#me when i sit down to write more of this AU: what compromising situation can i put elijah in today

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐨

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: listened to juno in the car and had this idea 😋

summary: based on the song by sabrina carpenter (you babytrap nat); g!p nat, college!au, natasha's kind of a fuckboy

warnings: contains quite a bit of smut (hence the 18+ tag), babytrapping (= mildly toxic relationship?), buff athlete nat because that’s a warning in itself

word count: 11k (i fear it’s gotten impossible for me to write anything under 5k words lol)

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Initiating public sex in front of your friends should never be a good idea.

When you're as bored as you are right now, though, that opinion quickly begins to waver.

Hand under your shirt, your head on her shoulder. The movie you're watching is one you haven't seen before. Teen pregnancy, Michael Cera, indie soundtracks, yawn. You sigh, first quietly, then a little louder.

Natasha's nose brushes against your temple. Her hand travels higher up, fingers grazing your bra.

"Not a fan?", she mumbles. You lean into her, feeling her bicep against your shoulder. "We can ditch them."

"No." It's been a while since you last had time to spend with your friends. It's also been a while since you didn't sneak off early to fuck each other brainless. "Let's stay", you say, turning your head. "At least so we can see whether they actually fall for each other."

"No offense, but who would fall for that guy? Even I would look better in those shorts."

"Don't disrespect Michael", you mumble, smiling. "Also, you'd need bigger ones to fit everything, babe."

In front of you, Clint rolls his eyes. He lets out the longest sigh known to man and turns his head, his expression lacking any amusement whatsoever. He should be used to this kind of behavior, but to be fair, he just wants one night where your shameless PDA doesn't ruin everything.

"Alright", he says. "One more comment like that and-"

"God, you're a prude." She throws her empty red solo cup at him and he jumps up. "Chill."

He directs one last warning glare at you both, then he plops back down onto the floor. As soon as he's distracted again — drinking beer, talking to his girlfriend — she pulls you closer. Your hand finds her lower stomach, gently pressing against it.

Her breath hits your ear when she exhales, hot and slow. Your hand moves a little lower. Not too far, just enough to flirt with the limit. Her fingers curl into the soft skin of your stomach.

She doesn't say anything, though. Your fingertips dance over the fabric of her sweatpants. They graze the bulge there, prominent even when she's not hard, before finally cupping it. A sharp breath escapes her.

Still, she doesn't stop you. Her eyes stay glued to the screen, where Juno is currently giving birth. The way she's staring makes it seem like she's actually invested in what's happening, but you know the truth. One wrong move, and she'll either embarrass herself — or ruin her pants.

Or both. Most likely both.

You already look irresistible enough, wearing that sinfully short skirt. With your legs tucked under your butt and your vanilla perfume clouding her senses, your hand on her cock can only lead to a disaster.

"Y/N", she whispers through gritted teeth. You palm her crotch and feel her harden.

"Mhm?" You lean in and press your lips to her jaw. Red lipstick stains her skin. It's a sight so satisfying that you keep trailing kisses across her cheek.

Natasha closes her eyes. A noise, muffled and quiet, gets stuck in her throat. You scoff and move your hand to wrap your fingers around her length, only the fabric of her clothes separating you.

"What is it?", you ask, giving a few testing strokes. She shakes her head and you finally hear that soft whimper you'd been waiting for. "Aw, poor baby. All worked up."

In front of you, Steve mumbles something. He gets up, but before he can turn around and catch Natasha and you in this compromising situation, you move and quickly sit on her lap.

Bad idea. This might be worse than the almost-handjob you were about to give her.

Steve doesn't notice anything, but you do. Her head falls forward to lean against your shoulder, her hands grip your waist. You shift and grind against her boner, feeling her tip rub against the wet patch on your panties. At least your skirt hides everything.

You rub against her with more insistence, eyes closing. Her cock, though still clothed, fits perfectly between your folds. If you try hard enough, you can pretend she's inside of you.

"Fuck", she moans. You reach behind you to squeeze her, squeeze any part of her you can reach. "Fuck, I'll come."

Clint pauses, then slowly turns his head. You go completely still, eyes fixed on the tv and your hands folded in your lap. He knows you better than to believe this little act you're putting on, though.

You're surprised he doesn't drag you out by your collars, but you get sent back to your dorms anyway.

"Idiot", you say, grabbing the front of her letter jacket. You pull her into a deep kiss, her hands roaming your body. Salt and butter, sugar and green apple. The snacks of the evening created an addictive taste, and you silently thank Clint for not getting garlic knots again.

"You started it", she pants, trailing her lips down your neck. Your back hits the wall of the dormitory, her hard-on pressing against your hip. Her hand disappears under your skirt and palms your crotch, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties. You're dripping down your thighs. "And I'll end it. Fuck."

You moan, the sound a little too obvious. It's quiet outside, apart from the occasional hum of car engines in the distance. Due to it being a Tuesday night, there are no parties. Most people are either in their dorms or pulling an all-nighter in the library. If anyone's got their window open, they'll hear you.

Natasha sinks her teeth into your shoulder. You cry out, a little louder, and she shushes you by nudging your panties aside with her fingers.

"Quiet", she mumbles, voice gentle like a praise. "Quiet for me, baby."

You writhe when she pushes two fingers into you. They slip in easily, your folds slick with wet heat, and immediately begin thrusting into you. You buck your hips to meet her movements, but she pulls out before you can even get started.

"Hey", you protest, ignoring the fact that she's already got her arm wrapped around you. Fingers in her mouth to lick off excess moisture, she pulls you toward the entrance. "Nat, I'm horny."

"Where's your roommate again?"

"Huh?" You frown, then lightly slap her chest. "Right! Good call."

She laughs quietly, the sound rough and strained, and walks up the stairs. Her hand moves to dip under your skirt. She gropes your ass, kneading the flesh. "I seriously don't know how you got into college, baby."

"Wow. Here I was, considering head tonight, and you made me change my mind."

"Oh, please." She pushes open the door and walks you to the bed. As soon as she's seated, you straddle her and wrap your arms around her neck. Her hands are under your shirt before you can even kiss her. Her tongue brushes against the seam of your lips and you open your mouth.

