Redfly’s vacant eyes. Over and over. His culpability hung around his neck like a noose. 

The guys didn’t want to talk about it. A silent agreement not to mention their sins. Angie didn’t want to talk about it. Too pissed at him for going in the first place to feel bad for him. 

It just stayed inside him, replaying again and again on loop. He needed something to wipe the slate clean, and booze worked. 

Not like he was sober before then. Drinking himself blind on the weekends. Fuck, Angie was the same way. Before she got pregnant, anyway. That’s how they ended up meeting, that summer night back in 2018. 

He and Benny went to one of their frequent Saturday spots. The bar was crowded and loud, heavy throngs of people attracted by a popular local DJ. Summer heat crept into the air despite the industrial air conditioner running at full blast, Florida’s relentless humidity hung thick in the air, leaving a dewy residue on every surface. 

The only thing Frankie could smell was that primal, earthy scent of sweat. He pinched his shirt and pulled it away from his chest with a few quick tugs, trying to get some kind of a breeze going. When he looked around the bar, swathes of exposed skin all surrounded him, people wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves. 

He spotted two women sitting at a high-top table, leaning over their drinks and talking to each other. One of them was a pretty, unassuming brunette. The other had glossy black hair that shone in the neon lights, cascading in waves down the open back of her dress. She looked put together and fucking luminous, the way her copper skin seemed to glow. He couldn’t look away. 

Benny was in the middle of a sentence when Frankie cut him off, “Holy shit, look at her.” 

“What—who?” Benny followed Frankie’s line of sight and guffawed, “Her? She would eat you for fucking breakfast, man.”

“I fucking wish,” Frankie gave Benny this dopey smile, nodding towards them, “You getting a feel on the friend?”

Benny glanced her over and shrugged, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth, “Pretty brunette?” 

“Right up your alley, huh?” Frankie grinned, then nudged his friend, “So?”

“Fuck it, why not?” Benny chuckled. 

“Atta boy,” Frankie smacked his shoulder a few times, then started off towards the table. 

“Hey, how’re you two doing tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the table, looking between the two women, who sized him up scrupulously, “Yeah, uh, my name is Frankie, this is my buddy, Benny. Mind if we join you?” 

“Why?” the subject of his desire asked, her big, round eyes searching Frankie’s face. 

“Why?” he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Well, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d sell my goddamn soul for an opportunity to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked and tilted her head, bringing the tip of her tongue to her top teeth before shrugging, “Prove it.” 

“You—you want it? My soul?” he grinned and leaned closer, “It’s yours, beautiful, for the low, low price of this barstool next to you. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a dance later?”

“That’s a hell of a deal,” she raised her eyebrows and joked, “For you, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “What if I throw in a sweetener? I’ll buy your drinks, too, how’s that sound?” 

She scrunched her face up in contemplation, then smiled, “Deal.”

“Yeah?” Frankie beamed, extending his hand to her, and as she took it, he grazed his thumb against her soft skin, “What’s your name?”

“Angie,” she answered, eyebrow quirking as she told him, “This doesn’t mean you’re taking me home tonight, though.”

“Noted,” he smirked, dropping his eyes to her lips, before meeting her gaze, “So what’re you drinking?”

He woke up the next morning in his bed, head spinning, stomach clenching. 

Before opening his eyes, he tried to recount the night, following the path of breadcrumbs his memory allowed him. Meeting Angie, taking shots, flirting with her relentlessly, more drinks, dancing with her. Kissing her on the dance floor. The sidewalk slabs uneven beneath his feet on the walk back to his apartment. A woman’s razor sharp giggle as he fumbled to unlock the door. 

The mattress shifted beside him and he cracked one eyelid open tentatively, releasing a sigh of relief when he recognized Angie as the person tangled up in his sheets. Traces of the previous night’s makeup still held in tact on her face, oily pools gathering in the soft wrinkles of her forehead and eyes, black mascara clinging to her lashes in clumps and flaking onto her cheeks, a faint red outline where her lipstick was before he kissed it off of her. He rolled on his side towards her and brushed some of the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. 

She hummed and frowned, then took a deep, wakeful breath as her eyes blinked open. They were stunning in the light. Golden streaks like sunbeams stretching from the middle of her iris into a deep, rich brown. 

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, “We fucked, didn’t we?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he smirked, “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her button nose, “Still drunk.”

“Regret this yet?” he chuckled, half-joking, half-wondering. 

“Having sex with a stranger? Yeah, I’m having some regrets,” she scoffed, shaking her head, then threw her hand down at her side. She sighed and studied his face, “You’re cute, though. Kind of wish I could remember it.”

“Ditto,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug, “You know, we could have a do-over. Since we’re already here and regretting it. You could… let me have another chance to, ya know, make a lasting impression.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” her dark eyebrow arched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She brought her long, red fingernails to his hairline and combed them through his bed head. 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to her lips, “Plus, that way, when this hangover inevitably kills me, I’ll die a happy man.” 

“Is that right?” she giggled. The sound made his heart sing in harmony. 

“That’s right,” he reached out to her under the covers, smoothing his hands along her soft skin, coaxing her closer as he murmured, “What do you think, princesa, hmm?”

“I think,” she wriggled on top of him, the sticky heat of her naked body clinging to his, “I could give you a fighting chance.“

She hovered over him, meeting his eyes for an intoxicating moment before he pulled her lips to his. From there, it was full throttle. Kissing, biting, gasping, moaning. Torrid, frenzied movements that burned bright and hot. 

Their relationship took off at break-neck speed. 

From that day onward, they were doing nightly sleepovers at each others’ apartments. Every free moment spent with the other, most often spent drinking or fucking. Six days into their relationship, Frankie got a text from some girl he was casually seeing. Angie read it when he was out of the room, then confronted him, resulting in their first drunk screaming match, and, subsequently, their first instance of drunk make-up sex. 

She worked at a global manufacturing plant’s central office with hundreds of other carpet-walkers and pencil-pushers as a financial analyst. Her hours often ran long and wound her up tight. 

When she would show up at Frankie’s apartment after work, she’d be ready to burst. He’d fix her a drink and listen to her bitch about coworkers and projects and idiots who used reply all instead of reply, waiting for her to ask him anything about his day. She never seemed all that curious about him, though, which irked him. 

