#ignore that i made it harder on myself by giving mind extra arms

[irusanw4]

I present:

Mind and clunk, who has been government assigned the color green because I needed to give it a color to draw him with color.

[nomoreusername]

Girlfriend Guilt

Pairing:Harriet x female reader

Summary:After the incident in the Maze, Harriet keeps acting distant.

I don't want to sound paranoid or ungrateful. I don't want to seem indifferent to the fact that I’m here. I mean death is pretty much a guarantee without the Safe Haven.

It's just that Harriet’s been acting so strange ever since we got here. When we first reunited she ran into my arms and wrapped me in the biggest hug only to immediately pull away. She had been giving me one word responses to everything I asked before WCKD took me. It was as if she was looking through me instead of at me.

I thought she was just a little thrown off at first. Six months of separation should have been more than enough for her to get over the shock though. She should be fine now. We should be back to gentle kisses, holding hands, soft words, and long stares.

She won't even look at me, and she won't admit that something is wrong even though it's so obvious it's basically an insult for her not to.

I want to be understanding. We’ve all been through a lot, and everyone processes things in their own way. There's mostly no right or wrong way to do that.

When I can watch her laugh from afar with Sonya though and know the second she’s able to spot me her smile will fade, it feels like there is. I feel like I’m watching a tutorial of how to neglect your girlfriend.

I was stupid for thinking it wouldn't be difficult today. I was stupid for thinking she would actually want to talk to me. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“It's okay. I’m sure it's nothing bad,”Aris coaxed. Shaking my head, I kept my face buried in my hands as I silently cried. “She’s probably just got extra stuff on her mind. She still loves you.”

“Then, why won't she act like it?”I pointed out, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand as I sniffled. Staring at me with pity in his eyes, he gave a small shrug and patted my shoulder. Tearing up even more, I pulled my knees to my chest as I sobbed harder.

“It’s okay. You just have to talk to her.”

“I’m-I’m trying. She just . . . she keeps ignoring me?”

Running out of things to say, he nodded his head.

“I just want to be alone for a little bit?”I requested.

“Okay. Do you want me to try to talk to her for you?”

“No. I just . . . I think I’m gonna have to break up with her?”

Giving me a sympathetic nod, he quietly told me it was going to be okay. Drained of all energy, I stayed silent. Understanding that nothing was going to make me feel better right now, he did as I asked after another strained, pity smile.

I stared out at the water as I listened to him walk away. Wiping my still falling tears, I attempted to take deep breaths only for them to be short and heavy. My heart ached in my chest as I felt sick to my stomach. Every last part of me was exhausted, zapped of all energy.

I think she broke something in me. Maybe not on purpose but still. This is a kind of pain I never thought I’d have to have. We’ve always been great at talking to each other and communicating what we needed. This is completely unlike her.

I want to be supportive, but I can't help if she keeps pushing me away.

I also can't sacrifice my sanity for the dimming sliver of hope that she’ll open up again.

♡ - - - ♡

I should have been doing something. I should have gone and helped with something or hung out with someone or even just rested up.

I couldn't though. I swear that I can't even move.

I just sat in that spot, wondering what was next. Why was she being like this? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt her and don't remember? Is she grieving and doesn't know how to tell me? Is she going through something and doesn't want to share what? Am I really supposed to leave her now, or do I give her another chance? How many chances is too much?

“Hi.”

Snapping my head around at the voice, I found myself face to face with the girl who was currently and slowly breaking my soul.

Turning back around, I made it clear I had nothing to say to her.

“Okay. I guess I deserve that.”

“Yeah. You do,”I said firmly.

Sighing, she walked over. Without an invitation, she sat beside me. As she tried to hold my hand that was on the ground I snatched it away and into my lap.

“Y/N, I know I’ve been not the best girlfriend lately,”She said slowly.

“No. You’ve been the worst. You’ve completely ignored me after we were separated for months. You've acted like you're just too good for me, like I’m less than the dirt beneath your boots.”

“I know, but I promise it wasn't like you’ve been thinking. I’m not mad at you or wanting to leave you or anything like that.”

Staying silent, I turned to face her. Her eyes shone with remorse as she met my gaze. Keeping my expression blank, I waited for her to speak after so long.

“I love you, soldier. You’re the strongest person that I’ve ever met. You’ve gone through so much, and you’ve still got a heart of gold. You're a great listener and know how to comfort anybody. You've been through hell, and you still keep your head high and don't lose your spirit. Physical strength is one thing, but you have something better. After all you’ve been put through, you are still you. You're still the most perfect girl that’s ever existed. You're still so wonderful and the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“Then, why aren't you acting like you feel that way?”

“Because I know that I haven't been a good girlfriend. Not since,”She started before closing her eyes. Taking a shaky breath, she wiped a tear from her cheek before meeting my gaze. Her beautiful caramel eyes were shining with regret. “Not since I left you at the Maze,”She whispered.

“Oh Harriet,”I unintentionally whispered back, realizing what was going on.

I hadn't wanted to leave the Maze. I was afraid of what was in there and whatever the world may have been. I had been convincing Harriet to stay while she had been trying to get me to leave. In the end, she led everyone out. I stayed for around a week before giving up. I had ended up running into Aris and his group in the Scorch and joined them.

“Oh honey,”I sighed, opening my arms for her. Accepting my embrace, she wrapped me in a tight hug, burying her face in my neck. Rubbing her back, I clung to her just as much. “I understand. You had a job to do. You had to protect everyone.”

“But that meant I didn't protect you,”She mumbled against my skin.

“I didn't go with you either,”I pointed out.

“I know. I just-I just wanted to do the right thing.”

“And you did. You're out, yeah? And I am too. Everything worked out in the end,”I reminded her, pulling away but keeping my hands on her shoulders.

“I just know that I should have been there for you earlier.”

“You did what you had to. You did great, and I’m so proud of you. So very proud,”I promised, cupping her cheeks and wiping away her slow falling tears.

“I’m sorry. I am. I just didn't know how to talk to you after that. I didn't know how to face you.”

“I was never mad at you though.”

“I didn't think you would be, and that made the guilt so much worse.”

“Oh honey,”I sighed, kissing her temple as she sniffled. When I pulled away I kept my hands where the were, not quite ready to not be touching her yet. “You don't have to feel guilty for that. There was no way of knowing what the right thing to do was, and we disagreed on that. That's okay though. We won't think the same thing all of the time, right?”

“Yeah. I know,”She nodded, resting her head back in my neck. Wrapping my arms around my girl, I placed my chin on her shoulder.

“It’s over now. Just let everything be over so we can move on and be happy together. Let's just be happy here and move on, Harriet. Please?”

“Yeah. Okay,”She agreed, her shoulders dropping a little as she relaxed.

With a small yet genuine smile, I felt mine do the same as I savored the mystery of her ignoring me being over.

We’re fine now. We’re going to be okay. Even if we’re going to be dealing with the aftermath of things that have permanently altered our brain chemistry, we know we’ll never be alone. Until the day one of us leaves, we will always have each other.

[itsdanii]

Rejecting you and regretting it

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: slight cursing, rude behavior (resolved), do message me if I forgot any.

ft. sakusa kiyoomi, tsukishima kei

Sakusa Kiyoomi

you're not oblivious to the fact that kiyoomi is a very conscious person

that's one of the things you loved about him

he was hygienic and he always made sure that his health was his utmost priority

but one downside is that kiyoomi had the tendency to push people away because of his straightforwardness

you were used to it and in fact, you were one of those people he tolerated

but everyone has their bad days

and unfortunately for you, today was kiyoomi's and since you were always attached to him by the hip, he unintentionally snapped at you

what's worse is that he snapped at you the moment you confessed to him

"Omi!" you shouted happily as you entered the gymnasium, giving Komori a small wave before making your way to where Kiyoomi was sitting.

He looked at you with a frown. He wasn't wearing a mask since they were training awhile ago and only took a quick break. "Y/n, what are you doing here?"

You sat beside him making Kiyoomi grimace and slightly move away. You frowned at him, completely displeased at the action. "I just wanted to give you a visit. Plus, I have something to tell you."

You started to fiddle with your fingers nervously. You practiced your confession several times already but doing it seemed harder than you thought.

"What is it? Talk, I'm not in the right mood to socialize right now."

Out of panic, you quickly blurted out a rather loud, "I like you!" You immediately covered your mouth with your hand and stared at him wide eyed.

The other players looked at you with sympathy, knowing what's about to happen. Out of all days, you really had to confess today, when Kiyoomi was in a pissy mood after several fangirls pushed themselves against him this morning, not minding his personal space.

Kiyoomi stared at you with a serious expression before standing up. "I don't like you. Leave."

"But Omi.."

"You're irritating and you always bother me when it is clear that I don't want your company." He turned around and left you on the bench, your head casted down in humiliation.

You whispered a small sorry before running out of the gym with tears falling from your eyes.

For the next few days, you did your very best to stay away from Kiyoomi. You changed your route to school knowing that your usual route meant that you have to pass by his house. Even if you got scolded several times for being late, you did not stop.

You sat near the door so you can easily exit the room after class. You even stopped eating with Komori and Kiyoomi during breaks and lunch. Even your usual routine of visiting the gym during practices was stopped.

At first, Kiyoomi didn't mind. He knew that you'd come back in a few days just like you always did. You like him after all, right?

But when a few days turned into weeks, He started getting bothered. Why weren't you pestering him like always? Why did you stop visiting him? You said you like him, right?

It was the second week that Kiyoomi took action. He woke up extra early to wait for you infront of your house, aiming to confront you about your behavior.

When you went out, your eyes widened slightly upon seeing Kiyoomi waiting for you outside. He was wearing his face mask while staring at you intently, letting you know that he purposely waited for you.

You looked down and was about to walk pass him when you felt him tugging on your wrist. Your gaze snapped to his hand, not believing that he was indeed touching your skin.

"Sakusa?"

His eye twitched at the weirdness of you not calling him like usual. Sighing, he stepped a little closer to you, hand still holding your wrist to ensure that you won't run away from him.

"You're ignoring me," he said while eyeing you. "Why?"

You took your hand from him and furrowed your brows. "I'm just doing you a favor. I don't want to be a bother anymore. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"I-"

"It's fine, Sakusa. You don't have to force yourself to apologize just because you feel bad or obliged to."

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I'm not apologizing because I feel bad."

"Then what? You're apologizing just to make fun of me? I know I said I like you but that doesn't mean that you have the right to-"

"You don't get it!"

At this point, you were both raising your voices. Some passersby were looking at you two weirdly, some even running as to not get caught up in the fight.

"Get what, Sakusa? Why don't you tell me so I can understand?!"

"I like you!" Kiyoomi exclaimed. "I... Fuck. I like you, okay? I wasn't in the mood when you confessed and I rejected you without thinking. I messed up. The moment I saw you walk out, I knew I fucked up real bad and I-"

"Om-"

"And I thought that you'd come back the next day to bother me again like usual. I wanted to apologize but my pride-"

You sighed as he continued to ramble. With fast movements, you stood on your tiptoes and encircled your arms around his neck to pull him down to you, kissing him over his mask.

When you let go, Kiyoomi was silent. His eyes were wide and you thought that you went over board. Panic made its way to your face as you try to find the words to explain.

"Sorry, I didn't me-"

This time, he was the one to cut you off. Kiyoomi took off his mask and bent down to kiss you on your lips. One of his arms snaked around your waist to support you while the other settled on your nape, angling you to him.

"Be my s/o."

Tsukishima Kei

Everyone in Karasuno knew how much you like Tsukishima

In fact, you remind him everyday

You often give him fresh strawberries from the market and even bake him strawberry cake

Sometimes, you would put little sticky notes on his belongings and write some encouraging words like "you can do it", "I believe in you" or "take it easy!"

On his birthday, you even gave him a hoodie with a dino design (which he secretly loved)

There are times that you knew Tsukishima gets irritated when you visit and even snaps at you but you didn't mind. You liked him and a small snap will not discourage you

But what you didn't know was that it would only take one conversation to completely shatter your heart

"-And they're back," Sugawara said as he saw you enter the gym, a bubbly smile present on your face as usual.

"Kei!" You skipped your way towards Tsukishima and handed him his water bottle which you voluntarily refilled with hot water.

He only gave you a 'tsk' and took the water bottle. Adjusting his glasses, he stared at you from head to toe as if analyzing you, a small blush appearing on his cheeks.

"What are you looking at? Have you finally come to realize that you like me back?" you cheekily asked, poking his bicep.

"No. I was just wondering how someone could look so ugly."

Despite what he said, you forced yourself to giggle, covering your upset feeling with an eye roll. "Oh shut up, Kei. You don't have to hide it, you know? Don't worry, I'm not going to reject you."

You winked at him causing Tsukishima to blush even more.

The rest of the boys snickered and laughed at his reaction which made Tsukishima more embarrassed than he already is.

"Just confess to the girl already, Tsukishima. Can't you see she's trying hard to win you?" Daichi said with a small chuckle while patting Tsukishima's back.

Tsukishima just huffed and pushed his glasses up. "What's there to like? They're nothing but an eyesore anyway."

"What?" you asked in disbelief.

Having a playful banter with Tsukishima was normal in your routine but this was the first time he called you such an offensive term. Does he really think of you that way?

"Oh come on, stop acting dumb. I don't even get why there are guys running after you. I mean, there's really nothing much to look at, right?"

Everyone grew quiet at what he said, clearly not expecting Tsukishima to be at such level of rudeness.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat as your insecurity skyrocketed. "I try hard every single day to look presentable to you. I-"

You paused for a moment to laugh pathetically at yourself. "I exert a lot of effort to make you notice me. I cook for you, I give you gifts. Heck, I even stay after class to help clean the gym so that the task would be easier for you and I'm not even asking for anything in return."

Tsukishima glared at you sharply that you immediately felt extremely smaller than him. "I never asked you to do those things for me."

"Can't you at least show me that you care?" You wiped your tears with the back of your hand. "Because I'm slowly getting tired of this push and pull game."

"Don't you get it? I don't like you. Why don't you stop pushing yourself to me and start getting a life, hm?"

"Tsukishima, that's enough!" you heard Daichi yell at him.

"Y/n?" Sugawara was immediately beside you, his hand rubbing circles on your back in attempt to calm you down.

"No-" You lifted your face up to meet Tsukishima's eyes. "I think he's right. I should stop being a nuisance and focus on myself."

"I'll leave you alone. I'm sorry," you said before giving Tsukishima a bow and leaving the gym with everyone's eyes following your figure until the door shut.

Everyone could only look at Tsukishima as he cursed under his breath.

"Shit."

The moment you left the gym, you headed straight to the comfort room to let your tears out. You stared at yourself on the mirror as tears cascaded down your cheeks.

"You're beautiful," you reassured yourself while pointing at your own reflection. "What he said doesn't make you any less. Know your worth."

You wiped your tears and splashed your face with cold water before getting out and heading to class without sparing Tsukishima any glance.

You ignored Tsukishima, stopped visiting the gym and focused on yourself. You even made made friends with some of your classmates that you didn't bother getting associated with last time because you were too focused on capturing the attention of Tsukishima.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain male was eyeing you as you interact with other people. He blamed himself for pushing you away. He didn't talk to you, thinking that you only wanted space for a couple days before bothering him again.

He knew that what he said was out of line and he regret everything he did. He even asked Yamaguchi and the rest of the team for advice but all of them responded with the same answer - apologize and tell you how he feels.

Tsukishima gripped the pen tightly as he watched you laughing at something your classmate said. The said classmate was too close to you and it was obvious that he was trying to flirt with you.

"Tsukki?" Yamaguchi called out. He followed Tsukishima's gaze and sighed. "Why don't you go and talk to them?"

"Tsk. Why would I do that? Can't you see they're enjoying his company?" Tsukishima bitterly said.

"You'll end up losing them if you don't do something about it now. Who knows, they might already be lo-" Yamaguchi stopped as Tsukishima instantly stood up and made his way to where you are.

Taking your wrist, he pulled you towards him, heading out of the classroom.

"Tsukishima, what the hell?!" You tried to resist but his grip on your wrist only tightened.

You gasped as he suddenly stopped, trapping you against a wall with his arms beside your head.

"I'm sorry." Tsukishima closed his eyes, balling his fist as he bowed his head. "I said hurtful words to you and no amount of apology will take those away but I want you to know that I regret every single one of it."

You bit your lower lip as you felt yourself tearing up once again. "Do you really think that I'm ugly? I was hurt, Kei. It's just.."

"I'm sorry." His hand made its way to your cheek, cupping your face while he wiped your tears with his thumb. "You're not ugly."

You shook your head and averted your gaze from him, a sob escaping your lips as you felt yourself falling for him deeper. "Don't. Just stop. I'll accept your apology but please just leave me be. I won't be able to stop my feelings for you if you keep leading me on."

"But I don't want you to stop."

"What?"

"I've fallen for you." He tipped your chin up with his hand making you look at him and you were surprised to see the vulnerability in his features. "Please look at me again, y/n. Keep loving me because I swear that I'll do things different this time. Give me a chance."

You can't help but encircle your arms around him, burrying your face on the side of his neck as you nodded repeatedly. "One chance, Kei."

Tsukishima hugged you tightly, lips pressing on the side of your head. "One chance." He leaned away from you and held your face with his hand, eyes boring to yours admiringly.

"You're beautiful."

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,188 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan + flashbacks in other eras Warnings: language, fear and anxiety, mention of fear of heights Summary: Y/N and Daryl head out on the run for the requested medical supplies. Things are tense, but possibly about to get worse... This part is written in Daryl's POV!

Your name: submit What is this?

* * *

“I ain’t waitin’. I got a whiff of him and I gotta go before it disappears.”

“Daryl, are you sure about this?” Carol pressed him, creases from worry between her eyebrows. “Are you sure you’ve really thought this through?”

“What is there to think through? If he finds her again, he’ll kill her. And I ain’t waitin’ around for that to happen.” The archer was a blur of activity, gathering his gear and shoving it into his pack.

“I think you need to talk to her about this,” Carol insisted, relinquishing her hold on his poncho somewhat unwillingly as Daryl pulled it from her hands.

He shook his head. “Nah. Ya know she’ll want to be there and I can’t risk that…” he trailed off. “I can’t risk—can’t risk that.”

A thick silence stretched for a moment and Carol wrung her hands. “Well, what are you going to tell her?”

He paused, his hands on the clasp of his pack. “I ain’t tellin’ her anythin’. I’ll leave before its light tomorrow. By the time everyone is up, I’ll be gone.”

“What am I supposed to tell her then? When she inevitably asks?” Carol pressed him. “You want me to lie to her too?”

“I ain’t lyin’,” Daryl snapped. “‘M just not—not tellin’ her everythin’. ‘M ending this so she can move on.”

Carol’s jaw tensed. “It feels like a lie.”

“Just tell her I went north. To see what I could see. Lookin’ for supplies,” he drawled, setting his pack and crossbow on the ground beside his bed. “I don’t know.”

Carol sighed heavily and shook her head as he straightened up. “I don’t think this is—”

“Look, tell her whatever ya want. Just wait until ‘m gone. This is happenin’. It’ll be done. S’gonna be over with. For good.”

She shook her head and gave him a long look before crossing his cell and gently clasping his shoulder. “Be careful. I mean it,” she said, surrendering to the fact that there would be no changing his mind. He nodded, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment.

“I will.”

Carol gave him one last look full of anxiety and left him.

* * *

I hardly slept. Maybe caught 20 minutes here and 15 minutes there. Anxiety about the run—that’s all it was. At least, that’s what I kept tellin’ myself. Wanderin’ into a hospital was about the dumbest shit we could do. They always promised to be loaded with unexpected bullshit and floods of undead assholes. But lyin’ flat on my back in the dark, I knew deep down it had a helluva lot more to do with her than it had to do with the run. I was tryin’ to remember the last time I’d spent more than ten minutes alone with her and it left me with a feelin’ like somebody had dropped a damn lead weight onto my chest. I turned over in bed in an attempt to throw it off, but it still sat there on my lungs. I knew exactly when we’d last been alone for longer than a few minutes. Of course I fuckin’ knew. It was burned into my goddamn memory.

But it wasn’t doin’ me a lick of good to think on it so I pushed it away and waited for the clock beside me to read 5:15 before I climbed out of bed. My gear was all waitin’ ready, except for pickin’ up a gun on the way out. I half-expected to run into her in the armory, but it was dark and empty when I grabbed a handgun and some ammo. It felt like a lonely walk to Aaron’s, up the empty street, dew heavy on the grass, and my bootsteps echoing loudly off the dark rows’a houses. I never feel right in here… with the square little lawns and lights on by the front doors. It just felt fake, like somebody had built paper houses and was plannin’ to light ‘em up to burn any minute. I couldn’t feel settled. I just felt… lost. Outta place. Like I didn’t belong.

I’d gotten rid of that feelin’ once… My mind drifted back to her like it always did. It was like I didn’t have no damn control over my own mind. She’d been the one who’d made me feel like I belonged. But now? Fuck. I’m doin’ it again. Focus, dumbass.

She wasn’t waitin’ by my bike either, so I rode up to the gate. As the lookout platform came into view, I caught sight of her climbing down, followed by Gabriel. Her pack was slung on her back, a shotgun hanging at her side and her favorite pistol in a holster on her thigh. I found myself chewing the inside of my cheek. Nerves. Anxiety. This was gonna be a long fuckin’ day.

“I’ve got the gate,” Gabriel said, heading for the latch. She wandered over and I felt a jolt when she met my eyes. I nudged my nose up in a nod, but she just looked back at me with that same stony expression. Unreadable. It always seemed like I never saw her smile anymore. Maybe she did, just not around me. I got that blank look or a glare that I probably deserved…

“Were ya on watch?” I asked, curious why she wouldn’ta gotten rid of her shift in favor of sleep, knowing we’d be heading out on a run early.

“No,” she said simply. No extra info. Typical. Why waste more on me when one word would do? She didn’t owe me nothin’. And she knew it. I swallowed my other questions and leaned forward on my bike so she could climb on. I felt her settle in behind me and glanced over my shoulder at her. She caught my eyes for a brief moment before looking away, down toward the ground. That was typical too. It was like she just couldn’t look at me. Felt like somebody twisted a blade in my chest every time she dodged me like that. And yet I couldn’t get enough of her, even if she was purposely a giant pain in the ass most of the damn time… I still felt like she was a mirage in a desert. A mouthful of cool water in a drought. Food for a starvin’ man.

Gabriel was waiting with the gate open, so I revved the bike to life again. Her arms wrapped around my waist to hold on and for a second I thought I felt her cheek press against the back of my shoulder, but I knew I must have imagined it. My heart was racing as we pulled out. I was more anxious than I had been all night. The thoughts rushing through my head moved so fast I couldn’t even focus on any of them.

Gabriel yelled at us to be safe as we moved through, kickin’ dust up that left a glowing red cloud behind from the reflection of the taillights. The ride to the city was smooth. We made good time, luckily only passing lone walkers or small herds that were easy to avoid. Around the curves, for a brief moment, she’d hold tighter to me and lean into the turns like I’d taught her in what felt like another fuckin’ lifetime. Each corner I could feel every individual fingertip pressing into my waist or stomach. It was always followed by a sudden wash of heat like somebody had shoved me in a shower with the temperature all the way up. I couldn’t control it. Didn’t matter how hard I tried to ignore the feelin’ of being so damn close against each other…

I slowed down as we neared the hospital. Cars sat rusting in gridlocked traffic, tires long gone, frozen in time—same place they were when everythin’ shut the fuck down. I slowed my bike to roll over some debris and hit a chunk of concrete a little harder than I meant to. Her arms tightened around me reflexively at the jolt before loosening again the next second. My heart jolted at the same time. That feeling… of her clinging onto me for safety—but fuck. Let’s not make it out to be more than it is, dumbass. I turned toward my left shoulder. “Sorry,” I murmured. She didn’t say anything back, just shifted in her place behind me, puttin’ an inch more space back between us. The hospital came into view ahead, tall over everything else on the block.

She tapped my arm and I turned so I could hear her over the engine. “We should park. Sound of the bike,” she said. I knew what she was thinkin’. Any walkers or people anywhere around would hear us. I turned down a side street and parked in a loading dock bay. She climbed off about as damn fast as she could. Kicking the kickstand out and swinging my leg over, she was already walking back toward the corner of the building to look down the street.

“Hold up,” I called after her. I still had to get my gear off the back. She either didn’t hear me or didn’t give a shit and I found myself gritting my teeth. But when I rushed around the corner, I nearly collided with her. She did wait. She was leaned up against the brick, her shotgun in her hands, staring ahead at the looming building.

She straightened up as I stopped beside her and we started windin’ our way down the last couple blocks, keepin’ to the shadows of the buildings, stayin’ in cover as best we could. Even so, I couldn’t help glancin’ up at the endless windows, too many high points. All it would take is one asshole with a rifle and a scope... My hands started to sweat as I gripped my crossbow. I glanced at her, but she was as stony-faced as ever. “C’mon,” I said, quickening my stride. “I wanna get the hell off this street.”