You grind against her boner, which only makes the ache between your legs worse. Natasha breaks the kiss to tug off your top. Her eyes dart a little lower, zeroing in on your chest. Full breasts, spilling out of a lacy bra with tiny hearts embroidered in it.

Her face sinks to bury itself between your boobs. You feel wet kisses on your skin.

"Taste so good."

"Nat."

"So soft."

"Nat."

She huffs, but doesn't look up. Her hands move your hips, making you rub against her cock. The crotch of her sweatpants is stained with a little wet patch. "What?"

"I want you to fuck me, not make out with my breasts all night long."

You feel the heat of her cheeks. Smirking faintly, you run your hand into her hair.

"Screw you."

"I'm trying." You twist a strand of her hair around your finger and tug. "Come on. I thought of a new position we could try."

That manages to make her look up, though she seems skeptic. It's almost like a game you've been playing — who can come up with the wildest position? Anything counts, as long as it leads to at least one of you having an orgasm.

"You better not disappoint this time", she says and kisses your jaw. Her hands splay out on your ass, fingertips brushing under the fabric of your panties. "That last one was a letdown."

You hum. You have to agree with her here — sidesaddle riding doesn't work no matter how you interpret it, apparently.

"This one's good", you say, getting off her lap. She groans.

"We could pause the game", she pleads, making puppy dog eyes at you. It's a fun game, sure, but sometimes, she wants to see your face while she fucks you. "Just tonight."

You tilt your head at her, eyebrows raised in silent approval for her to keep going.

"I'll let you top", Natasha adds. That's enough for you to be sold.

. . .

When you wake up, it's because of someone knocking on the door.

At first, you don't notice it. Too tight is sleep's grip on you, too warm is your bed. You're curled into Natasha, her arms wrapped around you and holding you close. But then they knock again, more insistently this time, and you sigh.

You squint to block out the sun and get up, stepping over the empty ramen cups you discarded on the floor after a late-night craving. Behind you, Natasha mutters something and rolls over. You slip into a loose shirt and open the door.

Randy, your resident advisor, pauses when he sees you. Messy hair, a thin shirt that barely reaches your thighs, your neck littered with marks. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Yes?", you drawl. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. His freckled face flushes pink and he coughs. "Come on, I don't have all morning."

"There, uhm- there was a noise complaint", he says, fingers drumming against the clipboard he for some reason always carries around. "From one of the other students."

You give him a blank stare. "Okay?"

"No, not okay. Look, I don't care what you do in your free time, but maybe keep it down? The walls are quite thin, and the excessive noise, uh..." He sighs, eyes flitting down your body again. He shifts awkwardly, clipboard angled a bit, and you realize that he's trying to conceal a certain problem he's run into.

If the situation was different, you'd be irritated. But watching Randy, the 30-something guy who started working here two years ago, stumble over his own words and stutter like a nervous first grader, is too amusing to genuinely get pissed.

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Deep breaths, honey. Don't faint on me."

He tries to glare at you, but fails miserably. "Y/N, I'm being serious. Others want to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah." You wave your hand dismissively. "I'll tell Nat."

Behind you, Natasha groans into your pillow. "Tell them to mind their own business", she mutters, voice rough with sleep. "Or move the fuck out."

He briefly peeks into the room, then directs his attention toward you again. You give him a challenging look.

"Nat", he repeats. The way he says her name does manage to irritate you now. You know what others think of her. You also know they're not entirely wrong. "Oh, yeah, fine. Good."

"Good", you repeat, stepping back with one hand on the doorknob. "Oh, and Randy? I know you've been getting, like, zero action lately, but I just woke up. Not even you can be that desperate. Maybe touch some grass?"

He lets out a choked sound. Before he can say anything, you wave two fingers at him and close the door.

"Buh-bye!", you call, just before the door snaps in. You twirl around and spot Natasha, still half asleep and sprawled out on your bed. Her red hair is loose for once, messy and soft, and you ignore the urge to get back into bed with her.

She hums, stretching like a cat, all lazy smiles and toned arms. An admittedly enticing sight. "Got rid of him?"

"Oh yeah." You run your hand along her arm. "I kinda feel bad for the guy."

"Don't. He's a creep." She puts her hand on the back of your thigh, tugging on it. If you didn't know better, you'd think she's scared you'll just slip away. "Feel bad for me. The abandoned girlfriend."

You huff, not budging. You'd love to go back to bed, but you have other things to do.

"Classes", you remind her, turning away. You take off your shirt and she groans. "Shower, too." Your panties follow. This time, she lets out a full blown moan.

You turn around and give her an unimpressed (albeit slightly amused) look. "And that is why we got a noise complaint."

"Come on", she whines. "Not even professors like their own classes. You can afford ten more minutes, baby. I won't even make you put on your clothes again."

"You say that like it's supposed to benefit me."

"It benefits both of us." Natasha grunts and finally sits up, slouching. Her arms are crossed over her lap as her eyes travel up and down your body. It takes you a second to realize why.

She tilts her head, cheeks pink. The expression on her face is both guilty and hopeful, like she's weighing her odds. A productive day or a few more minutes — maybe hours, if she plays her cards right — in bed with her?

Her chances aren't looking too bad.

"You can't be serious", you deadpan. Of course, she is.

"I'll be quick."

"You're never quick!"

"You can't blame me for that", she retorts. "God, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you for the next few hours?"

"Next few 'hours'? Babe, you have practice today. Plus, I wanted to go shopping."

Natasha flops onto her back dramatically. It gives you a full view of her body, head to toe, with her not-so-little problem included. You bite the inside of your cheek frustratedly as you realize she's chipping away at your resolve.

"Practice isn't that important", she mutters, her forearms covering her eyes.

"Babe, you're team captain", you say, turning around. Focus on something else, anything else. If you cave, you will definitely be late. Or, worst case scenario, you won't leave your dorm before lunchtime — again. "Just...take a cold shower. I'll see you tonight."

She mutters something about 'showers being a scam' under her breath, then finally gets up. You watch her gather her stuff and get dressed, but you keep her letter jacket clutched to your chest. She raises her eyebrows and reaches out her hand.

"No."

"That's mine."

"Nope."

Natasha rolls her eyes, but ultimately just kisses you before slipping into her shoes. She can't help it — she's weak for you.

"I'll get you back for this", she says, then the door falls shut behind her.

. . .