They did have fun together, when they had sex and went out to bars, but by the end of the second month, he found her presence to be draining. That bug of discontentment wriggled beneath his skin. He realized they had little in common aside from their coping mechanisms and combustibility. 

He started to think about breaking things off with Angie, but, by then, it was too late. 

“Who would like to go next?” David asks, glancing around the circle of metal folding chairs and their scattered occupants. 

Frankie meets his eyes and points his index finger at the ceiling. 

“Floor’s yours, Frankie.” 

“Thanks,” Frankie nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back in the squeaky chair, “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much,” his mouth opens, but a thought occurs to him and he chuckles, shaking his head, “There’s one for the AA Meeting Bingo Card, huh?” 

This actually earns a few amused grins and a snort of laughter from his peers. 

He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees with a shrug, “Anyway. Even when he was living with us, whenever I did see him, he had a beer in his hand. And I thought it was normal, like everyone’s dad went to the bar every night, so I didn’t think much of it. I’m not sure when that changed. When I started to notice, I mean, that it wasn’t normal.

“When I’d go to my friend’s house, I thought they were… I dunno, fucking weird? Because they sat around the dinner table and talked to each other while they ate. And—and they didn’t seem afraid of their dad. Like, they didn’t have to walk on eggshells when he was around, which made me… uncomfortable, I guess,” he grimaces and shakes his head, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up. But, anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that, to me, my dad’s behavior was normal. 

“There would be times when he would come home and be three sheets to the goddamn wind, and he’d yell and throw shit, and my ma, she would lock me in my bedroom and tell me not to come out. Said my dad wasn’t feeling well,” he crinkles his nose and shrugs, “They split when I was twelve. And I don’t blame her for leaving him, I really don’t, but… I didn’t see him again until I got out of basic.”

He stops and leans back, taps his fingers on his kneecaps, then crosses his arms. A knot tightens in his throat when he remembers that day. Knocking on the door of his dad’s shitty apartment in Orlando. When it swung open, Frankie barely recognized him. 

Seven years left to his own devices aged him decades. Deep wrinkles carved into his droopy forehead. His nose and cheeks were darkened and bumpy, like he had a pubescent case of acne. He looked Frankie over with glossy, barely-there eyes and slurred, “There’s my boy! Hey, come in, Francisco, come in!”

Frankie’s stomach soured when the words hit his face, thick and swollen with whiskey. A warning signal that laid dormant in his veins for years reawakened, gushing hot and electric beneath his staticky skin. 

His father turned and started waddling into the apartment, so Frankie followed him, closing the door left wide open behind him. The apartment was threadbare. A dingy beige couch sat on one side of the living room, facing a small antennaed tv propped up on a milk crate. Some blonde news anchor chattered on the tv, but the gurgling buzz of the air conditioning unit effectively muted her. In lieu of a proper dining room setup, his father had a folding chair tucked into a card table, which was cluttered by piles of unopened envelopes and empty beer cans.

While the stranger pulled two beer cans out of his fridge, Frankie managed to stitch some words together, “So, how’ve you been, Dad?”

He didn’t seem to hear his question, just held one aluminum can across the countertop to his son, “You’re a real man now, huh? Have a beer with me, Francisco.” 

Frankie took a few steps forward and went to lean onto the counter, but decided against it when he realized how sticky the surface was. He accepted the beer and opened it. 

“It’s been too long, my boy, too long. What has it been, four years?”

“Seven,” Frankie corrected, averting his gaze to a tower of dirty dishes emerging from cloudy, gray water in the sink. The wet, bacterial, rotting stench made his nose crinkle. 

“Ah, well. I’m, well…” he trailed off and swallowed three big gulps of beer, then grinned, “So, Special Forces, huh?”  

“Yeah, I—”

“I’m proud of you, Francisco.” 

Frankie’s head jerked backwards and he met his dad’s dark eyes, “Wh-what?” 

“Takes discipline,” he responded, nodding, “I’m proud of you. Your mom, she did a good job with you.”

And he wanted to say a million different things. He wanted to say thank you and I love you and I forgive you and I hate you and fuck you. He wanted to yell: No thanks to you, you drunk old bastard. You woman-beating fucking coward. A different part of him wanted to cry: Why did you abandon me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Am I good enough now?

But when he licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond, his dad shuffled off into the sad living room, changing the subject. 

Frankie shakes his head and sighs, then looks around the room, “When Angie got pregnant, I vowed I’d never be like him. I—I wanted to be there for my kid, to be better than he was to me, and give my child a better life than I had. 

“Ang and I don’t always, um… see eye-to-eye. We have our problems. I’m trying to make it work, but I’m just so,” the word catches in his throat and burns behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and admits, “I’m so scared it’s not going to work. And Ang will take her. And I’ll end up just like him.”

He clears his throat, then takes another wide, cleansing breath before starting again.

“The only things I’ve ever been any good at are being a soldier and being a dad,” he says, staring at the floor, “It’s hard enough only seeing her a few times a week right now. I fucking hate it. I hate not being there when she wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and not watching Happy Feet with her twice a day, and not cuddling on the couch with her in the morning,” his stomach clenches and he feels a swell of tears starting behind his eyes, but continues, “The only thing getting me through this right now is knowing that it’s temporary. But if it doesn’t work with Angie, and I lose Sarah, I lose fucking everything. And I—I fucking can’t do that. I won’t.”

Frankie buries his face in his hands and feels a sob bubble up his throat. The echo of his crying returns to his ears and he becomes acutely aware of the other people in the room. That hardened part of his brain scolds him, growling at him to fucking get it together. He pushes the chair out behind him and keeps his head down as he walks out of the room, muttering, “I need a minute.”

When your shitty old car pulls into the hotel parking lot, Frankie is still outside pacing, trying to gather the courage to go back inside and face the group. 

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts towards it. You furrow your brow at him through your cracked windshield. When he opens the car door and sits down, you ask, “Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s fine,” he frowns and pulls his seatbelt over his chest, locking it in place, “Got out early.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then scoff, “Bullshit. What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Oh my god, Frankie, come on,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, searching his face, “You’re all flustered right now—”

“I am not,” he protests.