I heard her let out a small scoff behind me. “Yeah, you’re the only one worried about being out here,” she murmured. My teeth clenched again but I did my best to ignore it. There was no point gettin’ riled up this early in the day. We still had a lot of fuckin’ work to do. We reached a set of double doors on the side of the hospital, but one glance inside showed they were well barricaded. I stood there rubbing a hand over the stubble on my face. “S’try the south door,” I drawled. To my surprise, she didn’t argue. But that side was a fuckin’ bust too. “Shit,” I spat out. There was a tall cabinet blocking the entrance.

“Good call,” she said sarcastically.

I shot her a glare. And this time when I bit my cheek, I tasted blood. “Ya got a better fuckin’ idea? Huh?” I challenged her.

She rolled her eyes, studying the door for a moment. There was a large glass pane above it that was broken out and I saw her eyes lock in on it. “Boost me up there,” she said, inclining her chin to indicate the window.

Did she want to go in alone? Well, that sure as shit wasn’t fuckin’ happenin’. “Like hell,” I growled back. She rolled her eyes again.

“Just boost me through and I’ll get the door open. I’ll let you in.”

Now it was my turn to scoff. “Ya gonna move that cabinet? By yerself?” I asked skeptically. The muscle in her jaw tensed.

“I don’t have to move it far. Just enough to let you squeeze in. And you can help from the outside.”

I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth. I didn’t like the idea. I paced a tight circle, thinkin’, as she shifted impatiently beside me. “What if ya get in there and there are walkers? Huh? We can’t see shit down the hall.”

“I’ll be quiet. Come on. We haven’t got all fucking day and we’re sitting ducks out here. Unless you’ve come up with something better—”

I didn’t like it, but she was right. Shit. “Fine,” I interrupted. She leaned her shotgun up against the wall as I set my back against the door, fingers locked together and hands low at my bent knee. “C’mon. Gimme yer foot.”

She seemed to hesitate and I wondered if she was having second thoughts, but the next moment she stepped close in front of me and her hands came to my shoulders. “Ready?” I asked. Her face was maybe six inches from mine, her hands light. I started to feel warm again, a flush of heat across the back of my neck that started spillin’ into my chest. I could see every fleck of color in her eyes, the upturned curve of her eyelashes, that little scar on her chin... Fuck. Focus.

“Ready.” She planted her boot in my hands and I boosted her up so she could grab the window edge. The tinkling of glass dropping in was all I could hear for a moment, and then her weight disappeared from my hands. Spinning around, I watched her pull herself through onto the top of the cabinet. She stayed perched there for a moment, glancin’ behind her, scoutin’ the hallway, before she dropped to her feet lightly. She made it look easy. Graceful.

I couldn’t stand still, constantly shifting my weight. I watched her face tighten as she wedged her shoulder into the cabinet, using all her weight, and it started to move at an angle away from the door. I pushed in with my shoulder from the outside and we finally had enough space for me to slip through. I passed her shotgun through first before turnin’ sideways and slidin’ in. It was dark and completely silent except for the sound of our own breathin’. It felt stuffy inside, and I could vaguely smell somethin’ sharp like animal piss and a sickeningly sweet smell. Death. Decay. I paused to draw the string on my crossbow back, cocking it ready to fire, a bolt nestled in the flight groove.

She pulled her flashlight out from the side pocket of her pack and clicked it on, shining it partially up the hallway ahead. “Jesus…” Her boots crunched over broken glass. She adjusted the shoulder strap of her shotgun, her eyes fixed down the hall, following the moving beam of her light. “This place is a fucking wreck,” she whispered. In her distraction, her tone lacked the usual hostility or sarcasm.

“Somethin’ went down since we were last here,” I agreed. There was a lot more debris and furniture toppled over and strewn about. A lot of obstacles to a clean getaway if we had to make one. “Let’s just get this done and get the hell out.”

“What a unique idea…” she remarked over her shoulder. There it was. Damn sarcasm was back.

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes and movin’ past her so I was in the lead. I knew it would annoy her, but I secretly wanted to be the one in the line of fire if somethin’ was crooked. I headed for the stairwell, pullin’ my own flashlight out and shinin’ it inside before I tried the door. It looked clear. “Upper floors are more likely to have shit left. Let’s go.”

We moved in silence. I could feel her ghosting behind me the whole way, almost mimicking my movements. This was the first time the two of us had been alone on a run since… since I dun even know when. But despite it being so goddamn long, we weren’t out of step. Once we started movin’ it was like no damn time had passed. We fell right back into our old rhythm. I knew her and she knew me. We worked well together when she put aside her need to argue with everythin’ I said. It still felt like we each knew what the other was thinkin’. Not that I expected this run would magically make working together bearable again for good, or solve anything, but at least we could if we had to. I also now was realizin’ this whole thing was probably orchestrated by Rick. Did Denise really need the supplies? Sure. But did it have to be Y/N and I gettin’ ‘em? Alone? Fuck no. I dunno exactly what he was hopin’ for but I’m pretty sure he’ll be disappointed…

Moving steadily upwards, we had most of the supplies on the list, plus plenty of extra finds, but I was growing more and more uneasy as we went on. We hadn’t run into a single fucking walker yet, and to me that meant they were probably herded up in a massive hoard somewhere. It felt like a matter of time before we found them or they found us. I could sense Y/N’s tension risin’ again too. She was more fidgety, more careful about each step she took. I found myself frequently sweeping my eyes back behind us to make sure nothin’ was lurking just outta the flashlight beams. There were the usual signs of walkers nearby; smears of blood on the floor and walls, that fuckin’ smell ya could never get outta yer nose, even chunks of flesh from the rottin’ fuckers. But we still hadn’t seen one, and I was fuckin’ worried.

“Almost got everything,” Y/N whispered to me, shoving a couple more bottles into her pack. “We just need to find the CPAP machine,” she murmured, staring down at the list. “I don’t have a fucking clue what the hell that looks like.” She glanced over at me, one of her eyebrows quirked in a question and I realized she was waitin’ for some kinda response.

“What? Yer lookin’ at me? I ain’t got a goddamn clue what the hell that even is,” I said gruffly. Shit. I saw it. Just for a second, but one corner of her lips twitched up in a smile and I swear there was a spark in her eyes—like the ones I used to see in her all the time. My heart jumped and I tried my best to ignore it. She seemed to turn away, hidin’ her face right as I was puzzlin’ over it.

“Right… well, let’s try down the hall. There’s probably another supply closet at the other end,” she said, nudging her head toward the darkness ahead.

We made our way cautiously. I pushed into the lead again and was surprised when she didn’t argue. I tried every door handle but most of ‘em just led to empty or trashed patient rooms. I caught her frozen in the doorway of one that had a massive bloodstain on the floor and spatter partially up the walls. Her eyes were wide and vacant, and I wondered what she was reliving. “Hey,” I said, just over her shoulder. She seemed to pull out of it abruptly and she turned away, moving on like nothin’ had happened. I let her go ahead, mainly so I could keep an eye on her for a minute and make sure she still had her head in the game, but I didn’t need to worry. Not about that anyway. She’d always been tough. She wasn’t shaken by shit easily. I knew that. And yet I still had this drive to want to protect her, even though she didn’t need it from me. And she definitely didn’t want it from me.

“Here,” she said suddenly, slinging her gun back on her shoulder and more fully opening the door to a small supply closet. There was hardly enough room for her to stand inside, so I posted up just behind her and strained my eyes and ears for anythin’. “It’s all electronic stuff,” she whispered, entirely focused at the task at hand. Her hands floated from one device to the next, illuminated by her flashlight. She was looking for some label or model number or somethin’ to tell her what they were. She bent down and grabbed some scattered papers from among the boxes on the floor. Swearing under her breath she held one up to the flashlight. “Of course the cover and all the useful shit in the front is torn off,” she muttered. She was bending down to grab another handful when there was some sudden, deep noise on the floor above us.

My heart seemed to stall out for a moment and she straightened up and froze, her eyes lifted toward the ceiling, lips partially parted. The sound seemed to reverberate through the building. I could feel it beneath my feet. It resonated through the walls. After a moment, I was looking at her and she glanced over and met my eyes, her eyebrows a little furrowed with worry.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked in a harsh whisper. I only shook my head. She gulped and refocused, shakin’ it off, focusing back on the papers. She was flipping page after page, scanning them as fast as she could.

I started to hear some more noises above us and then eventually spilling toward the other end of the hall. My grip on my crossbow tightened. “We need to move,” I said, keeping my voice low.

She was still intensely focused on the manual in her hands. “Just gimme a minute…” she said vaguely.

I shifted, turning more toward the far end of the hallway, straining my hearing. There was more clattering above us. “We might not have another damn minute.”

“Just—hold on—”

Fuck. I stood frozen for a moment as a herd of walkers started to spill out from the stairwell at the other end of the hallway and start toward us. “We ain’t got a minute, Y/N!” I urged in a harsh whisper. She didn’t seem to hear me.

There were more walkers than I could count. They hadn’t spotted us yet but I had to move fast, so I did the only damn thing I could think of and pushed her forward into the closet, pressing in after her and shutting the door as quietly as I could. I instinctively clicked my flashlight off and hurried to grab hers and do the same, plunging the two of us into darkness in that small space.

“Daryl, what the hell?!” she snapped at me. She’d been so focused she was completely oblivious to the mass of dead wandering our way. The goddamn closet was so small I had no choice but to be pressed into her… My heart started to pound and I think it had more to do with her against me than the undead assholes outside. I was sure she’d be able to feel it and prayed she’d just think it was adrenaline or somethin’. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

I shoved my hand over her mouth, all my patience gone. Did she really think I’d shoved her in a closet for the hell of it? “For once in yer goddamn life just shut up!” I growled in a low voice. She seemed to tense against me but in the quiet the sounds of the walkers outside the door were now easily heard above our ragged breathin’ and they were growing louder every second. I still had one hand over her mouth and the other clenching my crossbow at my side. She shifted against me and pulled my hand away. I could hear and feel her breathin’ pick up pace. I planted my palm on the wall behind her, next to her head, very aware of the growin’ heat pooling between the two of us where we were pressed together. The air felt suffocatin’. I started to worry the walkers outside the door would be able to hear my breathin’ I was so nervous. I wanted to shift, move away from her like I’m sure she wanted… I wanted to change positions and get my bow up, but it was impossible.

She didn’t seem to know where to put her arms within the tight, dark space. I couldn’t blame her. I was leaned in against her, sorta over her even. I felt her hand accidentally brush my arm and my body jolted a little at the contact, like some reflex I didn’t know I had. My teeth ground together. After that she seemed to settle away from me, into the wall behind her.

We had to just stay there, fuckin’ frozen, hardly room to breathe while the hoard passed by. Every once and a while, a body would thump hard against the door and I’d feel her flinch. I could feel sweat dripping down my neck and beading up on my face, my hair sticking to it. We were so close I could feel her breath against my skin when she faced toward me. I felt the rhythm of her breathin’. And I couldn’t ignore the fact that in that tiny ass closet, the only thing I could smell was the faint scent of her shampoo. I tried hard not to notice, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t try to put some name to the smell. Lavender? Not quite. Maybe more like rose? I dunno. And despite the possible death lurking just outside, I found it hard to focus on anythin' other than the feeling of her against me.

It felt like it took hours for the hoard to pass, but it was probably only ten minutes. But after the sounds drifted away we were still left with a big fuckin’ problem. They had to go somewhere, and my best guess was that they were travelin’ down.

It was so dark in there I couldn’t even tell if my fuckin’ eyes were open or closed, and it seemed to be makin’ it hard to think… Or maybe the angle of her one hip pressed into me was—fuck. Get it together, man… I fumbled for and clicked on my flashlight, findin' the two of us both wincin' at the sudden glare, noses almost touchin'. She was lookin’ up at me, her lips softly parted, her expression only full of concern for once, that little worry line she always gets near her eyebrow.

We both stayed like for a second. I guess just struck by actually seein’ how close we were in the sudden light, until finally she tore her eyes away and turned her head.

I tried to clear my throat, worried my voice was gonna come out soundin' strained or somethin’. “Uhh… sounded like they were goin’—”

“—down. Yeah,” she finished.

My eyes traced the angle of her jawline as she kept her face turned away from me. I heard the paper manual crinkle in her hand and groped for the doorknob behind me. “Yeah,” I agreed quietly. “So, we got a problem about gettin’ out.” My hand finally landed on the doorknob and I turned it and slowly opened the door on the hall, checking both directions carefully but also feelin’ like if I didn’t put some damn space between the two of us again I was about to explode. It looked clear and I stepped out. Glancin’ back, she still seemed frozen, up against the wall, her face turned away toward her shoulder so I couldn’t really get a read on her. “Hey. What is it?” I prompted her.

“Hmm?” She seemed to snap back to herself. “N—nothing…” She went back to searching the manual in her hand, like nothin’ had fuckin’ happened. Just one goddamn time I’d like to know what the fuck is goin’ on inside her head… But I ain’t got no right to that. She’s made that pretty fuckin’ clear.

It wasn’t the right manual or the right machine. But she went through two more until she found it. “Got it,” she announced, waving the paper at me before shoving it into her already full duffel bag. She seized a small machine from the shelf and started trying to rearrange items to make it fit in her pack.

“I got room,” I said, still nervously checkin’ over my shoulder. I thought I could hear the hoard moving below us, maybe two floors down.

“It’s fine. I can make it fit,” she said, jostling more stuff in her bag.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the damn thing from her, slinging my crossbow strap over my shoulder. “Ya’d really rather split yer pack at the seams than take any fuckin’ help from me,” I murmured. I didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t need one…

She stepped out of the closet and I caught her wiping her forearm across her forehead. It left a smear of dirt near her hairline. I had to pull myself back to the present. “So, how are we getting out of here?” she asked, adjusting her pack and the duffel bag strap on her shoulder.

I glanced at her, knowing she wasn’t gonna like my idea.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ve obviously got something. Just get on with it.”

“Fire escape,” I said.

I watched the muscle in her jaw twitch as he jaw clenched. “Fuckin’ great…”

“Unless ya got somethin’ else—”

“You know I don’t,” she snapped back at me. She wiped a hand across her forehead again, swiping away fresh drops of sweat. “It’s—” She cut herself off. “Let’s just go,” she sighed, defeated.

I looked at her for a second more, trying to gauge just how freaked out she was, but it didn’t seem to matter. We didn’t have any other options.

“Let’s go,” she snapped again. “Before I change my mind about being able to handle this.”

“It ain’t—”

She squeezed her eyes shut and I watched her body tense. “I swear to god, Dixon, if you say ‘It ain’t that bad’ or ‘It ain’t that high’ right now, I will lose my shit and attract every fucking walker in this goddamn building. I don’t even give a fuck.” Her jaw muscle twitched.

I couldn’t help letting out a sigh that was more of a growl than anything but then I turned and headed for the window a couple doors down that I’d noticed was busted out. Leaning through, I scanned the outside of the building for a fire escape. Nothing on that side.

“It’s probably around the other side. Let’s try the end of the hall,” she suggested. Her boots stayed rooted to the floor and I glanced at her again. She caught my eyes and must have read the concern on my face.

“I’m fine. You’re the last person I need worrying about me,” she growled.

Fuck. She could be infuriating… I found my hand clenching and unclenching a few times before I followed her back out of the room.

She was right. There was a fire escape down that side. I grabbed a piece of metal off the floor and straightened up. “Ya ready?” I asked one more time. “They might hear this glass break so we gotta fuckin’ move.” I thought her hands were a bit shaky.

“Just do it,” she said. And this time, I could hear the quiver in her voice.

I smashed the window and knocked out the glass before pullin' myself through. The metal grates rattled under my boots and she looked suddenly sick as she approached the window sill. I hesitated a second before reaching a hand out to help her through.

“I’m fine,” she said. She didn’t look fine, but she gripped the ledge and climbed out. “Oh, fuck. Fuck…” she muttered as her feet landed on the platform. She was keeping her eyes fixed straight out. Even just the metal grates at th prison used to freak her out, and that was one floor.

I wanted to comfort her but… I wasn’t dumb enough to think it’d help or that she wanted me to, so instead I just started down the stairs at a good pace. She followed stiffly behind me, gripping onto the railing with white knuckles and falling behind.

Every once and a while I’d glance back and she looked like she was about to be sick, but she was still following. We hit a snag as we reached the third-floor platform. A large part of it had rusted and fallen away, leaving a gaping hole we would have to edge around to reach the next set of stairs.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” I heard her behind me and when I looked back her eyes were wide and round and she was clutching onto the railing like it was a lifeline.

“S’fine. I’ll cross first. Just keep over—”

“Oh, really, Daryl? I should keep over to the side? You mean I should stay away from the huge fucking hole in the goddamn floor?” It kept drawing her eyes and I’d see her rip them back up and away, reeling.

I knew that was mostly coming from the fact that she was fuckin’ terrified, but every harsh word from her still stung. “Fine. Clearly, yer good,” I spat back. “Ya don’t need me and ya don’t give a shit and yer fine. I fuckin’ got it.” So much for trying to calm her down. I edged past the hole in the metal grating and went down the next set of stairs. Finally, I just had to push down the ladder, climb down, and we’d be on solid ground again. But when I looked back up, she was still frozen where she had been, on the far side of the platform. I watched her for another minute, waiting to see if she’d move. I knew she wasn’t gonna ask for help, not from me, but she obviously needed it and tough shit, I’m the only damn person here. I rubbed a hand across the back of my neck, anxious to even try again, and climbed back up. I edged past the rusted-out hole and stopped next to her. “Just gimme yer hand.” She didn’t loosen her grip on the railing, and her eyes landed on my face. “S’fine. Just for two seconds, lemme fuckin’ help ya.”

Her chest was heaving with fearful breaths and I guess the idea of tryin’ to cross along that edge alone was worse than puttin’ her hand in mine. Part of me still thought she’d take the heights over me, but she didn’t… She pried her hand off the railing and placed it into mine. I—I can’t say my heart didn’t jump when my fingers closed around it. The motorcycle. The fuckin’ closet. Now this. We’d hardly been within six feet of each other for years and now all this in one day… I felt dizzy. It ain’t like Rick could have predicted these things would happen. He sure as shit couldn’t command a hoard to force us into each other in a tiny closet… but he must have been hopin’ for somethin’ by sendin’ us out here. Was it gonna work on her? I fuckin’ doubt it.

As we stepped along the edge of the edge of the platform, she held her breath. She always seemed like nothing in this fucked up world scared her anymore, nothing phased her. Half the time it almost seemed like she didn’t give a shit if she died. But this? Heights? This still scared her on some level she couldn't reason away.

But we made it across just fine. She was gripping onto me so tightly I thought she might have bruised the bones in my damn hand. And as we climbed down the next set of stairs, long past the danger, she was still holding onto me. But just as quickly as I realized it, she slipped her hand out and stiffened next to me again, fixing her eyes away toward the railing, which she grabbed onto again desperately.

We made it down the ladder, dropping onto the concrete and making a run back to my bike, slippin' from cover to cover, packs heavy and weighing us down. I was thinking how batshit crazy it was that we’d just done a hospital run and hadn’t had to kill a single walker AND managed to get all the damn supplies... when we rounded the last corner and a string of curses left her mouth.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. What the fuck?!” She knelt down next to my bike and as I looked, my stomach dropped.

“Son of a fuckin' bitch.” Both tires on my motorcycle were slashed. Ruined. Fuck.

We were stranded in the city without a runnin’ vehicle and somebody knew we were here.

[ava-achlys]

The Boyz NSFW Scenarios

Kim Sunwoo - Hands Off [Requested]

softdom!Sunwoo x gf!reader

Request: Sunwoo likes to play with his girlfriend's breasts

Warnings: mentions of bullying, body image, underage drinking, anxiety (very brief), titfucking

Long overdue request for @ace-seventeen-world , I hope you like it! Also first time writing anything about titfucking, I hope it turned out alright. 🙏🏽

Sunwoo loves you even when you don't feel like loving yourself.

Being well-endowed since puberty hit meant you received a lot of unwanted attention from all genders. Some would pass judgement, calling you desperate for attention; and some would ogle and make lewd comments. This led to you coming to school wearing oversized baggy clothes and even turtlenecks no matter the weather. The less your body was apparent for people to judge, the better, you thought. Except the comments never stopped. You were so sick of your body being the talk of the student population of your small-town high school that you couldn't wait to graduate; and move far away to start afresh in college, where you futilely hoped that people would be more mature about these things.

Moving away for college turned out to be the best decision you made. You made a whole bunch of new, more mature friends who taught you to embrace and appreciate your body. Inappropriate comments from strangers still came your way, but with your new, reliable support system, you learnt to shut them out, and your girlfriends would even try to fight them for you, which made you feel very touched and grateful. Apparently, this sincerity didn't stop with just your good friends. That was also how you met your current boyfriend. Your friends had convinced you to come with them to a party during your first semester, and you allowed them to doll you up, upon much pestering. You were dressed in a nice blouse and skirt, which turned some heads at the party, and though you felt rather self-conscious in the beginning, you loosened up after a few drinks and dances. From there, you didn't care if people paid good or bad attention to you; all you wanted was to have fun with your best friends.

One of your friends introduced you to a gaggle of other first- and second-years, who were very loud and goofy, except for one; who had previously been laughing boisterously along with them until he set his eyes on you. He abruptly stopped laughing when you made eye contact, and you could have sworn he developed a light flush. With pouty lips and dark eyes, and a mop of fluffy black hair, he smiled shyly at you, nodding in acknowledgement and softly introducing himself. His voice was deep and had an attractive drawl and a pleasant raspiness. His name was Sunwoo, and you ingrained it into your memory easily, smiling shyly back at him. You mostly kept to yourself as the rest of them chatted, nursing your drink when a flurry of words and a loud slap shook you. You whipped around to see one of the boys, with cotton-candy hair and sharp feline eyes rubbing his arm and muttering under his breath next to Sunwoo, who was staring at you while whispering something to the boy - Eric, was it?

"Apologize!" Sunwoo hissed, nudging him. You tried to back off but Eric nervously came forward and rubbed his neck sheepishly, stuttering an apology while avoiding your eyes. He didn't specify what he was apologizing for, but you already had an inkling. All your friends were now staring at you, confused as to what had transpired. Unable to handle the stifling awkwardness, you quickly murmured "It's fine, Eric," before speedwalking away to get some fresh air, unaware that a certain dark-haired boy was scurrying after you. You turned to the nearest balcony and hurriedly gulped some fresh air to calm down, all-too-familiar feelings of panic and shame drowning you. You fought back tears, ignoring some of the smokers occupying the same space, who were looking at you with a mixture of confusion and pity. You managed to calm your breathing, and blink back tears, when a figure slowly comes to stand next to you. He doesn't look at you out of courtesy, fixing his gaze straight ahead. "Are you alright?" he asks softly. You nod firmly, trying to seem completely calm. "Eric... sometimes says things without thinking, but I know that's not an excuse. I just want to apologize again, for making you uncomfortable." His voice is gentle and soothing, and you tilt your head to face him, since he was a bit taller.

"It's not your fault, but thanks Sunwoo. And don't worry, parties aren't really my thing, I just came cause my friends were begging me to join them," you chuckle softly, to which Sunwoo gives you a lopsided grin.

"I feel you on that. I'm here to look after my idiot friends."

You share a good laugh, and spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, but conversation comes easy, like you've known each other for years.

You and Sunwoo's paths seem to cross often, apparently because his faculty was right next to yours, and soon your friend groups merge and become one massive group, and you've even forgiven Eric. Days turned into months, casual meetups turned into lunch and movie dates, and soon you and Sunwoo are constantly switching back and forth staying over at each other's apartments.

Ever since you two started dating and you've gotten used to wearing more comfortable clothes around him, you've noticed him staring at your chest every now and then, but at least he had the decency to look apologetic and embarrassed whenever you catch him. You started to tease him, and he would bashfully hide his face and whine cutely. To get back at you, he'd purposely keep his hands cold and hug you out of nowhere, just to hear you squeal, knowing you're ticklish. Sometimes he'd be even bolder, trailing his hands up your sides and cupping your breasts under your shirt, especially when you walk around the house with no bra on. He'd do it when you're cuddling on the couch watching a movie, or worse, when you're trying to study. You didn't mind it usually, since you appreciated the support from his hands since the weight of your breasts takes a toll on your back, and you weren't fond of wearing a bra 24/7. Except the little shit likes to tease, jiggling them around and squeezing them when he's being extra playful, even grazing your nipples with his fingertips; chuckling lowly in your ear when you gasp or squirm in pleasure.

One night in bed, you confront him jokingly. Your period was on its way soon, and your breasts were feeling extra tender and swollen, something you had complained about, so your dear boyfriend very happily obliged, massaging them gently to ease your discomfort. After a while he gets bored, and starts prodding them, round eyes watching intently as they bounce. You can't help but laugh at how adorably fascinated he looks, so you ask him why he's so enamored by your boobs.

"They're just.. fun to play with, yknow? Bouncy and squishy. Can't help myself okay, you're just so perfect," Sunwoo grumbles, blushing again since he got caught.

"Yeah? What if I lose weight and they get smaller? Will you still like me then?" you ask, feeling rather self-conscious, irrational worries that he only likes you for your assets filling your mind. You try to ignore them, knowing your relationship with Sunwoo was much more than superficial, but trauma and bad memories keep causing you to doubt yourself.