The basketball circles the hoop once, twice, leaving everyone on the edge of their seats.

One leg crossed over the other, you lean forward. Red lips part slightly, manicured nails dig into the thin skin of your knee. All eyes are on the ball, which wobbles — but then it slips off and bounces away. You groan and toss your head back.

"Come on, Romanoff!", someone next to you shouts.

"Damn it", you curse. You go to her games all the time, and usually, you enjoy it. Watching her miss a shot, however, is not the most pleasant part of the experience.

Natasha runs her hand over her hair, clearly frustrated. She's been off her shooting game today, and she doesn't know why. She's not doing anything different.

You watch her trail backwards, bouncing on her heels and her eyes locked on the hoop. When she hears her team's complaints, she turns around. She yells at a teammate, then at a player from the opposite team, before the coach calls for a timeout.

She jogs to the bench, snatches her water bottle, and tips her head back to take a swig. Baby hairs stick to her sweaty temples, the veins on her arms popping. You lean forward.

"Nat!"

She looks up, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. Then she realizes it's you and, just like that, her scowl softens. She glances at her team to check if anyone's watching her before approaching you. You're in the first row, right next to the home team's bench, so all she has to do is lean on the barrier separating the seats from the court.

"Hey", she says.

"'Hey'? Are you kidding me? What the hell was up with that shot?"

Natasha frowns and huffs. "Alright, I don't need a lecture right now. So unless you want to kiss me for good luck-"

A girl from her team — one you don't know too well — nudges her. Natasha barely glances at her, but it's enough for you to lean forward and tug at her ear.

"What the fuck!"

"I'm serious! You missed by, like, half a mile."

The glare she gives you is deadly, but you deserve it. You are being a little unfair. For good reason, though: whenever you're there to berate her, she suddenly starts playing much better. It's like magic. She needs a healthy dose of bullying from you for her performance to be at its peak.

"Alright", she snaps. "Be my guest. Suit up and try, if you think you'll do better."

"Oh, no." You reach up and brush your fingers along her jaw before resting them under her chin. "You're the best, aren't you? So show me that's true, and I'll reward you. But losers don't get a reward."

"You drive a hard bargain", she mutters. You smile innocently and tap her bottom lip. "Fine. Fine, I'll...do better, I guess."

"That's my girl", you purr and, with a light push against her mouth, send her back to her team.

The game continues.

Before halftime, Natasha's team was trailing 34-37, but after some strong defense and a layup, the score is tied again. That is, until the opposing team hits a couple of shots.

You're agitated, but confident. At least you're pretty sure you are.

Most of her games are like this. Her team needs to be slightly behind for her to be able to give it her all. You convince yourself it won't be different this time, either.

Eyes zeroed in on Natasha, you watch her every move. How she dribbles the ball, weaves through the defenders, loses the ball again. The game is a close one. They're playing against one of the better teams this time, and it shows.

It's a back and forth between the teams. The opposing team gets a small lead, which is quickly lost thanks to another shot. During the last minute, they're tied again. Teams are trading baskets, but you don't know whether you should stay positive.

For a while, it looks bad. Time is running out. Then, in a split second, Natasha is open at the top of the arc. The pass is fast, almost too high, but she catches it. Your breathing stops for a moment and you barely manage to restrain yourself from jumping up from your seat.

Five seconds left. The team's are neck-and-neck. Natasha has the ball.

Three seconds left. She makes her move, stepping back for a three-pointer. She rises, muscles coiled, and lets the ball fly.

One second left. After cutting through the air and briefly hitting the hoop, the ball swishes through the net.

66-64. The buzzer sounds. Her team has won.

You're on your feet before you realize it, yelling along with the audience. Natasha's team crashes into her the second she's back on the ground, but she only lets them slap her back and punch her arms for a few seconds before she weaves through the small crowd.

You hop over the barricade and into her arms, not caring about the fact she's all sweaty. Her lips press against your neck, her hand rubs up and down your back. She spins you around.

"You did it!"

"Because of you."

"That shot was amazing. More of that, please."

Natasha laughs, low and rough and exhausted, and tips her head back to look up at you. You smile and kiss her. She tastes like salt and Gatorade.

"Still the best?", she teases after pulling away. The soles of your sneakers make a quiet thudding sound against the vinyl floor.

"Always", you promise, pecking her lips once more. Natasha smirks and tugs off her jersey to hand it to you. With the fabric gone, she's almost naked. Only a sports bra and shorts cover her body. You earn a few stares from the opposing team, who isn't used to your little ritual, but you don't notice. It's a nice view, so you'd be an idiot to look at anyone but her.

You put on the jersey and let her pull you into her side again. She kisses you, slow and unhurried, while leading you back toward her team.

It's a last minute decision from the team to go to a bar together. Natasha takes a quick shower before you leave, now wearing something more comfortable. Getting her to dress up is a losing battle, so you don't even try this time. Plus, there's something distinctly attractive about the grey sweatpants she's sporting (or rather, what she's sporting inside the grey sweatpants).

You stay glued to her side pretty much all night. You're in her lap, her arm firmly holding you in place. The bass makes the ground vibrate and the alcohol is clouding your senses, but it's still early enough for you to be somewhat aware of reality.

You lean your cheek against her temple, then turn your head to brush your lips against her skin. She hums and squeezes your thigh, but her attention wavers. Two girls approach her, both of them around your age and probably fellow students.

Natasha glances at them, eyebrows raised. You cup her nape and brush your thumb against her hairline.

The girls smile, a little too brightly, and start talking about the basketball game. They're shameless — even with you, wearing Natasha's jersey and sitting on her lap, they're still going on and on about the game and the shots she made.

With every word that leaves their glossy pink lips, Natasha's focus on you slips more and more. Her hand on your thigh loosens. Her gaze, first flickering between you and the others, starts to linger on them. Her lips curve into that confident little smile you know too well.

You roll your eyes and scoot off her lap. If she has to do this, you don't want to be present. You excuse yourself and go to the restroom, where you freshen up. More lipstick, more perfume. You lift the front of Natasha's jersey and take a whiff to see whether it smells. It's not horrible, but noticeable enough, so you decide to change into the top you brought.

When you return to the bar, Natasha has leaned over to the girls. Arms crossed on the bar's counter, a lazy smirk on her face. The post-game glow is on full display. She tilts her head and mumbles something. It takes you a moment to realize she's flirting.