“You’re such a liar, you are flus-tered,” you blink at him with authority, raising one eyebrow, “All jittery, and your eyes look red—did you cry? Is that it?”

It’s irritating how well you know him. 

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, muttering against his fingers, “Can we just go?”

“It’s ok, you know, to cry,” you say quietly. 

His leg starts bouncing and his jaw gnashes from one side to the other.

Like you’re one to talk. 

Like you don’t go out of your way to hide from him every time tears pool in your eyes. 

“Hey,” you coo and tug on his hand. He lets you take it, interlacing his fingers with yours. The contact makes his heart skip a beat. When he looks over at you, your brows are threaded together, earnest eyes searching his face, “You’re not the first person to cry in AA, I promise. They’re there to support you. Give them a chance to help.” 

He glances up at the hotel’s exit and sees a few people from the meeting filing out, and shrugs, “It’s over now, anyways.”’

“Did you get your paper signed?” 

“No.”

“C’mon, at least get credit for your work,” you smirk, squeezing his hand, “I’m sure they’ll understand why you left.” 

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, “Fine.” 

“Atta boy,” you grin, “Do you want me to come with or do you got this?”

“I got this,” he flashes a weak smile, and has to hold himself back from bringing the back of your hand to his lips. 

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the vehicle, nodding at a few familiar faces as he makes his way back into the building to the conference room. 

In the room, a few people are putting away chairs or talking in small, quiet groups. David stands by the snack table, signing off on someone’s attendance form. Frankie lines up behind them and avoids David’s gaze when it’s his turn to hand over the attendance sheet. 

“That was really vulnerable, what you shared with us today,” David tells Frankie as he unfolds the form. 

His nostrils flare and he scoffs, “I thought I was supposed to share things.”

David frowns as he signs off on the paper, shaking his head, “It’s a compliment. Being vulnerable is good, and I appreciate your vulnerability.” 

“Oh,” Frankie shifts his weight to one leg and frowns, “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course,” David hands the form back, and when Frankie takes it, he can tell David is gearing up to say more. His face grows more solemn. He pushes the wire frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, “I know how conflicting it is being an alcoholic father with an alcoholic father. It’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing. Being apart from them is hell, even if it’s when you’re doing something to make yourself better. I just wanted to let you know that I get it.” 

Frankie nods, searching the man’s face, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” David flashes a polite smile, then turns to the snack table and starts picking things up. 

When the two of you get home, Frankie goes into your bedroom to haul the TV back to its normal spot in the living room. 

He finds himself lingering at the foot of the bed, staring at the side he slept in last night. At the covers, still drawn back from when he woke for work this morning. At the stuffed panda bear you set in his place at some point today. 

My place. 

He needs to stop thinking like that. It’s not his place. It can’t be his place. 

Not permanently, anyway. 

Part of him feels guilty for not leaving once you fell asleep. Staying was pure self-indulgence, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it was for your benefit. 

It can’t become a habit. 

But all weekend he wanted to hold you. To feel your beating heart and shallow, wheezy breath against his body. Proof that you were still here, after seeing you gasping for air, lips tinged blue, eyes wide with fear. 

In his life, he’s faced a lot of scary and uncertain situations. Situations that threatened his own life and that of people he cares about. But this… this was different. At least in combat scenarios, he had training and experience to guide him. 

This weekend he felt powerless. 

If he had to quantify the terror, he was at maximum capacity. Never been so fucking afraid in his life. He felt so helpless, he folded his hands and bowed his head at your hospital bedside, reaching out to something or someone in hushed whispers, pleading for your recovery. 

So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone in your bed last night. Not when you fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest, curled up at his side. 

The answer to his prayers. 

When he was sure you were sleeping, he pressed his lips to your forehead and told you what he’s only barely been able to admit to himself. 

In a million different ways, I’ve always loved you.

It was indulgent. Undisciplined. 

But mostly, it was a relief. 

Even if his words fell on your sleeping ears. 

Even if he can probably never tell you again. 

With a heavy sigh, he follows the TV’s power cord to the wall and unplugs it. He freezes when he spots something on the floor next to your dresser. You cough at the other end of the house, and he glances over his shoulder just to make sure you’re not around before he picks it up. 

A pile of soft teal lace. Your underwear. 

He brings them to his nose and inhales, the familiar scent inspiring a deep, heated churn at the base of his spine. Without another thought, he shoves them in the front pocket of his jeans, then unplugs the TV. 

Frankie settles on the couch with a groan, then glances over to where you’re curled up into a little ball and asks, “Were you able to get some rest today?”

You nod and your mouth stretches into a yawn, then you murmur, “Still kind of feel like shit, though. Hopefully it’s better by Wednesday.”

“Oh yeah, how’re your kids doing?” 

“Marla said they’re doing better, getting back to their normal selves. Em’s going back to school tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” he leans back and spreads out in his corner of the couch, “You like it, working for them?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “They’re sweet kids. Whole different vibe than Sarah, though,” you glance at him and chuckle, “Don’t tell anybody, but she was my favorite.” 

A grin stretches across Frankie’s face. He presses his fingertips to his lips and looks over at you, “She is pretty great, huh?” 

“The best,” you agree, a wistful smile playing on your lips, “I hope that when I, um,“ you falter here, smile dropping. You clear your throat and shake your head, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Are you guys doing anything fun tomorrow?”

“Not sure yet. Angie, um… yeah, I don’t know,” he frowns at his knee as it starts to bounce, “She’s pissed at me. So probably, you know, dealing with that.”

“Because you skipped out on Saturday?”

He nods, and when you don’t say anything, he glances over at you, “It’s fine, though, she’ll get over it.”

“Sure,” you smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Have things been going ok outside of that?”

“Aside from the alcoholism, my pending felony, and the fact that I’m living with another woman?” he snorts, “Things are going great.” 

“Don’t forget the affair,” you tease. 

“Mmm, you mean the isolated incident?” he corrects, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

You scoff and shake your head, “Wow. Yeah, isolated. Sure. Just a mistake, right?” 