"Of course I would!" Sunwoo gasps, reaching up to hold your face urgently but with such a tender gaze in his eyes. "It's still you, and you'll always be perfect, and I love you no matter what."

Tears welled up in your eyes when he said those words. Few people had treated you with such genuine kindness and you were so grateful to have him as your partner. You squished his cheeks together and pressed a kiss to his lips, surprising him. "I love you too, Sunwoo," you whispered, a small smile on your teary face. A cheeky grin slowly replaces the shock on his face. "Shall I show you just how much I love you?" he drawls, crawling on top of you, making you lay down on the bed. Sunwoo positions you to nestle comfortably against the pillows, helping you take your shirt off afterwards.

Your cheeks start to heat up at Sunwoo's intense gaze raking over your body, and your arms habitually come up to shield your breasts, but he's quick to catch them, gently pulling them away. "Don't be shy. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met, inside and out," he murmurs, making you blush even harder. He kisses you deeply, before trailing his lips down, pressing light kisses down your neck and across your chest, gently nipping at the skin just above your right nipple. He resumes massaging your breasts, admiring the way your face scrunches up cutely in pleasure, his warm hands on your skin making you sigh happily. He leans down again, tracing a circle around your areola, making you shiver. He teases you a little more, flicking your hardened nub with his tongue before finally latching on and suckling on it, rubbing it periodically with his tongue. His hands are still massaging your breasts, twisting and tugging on your other nipple.

He pulls off with a satisfied 'pop' when you whine, pleased with how raw and puffy your nipple has become, glistening with an abundance of his spit. He dives back down to subject your other nipple to the same treatment, but this time, his free hand creeps down your tummy and between your thighs. You moan when he grazes your clit with his fingertips, and you can feel his plush lips smirk into your skin, obviously proud of himself. You willingly part your legs, and he dips his middle finger straight into your folds, your juices coating his finger instantly. He raises his head to look at you, eyebrows raised cheekily. "So wet already, babe? Always knew your nipples were so sensitive," he chuckles, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you. You shut your eyes, the stimulation of his mouth on your chest and his hand on your pussy clouding your mind. He inserts another finger and pumps you faster while he drags his teeth against your puffy nipple, making you shiver and moan even louder.

He starts leaving hickeys and bites all over your decolletage, looking forward to seeing those pretty marks bloom purple tomorrow morning. Finally, he eases up on his ministrations on your chest, and focused on fucking you hard and fast with his fingers, slamming three digits into your core, gleefully watching the way your breasts jiggle from the impact. He glances up at your face, finding your head tossed back, soft mewls and moans falling from raw, bitten lips. You're clutching the bedsheets in a death grip as Sunwoo starts sucking on your clit as he fingers you. He sucks hard, nudging it with his tongue every so often as he slows down his thrusts, opting to scissor you open and drag his fingertips along your walls, rubbing hard against your g-spot when he finds it, indicated by your shrill yelp. "B-babe, gonna c-cum," you gasp, still writhing in pleasure. "Go on, love, cum for me," he mumbles against your core, and soon you're clenching on his fingers, coating them with your cum, and he continues to fuck you through your climax.

Gasping for air, you wince as he pulls his fingers out, pussy clenching on nothing as you watch him idly put them in his mouth, sucking them clean. He smiles lazily at you, telling you how sweet you taste and even gives you a kiss, making you taste yourself. Your cheeks turn crimson again, and you decide you want to return the favor, having felt his hard cock pressing against your thigh when he leaned down to kiss you. You eye the tent in his jeans, and start unbuckling his belt. He looks at you in alarm, grasping your hands to stop you. "Baby, you don't have to do that, this is about you," he smiles gently. You pout at him. "But I wanna help you too! I have an idea that I always wanted to try with you…" Sunwoo takes a moment to consider, making sure you were genuinely comfortable doing so, and his eyes glimmer with anticipation when he nods in agreement. You beam wordlessly at him, helping him out of his jeans and boxers. You can't help but lick your lips at the sight of his erect cock.

Sunwoo's dick always made you feel good, whether it was fucking your pussy or your throat, but you always wondered what it would feel like sliding between your bountiful breasts. You pull him up to straddle your chest, and his eyes widen when he realizes what you want him to do. "Really?" he gasps, dick twitching with excitement when you readily nod. He chokes on a moan when you swipe your finger up his cock, gathering his dripping precum to slather it between your breasts. He slowly slides his dick into the valley between your breasts as your hands push them together, making it even tighter around him, and he groans lowly. Sunwoo thrusts shallowly, loving the way the smooth skin of your breasts feels around his aching cock. He begins to take over, his larger, warmer hands replacing yours, squishing your tits together as he rocks his hips faster, becoming addicted to the the feeling. It wasn't much physical stimulation for you, but you felt yourself getting hot again watching his face contort in pleasure, his tightening grip on your tender, sensitive breasts rather arousing. You can't look away, mesmerized by how good he looks with his lower lip caught between his teeth, grunting softly as he uses your tits to get himself off.

"You look so hot like this Sunwoo," you murmur, your hand resting on his thigh as he continues to piston his hips. He barks out a breathless laugh, "Have you looked at yourself properly? You're fucking gorgeous, babe, don't you ever forget that. Although, I'm down to remind you all the time." he winks. You smirk at him, and your hands come up to squeeze his muscular ass, the same way he likes to squeeze your boobs. He's got a nice butt, you had to admit, toned and sculpted from years of various sports, and it was your weakness the same way your breasts were his. He moans louder when he feels you groping his ass, hips stuttering as he approaches his climax. He throws his head back as he fucks erratically, squishing your tits even tighter together and you keen at the rough treatment. You coax him in a soft whisper to cum all over your tits, and soon he does, painting your chest white as his hips slow down, and he's gasping for air. A little bit of his cum has spurted onto your lips, but you willingly lick it up and smile up at him, your hands still soothingly rubbing his cheeks as he comes down from his high.

You grab some wet tissues from your bedside drawers and clean up your chest as best as you could, wiping away all the cum before Sunwoo flops next to you, resting his head on your chest the way he usually loves to. You lay there in comfortable silence for a while more, stroking his hair and you feel him smile into your skin, his finger absentmindedly tracing the hickeys he's left across your breasts. Maybe going to that party all those months ago was the best decision you ever made (second only to moving here for college), and maybe you and Sunwoo finally get out of bed to shower, and maybe you go for a second round in the bathroom, filling the steamy air with echoes of wet skin slapping and soft proclamations of 'I love you's.

[yoonpobs]

love language | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: FLUFF, that's it

warnings: this is just so cute and self-indulgent lol

words: 5, 123

summary: how min yoongi loves you

“You know there isn’t a point in inviting me out for brunch to only sigh and stab your overpriced meal with a fork right? I already see you enough on a daily basis and I think I’m exceeding my _____ quota for the month.” Jimin says dryly.

Usually, you’d quip back with an equally brute remark of your own but there’s something far heavier lingering at the back of your mind. A territory you weren’t quite sure how to navigate and vocalise. Jimin picks up on your silence and stamps it as odd behaviour because you were far more … hands-on when it came to your retorts but today you’re dead quiet.

Jimin leans forward on his elbows to give you a concerned look when you still silently assault your meal with the fork in your grip.

“… is this even _____?”

You look up and your expression is unimpressed. Jimin raises his arms up in defense before retreating to the comfort of his plush sofa chair—a product of allowing him to choose the venue for your dire brunch that and the cost was your empty wallet and every last bit of your mental health.

“What do you think of Yoongi?”

The question throws Jimin off not because he has no idea who that is—but because you were shy and timid. A soft-spoken person by nature that liked keeping to yourself and that was a huge juxtaposition in terms of your friendship with Jimin because he was everything you were not. He was loud, the biggest person in every room, and the person that everyone knew on campus.

Your friendship was an unlikely occurrence even for your lecturers when they’d glance at you from the hallways or when your peers would eye you oddly when they’d see Jimin partaking in every extra-curricular there was available and while you chose to do your own thing, far away from the action and where you were safely kept in your own bubble.

Jimin is surprised because you were already very private, and as your best friend, he didn’t take any offense to that when you didn’t share matters of your life with him. He already overcompensated for the fact that all he did was talk about his personal life—which you didn’t mind either. It was a healthy balance and a give and take that the two of you found a pattern with.

So for you to bring up the name of your boyfriend—which Jimin only knew because he caught a glimpse of a name with a heart and a text with the word ‘date’ attached to it—was definitely out of character.

“Yeah. This definitely isn’t _____,” Jimin says, “I’d like her back, please. I need someone to have no backbone so I can trample on her without her ever complaining.”

You glare at him even harder and stab the lettuce on your plate harder.

“You know what? Forget it …” You mutter, pushing your plate away from you.

Jimin levels you with a wry look and reaches his hand out to stop you from being overdramatic with your actions. Since you weren’t the best with words, you naturally compensated for being a little excessive with your actions in hopes for other people to be able to pick up on your hints. And as your best friend—Jimin knew that you were bottling something inside and wanted him to pry.

“You know this trick isn’t going to work on me, right?” Jimin points out, “And as much as I call myself the self-proclaimed genius between the two of us I can’t read minds so you’re going to need to elaborate on what you mean by ‘what do I think of Yoongi’.”

You scowl and fiddle with your fingers when Jimin gives you a look that tells you that you should speak up or forget about it. Sometimes you hated the fact that Jimin was confident and assured of himself, never avoiding confrontation while all you did was dodge it. Another reason why your friendship was unlikely but somewhat necessary.

“As my friend … what do you think of Yoongi—” You mumble, “—for me.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow at your soft tone.

“For … you?” He parrots your question back.

Your ears burn and you feel stupid enough asking Jimin about his opinion on Yoongi when you already felt flustered even mentioning his name to anyone that wasn’t yourself.

“Jimin …” You whine.

“Don’t Jimin me,” He snaps, “You know my hearing is bad.”

You roll your eyes and cast your eyes downwards to your abandoned plate as you pick at the skin around your nails, a habit you’ve picked up from Yoongi. Though you can’t really say that you picked it up from him since it was also a nervous routine of yours but knowing that Yoongi shared that in a different way made it feel like you got it from him.

Jimin sighs.

He wasn’t being harsh on you—in fact, this was him encouraging you to open up because while he was all hard and edges, and possibly overbearing at times; he respected you and loved you as a friend. You were never mean, rude or disrespectful and even if the two of you were fundamentally different in nature, you co-existed peacefully and were able to share little things in common that made the interactions between the two of you fruitful.

And he knew that speaking of your relationship with Yoongi was hard not because he was treating you horribly (at least he hopes so) but because you had the tendency of solving all your problems yourself. Even ones that were far out of your range of capability, and as someone who has received an abundance of help and advice from someone as soft-spoke as you—he wanted to be able to reciprocate somehow.

“Are the two of you okay?” Jimin asks.

You nod your head.

“We are … I just—well …” You mumble, “I just want your opinion.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow because he didn’t want you to feel like he needed his approval for you to date Yoongi. He trusted you and knew that you were smart enough to let the people you felt the same way about in.

“Babe, you don’t need my opinion. You’re the one in the relationship with him and as long he’s not being manipulative, abusive or an unwarranted jackass then I have no right to interfere in your relationship.” Jimin frowns.

You sigh.

“No, no … it’s not like that,” You shake your head, “I just wanted to know what you think of him … as a person.”

Your request is odd for multiple reasons, but mostly because of the timing because it seemed like a question you’d pose before the two of you made it official but this question came eight months into the relationship.

“I don’t think I can give you an answer _____. My interactions are limited with Yoongi as it is and I can’t give you an objective answer without sounding like a complete asshole if I judge him based on the way he looks.”

“Why would you sound like an asshole?” You furrow your brows.

Jimin shoots you a deadpan.

“Min Yoongi is the poster boy of the average college girl’s wet dream and he checks all the boxes of fitting all the stereotypes of a brooding, mysterious jock with a secret that he hides only for a girl to swing into his life and change his outlook completely. He’s quiet—quieter than you—and downright intimidating. It doesn’t help that you don’t want me hanging out with him just yet—which I totally respect by the way—so that just adds to his aloof aura.”

You blink at Jimin.

The description of Yoongi based on his outward appearance is … apt. But not what you were looking for. You knew that when you first saw Yoongi at band practices was when you first decided that you were scared of good-looking people. Albeit Jimin was also insanely attractive but he had an atmosphere around him that made people feel comfortable. Not that Yoongi actively made people uncomfortable … but he radiated major celebrity vibes that it was intimidating to get close to him.

Until small talks happened to shared giggles and him eventually asking you out informally, a context outside of your band practices that you saw glimpses of Yoongi that no one else did. He was soft, understanding, and though a little bad at expressing how he feels … but he was Yoongi and you liked him.

You might even love him, but there are times where you’re hesitant about your relationship.

“I think I love him.” You squeak.

Jimin’s eyes widen, another surprise for him for the day because you’ve just ignored his very superficial description of your boyfriend, which he half-expected you to be mad at. But for you to say that you thought you were in love with him was just a reaction he was not expecting at all.

“You—okay?” Jimin scrunches his eyebrows, “I’m happy for you, I really am! But … that doesn’t explain why you need my opinion?”

You breathe out and will yourself to look at Jimin’s face, even with the burn of your cheeks.

“You’re my … best friend, Jimin.” You say softly.

Jimin’s eyes ease on your timid features before he reaches out a comforting hand to grab onto your own, nudging you to look into his eyes. Even though Jimin was outgoing as it is, the reason why you stayed friends was that he took the time to understand you and adapt to you even when he didn’t need to. He knew that you were just shy and he never berated you for it, which is why you wanted him to know how you felt—because what he thought was important too.

“_____, love,” Jimin whispers, and you offer a weak smile, “I’m happy for you. Truly. Being in love is a beautiful feeling and I don’t need to be in love with a person to tell you that because love exists everywhere. It exists in the small things that make you smile or giggle when you come across it, and it exists in the way you do the things you adore and achieve your goals. But you don’t need me—or anyone’s—validation to love Yoongi. Love is so personal and so collective at the same time but it’s yours.”

You swallow and hope that you don’t cry in the middle of this posh and overpriced place, and it’s partially because Jimin sounded so earnest when he was talking to you but also because of the ruminating thoughts that plague your mind that made you suggest this brunch in the first place.

“I think I’m in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same.” You sniffle.

Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens momentarily along with his jaw, but he doesn’t want to act irrationally just yet.

“Why do you say that?” He asks tenderly.

You sniff and the tip of your nose turns red and Jimin wants to pat you on the head to comfort you, but the two of you are in public and he knew you hated being vulnerable in general—especially in the public eye.

“It’s just—it’s just—” You stutter, “You know how shy I am and how hard it is for me to … ask for things …”

When he hears your soft tone as your eyes dart away from his face, possibly embarrassed, he rubs a soothing thumb across your knuckles and listens to you intently.

“But I really try with Yoongi … because I want him to know how much I-I like him,” You whisper, “And every time I tell him how much I like him he just … he just smiles and looks away. Like he doesn’t—doesn’t feel the same.”

Jimin absorbs your words before he smiles softly at you. He understood how difficult it must’ve been for you because this was your first official relationship with someone who looked very closed off, to begin with, but based on your very short and rapt descriptions from time to time, Jimin could say that Yoongi wasn’t a bad person.

“Have you considered that he shows his love a different way?” Jimin asks.

You look up at him confused.

“Huh?”

Jimin chuckles before offering you a small tissue, and you meekly accepted it as you dab at your waterline.

“We all have different ways of giving and receiving love, _____.” He tells you, “No person loves the same and no one feels the same type of love. We are all different because that’s in our nature. And like I said—I don’t know Yoongi well enough to say that he has a specific type of love language but if he’s stuck around for this long … it has to mean something, right?”

Your brunch with Jimin leaves you with something else to think about.

Perhaps you were a little shallow—narrow-minded if you will. But you trusted Jimin, and you decided to see what he meant. You knew that you didn’t have the stereotypical love of shows or movies because while it did depict some form of reality, it was heavily sensationalised and exaggerated. But you never considered that Yoongi had a way of his own, one that was personal and unique to him.

Yoongi never made you feel like you weren’t enough. But the lack of the words that sit on your tongue also made you feel like he didn’t feel the same. It was never what he did, but how you felt. It was irrational, but he was objectively a very attractive person. In more ways than how he looked but the way, he treated others.

He’s mellow and gentle. Words never harsh but sharp enough to make people think. He’s efficient and kind when he wants to be and you see the way he treats his friends and staff at restaurants, even if he’s a little quiet too. The two of you were somewhat similar, but you felt so much for him that you somehow overlooked that one part—that maybe he was quiet in the way he loved too.

But you didn’t want to get your hopes up because while you weren’t … horrible. You weren’t anything spectacular either. You did decently in school, had a decent friend group that mainly consisted of you, Jimin and his other best friend, Taehyung—who told you that you were as much of his best friend like you were Jimin’s—and your bandmates that you shared with Yoongi.

Yoongi was quiet but collateral. He excelled in school, topped his classes two terms in a row, and produced impeccable music on the side. He was charismatic when he had to be an extremely introspective that you sometimes felt lacking when you hear him speak about the world and people.

Maybe that’s why he just smiles and looks away because Yoongi is too kind to break your heart, and his eyes tell the truth.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t—

“______?” Yoongi calls your name and snaps you out of your daydream.

“Huh?” You respond dazedly and he just smiles at you, gentle as always before he nudges your shoulder slightly forward to place a—pillow?—in between your back and the chair that you were sitting on in his apartment.

“I’ve read somewhere that this helps with your posture.” He tells you, “You said you were having lower back pains so this may help.”

You blink at him and then at your assignments sprawled on his dining table, before turning your head to spot the pillow that you remember gifting him as a small present months back, behind your back, and in between you and the chair. The tension in your lower back does feel alleviated, and you turn back to Yoongi to offer him a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You say softly.

He smiles at you and the simple gesture makes your stomach flutter with butterflies and your heartbeat a little faster. It’s crazy that the simplest of acts could turn you into mush and that he’s had your heart captive. The word sits on your tongue but fear wins over again.

He brushes stray hands of hair that falls by the side of your face, away, before gathering it with his hand at the back of your neck and tying it with a rubber band that you remember leaving at his place a while back.

“How can you see with your hair in the way?” He scolds, but it’s light.

You scoff, giving him a glare but it’s playful too. It does feel better like you have a clearer vision of the work that you were doing.

“Don’t be mean …” You mumble.

Yoongi laughs and it’s your favourite sound after the bell of your favourite bakery.

You like this look on him, eyes crinkled and mouth open in a gummy grin that you were the cause of. The will to say the word becomes harder, the way he leans in to peck you on the lips makes your mouth move on its own accord.

So before you can justify your actions, you say—

“I love you.”

The words are out and it seems to linger in the air because of the silence. You’re mortified, one because you had just blurted it out in the most unromantic setting ever, but secondly, because Yoongi is just … looking at you again. Like he always does when you tell him how much you like him—a soft smile, but this time his eyes are trained on yours.

The fire on your cheeks feels all the hotter when you know there’s nowhere to hide, or no way to retract your words because you didn’t want to. You loved him—and his silence only solidifies your guesses on the unrequitedness of your love.

“I-I’m sorry!” You yelp, covering your face with your hands, “I-I didn’t—I know that you—I didn’t mean to say that!”

Yoongi continues to look at you and he’s inching closer to you until your locked against your chair, his arms resting around your back as his other elbow leans on the table when he brings his face closer to yours.

“You love me?” He whispers and his breath is on your lips.

Even as you’re overcome with the fact that you do indeed love him, and that he doesn’t feel the same. You can’t bring yourself to deny it, not when your heart has always been for him and your words a reflection of your own heart.

“Y-Yes,” You mumble, eyes looking away, “I’m sorry …”

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows and pulls away from you. The warmth of his body suddenly gone and it reminds you that you may have overstepped. That he realised that you were in too deep and couldn’t just leave you. It scared you, but the silence scares you more.

“Why are you apologising?”

You gulp, looking away but Yoongi nudges your chin to look at him gently. His eyes are still confused, but kind. The look that usually comforts you only makes anxiety settle in the pit of your belly.

“I know you don’t feel the same … it’s okay. I understand. I’m a little … hard to love … I know. B-But it’s okay. You don’t need to say it—at all. I can … I can deal with it. Just please don’t leave me.” You whimper.

Yoongi pulls away completely as if he’s been scathed. You don’t have anything else to say but you’re appalled to find your vision getting blurry and the lump in your throat getting unbearable. But you try not to cry, especially when Yoongi looks torn.

But he doesn’t do what you’re expecting and tells you that it’s over, but instead, he returns into your space, making you forget about your embarrassment and cups your cheeks ever so gently while looking at you with ardent eyes.

“Please don’t cry …” He whispers.

And you hate that you do. You cry because he’s holding you so gently and his hands feel warm against your cheek. You cry because you love him and he doesn’t feel the same. You cry because all your cards are out on the table and he’s seen it all.

“I-I’m sorry.” You choke.

Yoongi’s eyes soften before he leans in, pressing a gentle press onto your lips that has your tears in the way as a barrier. You’re still choking on your sobs but his kiss feels comforting and painful at the same time. You want to push him away but you’re selfish—you love him and the feeling of him holding you close like he may feel the same.

When he pulls away, he looks at you again with a gentle, yet intense gaze.

“You’re not hard to love,” He murmurs, “It was so easy falling in love with you because you’re my person. You’re the person that I look forward to seeing every day and the person that I think about the most. Please don’t ever say that you’re hard to love because falling in love with you was the easiest thing that I’ve done in my entire life.”

Your eyes widen, especially when he looks you directly in your own. Your eyes are a little puffy and you’re sure it’s an unattractive sight.

But Yoongi thinks you’re beautiful. He always does. He thinks you’re beautiful when you see him after your classes. He thinks you’re beautiful when you broke the plate you wanted to give his mother as a gift. He thinks you’re beautiful when you’ve just woken up and he thinks you’re beautiful when you’re laughing with his friends and your bandmates.

“I—I—you … you love … me?” You rasp.

Yoongi still has a soft hold on your cheeks, and he feels the wetness of your tears stain his hands but he’s unbothered. He’s more bothered about what you said. The way his heart clenches makes him feel like he’s not done enough. That he could do better to never be the reason for the sadness along with your tears.

“I love you. I do. So much.” He whispers, “You’ve made me feel the kind love that I never thought existed.”

You sob harder and you feel a little pathetic crying in his arms because … how could you have doubted him? You feel relieved and happy, and a little frustrated because you were insecure on your own terms. Even now that you know he loves you—you’re sceptical because he’s Yoongi and you’re you.

Yoongi tugs you into his arms and caresses you with the warmth of his hold, hand patting your head gently. He feels mellow and close while he allows you to cry a little longer. The silence isn’t suffocating anymore, but your mind runs wild with insecurities that you can’t help but—

“Do you really love me?” You ask softly.

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, but you feel him nod and hum against your head.

“I do.”

You nibble on your lips and clutch his t-shirt.

“Then w-why … why do you just smile and look away when I tell you how much I like you?”

Yoongi stays silent for a while, but you don’t take it as a bad sign. Even with your small arguments with him from time-to-time throughout the eight months you’ve been together, Yoongi has never once raised his voice at you or acted irrationally. In fact, he’s always stayed a little quiet for a while, as if he was thinking of the appropriate way to handle the situation before he spoke.

It only made you love him more.

“I’m sorry.” He apologises, and you feel like shit when you realise you made him apologise to you for no reason but he continues before you can pull away—grip tight around your relaxed figure.

“I’ve been in love with you for months,” His confession makes you gasp, the time that he’s mentioned only makes you a lot more confused, “I … this is the first time I’ve felt this way.”

You stay silent as Yoongi rubs gentle figures on your back, breathing into your hair as you rest your cheek on his chest.

“I’ve always been a little … quiet.” He tells you, “And maybe that’s why I felt so drawn to you because we were so similar. I saw you and thought that you were a beautiful person. That your kindness wasn’t empty promises but actions and your smiles weren’t forced but comforting.”

You feel your eyes water again because of Yoongi’s truthful words. Damn your boyfriend for being able to wax poetic.

“I’ve always found it hard to express things with words, despite writing songs like people eat their meals. My mom always told me that I was a doer rather than a sayer.” He jokes, and you find yourself giggling a little when you think of Yoongi’s mother.

A strong woman, her tongue was as sharp as her sons and you definitely see where he gets his wisdom from. She was louder spoken, confident—and yet she was gentle and kind. A person that drew people in.

“I do things for you because I love you, ______. I love you in a way that can last forever because I want it to. I want to love you in a way that you’ll remember and always think of me when you see the physical pieces left by the footprints of my affection.”

It should’ve been cheesy but Yoongi has a way with words to make you blush and your heart flutter.

His words register in you, and you feel blind to not have seen it the entire time.

Even before this, when he placed the pillow behind you to support your lower back—or when he tied your hair back so you could focus better. Or the time when he drove all the way from his hometown back to campus because you were performing a solo piece for band, then drove back to see his parents.

You remember the song he wrote to you for your birthday, accompanied by a book that you’ve put on your Wishlist for months. The memory of his gentle hands removing the face mask from your face when you’ve fallen asleep and tucking you into his bed pricks your mind.