The girls are delighted. Giggling, shrugging, leaning forward as well. Their expressions indicate they clearly believe at least one of them has a shot. You understand why — Natasha, even after getting into a relationship with you, never quite got rid of her fuckboy-image —, but that doesn't mean you're not furious.

You want to compose yourself, you really do. You're pretty sure this isn't what it looks like, anyway. Fingernails digging into your palms, you watch them for another moment. Then, Natasha subtly bites her lip in that way that first drew you to her, and you've had enough.

You're next to her within seconds, your hand wrapping around her wrist. She lets out a grunt as you drag her away, leaving the two girls speechless and mildly annoyed.

"Have you lost your mind?", she complains, finally finding her voice again. You're already halfway into a bathroom stall.

"Have you?", you snap, pushing her inside and slamming the door shut. Natasha pauses, her eyes traveling up and down your body. The top, almost translucent and leaving little to the imagination, has her more than a little distracted. "My face is up here, you bastard."

"What? Hey!" She frowns. "What happened? What'd I do?"

There's a significant height difference between her and you, but it's not like that ever bothered you. You shove her against the wall, your eyes blazing. Her first instinct is to step forward — she's taller, all shoulders and muscle —, but she can tell you're pissed. Once she realizes she's fucked up, she lifts her hands and almost shrinks under your glare.

"Are you playing dumb? Don't play dumb!"

"What are you even- I was talking to them! They asked about the game!"

"You were flirting!"

Natasha scoffs, her cheeks a nervous-rosy pink. It'd look cute if you weren't about to slam her head through the plastic wall of the stall.

"I wasn't 'flirting'", she argues. "I was talking to them."

"No", you retort. "You were flirting. I could tell. They had that glittery look in their eyes stupid bitches get when you're close to them."

She blinks, caught off-guard, and her head tilts. The word you used is one you usually stay away from. The second you start cussing out other girls? Okay, now she knows you're mad mad.

"Baby", she says slowly, "I swear we were just talking. Nothing else. I don't give a fuck about anyone but you, and you know it."

"Right." You let out a bitter laugh. The sound makes her stomach tighten. "That's good to hear. Maybe it'd be believable if you hadn't tried to-"

The door of the bathroom stall next to yours opening cuts you off. You pause and turn when you hear the quiet pattering sound. Toilet paper rips. The person flushes. Then, shuffling of feet. It takes unbelievably long, and you let out a long sigh.

"Can you hurry?", you finally bark, and the person drops their purse. Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry!", they say, their voice a squeak, and leave the stall. Water runs, more paper towels, then the door falls shut. You turn to Natasha again, whose ears are as pink as her cheeks.

You raise your eyebrows, as if daring her to say something. Her mouth opens, then closes, and she rubs the back of her neck.

"Okay", she says. "Maybe it was flirting, in a way. I didn't mean to, though."

Your fingers tighten on the front of her zip hoodie. Her eyes widen in silent panic.

"You can't flirt without meaning to flirt!"

"You totally can", she says, her back thudding against the wall once more. "Can you stop that?! Jesus, you're scary."

That last bit is mumbled, but you hear it anyway. It's enough to make you laugh — a sound that slips out unintentionally — but you quickly shake your head.

"I can be way scarier, you know. This is nothing."

"I totally believe that", she says, frowning petulantly. "You're turning into a tiny terror."

Despite your anger, your lips twitch again. Your grasp on her hoodie loosens, your scowl softens the tiniest bit. It's enough for Natasha, who first tried to gauge your mood for a few seconds, to take a leap of faith.

"The sexiest tiny terror", she adds, pulling you closer. You sigh. "My tiny terror. Why would I want anyone else when I have you?"

"This feels like manipulation, babe."

Her eyes light up — babe. She's getting somewhere.

"It's not", she promises, kissing your forehead. Her hands roam your sides, your hips, and slip under your top. "I'm being serious. Scout's honor."

"You're so full of shit."

Natasha grins and keeps kissing your face. Your cheeks, your eyebrows, the corner of your mouth. Unfortunately, each press of her lips against your skin softens you further. You'll probably just have to accept she's an expert at buttering you up.

"Come on now", she mumbles, her mouth against your ear. You giggle quietly when her tongue briefly flicks against your earlobe. "You know you love me."

"I must've done something terrible in my past life to deserve this."

She hums, her hands palming your sides. You exhale and lean into her, willing yourself to not give in — and failing. Her lips brush against your neck, sucking a hickey into the sensitive skin, and a shiver rolls up your spine.

Without really noticing, you press closer. Natasha's fingers find the clasp of your bra and swiftly unhook it.

"Hey", you protest, trying to bat her hand away. She buries her face against your neck, but doesn't budge. Her hand slides around to your front. "I can't believe I put up with you."

"Me neither", she mumbles, smirking faintly. "I'm a lucky idiot."

"Well, that's true."

Natasha kisses your neck, then your shoulder. Her hands push up your top and reveal your skin inch by inch. Your breath stutters when, suddenly, the roles are reversed and you feel your back against the wall.

Your hands come up to tangle in her hair. She grips your thighs and mouths at your neck.

"You're not forgiven, you know."

"Sure."

Her teeth sink into your neck. You barely manage to speak.

"I mean it."

Underwear around your ankles, you help her tug her sweatpants down. She struggles with the condom, but once the piece of plastic is wrapped around her cock snugly, she holds your hips in place and buries herself inside you. No time to adjust — she sets a fast pace.

The back of your head hits the wall and you let out a moan. Natasha keeps rutting into you, moaning breathily, your hands in her hair and her hands gripping your ass. She stuffs you up to the brim, cock pulsing and twitching, and pounds into you relentlessly.

Right as you're just about to tumble over the edge, the bathroom door opens again. You feel a moan rise up in your throat and quickly slap your own hand over your mouth, stifling the sound. Natasha laughs breathlessly, but then whines against your neck.

Whoever entered seems oblivious. They're on the phone, talking rapidly, while water flows in the background. You hear the clinking of stilettos on tiles and then smell a faint waft of some overly sweet perfume.

This whole situation usually wouldn't pose much of an issue. You're close enough, and you know from experience that you can keep quiet when needed. But Natasha, being who she is, slows down. Her grip on you loosens, her movements are drawn-out. Your thighs tremble and you groan against your own palm.