He searches your face, watching your eyes go dim and your jaw clench, and furrows his brow, “N-no, that’s not—“

You clamp your lips closed with your teeth, like you’re holding yourself back, then open your mouth anyway, “That’s what you tell her, though, right?” you blink, “It was a mistake, it meant nothing to you, it’ll never happen again, blah blah blah?”

His jaw hangs slack and throat croaks as he tries to yield some kind of truth that will both spare your feelings and help him evade scrutiny, “I’m—sorry.”

It’s all he can come up with. 

You roll your eyes and sigh, then mutter, “Whatever,” before turning your attention back to the TV. 

The silence that settles is tense. It writhes beneath his skin and trickles into his stomach, twisting it into knots. 

You start to wriggle in your seat, like it’s bothering you, too. He can feel a jagged energy rolling off your body, and, predictably, you break. 

“If you ever want things to actually work with her, you’re going to have to come clean,” you huff, then glare at him, “You know that right? That you can’t just lie to her forever? There’s no way she fucking believes you.”

Frankie sighs, picking his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Sure, we can just not,” you snip and sit up straight, crossing your arms across your chest, “We can just pretend things are cool and groovy and you can get your life back and I can fuck off into oblivion.” 

“Jesus Christ—”

“Well, fuck, that’s what you want, right, Frankie?” you stare at him, “You’ll be nice to me while you’re here, and cuddle with me, and hold my hand, and what the fuck ever, but when this arrangement is over, then what?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok?!” he snaps, then stands and starts pacing the living room, shaking his head, “I don’t know if—if I’m going to fucking prison, or if I’m going to lose my job, or if my wife will fucking divorce me and take my daughter away—”

Frankie stops and turns away from you, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A few quiet seconds go by as he gathers himself and wrangles the burgeoning tears back into his skull. When he turns back around, he throws his hands out at his side, then lets them fall loose, “I don’t know what anything will look like after this,” he meets your glossy eyes, all wide and pained, and tells you in a hoarse, shaky voice, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you for so long. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I fucking—I fucking hurt you and I understand that.”

He takes a few steps forward. Your eyes, pooling with tears, stay glued his, following seamlessly when he crouches down in front of you and pleads, “I’m trying to be better, I swear to god I’m fucking trying. I—I care about you a lot. And I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer for what you and me will look like after this ‘situation’ is over with, because I have no fucking clue what anything will look like.” 

You swallow hard and nod, then drop your gaze as your face crumbles. A sob bubbles up your throat and quickly devolves into a coughing fit. 

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, glancing around. He spots your inhaler on the coffee table and hands it to you, “Need this?”

You take it and inhale a few puffs of albuterol. When your breathing evens out, blink the tears from your eyes and croak out, “Sorry.” 

He reaches up and smudges a fat, swollen tear on your cheek with his thumb, “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

A pained expression crosses your face. You lean away from his touch, so he sits down beside you as you exhale a thick sigh and look around the room.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Angie everything. I just—” one of your cheeks pulls in like you’re gnawing at the inside. You release it and tell him, “I just hate the idea of you saying we were a mistake. I don’t know. Is that dumb?” 

Your eyes flick to his and they’re so sincere, his stomach flips upside down. He shakes his head, “No, that’s not dumb.” 

“Ok,” you sniffle, nodding as you look at the TV, “Ok.”

A minute goes by, each second amplifying the buzz beneath his skin. He looks over and realizes you’re squished against the armrest of the couch, curled up in a tense knot of limbs, brow furrowed, biting at your lip. 

“Hey,” he coos, beckoning you closer, “Come here.”

You give him this kind of pathetic, kind of cute pout, but accept the invitation. As he wraps an arm around your shoulders, you drape your legs across his lap, rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and tucks you into an embrace. 

Maybe it’s one-sided, but Frankie feels heat humming between your bodies. 

The floral, minty scent of your hair, mixing with the musk of your soft skin, all dewy from humidity. Your breath rolling hot across the column of his throat. 

You wriggle closer, and the weight of your body settles between his legs. Presses firm down on his half-hard cock. 

His insides twist with a nagging, all-consuming want. The kind that usually fogs his brain when he thinks about booze. It claws at him like an animal caged within his ribs. Teeth bared, ferocious, growing: I need her I need her I need her

In the same cadence it always howls: I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink

The tips of his fingers scrape against your shoulder. A little whimper sneaks out your throat and drips down his spine. Your muscles shift and he can feel your lips hovering over his thudding pulse. 

This is dangerous. This is a line. A tightrope teetering beneath the soles of his feet. 

You breathe his name and it grazes his neck. His body surges with desire, cock throbbing, and he’s unable to stop the whine that croaks out his lips. 

He looks down at you, meeting your darkened, heavy-lidded gaze. You study each other, but neither of you move, despite the palpable current of electricity between you. 

“I—I should go to bed,” you whisper with little conviction, eyes darting to his mouth.

“It’s still light out,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. 

You shiver and your lips part, panting, “I need to clear my head—I’m… not thinking right.”

Frankie imagines you clearing your head in your bedroom with the door closed. Your fingers working between your legs, eyes pinched closed while you flip through the mental catalogue of all the times he’s fucked you. 

“Can I come with you?” he asks, voice ragged, “I won’t—I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You search his face, brows pushing together, and nod. 

This is stupid. 

You both know it. 

But he follows you to your room and closes the door behind him. 

Sinks into your bed as you lay out on the other side. 

You start slow, hands roaming the curves of your body. Over your tight tank top, no bra underneath, just the clear outline of your nipples. Along the middle of those little cotton sleep shorts he likes so much. 

He keeps his distance, blood pounding thick in his skull, as you ruck your shirt up your chest and roll a hardened bud between your fingers. You whimper and bite down on your bottom lip, eyes locking to his as your other hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts. 

In his periphery, he can see the outline of your wrist flicking under the fabric, but he can’t part his eyes from yours. It’s entrancing. Your mouth opens in a moan, lips pouting out into a whimper as you start to gain traction. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, pushing his palm against his swollen length trapped within the confines of his jeans, begging for attention. He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off. At the same time, you pull your shorts down. Some sort of silent trade agreement.

Frankie wraps his hand around his cock and drags his grip down, pulling the sensitive, aching skin taught. His palm is dry and rough as he starts to rut up and down, but the friction gives his touch an edge that makes him shiver. 