Looking back—you remember feeling absolutely loved and adored. Even if you didn’t explicitly think of the word ‘love’—but you felt safe, comforted and accepted. And you realise that love isn’t one-dimensional. Love is everything that makes you feel complete.

When you look up at him, he’s still offering you the same gentle smile he does when you told him how much you liked him—to when you said you loved him. He still looks the same, smiles the same, and feels the same. It’s you.

“I’m sorry.” You wail.

His eyes widen but you don’t cry. You feel dumb, blind almost because he’s been nothing but loving towards you but it was you who had your doubts.

“Baby, please don’t apologise.” He runs a thumb across your cheek.

“I just—I can’t believe I accused you of not loving me when all you’ve been doing is—when all you’ve done is treat me amazingly. I feel so … stupid.” You groan.

Yoongi smiles at you and rubs his thumb in between your furrowed brows.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you frown all the time.” He tuts.

You glare at him through puffy eyes but hold on to him tighter.

“I really am sorry.” You mumble.

Yoongi hums.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve been more—explicit.”

You frown, pulling away.

“No Yoongi.” You say, “You loved me in your own way and I felt every bit of it. I just conflated the need of being reassured with words and being reassured in your gestures. I shouldn’t have doubted you and projected my insecurities onto you.”

"And it's not your fault for feeling insecure. I'm your boyfriend and I want to be able to reassure you in every way I possibly can. If you need to hear an I love you I'll shout it on top of the highest roof I can find—if you want to be held then I'll hold you and never let go."

Your heart flutters and you bask in his gentle words.

Yoongi wraps a gentle hand around the nape of your neck before bringing you closer, lips hovering right above your own before he closes the distance. His lips are warm and soft, and he doesn’t rush the kiss as if he was dealing with porcelain glass. But he knew you weren’t fragile and easily broken—but he still knew that you were someone that he wanted to care for, for a long time.

He kisses you and it feels right. It feels like you were returning home after months away.

When he pulls away ever so slightly to look into your eyes, breath still fanning on your lips—you feel welcomed.

“When I think of love I think of you. When I think of happiness your face appears in my mind. And when I think fo you, I think of what I can do to make the environment we have a little better for you. I love you, _____. And I’ll spend as long as I can reminding you.”

“Yoongi …” You blush because you didn’t know how romantic he could be when he wanted to.

“I’m serious, _____.” He looks at you seriously, “You know what my mom said when I brought you over?”

You raise an eyebrow because while you remember the meeting being absolutely pleasant, even if you did fumble and break the gift you brought. His mother only smiled at you, the same one that marks her son's face—and said that it was okay. It only meant that you should come again to compensate. Her tone was light and comfortable, and you immediately felt the tension be alleviated from your shoulders.

He takes the tilt of your head as his cue to continue.

“She said that she’s never seen me as expressive as I was when I was with you,” You snort at his exasperation, but you see the honesty that pours out, “Hyung even said that I’ve gotten soft.”

You roll your eyes when he tugs you closer by your chair until your legs were dangling by the side of his hips. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders and Yoongi still smiles at you like it’s the most natural thing to do.

“But I like you soft …” You smile.

“And I love you with me.” Yoongi returns.

You blush, and you allow him to hold you close.

And in his arms, do you realise that some things didn’t need to be said.

[youn9racha]

I Know (Part II)

Pairing: Changbinxfem!reader

Genre: smut

Warning: mild stalking, stripping, phone sex???, mutual masturbation, semi-exhibitionism, a tiny bit of corruption kink, and an even tinier praise kink, switch!changbin, switch!reader

Words: 2.8k

Extra Notes: like I’ve mentioned in the last part, everyone is above the age of 21 (think senior year of college age), so thats that. I’ve also noticed that the lyric is not that related to the story, but oh well :’) anyways, hope you enjoy this

And baby, I know, I know whatever city you’re in, you’re still the boy that I’d pick…

PLEASE READ PART 1 FIRST BEFORE THIS !!

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This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

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Changbin’s calling me…

What in the world does he want to talk to me about in this ungodly hour? It wasn’t late, but it certainly wasn’t early enough for a call like this. I looked back at the window and I still see the curtains still closed, assuming he was out or maybe in another room. I answered and put the phone in my ear.

”Hello?”

“Hey, (y/n)! I just wanted to call to check up on you,” he said, “how are you?”

Damn, he only called for innocent intentions... Why is he so damn cute?! (y/n), you got two choices to respond back; you either respond give him a nice sweet response, or you give a sly yet friendly comeback. It can work—

“(y/n)?” The voice out of the phone took me out of my inner self’s debate.

“Yes! Yes! I am fine,” I said, embarrassed and mentally facepalming myself. This is not doing well, he already thinks I am a creep and a loser. Or maybe not, since its seems like I heard a faint chuckle and the word “cute,” followed by, but that could just be a figment of my imagination. “How are you?”

”Oh, I am good, just came back from hanging out with Chan and Han,“ changbin responded, there were shuffling in the background so he could be doing something while on the phone, but what is it? I wouldn’t know. I heard him and Chris mentioning a ‘Han’ in our conversation we had while preparing for my apartment, so that name is familiar, however the owner’s not. “You should meet him one day, I think you both will be good friends.”

”Woah there, you better take me to dinner first before I meet your friend,” I teased. Keep it going, (y/n), you’re on the right track, you’ve definitely caught him off guard, like you always do.

“Give me a place, time, and date, you’ll get that dinner, or maybe I’ll let Chris take you.” Changbin nonchalantly said, oozing confidence just by his voice. That bitch… Always makes it harder for me than it already is. As if he saw my blushing reaction, he began laughing.

“What’s wrong, princess? Cat’s got your tongue?” He said it in a low voice. Usually, I would gag if anyone—let alone a man—calls me princess, but with him, it felt different. It felt… arousing? No! No! (y/n), get a grip!

I rolled my eyes and laid on my back to be more comfortable, “What is it, Changbin?” I said, changing the subject, “What is that you wanted to call me at 10 p.m?” Yes, pretend like he didn’t just call you princess in the sexiest tone of voice you’ve ever heard. Totally would work.

”I told you, I just want to check up on you,“ he confessed but he also paused to say something further, “and also I am bored and I kinda felt like talking to you. I’m not wasting your time, aren’t I?” Although I couldn’t see him, he does however sound really sincere with his words. I don’t want to sound naive, but he sounded truthful.

“No,” I shook my head, “you really didn’t, besides I just got out the shower and was just scrolling through instagram.” I said, looking down in my nails.

”Oh, really?” He said, “were you going to sleep?”

”No, I stay on social media for a long period of time, I don’t sleep that easily“

”I see,” he said, but then he stopped talking. As the awkward silence has erupted between us, I started to think more about the first time I saw him and how I felt. While I thought it would be better for me to tell him later on and on person, but this balloon inside of me was getting bigger and bigger as guilt is inflating it. I sighed and started to speak, “Hey Changbin.”

”Yeah?”

“Can I confess you to something?”

”Tell me anything, doll, I’m all ears.”

Dammit! You’re not making it easier.

I bit my lips, “uhh,” I am glad he wasn’t looking at me, grimacing and slapping my head.

”You know hitting yourself isn’t gonna help,” as soon as Changbin uttered these words, my heart sank. My eyes widened as I got up and looked out window. His curtains were open, and it showcase a very, very pleasant show.

I see Changbin, sitting at the edge of his bed, facing me as his black shirt was fitting his form really well, especially with the semi-flexed arm that has his phone near his ears meanwhile the other arm was holding the elbow of the occupied arm. He was look at me straight at my eyes when we made eye contact, and fuck, was that an image to look at. As I looked like a deer going through a headlight, Changbin tilted his head in confusion, but he still had a smirk, “what is it you wanted to me?” he said through the phone.

”I-I“ I stuttered. At this point, I’ve lost all sense of dignity and my self thought, I am about to get called a creep by a good looking man I met not too long. Here goes nothing.

”I may have invaded your privacy,” I said, which caused Changbin to furrow his eyebrows in even more confusion, still having a slight smile to it. “What are you talking about?”

”Ugh, Changbin, I saw you half naked when apartment touring numerous times!” I yelled in frustration, as he kept pushing my button. I looked away, not bearing to look at him, as I closed my eyes out of guilt. “I understand if you don’t want to be friend, even though we met for only a week, but I just couldn’t bear the guilt that I—“

As I confessed, I heard a laugh coming put of the phone, I opened my eyes and looked at Changbin looking down, with shoulders shaking up and down. Now, I have the confused look that he had, “What’s funny?”

“Oh, princess, you have no idea,” He said, still looking down. Me still being bemused, he noticed my silence and looked up at my frowned face.

”I know…” He smirked, while my eyes were widened. Son of a bitch.

”W-wh-“

“I thought you knew that I’m doing all this on purpose, I’ve been trying to catch your attention every single way.” He leaned forward, placing both elbows in his knees, “I thought you were smart, only to be a gullible baby.” He whispered the last part, as I gulped at the last part. God damn, he’s so intense with his gaze. His eyes wandering all over me meanwhile maintaining a very dark yet exciting aura, which typically puts me off but now, I’ve never wanted to pounce a man so badly.

I smirked at him, the guilt I had had fizzled away, only to replace with arousal.

“So you’re not mad?” I looked at him, with innocent eyes, now laying on my side, facing him, as my robe slipped and exposed a part of my shoulder and the upper of my chest. He breathed in, as he was examining me, “no, why would I be mad at you?” He leaned back, as his head was thrown back, neck exposed, placing his free hand on the back of his neck.

God, is he so fine…

”I could never be mad at my precious baby.” He smiled a seductive smile at me, which made me riled up by rolling my eyes and looking up. “You like getting called that, don’t you?” He may have said it in a question form, but it didn’t feel like one, it was rather a statement than a question. “Hm,” I said, looking back at him, eyes half opened out of hunger for him.

We had an intense eye contact, where if it weren’t for the distant and the glass that is placed in front of us, we’d probably be all over each other.

”Has your hang out with Han and Chris worn you out?” I asked, decievingly innocent. Man, the power this man has over me is no joke. He scoffed, “so you’re just going to mention other men like that?”

Ignoring him, I got up, letting the towel that was loosely in my head fall onto my bed, and went closer to the window, “let me relieve you of your stress, if you don’t mind.” I shyly fidgeted on my robe belt. He looked at me up and down, licking his lips, “I wouldn’t mind, if you don’t as well.”

There’s nothing more sexier than mutual consent. (y/n), shut up, don’t ruin the moment.

I smiled and backed away from the window. I put my phone on speaker and put it on the side. I looked back at him, as I held onto my robe belt, he looked at me with a smile. I turned around with a slight sway on my hips, as I slowly undid my belt, slowly exposing my back at him, smiling as I heard a shuddering breath coming out of the phone.

As the robe completely fell off my body, being just in my underwear, exposing whatever secret flaws that has been hidden from the public. I silently gasp at the cool breeze as I held onto my chest, sensing my nipples getting hard. “Turn around for me, baby,” Changbin’s breathy voice echoed all over the room.

We may not be in the same room, and we maybe exposing ourselves to whoever is above and under us as well, but neither of us care. In our eyes, we only got each other, and we’re the only ones in existence.

I turned to him, letting go of my breasts and letting myself be bare, only to see him palming himself through his tight pants, groaning at his lack of full on skin-to-skin touch. It’s like he was waiting for me to tell him touch himself, which proved correct when he said, “please, let me touch myself.”

I smiled sympathetically, and also slightly astonishingly. I have never met a man with such switch like that. His dominating demeanor has faded and been replaced to a submissive cutie, which I obviously seem to admire very much. Pretending to thinking, I sat down, and looked at him, putting my hands behind me, “only if you give me a show too.”

I smirked at his state. He was disheveled, and adorned a beet tint all across his cheeks and nose. He looked beaten, but I loved it, and he does too. He put his phone on speaker too, quickly got up, and rapidly got his shirt.

“Ah ah!” I said, which caused him to freeze, looking at me, desparation was seeping through his eyes. Menacingly smiling, “slowly.”

Which he obeyed, surprisingly patient and sensual, I jokingly remarked that “he got dancer hips,” with the way he took off clothes while his hips moved in a way not many who can control their bodies can. He chuckle, “you should see how it works wonder,” his cocky attitude has made a comeback, which should piss me off but it made the whole thing hotter than it already is.

We’re both in our underwear, looking up at our eyes and looking down at each other’s half-nude bodies. Changbin wasn’t the tallest man I have ever met—not that it matters—, but he got many aspects that makes up for it, and its not just looks or personality. Just by the outline, I can tell that his little guy wasn’t little.

I propped myself with my elbows as I spread my legs, for him to see the wet spot that is stained in my underwear. He grunted at the sight, while I chuckle, “you like what you see?” I faux-innocently asked as I trailed my hand from my neck, making my head fall back, down to the valley of my chest, onto the waistband of my underwear.

“Fuck…” Changbin cursed, admiring the sight in front of him. He didn’t realize how lucky he was to see me in a state like this, not many have the privilege, especially not with men I met in a short amount of time.

I tugged my panties, took it off and exposed a part that he was dying to see, which caused him to gulp. He sighed with a smile, “god damn, (y/n),“ he shook his head in disbelie, “I’ve always thought you were gorgeous, but now I’m convinced you’re a goddess“

I giggle at his words, “and you, sir, are a demon disguised as a greek god” I teased back, tracing my two fingers around my lips, I noticed that he still was in his underwea. He still waited for my permission. How adorable.

”You can take off your underwear, Binnie” I didn’t even mean to give him the nickname, but I was too excited to even think straight. I looked at him, and saw him reveal his friend, and I gasped loudly, which made Changbin alert. “What? Whats wrong?”

”Nothing, its just,” I chuckle, “you have a nice dick.”

”Thank you,” He smirked as he sat down and looked at me, with full attention. I put my two fingers into my mouth, while maintaining eye contact. I then trailed my finger down to clit, which resulted in me letting out a blissful gasp. Meanwhile, Changbin was repositioning to a comfortable position as he began to touch himself, which caused him to let out a choked out groan.

”Binnie, as you touching yourself?” I half-whispered, but it was still loud enough for him hear along with my fingers movements that moved from my clit onto my slit, which made me moan.

”Ah-y-yes” Changbin groaned and nodded, as he was stroking his dick following the pace that I was going at.

After hearing Changbin’s groans, I began inserting my fingers at my slit, making me whimper in the process, “oh, fuck” I cursed, as I started to thrust my fingers in and out, noises coming out of my mouth along with the wetness of my pussy were getting louder, which excited Changbin, as his stroking was audible through the phone along with his beautiful groans.

“god, (y/n), if only I could touch you,” Changbin spoke through groans when he saw me fondling my breast and going faster. I was getting louder with my noises, in contrast of Changbin’s quite yet beautiful and audible noises. So much so, it sounds like Changbin was watching porn, rather than getting fucked at a distance.

“Ah-are-fuck-are you close?” Changbin asked through whines, his speech was getting difficult as he was getting closer to climax with his strokes going as fast as I was.

I nodded, out of struggle of speech, whining out, “Ah! Binnie!”

“Fuck, (y/n), I’m—“ Changbin grunted, as his strokes was started to get sloppy, he began to thrust onto his hands. I began to feel like something burning up in my stomach, moaning at the sensation, “Chang—I’m cummin— I’m cumming”

“Me too…” He choked on his words, as his groans and moans were also getting louder. Our phone voices combined was dirty but erotic, topped with the scene of two people masturbating to each other, now thats even a hotter view.

“Binnie!”

“Go ahead, baby... cum”

And just like that, I let out a squeal as I reached my peak, still playing with myself until I sensed an overstimulation. Not too long after, I was hearing a lot of grunt from the call and then I looked at Changbin, who ended up cumming onto his stomach, his chest raising up and down, letting himself catch his breath. Still out of breath, we both looked at each other, we both laughed at our fucked out state.

“Holy fuck, was that hot?” Changbin commented, taking the phone, putting it out of his speaker and back to his ear. I laughed at his sudden remark, nodding, “oh yeah, can’t wait to feel what you feel like,” I bit my lip.

”At least buy me dinner first,” He teased, referring to the remark I had at the time, which made me roll my eyes and him to chuckle. “You’re a dick,” I said.

”A big one, and a pretty one according to you,” He teased again. I started to jokingly groan at his words, causing him to laugh, “alright, alright, I’ll stop.”

I got up and picked the phone, looking at him, “I had fun, we should do this again,” him and I started exchanging a smile, this time it was more pure than the smiles we had earlier. He nodded, “for sure, but the next time is going to be in one of our beds, I really need to touch you.”

”The feeling is mutual.”

We began to talk a little more, until we both have felt that slumber was starting to sneak up onto our eyes. We both ultimately had to hang up, since we don’t want to raise our phone bills with our already long call. While facing away from the window, I couldn’t help but started admire Changbin in my head.

I typically hate men, but Changbin wasn’t just like any man.

He was Changbin, and I highly doubt that you’ll ever find a man like him.

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 3 - zuko x fem!reader

I feel so much, I get carried away

part 2 | masterlist | part 4

a/n: enjoy the fluff in this chapter bc its not gonna last

once again for reference - this chapter takes place 2 years after the last one so y/n is 11 and zuko is 12

warning(s): eating/food, but otherwise its pure fluff

wc: 3.3k

chapter title comes from carried away by madison beer!

i ran out of kid zuko gifs so i had to make my own smh if you want something done you gotta do it yourself

The young friendship only flourished after that fateful day. Zuko and Y/N began spending almost all of their freetime together between Y/N teaching him about her culture, their usual talking in the hallways, and finding ways to hang out together outside of her schedule. She was absolutely delighted to be teaching Zuko though, so she always made sure there was time for her self proclaimed academy.

Y/N was constantly busy around the castle, so in order to hang out they had started waking up extra early — the pair had become experts at sneaking around the castle with the first rays of the sun. The gardens were a favourite because of its availability, and of course, the turtleducks. It also gave Y/N a chance to bend outside of healing, something that they began to take advantage of as they got older.

Sparring sessions became a regular between them as a way for Y/N to get some practice with martial bending, Zuko to experience fighting against a waterbender, and just another way for them to spend time together. Of course, they had to keep it as quiet as possible to avoid alerting anyone of their presence, but that became the least of their worries over time.

They each pushed each other to be better, and with Y/N’s healing skills, they were able to walk away every morning without any injuries. But after discovering a very unfair advantage that the prince held, she decided that morning sparring just wasn’t enough.

(“Firebending gets stronger in the morning,” he had told her after a particularly brutal blast resulting in some emergency bending on Y/N’s part to extinguish a tree. “My teachers always say that we rise with the sun.”

“Well,” she had said with a smile. “We rise with the moon. You just signed yourself up for some late night sparring sessions.”)

Y/N had truly started to come into her own. It had been two years since her capture, and though she had in no way made peace with her life in the Fire Nation, she was trying to take advantage of it as much as she could. Even though she despised being at the beck and call of nobles and guards, she couldn’t deny the opportunities it gave her to hone her abilities. Her healing had improved tenfold and her martial bending wasn’t too shabby either. Between all of the time spent with Zuko and practicing her bending, she was able to distract herself from her dim reality.

But the world was a cruel, cruel place, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. It didn’t treat souls like Zuko and Y/N kindly, a fact that they would soon become aware of.

In the moment though, Y/N was more focused on not getting burnt.

She twirled to the side as a small flame shot past her, just barely managing to dodge it as she bent a stream of water out from the pond and sent it at Zuko. He turned it to steam as he blocked it with his own fire, which he then sent back at her with a combination of a punch and a kick. Y/N raised her hands and bent up a large wall of water from the pond, and with a small grunt on her part, sent it flying towards Zuko. He tried to conjure up his own fire shield in an effort to extinguish the water once more, but it was too little too late and he ended up getting knocked to the ground and completely drenched.

Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from her lips as Zuko wiped water off of his face, sputtering incoherently while he pushed himself up. “Did you really have to do that?” he complained.

“You know I do.” She grinned as she walked around the pond to his side, cracking her knuckles before she began to bend the water out of his clothes. “This was in the morning, too. Admit it, I’m getting better!”

He cracked a smile of his own. “You really are. I just wish that you getting better didn’t end up in me getting soaked every time.”

She bent the water she had extracted from his clothes back into the pond and held out her hand to help him up from the ground, which he took gratefully. “That just makes it more fun.”

As she helped pull him up, Y/N found herself more than a little transfixed. The rays of the rising sun shone down on him perfectly, and the smile still on his lips made her feel flutter bats in her stomach.

Y/N didn’t know when she had started seeing Zuko in a different light than usual. When his laughs became melodious, his smile like a ray of sunshine on its own, his company coveted. While she was usually able to trade verbal jabs with him without a second thought, doing her self-assigned job of keeping him humble, something had changed in the past year.

They grew steadily closer over the years after they had met, but one event in particular all but pushed Zuko into her arms.

Ursa’s banishment.

Of course, they didn’t know that she had been banished. No one aside from Ozai knew the true nature of her disappearance — to her children and the other inhabitants of the palace, it was just that. A disappearance.

It was suspicious, yes. All in the span of a day, Princess Ursa vanished, Fire Lord Azulon mysteriously perished, and Ozai took his place, but nothing could be done. It was a somber day for every servant — Ursa showed them a kindness that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the palace, and to rub salt in the wound, a man just as cruel as Azulon had risen to the throne.

Zuko was devastated. He had always been close with his mother, and the only thing she had given him before leaving was a short goodbye and a kiss. He was angry beyond belief at the abandonment, and that anger overshadowed his grief.

Y/N tried to help him, but he lashed out at her.

“Your mother is still here and she loves you! Mine left me like I was nothing. Don’t try and say you know how I feel.”

“But my father is gone. I do know how you feel Zuko, and I want to help you, but I can’t help you if you keep pushing me away.”

“…you don’t know anything.”

It hurt, but she knew he needed space. She gave it to him, letting him brew alone and take out his anger however necessary, but let him know that the door was open when he was ready to talk.

He did — he had apologized for what he said and she accepted, and Zuko ended up spilling every emotion he had to her over the next few weeks. She listened, offered advice when she could, and made Zuko feel a little bit less alone in the scheme of it all. It was a horrible experience, but it brought them closer together, and the prince was eternally thankful that he had a friend to help him through the ordeal.

The night that he came to her room, admitting that he was hurting and asking for her help — Y/N thinks that was the moment she fell for him. She cursed herself at the time for developing feelings for her only friend in the palace, but over time she learned to cover them up. She had to remember her place.

She understood her role, but it got harder and harder to keep up with it the more time she spent with Zuko — this moment was no exception.

“Yeah, yeah. I just hold back because I don’t want to burn you.”

“Liar!” she exclaimed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. “You forget that I can heal myself if anything goes wrong. Besides, I know you’d never burn me. I trust you.”

Zuko smiled and smoothed his clothes back down, the only sign of their sparring session now gone. “Good, because I trust you too. No matter how many times you totally drench me.”

She snorted as she started to walk back to the palace. “Like I said, that just makes it more fun. And as fun as it has been completely crushing you in combat, duty calls.”

He sighed, giving a reluctant nod as he started to follow her — then his eyes lit up, and he grabbed her arm to stop them. “Wait, how much work do you have today?”

Y/N thought for a few seconds then shrugged. “Dunno, it varies. I got stuck working with Jaysa all this morning, so that’s going to take forever, I have my usual healing lessons with Master Rika after, and then I usually just end up going around with whatever else comes my way for the rest of the day.” She grinned and lowered her voice as if the subject of the matter could somehow hear her. “I’ve been working on a dress for my mother in secret because her birthday is coming up soon, so the free time I get between my shifts that isn’t spent with you has been going towards that.”

Zuko gaped. “You’re making her a dress all on your own, with no help? How?”

She held up her hands with a proud smile. “These things are good for waterbending, sewing, and hitting best friends.”

He gave her a sideways grin at that. “I’m your best friend?”

Y/N snickered and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, dummy. You’re like, the only person that likes me in this whole nation. Of course you’re my best friend.”

“Well…” he started. “Would a best friend like to break the rules even more tonight?”

Her eyes lit up in turn, completely betraying her excitement despite her attempt to look nonchalant about it. “That depends — what d’you have in mind?”

He grinned and leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper as he spoke in her ear. “So, after you finish work for the night, we…”

-

It was a struggle to get through all of her work after the plan that she and Zuko had formulated — sure, they broke the rules all the time. The basis of their entire friendship was breaking the rules, but this was going farther than they ever had before. Y/N wasn’t thinking about the consequences though, she was thinking about the journey — that was her first mistake.

She had rushed through all of her chores with Jaysa, hardly paid attention in her healing lessons, and made quick work of the rest of her day until she was finally able to meet up with Zuko at one of the various servant entrances that she had shown him.

“You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, his body buzzing with nervous energy. “I thought you were never gonna come.”

“Some of us actually have work to get done, mister crown prince,” she joked as she bumped his shoulder with hers. “But that doesn’t matter — let’s get going before someone catches us! I don’t want it to get too dark either.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Zuko reassured. “My dad is in war meetings all day, no one is going to catch us. Now come on!”

Zuko pushed open the door, grabbed her hand, and began to pull her along. A laugh fell from her lips as they ran, unable to stop herself from casting a cautionary glance behind them as they got farther from the palace. Y/N tried to push her worries out of her mind — like she had told Zuko earlier, she trusted him.