"I'll kill you."

"Ssh, baby", she mumbles, dragging her lips along your jaw. Her hips meet yours, again and again and again, but she's going too slow to really achieve anything. "Don't get us caught."

Every deliberate roll of her hips sends shockwaves of pleasure through you. You whimper and bite down on your palm harder, meeting her movements with your hips. The pressure increases, and so does the need to push Natasha to go faster. Your thighs clench around her, but all she does is smile against your neck. You rock against her hips, desperate for more.

"Fuck you", you hiss, but the words die on your tongue when she picks up the pace. She ruts into you, urging you closer to the edge while you wrestle with the impulse to shout her name.

"I love you", she says, each word punctuated by a soft grunt. The bathroom door falls shut, and you finally get coaxed into that sweet high of mindless oblivion.

. . .

The sun is long gone, replaced by the milky light of the moon that's seeping into the library.

Natasha called it a 'study-session', hoping it'd turn into something else entirely. But exams are coming up, and as much as you'd like to hide in the encyclopedia aisle and hook up again, you'd rather she passes.

You're sitting on the table in front of her, with her head in your lap, as you test her knowledge on the subject. Sports Law — something you've only gotten familiar with since dating her.

"That's wrong", you say, running your fingers through her hair. "It's title IX of the education amendments of 1972. You should know that, babe."

She groans and turns her head, burying her face between your thighs. You smile faintly and drum your fingers against her scalp.

"Who cares? I'll pass, anyway. I always do."

"I want you to ace this one, though."

"Pipe dream."

"Nat."

Another groan. She pushes up the fabric of your shirt and shifts, her lips brushing against your lower abdomen. You bite back a soft sound of pleasure.

Not now. You have other things to focus on. But god, her hands start massaging your thighs, and her lips feel warm and plush, and the library seems empty enough. Heat pools in your lower belly and you quickly shove her off you.

"No", say, voice strained. "Study. Now."

"You're boring", Natasha mutters, grabbing the book and skimming the pages. "I know all of this. It's easy."

"You got four questions wrong", you counter, glancing at the screen of her phone when it buzzes. Her wallpaper flashes on the screen — a picture of you, only wrapped into silky bedsheets, with kiss marks on your shoulders and your hair a mess. But that's not what catches your attention. It's the message that just popped up.

A girl named Tara.

Natasha lifts her head and peeks at her phone. You snatch it before she can reach for it.

"Who's that?", you prompt.

"A girl from Sports Economics", she says, sitting up. She tries to grab the phone, but you hold it out of her reach. "Babe."

"Why's she texting you at midnight?"

"Not sure", she replies, irritated, and tries to grab it again. Her fingertips brush against the edge of the phone. "I could tell you if you'd let me read the damn text."

"She always texts you this late?", you ask, glancing up at the phone.

A simple message — hey, you awake? :) — but still unexpected enough to annoy you. You squint and try to look at her profile picture.

"Hold on, is that the girl who said hi to you in the cafeteria the other day? The one with the pink eyeshadow?"

"Yeah", she says, her arm dropping in defeat. "Tara. Like I said, I know her from Econ."

"It's midnight", you mutter, bringing the phone back down. Before Natasha can protest, you've used her face to unlock the phone and opened the chat. Natasha rolls her eyes and huffs, so you pinch her bottom lip. "You should tell her to find some new makeup. I thought she was fighting for her life against allergies."

"You're mean."

"Her makeup sucks."

"Doesn't make it any less mean", she argues, resting her head on your lap again. She sighs, eyes closing, and waits for you to finish whatever you're doing. "Still scrolling?"

"It's a long chat", you mutter, thumb swiping over the screen. Luckily, the messages seem innocent enough. At least Natasha's do. "She wants you."

"I'm pretty sure she's straight."

"Nat", you say, putting her phone aside. "Straight girls want you, too."

She looks up, smirking. You flick her forehead.

"Ow!"

You narrow your eyes at her, watching her rub the spot you flicked. "You're enjoying this."

"I am", she says bluntly. "You're going on and on about some girl I really don't care about."

"She cares about you", you argue. "In the past, that seemed to be enough."

Natasha scoffs and sits up, leaning back in her chair. She studies you for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest, then sighs. Her legs stretch out under the table.

"Exactly", she finally says. "In the past. Not now, not last week, but when it didn't matter."

"I feel like some things don't stop mattering."

"Like my love for you", she flirts. You kick her side and she lets out a quiet 'oof'. "What'd I do to deserve that, huh?!"

"You can't flirt your way out of everything, you know!"

"I'm not flirting my way out", she protests, looping her arms around your waist and tugging you closer. You sigh, thighs snugly wrapped around her torso. "I love you. Nothing can change that."

"No?" You give her a skeptical look. She just shakes her head and leans in, pressing a few kisses to your chest.

"No", she mumbles. "I love you. Period. Now stop worrying."

You stare at her as she nuzzles and kisses your chest, slowly moving upwards. Her thoughts are somewhere else already, whereas you're still stuck. Tara, the girls at the bar, the stares Natasha gets all day long. Your worries, fears, and how easily she can dismiss them. How, when you're mad, she manages to worm her way out of just about everything.

Smooth words and soft touches are her specialty. She uses them like a tool, which can be hot, but also incredibly frustrating. You know why it's so easy for her — because she knows you'll stay. You won't leave. She claims that the same thing is true for her, but maybe she'll need to prove that.

The thought creeps in slowly, dangerously. It's nothing more than a small, fleeting idea at first, but the longer you watch her, the more drawn to it you become.

Natasha says she's yours. She says there's nothing to worry about. You'd love to know whether she actually means that.

She loves you, after all. Logically, she'd love a tiny version of you just as much.

"Hey", you mumble, eyes focused on her. She pauses, lips pressed to your jaw. "You seem distracted."

"Can't help it. I'll need a different study-buddy to be able to concentrate on anything but you."

"Oh yeah?" You glance at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. Almost 1am. "It's late, you know. We might as well leave."

She hums against your skin and looks up. "Your dorm's still empty?"

"Mhm", you say before you're able to reconsider this whole plan. "We got the whole room to ourselves."

"Well then", she says, getting up and pecking your lips, "what are we waiting for? Let's go."