You’re watching him do this while you trail your fingertips along the shiny ridges of your sex. Saliva pools in his mouth when he remembers what you taste like. Imagines his tongue tracing the soft folds of you.

Your hips buck and you whimper when you touch your clit. You roll the pads of your fingers against the engorged bundle of nerves, eyelids fluttering as you work yourself. 

You both find a steady rhythm, panting and whining, glancing between each other's legs, hands, eyes. The increasingly frantic movements make your bed squeak. 

The two of you are so lost in the haze of pleasure, Frankie knows either of you could suggest physical contact between your bodies and the other would immediately say yes, but this fucked up little loophole has you both blissfully dangling on the precipice. 

He’s trying to keep his commentary to a minimum, but you’re driving him fucking crazy. 

Your blown-out pupils watching him fuck his hand. The sheen of sweat lacing your skin. A thick, gleaming layer of arousal coating your pussy and fingers. He wants to lick it off of you, taste you, drive his cock inside you and feel that divine squeeze. 

As his heartbeat starts to gallop and the fire in his belly laps its way up his spine, he pants, “You’re so fucking hot, holy shit—do you like this? Like me watching you get off?”

“Yes,” you gasp, meeting his gaze, working yourself faster, “I do, Frankie, I like it.”

His name on your lips is like an electric jolt to his insides. He groans, “Say my name again.”

“Frankie,” you whimper. 

A wave of heat washes over him, “Fuck yes, that’s so fucking good, baby—say it again—”

“Frankie,” you moan, sinking two fingers into your cunt, a sick wet sound squelching out as you start to fuck yourself. 

“Such a good girl, holy fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, pumping himself faster, lightning churning in his belly, “Gonna make yourself cum, sweet girl?”

You nod feverishly, face pinched up with pleasure, hips arching into your touch, “Frankie—fuck fuck fuck—”

“There we go, baby, you can do it,” he rasps, and watches as your movements come to a fever pitch, then your body starts to shudder and you belt out this strangled moan that pushes him over the edge. 

Pleasure ripples through him and he grinds his fist down a few more times, pulsing his load all over his hand, across the bedding, a few splatters reaching your hip. He groans and slows.

His muscles start to melt. He throws his head back into the pillow, then rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

Your chest is heaving and you’re all blissed out, a hazy smile on your lips. 

“You’re not gonna freak out, now, are you?” he pants, searching your face. He reaches over and gives you a playful poke to show he’s only half-joking. 

You meet his eyes smirking for a beat before you chuckle, “I don’t think so, but—could you get my, umm—inhaler?”

“Yeah,” he nods and rolls off the bed. 

When Frankie returns, you’re pulling your shirt down over your tits and propping yourself up on some pillows. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, then take it from him and inhale a few puffs. 

“You ok?” he asks as he rolls onto the bed next to you, wrestling a pillow under his chest. 

A coy smile plays on your lips when you glance over at him, shaking your head, “This was really dumb.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Probably.” 

“Fuck,” you giggle, burying your face in your hands, “Frankie, why did we do that?”

“Because we’re big dumb idiots?” he laughs. 

“Speak for yourself,” you snort, curling up on your side to face him. 

“Sure, yeah, of course. You’re super smart,” he teases, pointing between him and you, “This is definitely something that smart people do.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you push his shoulder weakly. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you say, “We’re never going to speak of this again, are we?” 

He opens his mouth to make a joke and attempt to sweep it all under the rug, but stops when he realizes it probably warrants a conversation. 

“Do—is that what you wanna do?” he asks instead, stammering, “Because we can, you know, talk about it if you want to.“

“I don’t know what I want,” you sigh, your face folding into a thoughtful expression. A few moments pass, then your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him, “Ok, this is a weird time to ask this, but, I meant to ask you earlier and forgot.”

He nods, “Shoot.”

“My sister is getting married over Labor Day weekend, and because I’m her bridesmaid and family and blah blah blah, she wants me to go stay out there for the week, and umm, I don’t know how that works with your parole and stuff—”

“Do you want me to ask Ralph tomorrow?” 

“Well, yeah,” you meet his eyes, “But—but also, can you come with me?”

It takes a moment for Frankie to register the question, and when he understands, his mind starts whirring with uncertainty. Angie. Court. Ralph. Sarah. Prison. 

“Not, like, as my date or whatever,” you add, waving your hand around nervously as you explain, “I just–I haven’t been home in years because my family is the worst and I—” you sigh, face pinching up as you admit, “I could use a friend.” 

That makes up his mind. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah, as long as I’m not in fucking jail by then, I’ll make it work. Let me… let me talk to work and Ralph, see what I can do.” 

You give him a restrained smile and say, “Thank you.” 

After the two of you decide to get dressed and watch a movie, he goes into his bedroom to change into a pair of basketball shorts, while you supervise a packet of popcorn in the microwave. Giving his closed door a quick glance, he pulls the bundle of soft teal lace out of his pocket and opens a dresser drawer to tuck them away, but pauses when his thumb grazes something damp. 

His brows furrow, then shoot up as he unfolds the underwear and recognizes the slick substance coating them. He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales, confirming his suspicion. 

You must have noticed them when he was getting your inhaler. And rather than taking the panties back, or saying anything to him, you cleaned your arousal off and replaced them. 

He grins at the present, because that’s what it is, really, then shoves the lace into his dresser drawer. 

“Daddy, look, that’s Mumble,” Sarah tells Frankie, pointing one chubby, blueberry-stained finger at a plastic baby emperor penguin. 

Her collection of penguins is lined up on the edge of the dining room table, in order of smallest to biggest. She wriggles around on his lap, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for acknowledgement. 

“That one does look like Mumble,” he agrees emphatically, “What kind of penguin is he?” 

“A empreror penguin!” she beams, throwing her hands in the air. 

“That’s right,” he chuckles, “An emperor penguin! How many penguins do you have?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the exciting new challenge, and she turns her attention to the plastic figurine lineup, counting each one out loud. 

Frankie glances across the table at Angie. She‘s glaring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Ang,” he rumbles, but she doesn’t respond. A hot wave of frustration weaves through his muscles and pulls them taught. His nostrils flare and he shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever.”