That was her second mistake.

It was surprisingly easy to sneak past the guards around the wall and just as quick to get through Royal Caldera, and before Y/N knew it, they had arrived in the city.

It was nothing like she had ever seen before.

The village she had grown up in was miniscule compared to anything in the Fire Nation, and she was especially awestruck upon entering the city. As home to more middle class citizens than anything, it was a bustling marketplace filled with workers and nobles alike — if she hadn’t been preoccupied with the stars in her eyes, she would’ve been able to see the way Zuko was absolutely beaming at her.

“Come on!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand once again as he began to walk — at a much more moderate pace than their run here — down the streets. “There’s so much here that I wanna show you. Have you ever been out here?”

She shook her head, allowing herself to gawk at her surroundings while they went down the street. “We aren’t really allowed to leave the palace since we’re technically still prisoners, just… ones that work. My mother always had to give her money to one of the other servants so that when they went out to buy their things, they could pick some stuff up for us as well. This is all totally new.”

Once again, a frown found its way onto Zuko’s face, but only for a split second before he pointed at a stall opposite to them. “Oh— there’s a fruit stand! Come on, you have to try this.”

Y/N let Zuko pull her over to the stand, looking at the array of fruits on display while Zuko conversed with the merchant. A few silver pieces later and they were walking away with a basket of produce — miraculously, the prince hadn’t been recognized, so she figured he wouldn’t need a disguise. Third mistake.

“Here,” he said, offering her a mango from the basket. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Fire Nation mango.”

She took the fruit from him and bit into it, her eyes immediately widening as she turned on Zuko. “Tui’s gills, this is delicious! You’re telling me that you people just have this on hand but we don’t get any of it?”

He shrugged and took a fig from the basket as Y/N wiped some juice off of her chin. “There’s a reason I’ve helped you break into the kitchens so many times. Now, where do you wanna go next?”

-

The pair spent the next couple of hours browsing the marketplace, enjoying their day on the Fire Lord’s coin. Zuko was more than happy to show Y/N parts of his culture after all she had taught him, and she was more than happy to experience it. They had been able to buy lanterns for the upcoming Festival of Szeto, purchase their own blends of tea leaves, and of course Zuko insisted on getting fire flakes and gummies.

(Y/N thought he was insane. Why in the world would the Fire Nation want to make food that hurt them on purpose? She was going to stick with her newfound love for mangoes.)

But Zuko hadn’t even brought her to the best part yet.

“Can I open my eyes now?” She asked, her anxious tone betraying her curiosity.

“Now you can.” Y/N was met with Zuko’s grin and as she focused on the stand in front of them, she had to make a conscious effort to not gape.

Zuko had brought her to a sewing stand with all the threads, fabrics, and silks that she could dream of in all kinds of colors. She immediately rushed forward, unable to stop herself from running her hands over and through each and every piece of material — she was in a seamstress’s heaven.

“I take that as a sign you like it?” Zuko asked happily.

“Oh, definitely,” she confirmed, still completely caught up in all the choices. “This is so much better than all the material we’re given to work with!”

“That’s why I brought you here. I thought you could get some stuff for yourself, and some stuff to help with the dress you’re making for your mom. I don’t really know how sewing works, but I thought that this was one way I could help.”

“That is so sweet of you!” she gushed. “Thank you so much — you should probably get around to some of the other stalls because I… I think I’m gonna be here for a while.”

Zuko laughed and fished out of a couple of golden pieces then set them in her hand. “That’s okay. I’ll meet you over by the steps; we can watch the sunset together.”

They nodded as parting gifts and each was enveloped in their tasks; Y/N beginning to ask the merchant questions about everything at their stand and Zuko off to entertain himself for a few more minutes.

Soon enough, Y/N had her own small bundle of silks and fabrics, her mind already going off in a million different ways of how she could incorporate it into the design. She found Zuko sitting on the steps and as she took her own seat next to him, he handed her another mango.

“Did you find everything you wanted?” She nodded and hummed gratefully as she accepted the fruit, taking a bite as her eyes fell on the skyline in front of them.

“I had a really great time today, Zuko. I really can’t thank you enough for taking me out here. I… I think I forgot what it was like to feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“...happy.” She paused for a second before allowing herself to meet his eyes. “All the time I spend with you in the palace… It’s one of the only times that I really do feel happy. And being out here today, getting to walk around where I wanted and buy things and just— I feel free, Zuko. And that means everything to me.”

She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and she turned away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that—“

Zuko gently reached out for her hand, drawing her attention back to him and the soft smile on his face.

“Well… I care about you. You’re nice to me, and you take time out of your day to help me which you don’t have to do. This is just me trying to pay you back for all you’ve done to help me. We can do this more often — whenever my dad’s busy.”

Her own smile grew on her lips and she nodded as she laced her fingers with his. “I care about you too. And.. I’d like that.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder and together, they watched the sunset over the city.

There was no place either of them would rather be.

-

Y/N and Zuko made their way back to the palace as quickly as they could after realizing how late it had gotten. Y/N was sure that she was going to get the talking-to of her life after what she had done, but she was almost giddy after what had just happened. She could deal with any of Kura’s consequences later — right now the only thought in her mind was the feeling of Zuko’s hand in hers.

The night had been nothing short of perfect. She had felt freer than ever before out there in the city with Zuko, and knowing that he reciprocated the feelings she had for him was enough to make her heart burst. She cared for him, and he cared for her.

Of course, there was that nagging question of how they would continue now that their friendship had morphed into something more, but once again — it was something she would deal with later. Her fourth and final mistake.

But as a guard turned the corner, Y/N realized she might not get the chance. She quickly let go of Zuko’s hand and tucked it under the bundle of fabric, hoping that the gesture of affection had been missed by the man.

If he had noticed, he showed no sign of it. He stopped in front of them, a gruff voice speaking from behind the mask with words that made her heart stop.

“Prince Zuko, the Fire Lord has requested an audience with you.”

-

haha OOPS

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27

atla: @marianne1806

[spaceskam]

welcome to another "I wrote this at work ignore the typos" situation featuring content in the little teaser for s3

ao3

"Michael Guerin with a cup of tea. Interesting."

"Bettering myself with soothing beverages," Michael said, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at Alex. He still felt a little off kilter, but he had no intention of guilt tripping Alex. It was a work in progress. He was a work in progress.

"Is that a quote from self proclaimed life coach Isobel Evans?" Alex asked, cocking his head to the side and smiling. Michael felt dizzy with it. It'd been so long without that fucking smile.

"How'd you know?" Michael asked, trying to keep the conversation light and not let it drift to an antagonistic place. He was good at that. Unfortunately, he was less good at keeping that at bay. "Where's the boyfriend?" Work in progress.

"He couldn't stick around, had to get to a meeting. He just met me at the bus stop," Alex said. Michael nodded and only then let his eyes drift away from his face, giving him a quick once over and tried not to be greedy with it. He still had his bags. "Is this seat taken?"

"Yeah," Michael said, casual as possible because Alex deserved that, "Saving it for this guy I met a few years back. You might know him. Around my height, dark hair, nice biceps, used to be in the army, killer thighs–literally, I almost suffocated me once."

"Shut up," Alex laughed, sitting across from him, "And I wasn't in the army."

"Same evil."

"Fair enough," Alex said, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, "Man, what's a guy gotta do around here to get a drink?"

Michael absolutely did not get his hopes up about this.

"Just sit there and look pretty," Michael said, pushing himself to his feet.

He'd been working a little harder and getting Sanders to make the place look a bit nicer in the front so new comers would show up, both resulting in everyone making more money. It was the most money Michael had ever had saved up before and he barely knew what to even do with it. He'd never wanted it before, never wanted to act like he was here to stay, but now it was there and now he could pay for Alex's drink.

He allowed himself to feel a little good about himself for that.

He order a medium vanilla latte, extra vanilla and an extra shot of expresso like he'd seen Alex order when they were a younger. Before he was a complete fuck up. Before when ordering anything but black coffee felt rebellious. And he paid for him for the first time. And he absolutely wasn't prideful bringing it back.

The look on Alex's face said he was also aware that this was the first time he could afford to buy him something so trivial, but he wasn't going to say anything because he was Alex. He took a sip as Michael sat across from him again and he smiled with a tiny bit of foam gracing his top lip. Michael felt his chest constricting with some twisted sort of pride and he refused to let himself be embarrassed by it.

"Thank you," Alex said.

"No problem."

Then they lapsed into silence, drinking their respective drinks and staring. Alex never turned his head away like he usually did; Michael never broke the silence like he usually did. None of it was awkward or uncomfortable or tense. It was just... having non-alcoholic drinks with someone he loved in whatever sense of the word he could.

It was nice. It was easy. It was something so completely different than Michael knew what to do with.

He craved more.

"So, do you need a ride to your house so you don't have to walk with all that?" Michael asked, definitely not mentioning that Forrest at the very least could've taken it. Granted, there's a chance he offered and Alex declined, which would be very much like Alex, but still. If he can kiss him, he can help with his bags.

"Depends. Are you willing to drive out to the middle of nowhere?"

"So that was a sold sign," Michael said. Alex took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah. It was a nice house, but it didn't really feel like home, you know? And after everything..."

"No, I get it," Michael said, nodding, "So where are you staying now?"

"Old Valenti hunting cabin. My cut of the inheritance and what I'm getting for selling my house is gonna be used on making it decent," Alex said.

"And amping up the security system," Michael added. Alex grinned and nodded.

"And amping up the security system."

"Well, it's my day off, so I can definitely take you," Michael said, not saying he took the day off specifically to meet Alex. That wasn't necessary information.

"You don't have to."

"What if I want to?" Michael asked. Alex looked at him, still smiling but he was clearly a little wary. "Just let me help out. I'm even going to try to not make you feel bad about the boyfriend."

"Oh, well, thank you so much for your efforts," Alex said sarcastically, but his tone was light and his smile was even more so, "But you really don't mind?"

"Alex, it's the least I can do," Michael said. It sounded weird in his voice, but it felt right. Alex seemed to agree if the look on his face said anything. Michael was more than a little proud of himself for not second guessing himself or assuming the worst.

Maybe he actually did do some growing.

"Okay then. Let's go."

Having Alex in his truck again didn't feel real. He was giddy in a way he hadn't felt in awhile and the fact that his bags were on the floor and not between them made that feeling skyrocket. Alex was comfortable with him. Or, at least, he seemed to be.

"Did you have fun?" Michael asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

"Well, I mean, I was doing dirty work, so not really. Forrest met me a couple times but I never wanted him to stay too long, was way too dangerous," Alex said, turning in his seat to face him.

"When I came out there with Kyle, you let me stay awhile," Michael said. He wasn't bragging. Absolutely not. He was simply useful for the task at hand and Kyle had to get back to work. Them eating take out on a hotel room floor and staying up too late was just convenient, a secret little addition to the trip.

"Yeah, but I trust you not to get killed by accident," Alex said, "Forrest had a good childhood. He's not at all aware of his surroundings like you are."

"Good for him," Michael said, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Alex may or may not have noticed.

"Also," he said slowly, "I'm kinda getting spoiled with the telekinesis thing, I'm not gonna lie."

Michael bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to be unnecessarily happy with that.

"Well if you ever need to make use of it, I'm your man," Michael said. Alex hummed in response–Michael couldn't tell if it was an acknowledgment or agreement.

It was around a 45 minute drive to the Valenti hunting cabin and the trip there was a bunch of small, winding, hand-made paths. You couldn't find it if you didn't know it was there. It was perfect for Alex.

Michael helped him get his bags inside and took in the fact that most of the stuff that had been in his house wasn't present. The furniture was broken in and there were a few boxes around, but not enough to hold everything from his house.

"I need a change," Alex said, going to the breaker box to turn the electricity on, "I thought that when I came back the first time that would be my big change, but I just did more of the same shit. So this is a real change."

"Sounds like it'd be good for you," Michael agreed.

"Yeah," Alex sighed, looking around. His eyes eventually landed on Michael again. "Do you have to go?"

"No, not unless you want me to," Michael said. Alex nodded.

"Move some boxes for me, telekinesis boy?" he asked. Michael grinned.

"Sure."

The spent what felt like two hours rearranging and unpacking and cleaning, Alex encouraging him to show off in a way that felt so ridiculously good. Everything about this was good. Spending time with him without expectation and tension and time limits.

He loved him more than his body had space for.

"Michael!" Alex said, immediately followed by a laugh, "You're going to break something!"

"I won't, have faith," Michael said, pulsing with the attention, "And if I do, I'll fix it."

He twisted his wrist, manuvering the fully put together bed frame through the door with his mind. It bumped into the door frame once or twice, but Alex just laughed and lightly scolded him.

Later, once they did what they could and got settled, Michael found himself on Alex's back porch with cans of coke in hand instead of beer.

"I love the view," Michael said.

"There's deer that'll get close if you're quiet," Alex said, "You'll have to sit with me to see them sometime."

"Yeah, whenever you'll have me," Michael said.

"Whenever you want," Alex responded. He sounded like he meant it.

Him meaning it didn't stop his phone from lighting up, didn't stop the way Alex's face closed off, didn't stop the way he sighed and locked it back. He took a long sip of his drink before he spoke.

"Forrest is on his way," Alex said. Michael shifted in his seat and nodded.

"So I should go."

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Alex asked instead of saying leave, instead of saying stay.

"Yep, bright and early."

"Okay," Alex said, "If I bring my truck up there in the morning, do I get privileges where I can sit with you in the back while you look over it and tell me what I need to fix after it sitting in my yard for nine months?"

Michael swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. He was leaving, he had to go because it wasn't his place to stay right now. But there was a promise of tomorrow. Of spending more time together just because.

The privilege of it, Alex said.

"Absolutely," Michael said, standing up, "I'll squeeze you in."

"Cool. I appreciate it," Alex said, looking up at him with a smile, "And I appreciate you helping me out today. Made all of that a lot easier."

"Not a problem," he said, "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Wait," Alex said quickly, getting himself to his feet and coming closer. Without much of a warning about what exactly was coming, Alex wrapped his arms around his neck. Michael hugged him back easily.

Alex squeezed him; Michael squeezed back.

"I'm so glad you're back," Michael whispered against him.

"I've gotta come home at some point, right?" Alex whispered back. Michael nodded.

They held on for longer than they should.

"Alright," Alex said after awhile, letting go with a reluctance Michael wasn't so unfamiliar with it ached, "I'll see you in the morning. I'll bring food."

Michael didn't like to get his hopes up.

He decided not to be scared this time.

[kakyoingdom]

hey i found out how yo ask:D now my request is praise kink,daddy kink and orgasm denial +3+ madara and hashirama

The Lucky Ficlet, 08

HI!

this is the last one! and, anon, i hope you like it from the bottom of my heart! i wrote that with a fucking smile and it made me soooooooooo happy! i mixed Hashi and Madara into the same scene and yeah, threesome. sorry if you don't like to read it tho :(

but thank you for asking it, all of you that helped my with my first event! mwah <3 <3

it seems i don't like following my own rules omg but

your surprise ficlet match is: madara and hashirama + daddy kink and praise kink + 3: bedroom floor | 4,416 words

warnings: nsfw. unprotected sex, praise kink, belly bulge, daddy kink, "babygirl" used, oral (both f and m receiving), creampie, madara is a respectful man to hashi's wifey, face sitting, doggy style, that one position i can't remember the name that feels so good but hurts so bad.

“Are you sure both of you are not going to think of me like a whore after it?”

“You trust me, don’t you?”, Hashirama murmurs, his chin resting on the top of your head, holding you tight against his chest. He is so tall over you, protective and lovely. His hands caressing your high back and nape, you feel small and a little bit relieved. “I know he seems to be mean, but he’d never disrespect my darling. Neither would I, I was the one who came up with that idea and I’d never ask you if I wasn’t sure of you well-being”.

“Hmm”, you nod, still concerned about sharing your room and bed and body and— with Uchiha Madara.

It all started the day Hashirama, by your side on your bed, late night, looked at you with hesitant eyes. He held your soft hands, kissing your face and neck like every night, but he was too silent. Maybe something was wrong with the Leaf Village, or with his Hokage tasks, so you didn’t press him to speak. At his time, he’d tell what he wanted to. It worked like this for a couple of years and was good enough for you.

But Hashirama said his day was great. His job is quite tiring, but he loves to see his dream becoming true. Nothing seemed to be wrong or different from the other days besides that strange silence from him. He asked your questions and, after making sure you were good and had a nice day too, stopped talking. You could only hear his breathe, his nose on your neck, like he loved to do before falling asleep.

“My love?”, he called when you were already with closed eyes, wondering about nothing important. “I know you are very open-minded and everything but, oh”, you could bet his cheeks were rosy against your skin. His fingers traced incoherent draws on your collarbone, a shiver going down your spine. “Would you consider letting Madara join us one day?”

Your hands started to shake. You wanted to say a casual yes — how could you deny? You did have an open-mind, never getting too astonished about sexual things that Hashirama (or even you) wanted to try every once in a while. Yet you hesitated. Was this a kind of test? Why this suddenly? You couldn’t even imagine Hashirama ever thought about sharing you with his friend, so you got a little confused.

“Don’t need to answer me now”, your husband said when you opened your mouth to say you didn’t know and needed to think about it. To be honest, you never thought about it, Hashirama being the only one for you was more than enough. Madara was nice and everything, but you didn’t know if you could handle the fact of those scary eyes watching your naked body, you didn’t know if you would be attracted to that man. Your eyes were Hashirama’s only, nothing more.

You did hope to try a threesome one day — for experience? — though you didn’t want to mess everything up and be the third wheel between the other two. The more you thought, the more confused you got. Hashirama could feel your tension about it and was on his way to tell you to forget about it when you finally said you’d give it a chance. Just a nod and a casual “okay, let’s try it”. Nothing more. He got amazed by the lightness of your words, the tiny small making him trust you even more. You looked so brave and carefree that when the day finally came, your nervous eyes really made him wave and ask if you really wanted to continue.

And you did. It was nothing, right? Just taking clothes off in front of your husband, but he’d share you for a few moments. It was so dirty, but this only made you more excited, yet your concerns kept in your mind, ghosting all your thoughts. It would be good, Hashirama promised you and you trust him with your soul.

“Hm, right, what do we do now?”, you look up to face his gentle eyes, pretty mouth in a casual smirk. You touch his chest under his robe, the firm muscles making you way more vibrant about having him. You are not thinking about Madara anymore, letting things just happen. Hashirama doesn’t answer you, kissing your parted lips after pulling your body next to him. He kisses you deep, his tongue exploring your mouth as his fingers squeezes your waist and pulls you in his direction, and you’re now on tiptoe. He presses his thigh between your legs and you rub yourself on his flesh covered by the light fabric, letting a whimper out of your mouth.

“You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”, he mumbles, moving his leg between yours. You nod with a pout, needy eyes that he loves to see and can’t just ignore. Hashi knows you need his fingers, his tongue, his cock, and he is eager for giving all you want. But you knew you’d have to do what he wanted to, obedient and submissive. He gives you another small kiss. “Behave when Madara comes, can you do it for me?”

You make a face at his words, but nod again. You body tenses a little when you hear steps coming from the door of your and Hashirama’s room. Hashirama caresses your inner thighs over the fabric of your blue nightdress, your skin burning wherever he touches. You left a muffled mewl, putting your forehead on his chest, not wanting to look back and see Madara. But soon you feel an extra pair of hands on your waist. Madara doesn’t walk forward, you notice. Was he waiting for a sign from his friend? You look up and Hashirama is moving his lips, “come on, she’s a good girl, she’s not going to push you away”. You feel tempted to chuckle with the thought of Uchiha Madara actually hesitant to something he wanted.

Then he seems to agree with Hashirama, because his hands reach your boobs, pressing them together. You exhale in surprise, your orbs looking for Senju’s at the same time. He kisses the top of your head and gives you a comforting smile, his thigh close to your panties rubbing your skin softly. You know Madara is approaching, his firm body against your spine causing to tense even more. He sighs loudly, taking his hand to your collarbone and lower neck, surrounding it in a very daunting way. You gulp and hold both of Hashirama’s shoulders, almost uncomfortable. You never got any man touching you besides your husband and it was weird as hell, though his rough strokes were making you a bit interested on what he could do to you.

“I thought you had her open to our ideas, Hashirama. I can only see a scared girl. Didn’t you train her well?”, he says, playfully.

The thought of relaxing soon left your mind, his words sounding so mean you had to look back and stare at Madara with stoic eyes. “Fuck you”, you say back, your voice firm and neutral. “I’m not scared. Haven’t you learned that you can’t just hold my neck like I’m your whore?”

Hashirama presses you tighter against his body, his leg no more touching your inner thighs. You feel like complaining about it, but keep in silence as he stares at you with those joking eyes, but his mouth is in a serious line. You roll your eyes discreetly as you man answers Madara, almost happy with your words.

“Go easy on my baby”, he puts his hands on your neck as well, both of them stroking the sensitive skin. “I did train her to behave, but she’s used to being only my whore”, he completes, talking as if you weren’t there. You get wetter with his words — you aren’t that into degradation, but sure he knows how to use bad words and yet make you feel like a queen. You enjoy his other hand petting your head, waiting for a kiss that never comes.

Instead, Madara laughs and takes your nightdress off effortlessly, Hashirama lifting your arms so he could throw it away. You instantly feel the cold wind of the night, the window open helping it and cross your arms in front of your body.

“So, Hashirama, control that tongue of her”, he pinches your nipples over the thin fabric of your bra. He was absolutely pleased to see you from behind, though he couldn’t wait to watch your boobs wiggling while your cunt is fucked deep by him. Your ass looked so good, the skin ready for having his palm print. “Or I’ll do it myself”, you whine when he presses his hard cock between your booty cheeks and pushes your nipples with no mercy, as you stare at Hashirama, waiting for him to do more than just help you to keep on your feet.

“Do you want something, baby?”, he puts one of his fingers on your lips and you get it with your tongue, sucking slowly. He knows those eyes of yours, so pitiful and needy. You shake your head, ready to speak, but he puts another finger into your mouth. “Tell me, then”, his words are so, so mean. When did he become so bad? You knew that if you stop to suck his fingers he’d make you beg for it once more, but he was telling you to answer! What are you supposed to do?

Madara squeezes you tits harder as his mouth finds its way to your neck, licking your skin. You moan against Hashi’s fingers and begin to mumble “I want you touching me, daddy, not him”, your breathy voice making your sentence way rude. His nails reach your throat and you almost choke, a few tears filling up your eyes.

“Repeat it for me?”, the Senju says. You don’t do it, so he takes his touch off you and walk backwards, a playful smile ghosting his lips. His lips, you want them so much, why is he acting so mean with you? You feel a little bit sad when he says he’s disappointed. “Didn’t you say you were going to behave? I’m not seeing it”. You pout, but accept what he is saying with a sad look.

“What can I do to—”, you begin, but Madara decides it is a good time to make you kneel. You sit on your legs to counteract what he wants you to do. Hashirama sighs and tells you to kneel and stay quiet. Madara chuckles devilishly. “So she just obey daddy?” You nod, but he is not looking at you. His friend, you husband, is agreeing and adding mean, mean words. You can’t help but complain about it in your mind, since a loud complain would leave you with lots of trouble.

“Call him daddy too and obey him, right, sweet girl? If you do it as he tells, he is going to be gentle”, he lowers his voice. “If you want to stop you know the sign”.

You frown and don’t answer. Madara walks and stop in front of you, his tall silhouette making you lean backwards. He pulls your hair gently — you feel genuinely surprised with his slow moves — until your face is almost touching his bulge under his pants. His thumb caresses your red cheeks and you enjoy it, before his palm softly hit your face. You inhale. Why are you feeling aroused by him? Fuck, the only man you’d ever let slap your face is Hashirama, but why your clit pulsed and your wetness grew?

Madara freed released his cock from his pants and underwear and you bit your lip, kind of nervous. You did want to have your tongue controlled but Hashi should do it! Not him, not his cock. You cried a little when you saw his dick, but the arousal grew up once more. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You didn’t want to think about how good it must be to have him inside you. Or call him daddy too.

No. No way will you do it.

It takes less than a minute to make you change your mind. Madara doesn’t seem to care about your stoic ass face or your mouth closed. He knew and could bet you are dripping to feel his length inside your mouth, to take him and let his tip reach your throat.

“Suck it, little one”, he uses the petname with a smirk you can hear. You try to deny, but you want it as bad as he does, so you think twice. You block guilty thoughts when Hashirama, his voice making you melt and stop acting like a brat, tells you to do your best. “I promise you’ll get your reward before finishing it”.

Reward is a good thing, always. Pretending it is the reason you’re giving in, you let his cock enter your mouth slowly, licking every inch of it like a good girl. Like his good girl, you think and close your eyes. No. You’re doing it because Hashirama said so. You trace his veins skillfully, easy to get to a point you can’t get more, his red tip deep into you. Madara groans as his hands guides you softly, in and out of your mouth.