The hallway is as empty as the library was. Natasha presses you against the wall, caging you in between a corner and her body, and kisses you. Hands bunch up your shirt, feel heated skin. You wrap your arms around her neck and hum into the kiss.

Her hand dips into the back pocket of your jeans. She fishes out the key to your dorm, then leads you down the hallway. One arm wrapped around your waist, she unlocks the door using her free hand.

Bodies tumble onto the mattress together. Breathy laughter, stripping of clothes, bare skin on bare skin. Natasha turns, opens the drawer of the nightstand next to you to look for condoms, but you tug her on top you again. She doesn't resist and kisses you, lips moving and messing up your makeup.

You feel her nestled inside of you, every vein and throb noticeable. She grabs and angles your thigh for deeper access, her moans mingling with yours. Lipstick marks smudged on her cheek, hickeys on your chest. The bed frame hits the wall with every thrust, muffled thuds filling the air.

Her hand finds your lower belly, pressing down on it. Natasha feels her own outline through the soft skin and groans quietly. Teeth nip at your neck, her hips meeting yours a few more times. Then, the anticipated release and the relief that comes with it.

Warmth pools deep inside of you. It drips down your thighs, staining the bedsheets, but all you manage to do is turn your head and bury your face in her neck. Your fingers brush against your stomach, and the full acceptance of what might happen starts to set in.

. . .

Weeks have passed. Late spring has turned into something resembling an early summer.

A little '+' confirms it.

You're alone when you take it. It's quite early, not even 6am, but you got woken up by someone yelling in the hallway. The test was right next to you, lying on your nightstand like a bad omen, then you finally grabbed it and got up.

Taking it wasn't hard, but checking the result is. You stare at the test in your hand, your brain too tired and sleepy to process everything. Leaning against the wall of your dorm's bathroom, you try to let reality sink in. It doesn't feel real. Not yet, at least.

Knowing it is real helps, though. You put the test aside and exhale, fingers drumming against the tiled wall behind you. Your thoughts are more of a mess than you thought they'd be.

It was a heat-of-the-moment, impulsive decision. It was also incredibly stupid. Yet you're here, eyes glued to the ceiling, and find yourself regretting nothing at all. At this point, not even the thought of her reaction scares you.

She said she loved you. All you're doing is putting that love to the test. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Bullshit. You know you've fucked up.

You meet her after class, as you agreed on earlier that morning. She seems calm, happy, completely oblivious to what secret you're (literally) carrying with you. Hands on your waist, she pecks your lips, then she grabs your backpack and slings it over her shoulder.

It's a warm afternoon, so you head to the mall. You grab a few things you need — new pajamas, some shampoo, a water bottle to replace the one you lost. Natasha tosses a pack of condoms into the shopping cart and you barely stop yourself from reacting too obviously.

On your way out, you pass a store that exclusively sells baby-related items. Strollers, onesies, highchairs. You avert your eyes and stay close to Natasha's side.

Late evening. You're back on Clint's couch, passing around pizza and trying to decide on a movie. Clint complains about Laura's last pick — Juno — which, apparently, most of you didn't like too much.

Natasha pulls your legs over her lap, lightly massaging your shin. She's only in a white tank top that leaves her shoulders and arms on full display. You'd be distracted if you weren't worrying about other things already.

"I wasn't a fan, either", she says, glancing at Clint. "But I did like what it led to."

"Right. I swear to everything that's holy, if you start something like that again-"

"Seriously, calm down." She raises her eyebrows. "Keep ranting like that and poor Laura will think you're going celibate."

He rolls his eyes and slumps into the couch, one hand swatting at her. She laughs and bats him away. When she glances at you, she notices how quiet you are, and nudges you.

"You're unusually non-hyper verbal, baby."

"I'm good", you say, stretching. "Just...bored."

You're not bored. You're far from bored. But you needed an excuse. However, Natasha takes it the wrong way, and a tiny smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah?", she says, running her hand higher. First it touches your knee, then it brushes under the hem of your dress. "Bathroom's empty. Maybe we'll even make it into the bedroom. I heard Mr. Prude over there got a new mattress."

"Romanoff, I will-"

"Shush." She raises her eyebrows at him before leaning closer to you. Her breath fans your cheek, her voice is a raspy murmur. "If you want us to ditch them, just tell me. I'll get us outta here."

"I'm fine", you assure her. "Just get me a beer."

Natasha nods and turns, grabbing a can from the ice bucket they prepared. She cracks it open right as you realize you probably shouldn't drink it.

"Actually", you stammer, "I'm good. None for me. Thank you."

She raises her eyebrows, but doesn't comment on it. Shrugging, she takes a sip.

"Sure", she says. "I can get you a coke?"

"No, thanks." You shake your head and sink into the cushions, trying to keep the heat from your face. It's difficult, though, and it only gets worse when a character in whatever movie you're watching (truthfully, you aren't paying much attention) is revealed to be pregnant.

You rub your neck, throwing glances at Natasha every now and then. She's still oblivious. Then, she catches you staring, and her head tilts in silent question. You pause before getting up and dragging her along.

"What...?"

"Not in my bed!", Clint shouts.

"We're not having sex!", you yell back, slamming the door to his bedroom shut.

"We're not?"

You turn toward Natasha. "No", you say, awkwardly crossing your arms. "We're not."

"Shame", she says, smirking, and pushes her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She studies you for a moment and her smirk softens. "You alright?"

"I'm fine", you lie. "We need to talk, though."

Her smirk disappears entirely. She frowns, her gaze steady and attentive. Alright, you think. You're mine now. Have fun finding out about it.

"Talk?", she says, leaning against the closet. "About what, baby? Did you do something?"

"Uhm..."

"You did?" She grins faintly. "Wow. Didn't expect that to ever happen. How bad is it?"

"It's not funny", you say, plucking at the strap of your dress. "You won't be grinning like that once I tell you."

"Don't underestimate me", she teases, hands slipping out of her pockets to rest on your arms. "Anything can be funny, if you're looking at it the right way."

"Oh yeah?" You pause. "How funny is us being in this for the long haul?"

"Not very funny, honestly. I wouldn't mind, though."

"Mhm." You tilt your head. Your heart beats faster and faster, but at this point, you have to say it. "Good to know."