The dining room chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes it out and stomps out of the room, down the stairs like a petulant child. 

Sarah stops counting and tells him, “Mommy’s mad.”

He chuckles softly at this and nods, “Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go talk to her, ok, sweetie?”

Sarah resumes her counting when Frankie stands and sets her in the chair. He finds Angie in the laundry room, folding clothes with sharp, agitated movements. 

“Can we talk about this?” he asks. She doesn’t acknowledge him, so he continues, “Angelica. Come on. You haven’t said a word to me since I texted you on Saturday. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is exactly what’s fucking wrong, Francisco,” she growls.

He sighs and steps closer, leaning one hip against the washer, “As much as I would love to be able to, I can’t read your mind. So if you could help me out, maybe give me a clue—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she snaps, tossing the small pink t-shirt in her hands into a laundry basket.

His head jerks back and he scoffs, “Sure.”

“You passed up time with your wife and daughter to be with your fucking mistress,” she blinks, then throws her hands up in the air, “Is it really so fucking inconceivable that I’m mad about that?” 

“First of all, she’s not my mistress,” Frankie asserts, crossing his arms, “Second, she almost fucking died, Ang, I couldn’t just leave her alone in the hospital.” 

“So, what, she didn’t have anyone else that could come sit with her in the hospital?” Angie snorts, raising an eyebrow, “I was about to say she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself, but,” she sucks on her teeth and flashes him a faux sympathetic smile, “That’s barely true, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, then stares at her, “You know that’s not true, and—and no, ok? She didn’t have anyone else to sit at the hospital with her. None of her family made it out, she doesn’t have any friends. Her boyfriend didn’t even come to visit, so,” he pushes off the washing machine and pinches the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand and lies, “I felt fucking bad for her, that’s all. She couldn’t breathe and was all sick and shit, and nobody cared enough to visit her. It was, I don’t know, it was sad and I felt shitty about leaving.”

She seems to consider this, then gives a little shrug, “That is kind of sad.”

He nods, searching her face, dark eyebrows all scrunched together in contemplation. 

“She has a boyfriend?”

He nods, “Yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

Not exactly a lie, but he can tell a little truth stretching will bring this conversation to a more comfortable place. 

“I missed you,” he says in a pleading tone, meeting her eyes, hoping she buys it. 

She sighs, “I missed you too.”

The glint in her eyes tells him it’s safe to approach, so he does. He presses his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he murmurs, “I love you.”

When Frankie gets home, you and Rory are sitting on the couch watching a movie together. His arm is draped over your shoulders and you’re huddled in his lap, head on his chest. 

It reminds him of how the two of you are when no one else is around. 

His blood pressure spikes and heats his veins. You perk up as you notice him, putting space between your body and Rory’s. A nervous smile spreads across your face. He doesn’t return the smile, just nods in greeting as he closes the door behind him, “Hey.”

Rory looks him up and down, then turns back to the TV. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask. 

Frankie frowns and shrugs, “Fine. What’re you guys watching?”

Your phone starts ringing before you can answer. You sit up and grab it off the coffee table, muttering, “It’s my sister, I’ll be right back,” then tiptoe through the house to your bedroom, leaving him and Rory alone. 

Frankie steps on the heel of his boot and starts to wriggle his foot free. 

“Hey, man, I wanted to tell you—thanks for looking after her last weekend.”

Frankie glances up at Rory as he kicks one boot off, then the other, “Sure, yeah,” then starts off towards his room. Rory keeps talking, though, so he pauses. 

“When she didn’t respond to me for a day I figured, ya know…” he shrugs, staring at him. 

Frankie frowns and shakes his head, “Figured what?”

“Figured she ran off with you, man,” he chuckles, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re studying. 

Frankie snorts and brings his hands to his hips, “What, really?”

Rory stands and saunters over, looking the way you left to make sure you’re still occupied, then tucks his hands in the front of his jean pockets and shrugs again, “Seems like y’all are pretty close. She doesn’t really like to talk about you. Kinda weird for someone who’s supposedly a friend.”

What kind of macho man bullshit is this? Is he… flexing? 

“Yeah, she’s pretty private,” Frankie searches the other man’s face. 

“Y’all ever fuck around?” he asks. 

Frankie jerks his head back and frowns, “Uhh, sorry, what?”

Rory doesn’t say anything, just lets the air between them grow more hostile, flicking his eyes around Frankie’s face like a challenge. One that he’s not fucking interested in taking. Christ, what a fucking mess that would be. 

Frankie scoffs and shakes his head, “No, we don’t fuck around. We’re friends. Ok?” He holds his hands up and tries to soften his face, “So, take it easy, she’s all yours.” 

Rory seems to relax a little, then says, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Frankie chuckles with amusement, “We good?” 

“Yeah,” Rory grins, offering a clenched fist to Frankie, “Sorry, man.” 

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he bumps knuckles with the meathead and tells him, “You two have a good time, alright?”

Frankie retreats to his room and locks the door behind him. 

Every muscle in his body starts to deflate. 

His thoughts are fuzzy and loud. 

He starts for his bed, but pauses, and turns instead to the dresser, thinking of that teal lace. 

Today is one of those rare July days where it’s not just tolerable to be outside, it’s actually enjoyable. 

A slight breeze rustles the palm fronds above. The sun kisses Frankie’s skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a neighbor’s charcoal grill. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He cracks an eye open to find you standing over where he’s laying in the hammock and grins innocently, “What?”

“WhAt?” you mock him and snort, but pull up a chair and drop your little wicker basket in its seat, warning, “Ok, well, you’re sharing the hammock, at least.” 

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he tucks a hand behind his head and watches you roll into the hammock facing him.

You wriggle around for an entire minute, and when he starts to giggle at your restlessness, you whine, “Oh my god, scoot over.”

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his weight so you lay roughly hip to hip, hooking one arm under your legs, “Better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your body calms. 

Then it’s quiet. 

And the silence isn’t anything but peaceful, really. 

“This is good,” you say eventually. 

He’s not sure what this you’re referring to, but he agrees, “Yeah.”

You point to the sky, “That cloud looks like a gator.”

Frankie squints upward, examining the fluffy cotton balls hanging in the electric blue atmosphere, “That one looks like a cloud.”