It doesn’t last, though. He is too aroused to keep it easy, besides all Hashirama’s warnings. He wants to make you cry with his cock, rough and unstoppable. Madara would never let this opportunity run through his fingers — he didn’t think neither Hashirama nor you would accept it so easily. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, seeing that face of yours struggling to take his flesh. Madara could see anger in your eyes, but lust as well. His finger strokes your eye, getting a tear that was threatening to fall.

“Now I see why Hashirama is so proud of his girl”, you hear him praising, his hips violently making his cock go in and out of your mouth. Your legs shake a little more when you have to stop and breathe deep so you don’t choke for real. “Her mouth is a small piece of paradise. Bet her cunt is way better, uh?”

You don’t usually like it. Having him speaking as if you are somewhere else, not right there, sucking him off, should have made your ego hurt and your heart break. You don’t like to be ignored. However, listening to it made your cunt pulse and stretch against nothing. It is driving you crazy, Hashirama and his friend gladly praising and using you.

You don’t know when he got there, but you felt known lips against your full cheek, still receiving Madara’s length. Hands perfectly squeezing and pressing and printing its mark on your ass, on your thighs, on your tits, everywhere. You couldn’t help but moan loudly when Hashi’s fingers unkindly reach your panties and, pushing the fabric aside, one finger enters your cunt.

“Keep sucking him off, you’re doing great, baby”, Hashi whispers on your ear. You like the way it sounds like a secret of both of you. Happy, you put your hands on Madara’s strong thighs and lick all his flesh, kissing and making it wetter with your saliva. The Uchiha sighs loudly and groan when you whine against his dick. He can hear Hashirama’s digits going in and out of you, lewdly noises coming off it and his own cock being worshiped by your precious mouth. Fuck, he is going to feel jealous to the rest of his life — you have a pretty face, gorgeous body, a fucking nice mouth that fits him so well. You’re just fucking perfect.

Hashirama knows it. It’s so exciting for him to see Madara almost angry because he knows you can’t be his. You are being shared with him, but the man that gets your velvet tongue every day is the Senju leader. Hashirama’s fingertips abuse your sensitive spots inside you, his curled fingers driving you mad. It is too much, you think when it becomes too difficult to keep giving attention to Madara’s cock with all the pleasure you were feeling.

You don’t when it happens. You feel dizzy and fall back to Hashi’s lap, your fingers pressing Madara’s skin as he seems to look satisfied? And you look up to see your husband’s face, his fingers slowly fucking you, your clit being stimulated by your inside walls. Too sensitive, too painful, too good. You had that especially dumb ability of not knowing if you had come or not, so he had to show you his fingers — white, wet and going to Madara’s mouth. You mumble incoherent words when you see his fingers being sucked by the other man. He is… Tasting you. “Tasty cunny, girl”, Madara says. It felt illegal to watch, so you close your eyes just to open them again as another pair of fingers invade your cunt.

You whine immediately. Those fingers are thicker than Hashirama’s, calloused and rough. A finger — you know it’s Hashi’s now — rubs your clit as fast as he was doing when you were sucking off Madara. The floor is not comfortable, but you can’t ask them to stop. You don’t want to — it is feeling so good, your body falling down until your legs are around Madara’s body.

“Daddy”, you whisper, hoping Hashirama answers you. “Let me suck your cock too… I miss it fucking my mouth, daddy”

Your voice tone makes both Madara and Hashi stop suddenly. You cry, but soon Madara holds your body carefully bringing you to your bed. However when you are about to cry another phrase, your ass is up to the air, your tits pressed against the mattress. You couldn’t help — being all on fours is the way Hashirama loves to see you when you’re crying over his cock.

“Good girl”, is Madara that praises you, yet his voice is tough. “Sit on my face, now. I want to hear you calling my name while I taste you”, he puts his head under you and pulls your hips down. You try to keep your eyes open as you watch Hashirama takes off his clothes. It is the most damn beautiful thing in the world, his skin exposed, his strong chest and abs, his arms, his thighs, everything. Is there a way you can love him more?

You roll your hips against Madara’s mouth, conscious of his tongue licking your juices shamelessly, but he grabs your body and makes it hard to move. “Be quiet for daddy”, his voice is breathy, raspy and implies a punishment if you don’t obey him.

And you don’t try to move again, whimpering lowly, even when his touch leaves your hips and goes to your ass, grabbing hard. At the same time, you look down to Hashirama’s cock — hard for you only, his hand slowly stroking himself as you stare at it with pleady eyes. Hashirama grabs a fist full of your hair and forces your head down. You tease him a little, sucking the tip as your hand jerk off the length that isn’t in your mouth. He pushes your head up and gives you a smile that make you shake and moan loud. Madara is also craving for your attention, uh?

“Do it properly, babygirl. Daddy really wants to fuck your pretty mouth, but you gotta help me”, he doesn’t wait for you to reply, and you put the maximum you can of his dick inside your mouth. You curl your tongue against his hard flesh, appreciating in a different way you were with Madara. There’s passion on sucking him, letting him control all of your moves and thrusting his cock with no mercy.

You feel the most loved woman in the world.

At the same time, Madara keeps sucking your clit, forgetting about your dripping cunt. He is really focused on making you moan loud with Hashirama’s cock inside you, stimulating you until your limits. You let your head moves being commanded by Hashi’s hands, feeling weak. You notice you can’t fucking feel your legs, the touch of the Uchiha man being the only thing that makes your body firm enough so you don’t fall on his face. Not that he’d complain about it.

You finally give in — moaning loud, this time you know you’re having an orgasm. Numb head, messy moves, your teeth even hits the cock in your mouth by accident. Madara enjoys the sound of your struggled cries, heavy breathe and his name. Madara-sama, he could swear it was what you said. His hard cock felt a little bit harder, painfully eager for being inside you.

If it wasn’t dangerous territory, Madara would have taken you that moment.

“Stop now, babygirl”, Hashirama tells you. You obey him and look at him with dizzy eyes, not knowing where to focus on. “Madara, fuck her cunt the way you prefer. But wait for her to beg for it. Wait her words, and then she’s your doll”

Madara raises an eyebrow, devilish smile on his lips. Hashirama smirks too and you see both of them in a secret conversation. Madara gives in with a sigh.

“She’s my wife, Madara. What would happen if she gets pregnant and the baby born an Uchiha?”, he justifies and you make an ‘o’ face. So he wanted to cum inside you? Your cheeks become hot with the thought and Hashirama sees it. His hands are soft on your cheeks. “Though I think she’d love it. Don’t worry, right? Daddy is going to fill you up until the last drop”.

“Shut up, Hashirama. How do you think I can tease that lovely whore?”, you feel his tip threatening to enter you, but the moment never comes. You know what you have to do. Call his name, beg for his cock, lets him use you as he pleases. However words don’t come. You can’t think properly, just look at him with big doe eyes.

“Put just a few centimeters inside and let her beg for more”, Hashi suggests, so mean. You pout. “It never fails”.

It is true. Whenever he wants to punish you a little, or even just listen to your shaky voice crying for his full length, he does it. Madara’s tip enters you with much effort of his, fighting against the reflex of going deep and fucking you dumb. You close your eyes and bite a lip so you don’t speak anything. Hashirama is not happy about it, so he continues.

“Rub her clit.”

You feel it right after his sentence. You exhale and look at Hashirama.

“Daddy, please, stop teasing me”, you whine. His finger points to Madara. “I’m not able to change it”.

“Hm. Madara-sama, please, stop teasing me”, you say, but your voice is not convincing. You roll your hips.

“Oh, I think she doesn’t want me, Hashirama. I’m offended”, Madara pushes him inside you a little more. You moan and cry his name once more. “Please, please, please, fuck me until I can’t remember my name, I just need it so bad”, you cry, low voice. You feel a smack on your face, gently, as another, rough, goes on your ass.

“Louder”, Madara says as his cock goes deep into your wet cunt. His hands go to your waist and pull you. You moan loudly, but seeing Hashi, you call for his name. You receive another slap from the two men, and you smirk. Good, good, so good. You could cum just with that lustful glance deep in your eyes. You are feeling hotter than never, having the most powerful men fucking you in different ways. His pace, after you calling the Senju’s name, is fast and hard. Roughly he takes his cock out of you and pulls it back into with a delicious moan.

As he uses you, you lay your head on your husband’s lap, his cock by your side. You continue to suck him off but with all your body trembling and shivering, you can’t do much more than passing your tongue against his flesh. You love the feeling of being stretched by Madara’s cock, yet thinking and remembering about Hashirama.

That’s why your walls squeezes Madara’s cock so strongly. He moans loud as he buries himself into you. “You have a delicious whore here, Hashirama”, he whispers, taking strength of nowhere to stop fucking you. You cry a little when he gets out of your needy cunt, too weak to form a decent phrase.

“Calm down, babygirl. This time is daddy that is gonna fuck you. Ready?”, Hashirama says, pulling your body and being on top of you. He puts your legs on your shoulder and enters your cunt rapidly. He has no time for teasing or joking, but he looks to Madara by his side. “Learn how to end with this girl”.

It hurts when he goes that deep into you, though is good as hell. His tip abuses your g spot then go further as he kisses you messily. Your nails on his back almost hurt him, yet he sees as a way to make his hips moves faster. Your muffled moans against his mouth are making Hashirama goes deep inside you, with all the strength of the shinobi god. Fuck, fuck, fuck, all you can think of is the feeling of your walls burning, probably his cock evidenced on your belly. And he knows it too, pressing it just to test something, he thinks.

And you’re done after less than five minutes. Hashirama feels his dick firmly squeezed by your cunt, as if you wanted him to stay like this forever. And you do want this. “Daddy”, you mumble, happily. “I love you. Thank you”, you look at Madara and thank him too, Hashi’s cock still into you. Madara uses one of his hands to enjoy and press your tits, the other one rubbing your clit just the way he did before.

You are going to die, aren’t you? Why does it feel so painfully good? Orgasm after orgasm you feel your voice giving up, raspy moans being the only thing you can do to make sure they understand you’re having a good time.

When Hashirama finally comes, his seed into you, and Madara jerks himself off on your tits, you have no strength to look at the men in front of you. Just a tired smile and you fell asleep. You’d thank Hashirama for it later.

[1987vampire]

Pantyhose | Tomura Shigaraki

Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku No Hero Academia Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: smut, thigh smacking, hesitant!reader at points, oral (fem!receiving), light degredation and light praise  Request: None! A/N: This is basically just the reader being used by Shigaraki after she rips her tights lmao.  Extra: 

You couldn’t decide if tripping and ripping your tights was a blessing or a curse at this point. Shigaraki’s tongue against the outside of your thigh, though slightly disgusting, was enough to send a shiver down your spine. His eyes trailed over your legs almost appreciatively. Then, he hooked his pinky nail against the fabric and ripped a new hole, a delighted grin climbing across his face as he took in the new runs.

He moved from his crouched position and sat down fully on the floor, his legs around your trembling ones as you tried to hold yourself up. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer to his face, laughing as you almost toppled over. “You need to wear these more often,” he mused, ripping a new hole closer to your inner thigh and higher up. His eyes trailed up to your face, and his grin grew as he met your eyes. “Are you going to let me play with you, player two?” You didn’t even have to answer because he knew your response. He was already moving so he was in front of you. “Of course you are.”

His breath fanned against the crease between your thighs as you pressed them together tightly. It was almost a challenge in his eyes. A finger dipped between them, worming into the tight space, and then he pushed it up until it was pressed against your panties. A moan fell from your lips before you could catch it, and your hands fell to his shoulders, holding onto him for support.

“You’re wet.” It was more of a statement to himself, but it made your face burn in embarrassment. Of course you were, his tongue just running against semi-clothed skin was much more of a turn-on than expected. “What was it that made you like this? Was it, perhaps, this?” His tongue ran up one of the runs he had created, the feeling of his saliva soaking into the fabric making you shudder. He hummed and then pushed both hands between your thighs, his fingers pressed together so he wouldn’t accidentally disintegrate you. Then, he forced your legs apart, staring at new skin you had been hiding.

His pinky nail pushed up and hooked at the tights over your panties. After making a small hole in the fabric, he took his middle fingers from both hands and ripped it wide open. “Wait,” he spoke, though his fingers trailed over your covered core. “I have a better idea.”

Before you realized what was happening, his arms hooked around your knees and pulled you foreward as he fell back. Your knees scraped the carpet as they fell on either side of his stomach, and a whine escaped from you at the pain. “Shiggy, that hurt,” you whimpered, but he ignored you, pulling you forward until your knees were on either side of his head. “What are you doing?” Your fingers carded through his hair gently, making him pause to look up at you. He looked so pretty down there, you had to admit.

His fingers slipped into your underwear, pointer moving through your slick folds. “I’m hungry,” he stated simply before pushing the panties to the side, leaving you completely exposed. “So, I’m going to eat.” Four fingers wrapped around your thighs and pulled you down harshly so you were sat on his face. He immediately went to town, long tongue dipping in and out at a quick pace as if he were scared he’d never get to do it again. The lewd sounds coming from the action, and his tongue, only fueling the fire. Your hands gripped his hair tighter and tighter, but he only seemed to enjoy it, letting out low groans of pleasure every time your hands snapped and pulled his locks.

You knew you wouldn’t last long. You had been so pent up from his earlier actions that this seemed to put everything into overdrive, your eyes rolling back and mouth falling open, though no noise fell from it. Shigaraki was incredible with his mouth – it was something you couldn’t deny – and he seemed to know it, too.

“Shiggy,” you whined, your voice a pathetic whimper against the noises he was creating down there, “Tomura, please.”

A soft chuckle sounded from below you, and he pulled his face away enough to speak, his warm breath fanning over your core as he did so. “What do you need, puppy?”

“I need to cum. Can I cum?”

At the question, one of his fingers circled your entrance. He pressed forward again, his voice muffled by your heat. “I don’t know why you think I would stop you,” he laughed before sucking on your clit. “Lemme hear those pretty little sounds. I want to hear them all.”

Your once silent voice began to rise, pornographic moans falling from your lips faster than you could catch them. Your hands dug into his hair even harsher, giving the local a harsh tug when you finally came, a high-pitched scream following the action.

Shigaraki didn’t pause his movements, though, his tongue still laving across the area, though it had slowed a bit. You shook your head, trying to pull away from the overstimulation, but he moved and wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place.

“Just one second,” he grumbled against your skin. He flattened his tongue and ran it over as much of the area he could comfortably reach before dipping it back into your entrance. “You taste good.”

Your face flamed at the comment and cursed your body as you felt your arousal growing again. Shigaraki took a few more moments, working your body back until you were a moaning mess over him again. When he finally pulled away, letting go of your thighs, you almost toppled over, your mind hazy.

Shigaraki trailed his fingers over your thighs, staring up at you from his position under you, thinking of something. Fingers trailed around your thigh as he did so.

“Get on your back,” he finally spoke, pushing you slightly to emphasize his statement. “I want to see your face when I fuck you.”

You pulled yourself off of him slowly, trying to climb on shaky feet. You tried to stand fully only for Shigaraki to grab one of your hands, stopping you. “Where are you going?”

You looked at him with confusion. “The bed, right?”

Shigaraki laughed and shook his head, tugging you so you fell to your knees beside him this time. He gently pressed your chest, easing you back until your back hit the floor, your eyes staring up at him with confusion. “I want to fuck you right on the floor.”

He pushed your legs open again, grinning as your eyes followed his every move, trying to anticipate his actions. You never could. He palmed himself through his pants before fumbling with the buckle, eager to get out of them. You moved to try and help him, but he sent you a sharp look, so you laid back down.

Once he finally freed himself, your breath caught in your throat. He had gotten himself so hard just by eating you out- his length standing prominently, tip incredibly red with precum spilling out. He was breathing heavily as he leaned over, pushing your legs apart until he couldn’t spread them anymore. He looked up to meet your eyes, silently making sure you were okay, before he moved your panties aside again and moving forward, finally sinking into your heat. He let out a low, almost silent, groan, his head falling forward.

“You’re always so good for me. Right, puppy? My good little cumslut.” His hips pulled back and then snapped into you again, a small whimper escaping him. “Are you going to let me fill you up, player two? Gonna let me spill myself inside these tight, little walls?” He grunted, setting a fast pace with his thrusts. “I know you will - you’re always so good for me – but I want to hear it. Say you’ll let me fill you up, player two. I want to hear it.”

Your voice was shaky when you spoke, a high whine slipping through. “Please, fill me up. I want to feel so full of your cum, Shiggy. Please, please, please.”

Shigaraki moaned loudly and leaned forward. He pulled one hand to your chest, and before you realized what was happening, he had ripped open your button-up shirt, the buttons flying across the room and clattering on the hardwood. He palmed the bra underneath before setting all five fingers on it, disintegrating it completely. Then, he leaned down and wrapped his mouth over a nipple. Your hands flew to his hair, and you felt him grin against your skin. His thrusts didn’t let up, getting even harder at this point, forcing your body to jump with every slap of his hips against yours.

“So pretty for me, my pretty little puppy.” You whined and clenched around him, feeling your second release for the night coming. “Are you gonna cum around my cock? Do I really feel that good,” he mused. “By the sounds you’re making, I must be. What if I did this?” His free hand moved down until it pressed against your clit before circling it in time with his thrusts.

Your reaction was almost immediate. You threw your head back, crying out as you came hard around his cock, the stimulation being just enough to push you overboard.

“That’s it, puppy, that’s it.” He removed his hand and pulled himself back up, his hips not stopping. He gripped your knees and pulled them together, placing an ankle on each of his shoulders. Then, he picked you up and bit and began drilling into you hard enough that your vision went white, overstimulation clouding your every thought as he worked you into a third orgasm before his thrusts finally got sloppy and he spilled himself inside of you, loud grunts following the action.

He stilled, panting heavily above you. He thrust twice more, slow thrusts just to make sure he was fully done, before be pulled out, watching in fascination as his cum began to drip out of you slowly.

You moved to drop your legs from his shoulders, but he smacked your thigh harshly. “Don’t move.”

You huffed, too tired to argue. “What are you doing?” Shigaraki’s fingers moved along your sensitive folds, and you jerked at the touch.  “Shiggy, I’m sensitive.”

Shigaraki smacked your thigh again with his free hand before continuing his movements. “Can't let it go to waste,” he mumbled.

You paused in confusion until you felt his thumb dip into you, slick with something, and then it clicked. He was pushing the cum that spilled out of you right back in, making sure none of it fell again. Even after he finished pushing it back in, he stayed still for a few moments, just staring at your entrance until you squirmed from discomfort.

His eyes finally snapped to yours, as if he were being pulled out of a trance. “Are you okay?” He dropped your legs slowly, making sure he didn’t hurt you. His fingers trailed against the pantyhose still on your body. “I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?”

A small smile slipped onto your face. “I’m fine, but can we take a bath or something? My legs hurt.”

“Of course. Let me go start it, and I’ll be back to help you over, okay?”

You nodded. “I love you.”

His gaze softened. “I love you too, my player two.” He leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to your lips, savoring the moment. “I’ll be right back.”

[supercorpkid]

Under Pressure.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader.

Word count: 2340.

“You have to pay more attention!” Kara says landing in the backyard. You make an annoyed sound, landing right next to her.

“I was paying attention.” You throw your hands up. You’ve been hearing this for five minutes now and you’re done.

“And still you nearly dropped it.” She follows you inside the house, and you make your way to the kitchen trying to lose her. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, momma. I’m listening. I have super hearing, so-”

“Ok, don’t be funny. You wanted to join more Supergirl missions and I went against my own principle of waiting until you’re 18, and then you almost dropped the most fundamental thing for our mission.”

“But I didn’t.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?” You huff, upset.

“I can’t bring you to missions if you’re not going to take it seriously.” Oh, so that’s her point. You should’ve known it was too good to be true. Lena said it was ok if you still went supering with Kara, but you know, deep inside, that wasn’t exactly how she was feeling about this. You know Kara, you know when she doesn’t actually mean something. And this is her not meaning a word she is saying to you.

“I call bullshit!”

“LANGUAGE!” She interrupts and you roll your eyes.

“I didn’t nearly drop it. I was paying attention the entire time and I can recite the entire conversation beginning to end. Besides-” You shrug. “Had I dropped it, I would be able to fix it on the spot, because I made it myself.” You look at her, crossing your arms. “So, why can’t you bring me to missions? The truth, Kara Danvers. Remember that we don’t do lies in this house.” You dare, earning a sigh from her instead of an actual answer.

“I guess you can still come.”

“Wow, don’t look so excited!” She doesn’t. She looks the opposite. Like she thought that her speech would work and she didn’t expect you to bite back. “And you didn’t answer the question, anyways.”

“There’s no reason-” Kara starts, but stops when you raise an eyebrow at her. “Ok, fine. Your mom thinks you need to focus more on other stuff.”

“Of course she does.” You narrow your eyes at Kara, looking deep inside hers. “What do you think I should do?”

“Focus on other-I-I think-” That’s how she leaves the sentence and you turn around, grabbing water and making your way to your bedroom. Before you leave the kitchen, though, you look behind with a sad smile.

“I won’t bother you with my presence anymore.” She tries to argue, but you’re too far away, and you pretend you can’t hear her.

You knew it. Lena tried to play it cool about you getting a bad grade, but you know her, you know Luthors. It’s not that easy and it’s not that simple. They don’t fail, they don’t raise quitters, they don’t accept nothing less than 100% at all times (or more).

Lucky for you, you had never failed anything before. But now, Lena’s true colors are shining and you can expect much more fire power coming. And you are correct.

“Um, what are you doing?” Lena asks, when she opens your bedroom door, and you look up from the game you’re playing on your videogame. You don’t answer, because it’s pretty obvious, you just blink at her, for her to go on. “Shouldn’t you be studying? Kara said you went on a mission with her this afternoon.”

“Yes, I did.” You agree, pausing the game, to look at her properly. “But it was earlier today and I already did all of my homework, and worked on a robotics project I had, so-” You show her the videogame.

“Great.” Except that she doesn’t look convinced. “Aren’t you grounded?”

“Yeah?” You ask, confused.

“Game.” She shows you her hand and you breathe deep placing your videogame on her hand. “If you have time to play, you have time to clean your bedroom.” She is almost closing the door, when she opens again and looks at you. “Dinner in 20, bedroom cleaned before it.”

You don’t answer, so she closes the door and you shuffle around in bed, upset. Too good to be true. You should’ve known.

The week goes on as you were expecting to. Everywhere you look, there’s Lena Luthor. It’s been getting kind of hard to ignore her constant presence. Now the great mother Luthor is back again and man, how you hate the great mother Luthor.

“Remember-” It’s Wednesday, she is dropping you off at school, and she doesn’t even have to say the words for you to know what’s coming after. You heard this every day this week.

“Focus your attention on your teacher’s voice.” You mimic her voice, and she looks at you, taking her eyes off the road.

“Are you making fun of me?” She asks, annoyed, and you roll your eyes, looking to the other side. “Because I don’t think is funny nor-”

“The car.” You say, pointing to the front, where the car in front of yours just stopped.

“Appropriate for you to be making-” She goes on like she can’t hear you.

“The car!” You say a little louder. “The car stopped!”

But it’s too late for her to stop now, and she’s definitely going to bump into the back of the car, whether she hits the brakes or doesn’t. You fly out the window and pick up her car, flying away with it. You land on an empty street behind your school, putting the car back on the ground. You open the door to pick up your backpack, throwing it over your shoulder.

“I get it. I can’t get distracted.” You wink, with a little bitch grin, and make your way to the school, leaving a trembling Lena Luthor behind.

You think that maybe that’s going to make her realize she’s being a little too harsh on you, but things don’t get better.

“What are you making?” Lena asks, going inside your lab on Thursday, and you look up from your prototype. Her voice is already accusatory, like you should be doing anything else, except what you’re doing right now, even though she doesn’t know what it is yet.

“Um, a solar battery for my-”

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” She asks and your face drops. Nothing has changed.

“This is studying.” You point to your book in front of you. “And I get extra points if I do it right and it works on the school’ scoreboard.”

Lena looks a little lost at the realization you’re not just playing around like she thought you were. She sighs, like she always does when she feels defeated, and agrees with her head, coming closer.

“You should change the resistor for it to have more power.” She points at it, and you look up, staring at her with a confused expression.

“I used the 4.7K, it should be enough for the scoreboard.”

“If you use the 100K you’ll have more power.”

“Mom, 100K is enough to power our house, I think I can make it work with the 4.7 just fine, if I just-”

“Fine.” She interrupts, making her way to the door. “Do it however you like it. But don’t blame me if you don’t get the extra points that you’re looking for.”

You hung your head low, thinking this feels a lot like you imagine living with Lillian Luthor would be like. The constant pressure, the picking on every detail of everything that you do. Lena leaves your lab and you put your head down on the table, feeling the tears coming. You shouldn’t feel so bad that she’s pushing you so much, but this feels harder and harder the more that you think about it, because she was never this tough on you until you got your first bad grade.

So, when Friday comes you pretty much had it with her breathing down your neck, and her aggressive attitude for absolutely no reason.

“I hope that’s homework.” She says, late at night, when she comes into the kitchen and sees you and Kara looking at something, and giggling together. It’s Friday night, she can’t possibly be serious right now.

“OH MY GOD, WILL YOU STOP?” You yell, and your eyes widen when you notice what you just did. You yelled, but yet you wish she somehow hadn’t heard you.