"It is?" Natasha hums and pulls you closer, her lips brushing against your nose. "Want to make it official, or why's that?"

"I mean, having a baby is pretty official."

The second those words leave your lips, Natasha freezes. First, she just stares at you. Her hands drop to her sides. She takes a step back, then another, her eyebrows furrowed and confusion etched into her face.

The gears in her head start turning. She tries recalling whether you've been using protection, but then her brain fails her, and she exhales sharply. Silence lingers, heavy and uncomfortable, before she finally blurts out.

"We're what?"

"I'm pregnant", you say. "Took a test. It's positive."

"You...I..." She rakes her hand through her hair, her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Another step backwards, and her back collides with the wall. "We were careful."

"Oh, no." You watch her, growing more worried. "We weren't. Not that night after the library."

Natasha looks at you. Her brain eventually catches up.

"Oh, fuck", she curses. "Fuck. Y/N!"

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?!"

"Can you calm down?" You tilt your head. "You said you're in it for the long haul, no?"

"You can't be serious!"

"Uhh, guys?"

You whip around. The door is still shut, but Clint is standing behind it.

"What?", you call, irritated.

"Look, no idea what the hell is going on in there, but if you need help..."

"No help. We're fine."

"Are we?", Natasha hisses. You look at her.

"Oh, relax", you say, rolling your eyes. "You'll live."

She lets out a panicked wheeze and scrubs her hand down her face. You're being too calm, too nonchalant, whereas she feels like she's about to have a dozen panic attacks at once. She's not one to let herself get tied down. At least, that's what she always told herself. You may have changed that belief, but old habits die hard.

"I can't have a kid now! I- I have practice, I have games!" Then, as if the thought just hit her: "This is like a teen pregnancy."

"You're in college."

"Same thing!"

"Absolutely not the same thing", you argue, stepping closer. "Look, it won't be easy, but it could be worse. I mean, you love me — now imagine how much you'll love a tinier, cuter version of me."

She shoots you a glare, her breathing still uneven and rapid. "Don't think you can get much tinier."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Absolutely not", she mutters. "Pretty sure that's what got me into this mess."

"You're saying I should've gotten railed by someone else?"

Another glare. This one shuts you up. Natasha turns, looks out the mirror, glances at the striped bedsheets and the painting on the wall. Finally, she looks at you.

"I shouldn't even ask, since you seem perfectly fine", she mutters, crossing her arms. "But what about you? You okay? I mean..."

"I'm fine", you say, more quietly now. She nods and looks away again. You step closer and cup her face, standing on your tiptoes to litter small kisses across her cheeks and forehead. With every touch, her panic softens into mild anxiety. Then, at last, her arms wrap around your waist.

You look at her. Natasha exhales sharply, like she's trying to make peace with it all. She doesn't smile, but her fingertips graze your lower belly.

"If we're doing this", she mumbles stubbornly, "I get to teach them basketball."

"Fine."

"They get a jersey. A tiny one. With my number on it."

You sigh. "Sure."

"Also, no more junk food. The baby eats what you eat."

You scoff, squishing her face. She gives you another halfhearted glare.

"I will end you", you say, squeezing again. She shakes her head and tries to pull away from your grasp. "I mean it! What's life without fries?"

"Depressing", she says, hands sliding to your front and then back to your waist. "But healthier for whatever is growing inside you."

Your expression turns deadpan. "It's a baby."

"Show me an ultrasound first."

"You know what, maybe I did make this up."

..."Excuse me?!"

"I'm kidding!"

"No", she protests. "Now I want to see a doctor's note."

You let out a long exhale and pull her closer, your face against her neck. You press a kiss to her pulse point to keep yourself from slapping her. Sometimes, you wonder whether she's annoying intentionally.

But then, she softens. Her arms wrap around you, muscles enveloping you in safety and warmth, and her lips press kisses to your hair. Her heartbeat against your ear, her scent everywhere around you, you feel yourself melt a little.

"If this is real", she says, shushing you before you can interfere, "I'll do my best, alright? I'm not good at sticking around. I know that. But you have made me stick around, and I'm sure the baby will only make me stick around longer."

"'Longer'", you mumble, voice muffled, "better mean forever in this case."

"I said what I said."

"Romanoff."

She laughs, still shaking a little, and tightens her hold on you. Her nose is buried in your hair.

"We're also finding an apartment", she murmurs. "The dorm's too small. Can't fit a crib in there."

"Obviously."

"And we're not telling the others. Not yet."

You hum, hands sliding under her top and feeling the muscles on her back. Her skin is warm and smooth, making you press closer to her. She groans softly.

"No?", you ask, drawing shapes on her lower back.

"No. Not until I don't feel like passing out just thinking about it."

You laugh, fingertips pressing into her skin. You look up at her and smile. The smile you get in return is a bit strained, but her hands come up to cup your face. You lean in and kiss her.

First, it's soft and slow. Her thumbs brush over your cheeks. A quiet hum comes from her throat.

Then, you're walking backwards. You feel the mattress against your legs. You pull away and raise your eyebrows.

"Now?"

"Cut me some slack. I need to relieve stress."

You huff, but she's got you on your back before you can say anything else. Your hands fumble with her hair, releasing it from the loose bun, and watch the red strands come free. She hums and kisses your shoulder.

Her hand dips under your dress, traveling upwards until her fingers reach your stomach. She touches it, tentatively, before fumbling with your underwear. You let out a sound of approval, head dropping onto the mattress.

"This baby better not change anything", Natasha says, bunching up your dress around your waist.

"Change what?", you ask lazily.

"This. Us." She leans down and kisses your thigh. "You know what I mean."

"I truly don't."

She palms herself through her sweatpants, her eyes shooting you an unimpressed look. "You can't be that dense. Jesus Christ, my child is going to be a moron."

You scoff and flick her shoulder, but there's a faint smirk on your face. This is good. This is safe, familiar. "Can't believe I let you knock me up."

Natasha smiles. For a split second, her fingers twitch against your lower stomach before she focuses on pulling your underwear down. As if on instinct, she reaches for the condom in the pocket of her sweatpants, but then pauses. She glances at you. A look is exchanged, and you both start laughing.

It's slow, this time. Slow and lazy, unhurried. Your earlier 'fight' scared Clint off, so he doesn't even interrupt you. Neither of you is sure what's coming next, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.