A snort erupts from your face and you lay a playful smack on his thigh, “Oh, come on, use your imagination!”

“Ok, let’s see,” he clears his throat and tilts the bill of his hat back to take in more of the view. Then one catches his eye. He points to it, “Butterfly.”

You follow his direction and murmur, “Oh yeah, look at that. Neat.” 

He studies it for a while, watching the two wings tumble and morph as it moves across the sky, until it’s just another nondescript cumulus cloud. Then he turns his attention to the basket you brought outside. 

The hammock wobbles in protest when he sits up and lays it across the middle ground of your bodies. Frankie surveys the contents of the shallow wicker basket: a baguette; a dish of soft, white cheese with a little spatula-like knife sticking out the center; a bowl of red grapes and sliced strawberries; a couple of mandarin oranges. 

He rips off a piece of bread and spreads some cheese across the soft inside, then sits back and takes a bite. You do the same, topping the cheese with some strawberries. As the two of you eat in a content silence, looking up at the sky, Frankie starts to ruminate on the confrontation that is surely lingering on the tip of your tongue. 

Neither of you have dared to mention how you got off together in your bed. Surprisingly, it hasn’t changed the energy between him and you. But he’s found himself wondering if he’s just oblivious and unable to sense your disquiet, like he has in the past. 

And now, since it’s Family Dinner, State of the Union, or whatever Ralph calls it, he braces himself for impact.

“Alright, let me have it,” he says after he finishes his second chunk of bread, nerves getting the best of him, “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

The hammock shifts unsteadily as you sit up and put the basket back on the chair, then you lay back and stretch out, releasing a heavy sigh, “Honestly… I kind of don’t know what to say about it. I—I don’t know. I don’t feel different or have any kind of strong feelings about what happened.”

Frankie hums and looks over at you, watching your serene, skyward face. 

“What about you? How do you feel?” you ask, leveling your gaze with his. 

“I feel… the same,” he answers, frowning, “Like I should have a strong feeling, but I—I just don’t?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, shrugging, “Well, I don’t know, should we just… leave it?” 

Relief washes over him and he nods, “I’m ok with that if you are.”

“Ok,” you grin, then look back up at the sky, “Anything else you need to get off your chest?” 

Frankie rifles through his brain, pausing to think about Rory and the odd confrontation that happened the other day. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But, he shakes his head, “No. You?” 

“I can’t think of anything.” 

“Alright,” he inhales the blissful breeze that tickles his sun-warmed skin, then exhales, repeating your earlier sentiment, “This is good.”

[ Next Chapter ]

[justagirl-with-aphone]

~The coffee shop in my heart~

fem!coffee shop employee x Prohero!Bakugo

Just 3 more hours, you thought to yourself. 3 more hours and I get to go home and snuggle with my cat. You sigh, wiping up the remains of a broken glass a kid dropped on the floor. You’ve been working since 6am, its now 3pm, and understandably, you weren’t a bundle of sunshine right about now. A hectic day filled with entitled customers, and screeching little demons kids running wild, and your shitty boss on top of everything else. The only think keeping you going is the vacation you were almost saved up for, just a few more days of dealing with this bullshit and beach here I come!!

Returning to your spot at the cash register, you continue taking peoples orders. “YOU BITCH, THIS ISN’T WHAT I WANTED, GIVE ME A REFUND AND MAKE ME SOMETHING ELSE.” an angry man screamed at you, entitled people are just the best... 

“Sir, as I said several times, as much as I would hate love to fix your issue, I’m just the cashier here, I’m not the one who made your drink. However, cannot give you a refund if that is exactly what you ordered, you asked for a white chocolate mocha, and that’s what you got. We do not give refunds if you don’t like the drink. We give refunds if there’s a mistake, allergy concern, or if the drink was made wrong. Now please either step to the side or vacate the premises, you’re holding up the line.” It took everything in you to remain polite to the man screaming in your face, if he didn’t like white chocolate mochas, why would he order one? You questioned, annoyed as hell. 

Said man, ignoring everything you just said, continues to demand a refund, screaming at you for the next few minutes. Everyone else in line left from the scene, but the familiar chime of the bell above the door rings, indicating a new customer. Too busy to greet said customer, you ask the man to leave again, getting fed up with his shit. 

“Oi” a gruff voice booms, catching yours and the mans attention. 

“What do you want-” the man spins around to confront the man interrupting his tantrum only to freeze in place. 

“Leave. Now. I got places to fuckin’ be.” The ash blonde man voices, menacingly. 

The male Karen stomps out, admitting defeat. Wanting to thank your savior, you take a look at him, only to be met with piercing vermilion eyes. The man was tall, and was on the bulkier side with ash blonde hair. he came dressed in a black sweatshirt and some tech-wear pants. He was hot. “You gonna fucking take my order, or are you gonna keen drooling?” Then man asks sarcastically, apparently you zoned out. You roll your eyes at the remark and scoff, patience running thin from your encounters earlier. 

“What do you want?” you ask, no longer using your cheery customer service voice, you were drained. 

“Coffee. Black.” the man states, pulling out his sleek black card. 

“I need a name please,” you write the order and give it to the barista.

“Bakugo.” Bakugo states gruffly. nice name, you note. While your coworker is in the back making the drink, you’re left to make small talk. 

“I wanted to thank you for earlier, he wasn’t the most pleasant.” your customer service voice back on in full swing. 

“Cut that shit out. Its annoying as hell.” You look at the man confused, a little irritated. “The act dipshit.” So much for thanking him...

“And here I thought you were a nice guy helping me out by getting rid of the man. But I guess first impressions aren’t everything now are they?” you question, looking at the man. “Since you don’t want the “act,” this is what I think. I rather be anywhere but here dealing with your obnoxiousness rude self centered ass.” Grabbing the cup from your coworker, you hand it to him with a cheery fake smile and voice “Have a great rest of your day.” walking to the kitchen and exiting out the back door. Finally your shift was over. 

You were surprised the man they called Bakugo never reported what you said to your manager. What surprised you EVEN more was when he came back the next day... and the next... and the next...It became a daily thing, this went on for about 2 months. Everyday, he would walk in, order a black coffee, and annoy the shit out of you an hour. But the most surprising thing out of all of this is you started to like him being there. 