“Excuse me?” Lena raises her eyebrows at you. She heard you. Of course she heard you.

“I’m sorry I yelled, but God! You need to back off a little.” You regret saying that too, because her eyes are shooting daggers at you and you know you’re in deep trouble. It doesn’t really help either that Kara is looking shocked, mouth agape and wide eyes next to you.

“Do you want to repeat that?” Lena asks, giving you a way out. You should take it.

“I do not.” See. A lot easier. Except. Except the words are still fighting on your mind and you’re trying very hard to hold them back, but you just blurt out, instead. “Because I’m sure you heard me.”

Oh no. What the fuck are you doing?

Kara sucks on her breath, and you know she won’t protect you from whatever avalanche of words that are coming, because you brought this on yourself.

“You must be mistaking me for someone else.” Lena steps in a little closer. “Because I don’t believe you would be insane enough to disrespect me like this.”

“Mom, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be disrespectful.” You say, trying to calm her and yourself down. “I really don’t, but you said you weren’t mad about my grade, but you’ve been acting like you are. And then you said I could go supering with momma, but told her she had shut me down.”

“I did no such thing.” She defends herself looking at Kara, who just looks down trying to ignore her look.

“Look, I-I get it. You think that I’m a failure.” You bite your cheek, trying not to cry when you say this. “And maybe I am, because I got a bad grade, but-”

“You are not a failure.” She stops before you go on.

“Well, that’s how you’re making me feel.” You breathe out deep. “It’s too much pressure. I don’t understand what I have done to deserve that. I got a bad grade, and that’s it. I know we’re Luthors and Luthors don’t fail, but-but I told I’ll do better next time and you believed me. Why don’t you anymore?”

You feel Kara’s hand holding your knee under the table. It’s her way of saying that she’s got you, even though she’s definitely not going to say anything. It doesn’t matter, you feel supported, anyways.

“I believe you.” Lena says, pulling the chair in front of you, and she sits down with a sigh. “I just want to make sure you’re doing your best in every area of your life, baby.”

“And you think that bossing me around is going to help that?” You’re still trying to hold back the tears, but it’s harder when the next phrase goes out your mouth. “FYI, this is the first time you called me baby all week.”

Lena looks a little lost. Like she hadn’t really noticed she was being this stern with you. You clean a tear that is running down your face, and feel another squeeze on your leg. You look at Kara giving her a thankful smile.

“I agree that I shouldn’t be listening to you while I was taking a test, but I got an F in French, and still managed to help you with your experiment. So, why can’t that be a win? A tiny little ‘let’s not drive our kid to madness’ kind of win?” You breathe deep, putting one hand under the table, and holding Kara’s. She is there. She supports you.

“Ok.” Lena finally lets out, after what it feels like minutes. “Ok, yeah. I’ve been acting a little too severe for my own liking too.” You agree with your head. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re a failure because you got a bad grade. And, you’re allowed to make mistakes.”

“Not only at school.” Kara adds, earning an agreeable look from Lena. She holds your hand up, and kisses it with a smile. “You know, failing it’s not about not making mistakes. But rather stop trying. Failure is just a price to pay for success.”

“Wow.” You look at Kara with teary eyes, but a playful smile on your lips. “Where did you read that?”

“Shut up.” She jokes pushing your shoulder with hers.

“Well, even though Kara clearly just quoted someone…” Lena also jokes, making Kara stick her tongue out, in a very childish attempt to defend herself. “She’s right. I don’t want you to think you have to be right and successful all the time. What I want is for you to never stop trying to be better than you were before.”

“I can do that.” You agree with your head to make your point. “If you just let me breathe a little.”

“I can do that.” Lena parrots, and you smile a little. She calls you with her hand and you let go of Kara’s hand, rounding the table and going to her. She pulls you into her lap and hugs you tight. “I love you, babygirl. You’re not and never will be a failure to me, ok?”

“Promise?” You beg, and she kisses your forehead whispering softly onto it.

“I promise.”

And it’s not like they’re never going to pressure you to be better again. You know that this will probably happen at times. You belong to a family of heroes. Super or not. Your best is different from everyone else’s best. You were always aware of this fact, and nothing is going to change that. But you will get better with dealing with this and hopefully they will too.

Notes:

Thanks @youngjusticeimaginesus for this prompt. I hope you enjoy it :)

[wormstacheangel]

some latinenatural for my benefit mostly. read the first two chapter on ao3 aqui

Dean was still wearing a big smile when he finally kicked his boots off at home. It took everything he had to finally let Cas leave his Baby, wanting to keep pulling him in for one final kiss after another. Cas now knows what “Otro Besito.” means. Enough so that every time he heard it, he rolled his eyes, but he always leaned in. Until finally, he closed the car door and promised to text Dean tomorrow.

Cas’s number is now saved under an angel emoji porque Dean es un romantico first and foremost.

“Apenas estas llegando?” Dean looked up to see his Tio sitting on the couch with a novela playing on the tv. “Como te fue?”

“Awesome.” Dean picked up his boots and walked over to kiss the top of his Tio’s head before heading to bed. Ignoring his fake protesting of the affection. “Me voy char un baño.”

They asked about Cassie in the morning, and Dean made up some casual date, a believable one, but told them they were probably better off friends anyways. It made it harder to think of excuses to sneak out at night but working for Victor at night made it easier for Bobby not to question him.

He wished he could tell them about his actual dates. Talk about Cas’s stupid two left feet and his beautiful smile. He wished he could talk about the way Cas looked, eyes squinting and head tilting como un pajarito when Dean spoke more than three words in Spanish. But he loved it so much, and just getting those good morning texts from him made his days so much better.

[Read more under tag <3]

It was Monday again when Dean walked by Cas’s house with the raspados.

“Mi Angelito,” Dean wanted to reach and kiss him, but eyes were still watching him. So instead, he reached down and handed Cas a grocery bag filled with Tupperware. “I brought you a real lunch so you can eat it instead of just some ice.”

Cas had admitted that he came home for his lunch break to see Dean. Giving him no time to have an actual proper lunch, and Dean won’t have any of that. Su hombre va a estar lleno y feliz con su comida.

Cas took the bag in shock before handing it back to Dean. “No, Dean, I can’t take this.”

“I woke up extra early to make it for you y no lo quieres?”

“¡Si te quiero!” Cas reached to touch Dean’s cheek, blue eyes watching Dean’s reaction as he quietly added, “Mucho.”

Dean swallowed hard before taking Cas’s hand and giving it a quick little kiss before letting it fall. “Cas, cariño, I was talking about the food. I said ‘no lo quieres’ not ‘no me quieres’. Do you hear the difference?”

“Oh.” Cas stepped back and looked at the plastic bag in his hand. “Then I um-thank you.”

Dean chuckled, stepping forward to wrap Cas in his arms for a quick squeeze. “Ay, pendejo.”

“Dean!” Dean could picture the roll of the eyes without even looking at Cas. He tried to hold in his laughter as he pulled away just a little, just enough, so their faces stayed inches away.

He raised an eyebrow at Cas as he asked, “What? Ya no me quieres?”

Dean could see Cas’s wheels turning in his mind as he mouths the words Dean just said to him. The blush on his cheeks growing as the realization hits him. “Me. You said-yes! I mean, si! I mean, yes or whatever!”

Dean was sure Cas had no idea what he was saying. It’s not like he said amo. No, Cas said quiero. It was the less intense version of ammo, but still,l it relatively meant the same thing, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready to repeat it.

“Quiero un beso.” Dean says instead, wanting to rest his forehead down on Cas’s but restrains himself. The hug was already pushing it out in public.

“Dean, my brother is home.” Cas looked at the house behind him before looking back at Dean, eyes sad, but Dean only smiled back at him. His hand reaches to pinch Cas’s cheek gently while he winks at him.

Te quiero. Es lo que quiere decir pero ahorita no es el momento. It’s too early for that. Ahorita, Dean está feliz nomás en tenerlo. No tiene que decir nada. No tiene que decirle a nadie que se está enamorando muy rápido de un güero con ojos más azules que el cielo. Más brillosos que una estrella. Más hondos que el mar.

No. Dean didn’t have to tell anyone que se está enamorado de los pies a la cabeza. It’s fine.

Dean lifts his hat enough to scratch his sweaty hair before he jumps back on his bike. “Pick you up later then?”

Cas nods as he holds the grocery bag tight in his right hand before lamely waving at Dean with his left.

Dean leaves with a loud ring of his bells.

A month of sneaking around goes by with Dean asking Victor to tell Bobby he was working for him during his date nights. It was obvious Victor knew, but Dean was way too scared to confirm it. Either way, Victor agreed to help him sneak around and didn’t push for details.

Though he always eyed Cas like a challenge whenever he came around, Cas never seemed to notice as he was caught up rereading the same menu he has been looking at for weeks.

It was a Thursday night that Cas called to ask, “So what are we?”

Dean was in the middle of mopping the bathroom stalls in the office building, with Bobby doing a different one on the same floor. Sam was somewhere throwing away the trash from the offices while a few other folks that worked for his Tio cleaned up whatever they had to do. The only sounds in the offices were vacuums and music coming from someone’s speaker.

“Cas, I’m kinda busy working right now.”

“You said I could call Thursday nights cause you get bored.” Fuck. He did say that. “Unless you don’t wanna answer.”

“It’s just…no es algo-”

“English, Dean. I can’t read your expressions over the phone.” Oh, so that’s how he catches on.

“Exactly! It’s not something to discuss over the phone. We can go out tomorrow and talk about it.”

Cas didn’t say anything but Dean could hear him moving some stuff around.

“Cas?” Dean pushed the mop bucket out of the bathroom as he finished. Trying not to think about how here Dean was, working late as a janitor while Cas was staying late at his fancy corporate job. Fuck, si piensa mucho en eso se va a volver loco. “Cariño? Andale Angelito, don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Then talk to me.” Dean hears Cas make a loud and tired sigh. “Mira, que suspiro!” He teased.

“Dean, I don’t know-Ah! Fuck!” Dean hears Cas’s phone fall against something hard. Dean’s heart raced, not knowing what to do.

“Cas? Castiel!” Dean calls to his phone, already abandoning his bucket to start jogging to the door to drive wherever Cas was, even though he didn’t know where that was. “Contestame, cabron!”

Dean stops when he hears Cas awkwardly laugh through the phone. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I usually never stay this late. I’ve just been behind the last few weeks.”

Dean couldn’t hear what the other person said, but Cas sounded fine, so Dean took a breath of relief.

“Dean?”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry. The janitor walked into my office, and it scared me. I didn’t realize how late it was.” Dean can already picture Cas running his hand through his hair. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you call me…cabron.”

Mierda. “Well, you scared me! I thought something-Don’t do that!”

“Dean,” Oh, good. Cas was smiling. “I didn’t think you cared so much.”

“Shut up.” Dean heard the echo of his own voice. “Oye, cariño, take me off speaker! I don’t wanna hear myself.”

“Sorry, but I need my hands to pack up my things. But please, continue talking about how much you care about me while I do so.”

Dean grumbled, “I’m hanging up.”

“But te quiero!”

“You can’t keep using that against me, Angelito. Es tu culpa.”

Cas was silent for a second before Dean heard, “Excuse me. If you’re done, you can just-Sir? Hey!”

“Cas?” And before Dean can panic again, he hears a familiar voice call his name from the other end.

“Dean?”

Dean’s heart sinks as the voice echoes in his mind. Dean’s head falls into his hand as he starts to shake just a little before answering. “Sam. Tell me where you are.”

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 4 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

For someone so loud and obnoxious, Bakugou was proving incredibly difficult to track down.

You spent the next few days hunting all over Miruko’s agency for him, an apology sitting uncomfortably in the back of your mouth, but no matter where you went, the hero was nowhere to be found. You prowled inexhaustibly through the fluorescent halls of the underground floors, and poked around curiously amongst the messy piles of paperwork on the business floor. You’d even switched up your schedule in case he was specifically timing his entrances and exits around you, and had taken to lingering suspiciously around the training rooms like some kind of leery pervert, eyeing every blonde head of hair with a little too much interest.

The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized Bakugou wasn’t exactly the type to hide and avoid confrontation, so eventually you moved on to interrogating Mina and Kaminari on Bakugou’s whereabouts. Both of them claimed not to know anything, and no one else seemed to have anything more helpful to say either, nothing more than “I don’t know, haven’t seen him.” It was reaching the point where you were honestly considering filing a missing persons report if he didn’t turn up soon.

It wasn’t until Friday morning that you finally glimpsed a head of messy, ash-blonde hair stalking down the hall to one of the training rooms. You all but fell out of your chair and launched yourself out of the surveillance room after him, shoes slapping loudly in the hall.

You weren't exactly being sneaky, but you didn't expect Bakugou to react the way he did. As soon as you got close, he stiffened and whirled on you. You caught a flash of red eyes and white teeth bared in a snarl before the hallway tipped out of focus and your back hit the wall, Bakgou’s hand clenched in the scruff of your shirt.

“The fuck are you doing?” Bakugou demanded, crimson gaze searching you over. A scowl sat heavily on his mouth, and you noticed that the corner of it was bruised. A long scratch ran across the bridge of his nose, tapering off over one high cheekbone. The rest of him looked untouched--he was clean, and dressed in simple, dark training clothes again that hugged the planes of his chest and strong thighs.

You stared up at him, shocked to find yourself against a wall again. “You’re--you’re here.”

A blonde eyebrow went up. “I fucking work here, nerd.”

You suppressed an eye roll. “That’s not what I meant, Bakugou. I’ve been looking for you--I need to talk to you.”

“So you thought you’d charge me like a fucking rhinocerous?” he demanded. His fingers unclenched from your shirt, however, relaxing against your collarbone. You fought down a shiver as his callouses caught on your skin.

“Don’t run up behind a hero like that, idiot. Especially after a mission,” he growled.

You eyed the cut across his nose speculatively. “Is that where you were this week?”

“That’s none of your damn business, is it, you nosy little shit?” he asked, something like a self-satisfied smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.

You let your head fall back against the wall with a thunk, sighing. You’d forgotten how annoying he was in the near week you hadn’t seen him. It was going to make apologizing so fucking frustrating.

“Can you please just not make everything so difficult for once?” you asked absently, trying to dredge up enough humility to get on with your apology.

Bakugou let out a grunt, but shifted closer, one very intimidating bicep coming up to frame your head. Your mouth suddenly went very dry.

“You’re one to fucking talk,” Bakugou said, staring at you with intent.

Mina’s comments on his romantic preferences flitted to the surface of your mind in a wild flurry. Your face heated, and you desperately pushed the memories down. As much as you wanted to snipe at him with an unexpected comeback on what he really thought of women who didn’t take his shit, you did not want him to know you’d been discussing his inclinations. Besides, that would be presumptuous. Just because he had a thing for mouthy girls in general did not mean that preference extended to under-caffeinated and irritable data scientists.

You pushed yourself away from him, pressing harder into the wall in an attempt to create space. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight with you, okay?”

Those crimson eyes watched you impassively.

“Then what the fuck did you want, nerd?” he asked, leaning slightly closer where you’d just managed to create an inch of extra space. You caught that scent again, hot and butter-sweet in your nose, like burnt caramel, and tried your hardest to ignore exactly how symmetrical his face was up close.

You suppressed an eye twitch. What was his thing about walls and intimidating people? And why was he so close to you? Had this man never heard of personal space?

“Actually, I came to apologize,” you said haltingly, looking up at him. If you hadn’t been watching him carefully, you might not have caught the minute widening of his eyes, the very slightest downturn of his blonde brows.

“What?” he rasped.

“You heard me,” you insisted. “I didn’t mean that you were--uh--weak. When I said I would help the other day. That’s the opposite of what I meant.”

Bakugou’s mouth pulled into an immediate snarl. “Fuck you. I don’t need your pity. I can handle myself fucking fine.”

You huffed. “I don’t pity you. That’s not what I meant.”

“If you fucking think--”

“I don’t!” you yelped, seeming to startle him. “Can you just listen for ten seconds? I’m trying to say something here.”

“Fucking obviously--”

“Bakugou, shut up!” you demanded. “This whole situation isn’t what you think it is, okay? I--I only made a bet with you in the first place because I thought you could jump rank, alright? When I say I’m helping you, I mean that I’m giving you insight because I firmly believe that you are capable of pulling this off. I....honestly, I wouldn’t have even made the damn bet if I didn’t actually want you to try this, because everyone knows you can do literally anything if you want it enough. Obviously you’re going to win.”

He was staring now, and it was all you could do not to shrink under the intensity of his gaze.

“So before you get your panties all in a twist over the fact that I used the word help, just remember that it doesn’t mean I think you’re incapable. I think you’re the most capable out of everyone here. And if you would stop being such a fussy baby for five frigging minutes, we could get back to retraining your habits so you could prove that you are!” you finished, huffing a little with the force of your anger. You forced your fists to uncurl from where they had balled up at your side.

Bakugou watched you carefully, unnervingly silent. You could feel his gaze almost like a touch where it brushed over you, and you fixed your eyes resolutely below his face, not wanting to look at him. You shifted uncomfortably against the cold plaster of the wall, waiting for the dam to break. Where was the screaming? When was it coming?

To your horror, a smirk pulled at the corner of Bakugou’s mouth instead.

“You think I’m the most capable, huh?” he asked. His arm shifted closer.

A flush washed through you with startling speed, heating your cheeks. “Oh my god. Shut up.”

His smirk widened into a predatory smile, baring a pointed canine. “It’s okay. You can own up to your little crush on me, nerd.”

You stared at him in shock. “How is that what you took away from this conversation? I didn’t say that. How in the world would you think that, when all you do is shove me against walls and act like a ginormous baby?”

“You’d prefer I shove you against walls and do something else?” he asked, a blonde eyebrow raising.

Your mind blanked out, fuzzy with static for a moment. You fought down a tiny, traitorous shiver. What the hell was going on in his brain? And how in the actual fuck was this the turn the conversation was taking? All you had wanted to do was get him out of his snit fit so you could get back on track to obtaining software engineers. How had he gotten so off track?

“That’s not what I--! I mean, you--!” you babbled uselessly, freezing up when he shifted his arm. He watched you with obvious relish.

“Ugh, I think I prefer you when you’re screaming at me,” you groused.

Bakugou’s smirk turned wicked, and he opened his mouth to say something you were certain you absolutely did not want to hear. Panicking, you brought a hand up and shoved it over his mouth.

“Whatever is about to come out of there, just keep it to yourself,” you commanded. “Now you’ve wasted enough time dicking around. We need to retrain your habits stat if you want to have enough time for everything to propagate in the model by the end of the month.”

A rough palm came up to yank your hand away from his face. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not if you want any chance of actually winning the bet.”

Bakugou scoffed, but to your surprise, he didn’t outright dismiss you. His eyes roved over you for a few seconds more, before he pronounced imperiously, “Tell me your big plan then, nerd. I’ll decide if it’s worth my damn time.”

You sighed. It was probably too much to hope that he’d suddenly be totally amenable to everything after your big speech. He wouldn’t be Bakugou Katsuki if he didn’t make everything such a production. At least he was still here and listening, despite the front he was putting up. And the weird conversational detour he’d attempted to take.

“I was thinking you need team training,” you said lightly. “To get in the habit of sticking close by to other heroes, and to practice evaluating situations more slowly.”

He regarded you consideringly, scarlet eyes flicking over your face. “You want me to train with a bunch of these b-list fucking idiots?”

You suppressed another eye roll. “Teammates. I want you to train with your teammates, Bakugou.”

He made a dismissive noise. “As if. I’m not going near any of those annoying little shits.”

You eyed him speculatively, a thought forming in the back of your mind. “....What about annoying little shits that will go near you?”

He scowled. “What?”

You gestured past him, to the window of a nearby training room, where two familiar figures were darting around the space, throwing up middle fingers at each other as often as attacks. “I have some people in mind.”

Bakugou glanced over his shoulder. Enough of his face was in view for you to see the thunderous expression that overtook over his features as he regarded his friends.

When he turned back to you, he was growling. “No. Absolutely fucking not.”

“Heya Blasty!” Kaminari chirped over his shoulder, pausing when you’d opened the door to the training room. “And stats girl! Come to let a real hero show you how it’s done?”

He shifted up out of a crouch, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Sweat had dried in it, standing some of it on end like he’d been hit with his own lightning. Actually, judging from the singe marks all over his clothes, maybe he had.

“Shut the fuck up before I blow your brains right outta your skull,” Bakugou’s sharp tone issued from somewhere over your shoulder. You could hear debris crunching heavily under his boots, like he was stomping a little.

Mina’s wild pink curls peeked out from behind an overturned car. “Do I hear the dulcet tones of my sunshine boy, Bakugou Katsuki?”

A telltale round of crackling went off behind you, accompanied by a snarl. Mina just laughed, sliding out fully from her hiding place, looking completely unthreatened. “Relax, Blasty. No one’s around to question your tough guy image.”

Bakugou made a dismissive noise. “The fuck do you know.”

Mina made an amused humming noise. Her dark eyes found yours and she smiled conspiratorially. You were struck again by the mental image of Bakugou in makeup and had to suppress a wild laugh.

“Hey, quit it with the fucking face over there,” Bakugou barked, seeming to detect that mutual amusement was being shared at his expense. He surged past you to put his entire palm over Mina’s face. Mina only laughed louder, her peals of bright laughter muffled slightly in his hand. “I’ll fucking end you.”

Kaminari dismissed the two of them, golden eyes flicking over to you. He smiled boyishly. “So, stats girl. What brings you and your angry pomeranian here?”

“Hey, fuck you, pikachu,” Bakugou growled. Then, “You fucking--raccoon--did you just lick me?”

You bit down on a smile, glancing between Mina and Kaminari. It was unexpectedly cute, the way Bakugou was clearly outmatched by his chaotic friends. They seemed supremely unconcerned with the fact that he might actually follow through on his threats, if the way Mina was making kissing noises into his hand was any indication.

“I thought I’d ask if you guys would be willing to train with Bakugou. He needs...adjustments,” you said, making sure to steer clear of the word help. You’d said your apology, and it seemed like Bakugou understood now, but you didn’t want to muddy the waters any on that point.

“Aww, and you came to little old us?” Kaminari asked Bakugou. His tone did nothing to disguise his obvious glee.

“Fuck you, I didn’t come to you--”

“I did,” you pronounced, deciding to help Bakugou out a little. You weren’t going to get anywhere if he spent the whole afternoon flinging insults and insisting he didn’t need anything from Mina and Kaminari. “He has two areas he wants to retrain on. This afternoon I was thinking you could run a couple simulations where he has to stick close to you two instead of going off on his own to do whatever he wants.”

“I don’t go off and do whatever, you damn nerd, I finish the fucking fight--”

“Do you guys think you might be able to spare an hour or two?” you asked loudly. “I’m sure he’d be willing to return the favor for your retraining.”

Kaminari looked positively gleeful, and Mina’s unusual eyes sparkled curiously from over Bakugou’s broad hand. To your surprise, Bakugou didn’t disagree.

“If I get to play villain, I’m in!” Mina agreed, finally shaking Bakugou’s hand off. “I’m gonna melt your legs off,” she told him.

He scoffed. “Good luck trying without any damn arms.”

She made a kissy face at him. “Gonna be hard to come at me if you have to stick to Denki the whole time.”

“Hey,” Kaminari protested indignantly, but he was drowned out by Bakugou descending into an incredibly explicit rant full of choice invectives. This seemed to prompt both Mina and Kaminari to let loose their own shit talk--Mina's comments in particular so obscene and inventive they would make a frat boy blush. It took some prompting and several minutes before the three of them were coherent enough to discuss the training again.

When you eventually managed to reroute them, they drew up the terms of their practice--Bakugou couldn’t go further than fifty feet from Kaminari for the duration of the exercise, and he’d be docked points for every possible opportunity he had where he might have assisted Kaminari and instead went in for the kill on his own. You agreed to code something up quick to layer over the training footage, to identify when Bakugou strayed too far from Kaminari, or went for a shot himself. To make it stick, Mina also insisted that at the end of the exercise, if Bakugou had managed to lose more than ten points, he had to submit to a punishment of Mina and Kaminari's choosing. You shuddered to think of what that was.

Once the details were fully hashed out, you found yourself being immediately shepherded out of the training room by Bakugou. He ushered you along impatiently like a dog corralling a wayward sheep.

“I’m gonna let loose on these fucking clowns--don’t need your quirkless ass getting in the way,” he groused as he led you. This drew you up short at the threshold, and you gaped at him, eyes darting up to catch his.

You...hadn’t told him you were quirkless. In fact, you were sure you hadn’t discussed that with anyone here, not even Miruko. The fact wasn’t something that bothered you, but it also wasn’t the sort of thing you brought up all too often. So....how did Bakugou know?

His scarlet gaze flicked almost lazily over you, and he seemed to catch the unspoken question. Rubble crackled under his boots as he shifted his weight to one hip. “What? You think you’re the only one who’s done their research, brat?”

You felt your heartbeat stutter and then pick up, just the slightest bit. Done...his research? What exactly did that mean? And if he meant what you thought he meant, what was it he’d been trying to learn about you? And why did he need to know?

“Bakugou, what--?” you began, but he cut you off by raising one large hand and shoving you through the door. He leaned out after you, and you caught a hint of that burnt caramel scent again. Your mind fogged a little at his proximity.

“I’m gonna win the fucking bet,” he pronounced slowly, scarlet gaze cutting into you, “and then you’re in for it, nerd.”

You gawped up at him, unable to help the way your mouth hung open. Was he threatening you? And if yes, why was he looking so unusually calm about it? Where was the rage, the snarling and the spitting like a wet cat? And why was he looking at you like that?

Bakugou answered none of your questions, tossing you a wicked smirk instead. Then he turned and slammed the door closed on you, leaving you alone with a swirl of hazy, half-formed concerns.

What....the fuck had just happened?

[therenlover]

Heartsick (A James Patrick March/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again

Tags: Fluff, Sickfic, Cuddling, Marriage Proposal

Rating: 16+

Warnings: Language, Potentially Triggering Mentions of the Reader Being Ill for a Long Time/Almost Dying of an Unnamed Illness, Planning Your Own Death

Word Count: 3700~

This was crossposted to my AO3 under the same title!

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

James Patrick March considered himself a fairly patient man. He had to be, in his line of work. Some things didn’t deserve his patience, like lazy workers or angry hotel guests, but when it came to things that did matter, he was willing to go to extremes. Murder, for example, deserved his patience. Once upon a time, the Countess did too. Yes, patience was a rare virtue Mr. March had possessed all his life.

When it came to you, though, he found his patience running short.

You had been a revelation all your own when you first walked through the doors of the Hotel Cortez with not even a suitcase to your name, radiating purity with every shallow breath. James had been excited to find you in some dark corner of the hotel and rip the life from your body. That is until you found his little nook at the Blue Parrot Lounge and seduced him with your charming personality and sweet smile. From that moment on the Countess didn’t matter anymore. The whole world was just him, you, and all of the deliciously naughty ways he wanted to debauch you.

James had insisted on moving you into your own suite on the seventh floor that very night, just a few short hallways away from his own, and given every luxury he could offer. He was nothing if not a gentleman. It just wouldn’t be right to move the one he intended to court directly into his bedroom, especially while he was still married to his previous wide. Despite the distance, things between the two of you went swimmingly. Even the murder, which James initially worried could drive you apart, was now a delightful shared activity when you chose to grace him with your presence during a kill.

That’s where the problems started.

Mr. March was a man stuck in his own time. That’s why, after 5 splendid years with you at his side, you still weren’t moved into room 78. This also meant your suite was a place he wouldn’t enter unless he was invited. Sure, you had a healthy sex life, but the Countess still had the March family engagement ring tucked away somewhere. He wouldn’t move you into his quarters or impose himself on yours until the two of you were at the very least engaged. The plans for his and the Countess’ divorce were moving, albeit slowly, when you stopped opening the door for James.

The first day he thought perhaps you were simply elsewhere, but after a week of nothing, he began to get angry. It was one thing to deny him your company, but to ignore him while he made a fool of himself banging on your door? That was a punishable offense in the March family playbook. So, he decided if you wanted to play hard to get, he would too. In his mind, James could practically envision you rushing back into his arms once you got over whatever was souring your mood. It wouldn’t be long until the whole nasty affair was behind the both of you once and for all, right?

Wrong.

A month since he last dined with you, James sat at his table in the Blue Parrot lounge alone nursing the remains of his 4th glass of scotch.

Liz was slow to walk out from her place behind the bar. “You want another?” she asked, holding out a crystal decanter, “or should I fish out the absinthe fountain a little early this year,”

“No, no I do believe I’ve had quite enough. Besides, it’s not as if I can actually get drunk anymore,” he huffed. Whether it was the drinks or his growing rage, Mr. March found his collar feeling a bit tighter. He reached up to pull at his cravat but paused when thinking about the ghastly wound it hid. In the end, he let his hand return to its place on his glass.

“Suit yourself,” Liz quickly returned the decanter to its place and began polishing glasses.

Somewhere in the distance, Iris picked up a phone and began to take an order for room service. James had an epiphany.

“Liz!” he shouted, getting her attention, “has Y/N been ordering much room service lately?”

Liz shrugged. “Only once a day for the past month. Why do you ask?”

“I find myself in a bit of a predicament. You see, Y/N began ignoring me about a month ago. I’ve been giving her a taste of her own medicine for quite some time now, and yet she has made no attempts to seek me out. Do you think, perhaps, there could be something wrong?”

The energy in the room began to still.

“Wait, Y/N hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

The dirty glasses were abandoned as Liz let out a humorless laugh.

“Damn you, woman!” James rose with a shout, slamming his glass down on the table, “what is she hiding!?”

“She’s sick,”

James’ heart would have stopped if it were still beating. He sat down again, bewildered. “What?”

“She’s sick. Fever, puking, tremors; the whole shebang,” As she spoke, Liz came back to the table and sat down on the plush booth across from him.

“But it’s been a month! Influenza shouldn’t last that long…”

“Well, it’s definitely not the flu, I can tell you that. Last time I brought down her dinner she nearly choked on her toast. She was so weak that I had to sit there feeding her soup because she couldn’t lift up the spoon long enough to feed herself,”

It was as if James’ whole world had come collapsing down on him all at once. Mortified, he let his head drop into his hands. “Why didn’t she inform me? Am I that pathetic a lover that she would rather suffer in silence than tell me she was ill?”

“Well, to her credit, you don’t exactly look like the most comforting type. When did she move in again?”

“Almost five years ago, it’ll be the anniversary of her first entering the Cortez on the 20th,”

“And how many times in the past five years have you, I don’t know, cuddled with Y/N,”

“You insolent-”

Liz lifted her arms, offering up a white flag. “I’m just asking a question,”

James opened his mouth to offer up a rebuttal but found he had no way to defend himself.

It was true that his relationship with Y/N tended to fluctuate between chaste and lecherous at the drop of a hat. Once they had made love, it was the only habit for him to leave her in bed and return to whatever was keeping him busy at the moment. Post-coital intimacy was simply something he had never experienced or needed. Unfortunately, seeing that the only time he spent with Y/N outside of their trysts were formal meetings or dinners, there had been no time for gentility or softness between just the two of them. If ghosts could blanch, he would have.

Noticing his sudden shift in mood, Liz rose, backing off. “Now, usually I like to stay out of your business, but because your little relationship makes Y/N happy I’ll give you some advice. Go down to the kitchen, have Ms. Evers heat some broth, and give Y/N her dinner personally, maybe even give her some extra attention as a little treat. That should fix the bulk of your issues. Got it?”

He was never one to take orders, but surprisingly James nodded. He stood quickly, smoothing his suit. “Thank you for your advice, Ms. Taylor, but I must depart. My paramour needs me,”

She nodded. “Any time,” James began to hurry down the stairs, but suddenly Liz shouted. “Wait a second,”

James paused. “Yes?”

“Only the living get sick, Mr. March. Maybe, after five years, it’s time for Y/N to extend her stay at the Cortez... permanently. Just something to think about,”

He gave her a sharp nod before disappearing down the stairs to the kitchen. 15 minutes later he was waiting outside your door with a rolling cart in hard. He had already been stalling there for 5 minutes when he finally, with a deep, steadying breath, unlocked the door.

The room was dark and silent, almost like a tomb.

Your voice rang out like a bell as James pushed the cart forward. “Iris?” you called weakly, “is that you?”

“No, darling,” he responded, closing the door behind him. Slowly, he bent down at turned on a small lamp. “You won’t need Iris to bring you your dinner any longer,”

“James,” You whispered, half reverent and half shocked.

He was far too taken aback by the severity of your condition to form an immediate response.

You were curled up in bed, folded in on yourself as you wheezed for breath. As Liz had mentioned your body was weak and wracked with near-constant tremors while you tried your best to prop yourself up on the headboard. James had to abandon the cart with your dinner on it in favor of rushing over and helping you sit up. As he took in your gaunt face, his heart broke.

Your soft voice snapped him from his thoughts.

“Am I dead?”

James shook his head. “No my love, not yet,”

Tears began to spill from your eyes. “I thought you’d left me, James. I thought I was going to have to rot in this awful, dark room for eternity, that maybe ‘cause I died while I was sick my ghost was too damn weak to get up,” As you spoke, you tried to grip the back of his suit, but found you were far too weak to actually hold the fabric. Your inability to even do the simplest of tasks only made you cry harder.

Mr. March was quick to pull out his handkerchief and wipe your eyes. “Oh, my dearest, that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but none of that matters now. I cannot apologize enough for my abhorrent behavior as of late,”

“Will you stay?” your words were laced with desperation, “just for a little bit?”

“Of course, my dearest. I think you’ll find it very difficult to get rid of me from now on. Besides, I couldn’t leave my beloved paramour without doing what it is that I set out to do,”

“Which is?”

James stood and quickly returned with the room service cart. As he removed the silver tray-topper, you found he had brought you a bowl of soup, a small plate of crackers, and a tall glass of ice water.

“I intend to make sure you are well-fed and taken care of,”

“James, you don’t-” you tried to argue, but he cut you off.

“Nonsense! There is, unfortunately, no way to sugar coat this, but I will try my best,” he whispered as he sat on the edge of the bed beside you, “I have neglected you, darling, not just for the past month when I found my pride and ego keeping me away from you, but also for the past five years. I ignored your needs out of a false sense of propriety by bending to rules that are long dead and considered inconsequential. For that, I fear I may never forgive myself. Things will be different from now on, though. I hope to win back your heart properly now that I have realized the severity of my mistakes. Would you…” he paused, gulping, “would you be willing to humor me?”

You offered him a soft smile. “Oh, my beloved Mr. March, there’s no need. My heart has always been yours,”

Your words soothed him, and he offered you one of his debonair grins, the kind where his little mustache scrunched before his lips parted that never failed to sweep you off your feet.

“Now where were we!” he exclaimed.

“Dinner,” you responded.

“Ah, yes! Soup!” He was quick to get a spoonful of the warm broth and bring it to your lips. “You needn’t worry, my sweetling, I watched Ms. Evers prepare this herself. Nothing but the best for you,”

It was easy to accept the spoon into your mouth. Something inside of you knew that James would be taking care of you from now on.

The rest of dinner passed in relative silence, but you didn’t mind, far too tired to take part in any meaningful conversation. Instead, you simply enjoyed the attention. James had never been shy about his affection, but that affection always tended to come in the form of gifts or sex instead of close, intimate touch. It hadn’t bothered you enough to tell him. You always just assumed he didn’t enjoy that kind of love. Now that you’d had a taste, though, of his gentle yet constant affection, you knew you could never get enough.

Too soon the bowl was empty.

James stood, returning to the door with the cart as you relaxed and rolled onto your side. “When will you be back?”

He chuckled, opening the door. “Did you think you could be rid of me so soon, darling?” The cart was quickly pushed out into the hallway as James turned back towards you.

Your face flushed. “I just assumed…”

“Assumptions, assumptions,” he tutted, “It hurts that you have such little faith in me, but I admit I haven’t given you much reason to. As I said, things will be different now,” James perched himself on the edge of the bed with a smile as he untied his shoes and slipped them off.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off my shoes, darling, so I can join you in bed,”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had been imagining the first time James would actually stay in your bed to cuddle since the beginning of your relationship, but it had been years since you had given any thought to that silly fantasy. Could it really be happening?

Apparently, your surprise was evident on your face because Mr. March paused once both his shoes were settled neatly on the floor. “Is something wrong, my dearest?”

“Nothing, darling, nothing at all,” you were quick to explain, “we’ve just never done this before,”

James smirked like a predator who had just found his prey. “Such an innocent gesture from such a naughty little minx. I don’t recall you being so… flustered the night we met when I took you up to my suite and-”

“James!”

“Alright! Alright, my love, no more vulgarity from me until you’re fully healed and back on your feet. Well, hypothetically on your feet,” he emphasized his words with a dirty wink. Then he crawled into bed beside you as if he belonged there, scootching over until he was resting pressed against your side. You slotted into place, with your face resting in his neck and your leg thrown haphazardly across his hips as if you were made to fit his body. Holding James was like coming home.

You let out a soft, pleased sound at just how good it felt to be held.

James took this as positive feedback. As he settled in, he began running his fingers through your bedhead, combing through the loosest of the knots. Sensing something strange, he paused to put his hand on your forehead. It was uncomfortably hot. “You’re still feverish. Do you need anything? A cold compress? A wet washcloth? Some water?”

It was funny to hear him fussing over you, but it also warmed the deepest parts of your heart.

You made a negative huff against his neck. “No! You’d better not move. Your skin feels too good. It’s nice… cold. The only thing I could possibly want right now is for you to dim the lights and take your damn shirt off so you can cool more of me off,”

“I would, darling, believe me, but there’s just the small issue of the wound on my neck,”

“James,” you glared up at him, “I have literally ripped a dying man’s dick off in front of you. We have dinner with Jeffery Dahmer on your birthday every year, where I have to eat my salad as he zombifies whatever poor sap wandered into Sally’s clutches across the table. Hell, just a few months ago we fucked in that bathtub filled with some businessman’s blood. Your neck is just another part of you, James, it doesn’t bother me. Shirt. Off.”

“Have I ever told you that I adore when you take charge?”

You grinned as he undid his cravat and the top few buttons of his dress shirt. “Once or twice,” The thrill only lasted a moment, though, because before he finished unbuttoning his shirt he pulled away from your arms and got off the bed. A high-pitched whine escaped from your lips. “I thought you said you were staying?”

“I may be a ghost, dear heart, but my clothes can’t just disappear,” Always one for the dramatics, he shed his shirt and suit jacket to the floor with gusto. The sight of his bare torso made your heart beat faster. You had to remind yourself that you were sick and it would probably kill you to go for even a gentle round with Mr. March. Ah, but what a way to die…

James dimmed the lamp before returning, undoing his pants, and stripping down to his boxers. “Is this better for you darling?”

You nodded and reached your trembling arms out to your lover. “Much. Now come back to bed. You have five years’ worth of cuddling to make up for Mr. March, and I don’t intend on letting you wheedle your way out of even a second of it,”

He gave you a gentle smile as he found his way beneath the covers again. “I wouldn’t dream of it,”

Your face quickly found its way back into the crook of James’ neck. It was inhumanly cool, easing the constant burn of your fever and soothing your sore skin. The slit across his throat truly didn’t bother you. As you said, it was just another part of him for you to love, nothing more than a cosmetic imperfection.

Nuzzling closer, you took a deep inhale of his intoxicating scent. Perhaps it was the cologne he wore at the time of his death or even just what he naturally smelled like, but his pulse point radiated notes of sage and bergamot. God, how you loved him.

The pair of you were quiet for a moment with only the sound of your ragged breathing breaking through the air, but something urged you to speak your mind.

“You know, James, when you walked into my room tonight I assumed you were here to kill me,”

He chuckled. “I can’t say I didn’t think about it, my pearl,”

“Of course you did…” you went silent for a moment, “I wouldn’t have minded. This sickness is hell. I’m wasting away by the day and the pain never stops. I don’t mind dying, not when it means I get to spend the rest of time here in the hotel with you, but I don’t want to go out like somebody normal. My death needs to be special… I want to be the crowning glory of your murders, the most fantastic piece of art you’ve ever created,”

Pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your hair, James sighed. “Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but the moment I thought of you, wasting away in the darkness and succumbing to some common germ, I knew I couldn’t kill you. Not yet. I refuse to have my bride accompany me through eternity bearing a constant reminder of my failure,”

Your breath hitched. “Bride?”

Slowly, his hand made its way to your throat. There was no threat in it, he wasn’t using even an ounce of pressure. It was more of a gentle reminder of his presence; a physical conduit of his passion.

“Yes, bride. I don’t mind if you can only become Mrs. March posthumously, though I would prefer to wed you alive and enjoy your last moments of warmth in the throes of carnal delight on our wedding bed, it all depends on where your illness takes you next. Until then I will be glued to your side. No more harm will come to you. I shall nurse you back to health with my own hand so that you glow with life long after your death. Yes, Y/N, your death will come, but not until I have done my best to atone for my mistakes in your life,”

“Was that a proposal?” You gazed up at James with wide, misty eyes.

He huffed out a laugh. “I suppose it was, and a poor one at that! To think I stalled for years in the hopes of finding the perfect moment to present you with my mother’s ring only to pop the question in bed with no ring in sight. I do hope you’ll say yes. I’d be rather crushed if you rejected me after all this time,”

You nodded, small tears escaping as you pressed your face into his soft skin. “Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot. I would’ve married you if you were the poorest man in the world and proposed with a ring-pop,”

“Then it’s settled. You shall be my wife as soon as you are well enough for me to fuck you again! I quite hate that Will Drake, but I believe he’s our best, quickest option if we wish to get you a dress commissioned. I have a few ideas drawn up already waiting in my office… perhaps I should call Ms. Evers and have her take them to him,”

“Shhhh,” you smiled into his neck, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, “we can figure out the details later. For right now, though, your fiancée is sick and she needs some TLC. What are you gonna do about it, Mr. March,”

He growled. “Well, I suppose ravishing you is off the table. Hmmm... what to do to my darling girl to make her feel better?” With a gentle nudge, he tilted your head up and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s a start,”

-------

a/n: I hope you liked it! I’m really leaning towards writing a second part of this where the reader actually dies, so let me know if you’re interested. Also, my requests are open if you want to see any of Evan’s other characters! 

Please don’t post my work to other sites, thank you <3

[ap-kinda-lit]

Request: KawaSara; Sarada running on a treadmill while connected to a heart monitor as part of a stress test, Sarada's heart beating faster and faster and harder and harder, causing Kawaki to become concerned about Sarada's health.

ask and ye shall receive!

Sarada was laser focused in on the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the treadmill's pace. Her legs moved in sync with the machine and she made sure to keep her breathing steady and her mind clear while jogging. Focus and jog, focus and jog she chanted in her mind. She didn't dare spare an iota of her attention to her newest teammate sitting close by, playing audience to her procedure from the comfy, recliner armchair. Why he chose to be present for her afternoon stress test, she did not know. Probably just sheer boredom she figured. They had been in the hospital recovering from their recent battle for almost a week now and restlessness was settling in. Kawaki had the worst of it to the point that he would wander aimlessly through the corridors, spying on the patients and doctors. Sarada's mother, the head of the hospital, said she was glad that Kawaki was moving about with no problem, though Sarada was not unaware that some of the patients and doctors were somewhat unnerved by the sulking, strange adolescent stalking the building like a fleshed out ghost. But it seemed Kawaki wanted to do something different today. So here he was overseeing his teammate's procedure.

Sarada didn't mind him being there, not at all; though, for some reason, he was proving to be somewhat of a distraction to her. Kawaki had always been a subject of interest to the Uchiha, ever since he first butted in to her life. She was drawn to him. Not in that way, of course! He was her teammate and the hokage's ward/student. He came from out of nowhere and was still totally new. She was interested in getting to know who he was and what he was about, that was all. It had been a difficult task, though. Kawaki was a hard shell to crack. Trying to get through the walls he had built around him was like trying to get into a solid fortress with no intel, no assistance, and no weaponry. But Sarada Uchiha didn't back away from a challenge. She was always up for one and the tougher, the better. And boy oh boy was Kawaki a challenge. Sarada couldn't resist stealing a glance at the boy. He was reclined back in the chair with his arms resting behind his head and one leg crossed over the other. His eyes were lazily focused on the machinery, Sarada, and the nurse charged with overseeing Sarada's test. He looked as if he was watching reruns on television from how laid back and indifferent he appeared. Then again, he was usually like this. And when he wasn't, he was stiff and irritable instead. Sarada didn't know which demeanor was more frustrating to her. He was frustrating. And handsome. a small voice jumped in from the back of Sarada's subconscious. Sarada's body went alert at that minor thought and frantically tried to suppress it. Try as she might, Chocho's comment about Kawaki's looks from her first introduction to him lingered within Sarada's mind. It probably did because it was kinda true. Kawaki was a good looking guy. But Sarada refused to admit it and would continue to for as long as she could. Yet, she couldn't prevent the intrusive thoughts and emotions she would get pertaining to him. Like not just noticing his looks, but also how he would react when he tried new foods, how he tried to seem like he couldn't care less but he really did, how hard he tried to improve not just in training but how he would conduct himself around others, and so on. Sarada didn't realize that the more she delved into her thoughts about the bi-colored haired boy the quicker her heart beat became. "Sarada-san, perhaps you should take it easy." the nurse's voice broke Sarada out of her contemplation. Her face turned red and she reluctantly climbed down from the treadmill. "Is something wrong?" Kawaki asked. Sarada blinked. "No, I just might've overdid myself." she said. Kawaki turned to the nurse. "Why did her heart rate go up like that?" "It was probably exertion like Sarada-san said. Nothing to worry about." the nurse explained. The frown on Kawaki's face made it evident that this answer was not good enough for him. "She wasn't running that hard." he retorted. Sarada waved her hand at her teammate. "Kawaki, it's nothing." she spoke. Kawaki humphed then reached for a cooler containing a number of cold water bottles. "Here." he bluntly stated and forcefully held out a bottle to Sarada. The Uchiha heiress looked at the bottle in his grasp with bewilderment. Kawaki was always blunt and uncouth, but not like this. He was being...caring? If she could call it that? He was fretting over her but he was being so angry about it. It was weird, but it was appropriate for Kawaki. Sarada shrugged and took a swig of the cool, refreshing water.

+++++

The next day, Sarada did her stress test again. Like the test the day before, Kawaki was present. "Try not to get worked up again." he told her when she got on the treadmill. With that said, he took to skimming a couple of the magazines that were left in the room for other patients and their families. But even while he was reading the articles, he would glance up at her every now and then. Sarada was caught off guard by Kawaki's concern and sudden devotion towards her well-being. It wasn't like him and it was so abrupt. And a bit embarrassing at the same, given that her 'health mishap' the day before was brought on by a moment of school crush-like fixation towards him. But Sarada felt like she would die of embarrassment if that truth came to light. Sarada treaded at a moderate pace on the treadmill and did her best to keep her breathing and heartbeat steady and her mind off of the grump a couple of feet away from her. This proved to be difficult because of the brief yet almost constant looks he was giving her in the process. She could feel his eyes flicker onto and off of her and the heart monitor every now and then. It was more than enough to make her stomach do somersaults and her chest tighten. Soon enough, her heart fluttered and it did not go unnoticed by the monitor. "Sarada, are you okay? Do you want to take a break?" the nurse asked. Sarada shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine." she insisted. A feeling of embarrassment settled in her and quickened her heart beat. Sarada heard Kawaki grumble and the next thing she knew, he was up and pulling the monitor's sensors off of her, ignoring the nurse's objections. "Kawaki!" Sarada complained but Kawaki didn't listen. He pulled at her wrist to lead her out of the room. "Where are we going?" she demanded. "I'm taking you to your mom. She ought to do something to cut this out." Kawaki said. Sarada's face flushed at the mention of her mother. She did not want her dragged into this. It was already embarrassing enough as it was. The tightness of Kawaki's grip on her wrist and the look of annoyance and determination on his face kept Sarada from trying to put a stop. With a reluctant sigh, she went along.

+++++

Sakura put away her stethoscope once she was finished the check up on her daughter. "Your heart rate sounds average." the pink haired doctor said. "If that's so, how come it acts up like that?" Kawaki insisted behind the older woman. "It could be nothing to worry about, but I'll have extra observation assigned over Sarada's heart beat." Sakura assured the boy. Kawaki's mouth pouted and he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. "Kawaki, if Mama says it could be nothing then it probably is nothing." Sarada said. Kawaki didn't respond and only continued to pout. "Kawaki, why don't you go to Boruto's room. The hokage and Hinata will be visiting any minute now and I'm sure they'll want to see you as well." Sakura told the dissatisfied teenager. Kawaki looked like he wanted to say something else, but he listened to the older woman's directions and left, albeit with reluctance. Sarada internally sighed in relief over not having him hover over her now. Sarada was about to stand up to go when her mother spoke again. "Is there something I should know about you and Kawaki?" Sakura asked. Sarada looked up at her mother. "What do you mean?" Sakura smiled. "I mean, should I address Kawaki as your new friend or your boyfriend?" Sarada felt like she had been hit by a train at her mother's remark. "What!? N-no! Mama, it's nothing like that! We're only teammates!" she practically squealed defensively. Sakura giggled at her daughter's response. "Sweetie, I heard your heart rate. It would speed up coincidentally when you would notice Kawaki." she patted Sarada's head. "And I'm not only a medic, I was once a girl with a crush on her teammate once, so I think I know the difference between a heart irregularity and a girl's reaction to a boy she likes." "Mama!" Sarada groaned. She couldn't recall ever being more embarrassed than she was at that moment. Sakura put her hand on her daughter's back. "Don't worry. I can keep a secret. I'll tell Kawaki that it was nothing and it was all a glitch in the monitor system." Sarada wanted to defend herself but a sudden shyness prevented her. With that, her mother gave one last kiss on the head and sent her off. Sarada huffed. Fortunately, her mother wasn't wrong: she could keep a secret. She might have had the wrong idea, but she wouldn't blab about it to anyone. Thank goodness. Now all she had to worry about was getting a hold of herself over that moody, overprotective teammate of hers.