“Oi, dumbass” Bakugo greeted, in his own, interesting way.

“What’s this? No more “extra”? I’ve upgraded” You feign shock. Bakugo rolls his eyes and asks for his usual.

You feel a pair of eyes on you. While your taking Bakugo’s order, come to think of it, you’ve felt eyes on you all day. Confused by the attention, you turn to meet eyes with the man. The same guy who cussed you out before. Looking at the man, you weren’t mentally prepared for what this motherfucker was about to do. He picked up a glass of water, looked you dead in the eye and dumped it on the table. 

You were going to kill him.

You ball your hands into a fist, resisting the urge to punch his lights out. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit. ” As you’r about to walk over there with the rag you retrieved, a certain blonde snagged the rag from your hands, stomping over to where the guy sat. “Clean it the fuck up.” Bakugo growls, throwing the rag at him. ‘You thought he would’ve learned his lesson the first time, but apparently not.’ You thought to yourself while watching the man clean up the mess he made...

[specialagentlokitty]

Patrick Jane x reader - support

hiii!! could u write about reader and Patrick Jane? Where reader is dealing with personal issues and she’s stressed about it. Then her and Patrick are working on a case and is questioning a suspect then the suspect insults her and it makes her mad and she almost hits him and Patrick pulls her away and questions why she almost hit him and then she tells him why. I hope that made sense and thank you! - Anon💜

Dropping the file on the desk you sat down, running a hand down your face.

“Don’t even think about it Jane I’m not in the mood.” You said lowly.

He raised his hands, grinning a little as he sat down on the edge of your desk.

“No trouble this time I promise, Lisbon has a suspect for you. Given the suspects aversion to law enforcement and your patience and calmness we think you can get him to open up.”

“Is he here now?”

“Yup, just waiting, let’s go.”

Jane held his hand out to you with a charming smile and you took it so you could stand up.

Letting go you looked around the office before you gestured towards someone else’s desk.

“Grab their badge.”

“Now I could be wrong (Y/N), but I’m pretty sure taking an agents badge is just a tiny bit illegal.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just go get it.”

With that, you walked away, heading to the interrogation room and you headed to the room next to it to begin watching your suspect.

Overall he wasn’t an impressive man, balding, he was small, didn’t seem very muscular to have done the damage to your victim but looks could be deceiving.

A minute later Jane came back.

“So, why do I need the badge?” He asked.

“The suspect hasn’t seen you yet, you’ve been here with me all day. Since he hates law enforcement it’s going to piss him off when he sees that there’s two of us in there.”

“Well that part I gathered, but I could’ve done that without it.”

“You don’t look like a cop that’s the issue, so just flash the badge then put it away he doesn’t need to see it.”

Jane nodded his head, and he opened the door, gesturing for you to go first and you did, entering the room.

You said nothing as you sat down and you studied the suspect for a moment.

“Is it fun for you to chase people around wielding a shotgun?” Jane asked.

The suspect scoffed.

“Stop wasting my time.”

“Well, you’re our top suspect, your shotgun matches the one we’re looking for and I’m sure if I get a warrant we’ll find it’s recently been fired.” You said.

The suspect snapped his eyes to you and narrowed them a little.

“What the hell are you?”

“Agent (L/N).”

“So, what are you his assistant or something?”

“Actually I’m her assistant.” Jane said.

The suspect looked between you two and Jane gestured for you to get up and follow him so you did.

He took you to the other side of the room, and he glanced at the suspect before turning to you.

“He has no respect for women..” he whispered.

“Clearly, that might work in our favour…”

Jane furrowed his brows a little bit.

“Take control of the interview he’s more likely to respond to you..”

“Right, okay.” He said.

Jane went back to the table and you followed sitting down.

You didn’t say much, you let Jane ask the questions and if he was stuck you would ask something and he’d repeat it to get an answer.

It was going well until the suspect turned his attention to you after checking his watch.

“Shouldn’t you be getting home, your husband won’t make his own dinner or fetch his own beer.”

“Excuse me?”

“Run along bitch, only men belong here.”

You stood up, and so did the suspect.

Jane quickly stood looking between the pair of you, he was really sure what to do.

“Have some respect.” Jane warned.

“I won’t respect someone like that.”

You had enough, you were angry as it was, and you stormed around the table.

You just saw red and you swung your fist, connecting with someone and you heard a thud of someone hitting the wall.

“Jeez, one hell of a punch…” Jane mumbled.

Your eyes shot open and you stared at your coworker.

Jane walked over, placing his free hand on your elbow, his other hand holding his nose.

“Let’s take a few…” he mumbled out.

He led you out of the room and he took you back to his desk before holding up a hand and vanishing.

You passed on the interview on to Rigsby and you went home for the day.

It wasn’t a good idea for you to be there and you needed to calm down, so you went home and got a shower before changing into some comfortable clothes and ordering food.

Sitting on the couch, you buried your head in your hands taking a few deep breaths to try and calm yourself and compose your emotions.

You heard your door open and closed and you slowly reached for you gun.

“Don’t shoot it’s me!”

Sighing, you set it back down.

“In here!” You called back.

Jane walked through and he pushed your stuff out the way to sit on the table in front of you.

“So, what happened in there? You’ve never once lost your temper like that before.” Jane said.

You sighed, leaning back on the couch and you looked at him. You could see the blood on his shirt, and the blooming bruise around his nose along with a small cut.

“I’m so sorry I hit you…”

“You weren’t aiming for me I got in the way, you can really throw a punch it’s amazing. But doesn’t answer my question.”

“I… I have some personal stuff going on..”

Jane got up, and he sat next to you.

“Let’s talk about it.”

You looked at him, and he gave you a warm smile and you sighed.

You explained everything to him that was going on and he held your hand as you did.

When you were done you cleared your throat and stood up, gesturing to his shirt.

“I’ll get that out I have a spare sweater hold on.”

You disappeared and Jane said nothing about it.

He didn’t want to pressure you about anything else and he knew your distraction was to find things to do, so he changed into the sweater and let you clean his shirt.

But he decided he was going to keep an eye on you because you needed the support and you wouldn’t ask for it