. . .

By the way Natasha is staring at the screen, you'd think she's seeing an alien.

Truthfully, it might be one. You're not sure. All you know is that the white blob does not resemble a human in the slightest.

You glance at the ob-gyn, who seems unfazed. She keeps moving the transducer over your gel-slicked stomach, making the image on the screen waver. Finally, she stops and hits a button. The image freezes.

You squint at the screen. A blob. A vaguely human-shaped blob, maybe, but still a blob.

"There's the baby."

You look at Natasha. She raises her eyebrows, seeming helpless. Where?, she mouths.

The doctor is used to this. She doesn't even need to ask you anything to zoom in and point again, but it only helps minimally.

"Oh, yeah", Natasha finally lies. "I see it."

"Yeah", you add, trying to avoid the ob-gyn's eyes. "It's cute."

The woman sees right through you. She smiles faintly and prints the picture for you, then she wipes your stomach down with a few paper towels. "It's fine if you don't see it", she says, throwing the towels away. "Most parents don't. Babies do look a bit deformed in the beginning."

"But it's healthy?", Natasha asks.

"Completely healthy. Don't you worry." She smiles and tugs off her nitrile gloves. "I'll be back in a minute, alright? Feel free to look at the image and play 'Where's Waldo.'"

You hum noncommittally and glance at the ultrasound picture. Still a blob.

Natasha's fingers twitch against her knee and she shifts. All of this is becoming way too real way too soon.

"It's gonna come out looking like a real person, right?", she mumbles, frowning.

"You're kidding."

"Sorry, but it looks like something you'd see under a microscope."

You grab the first thing you find — your cardigan, bunched into a ball — and toss it at her. She catches it and spreads it out over your legs.

"Nice one", she says drily. "Come on, you can't tell me that looks like a baby."

You roll your eyes and glance at the picture again, fingers brushing over the glossy surface. She's right. It doesn't even resemble something supposedly alive, let alone a human being. But it is a human being, according to the doctor, and that's all you need to know.

"Maybe it's taking its time getting cute."

"That'll take a while."

"I hate you."

. . .

Nobody knows. Not yet. But hiding it is getting harder with every day.

Basketballs bounce, shoes squeak, the air smells of sweat and gym air. You watch the ball be thrown in your direction and you catch it, then toss it aside.

It was a flirty text that led you here. You were in bed, drunk on sunlight and half-asleep, when your phone buzzed. The picture you got was one you couldn't complain about — Natasha, in front of a mirror, only wearing boxers (just slightly tugged down to reveal an additional sliver of skin) and a bra. A picture taken in the locker room of the gym, right before practice. It was enough to get you semi-conscious and shoo you out of bed.

Practice is over now, so you walk onto the court. Natasha wraps her arms around you and kisses your cheek, her hand sneakily moving to your stomach — still pretty flat, but your shirt hides the tiniest of bumps.

"You did good", you say, smiling, and cup her face. The heat is making the ends of her hair curl, and strands of baby hair stick to her sweaty temples. You scrunch your nose, brushing a damp strand of hair off her forehead. "Really good. But that last shot was...meh."

"Criticizing me?" She scoffs and presses her lips to yours. Around you, her teammates talk and grab their stuff before heading to the showers. "A little more support would be appreciated, you know."

"This is me supporting you", you point out, walking her out of the gym. "What else do you want me to do, huh? Cheer? Fetch some water?"

"I wouldn't say no to seeing you in a cheerleading uniform."

You scoff, your hands wrapping around her lower arm as you lead her across campus. Only a handful of students passes you — it's summer, and most people are either visiting their families or vacationing. Not you and Natasha, though. You're spending your free time looking for an apartment.

"You'll have to wait around 6 more months for that." You pause, quickly re-calculating. "I think. My brain isn't working the way it's supposed to."

"Nothing new", she mumbles, shooting you a smirk when you jab your elbow into her side. "Kidding, kidding."

She squeezes your waist and leads you to the campus parking lot. She's still in her jersey, all sweaty from practice, but you have an appointment for an apartment viewing soon. Actually, you've got a whole list of apartments you want to look at. Natasha is taking apartment-hunting very seriously.

Too seriously, you're starting to think. Suddenly, not only the size of the apartment and the neighborhood where it's located are important, but also a bunch of things that are, in your humble opinion, simply not relevant.

"This next one has a basketball court nearby", she says, adjusting your seatbelt for you. "Good for early practice, you know. For the kid."

You raise your eyebrows. "For our fetus?"

"Hey, never too early."

You keep your thoughts on that matter to yourself.

At the apartment, the landlord shows you around. Kitchen, living room, bathroom, two bedrooms. Everything seems to be going fine. Despite still being in a sweaty jersey, Natasha manages to make a good impression. Then, he dares ask about your current family situation. That's when the usually so composed woman starts stuttering.

"Well, engaged. I guess. I mean, not yet, but in a way. Uh...fuck. Y/N?"

You glance at her, frowning. "Engaged? Where's the ring, then?"

Natasha looks at you. The panic in her eyes almost makes you laugh.

"Are you engaged or are you not?", the landlord asks. "It's fine if you aren't. Not that important, really."

"We're not", you say. "One day, though. Or so I hope."

"Yeah, yeah", Natasha says, still stressing. "One day."

A few more apartments you look at are enough to wear you out. You collapse onto the bed in your dorm, face buried in your pillow and one leg hanging over the edge. Natasha sits next to you and squeezes your butt, smiling.

"Hey", you mutter, voice muffled.

"Hey yourself", she teases. Her hand travels lower, tickling the inner part of your thighs. You squirm and she laughs quietly. "Tired?"

"Exhausted."

"Can't blame you for that, baby." She leans in, pressing a kiss to the sliver of skin between your shirt and shorts. "Want me to order dinner?"

You glance at her, eyes lighting up with hope. "Pizza?"

"We said no junk food."

"You said no junk food."

"Think about the baby", she says, tugging at your shorts. "Mhm, you could take these off."

You snort and kick at her blindly. You manage to hit her in the ribs. She lets out a grunt and pinches your butt cheek. You roll over, one cheek reddened from the pillow, and give her a challenging look. "Ouch! Come on, I'm growing your kid. Least you can do is get me a pizza."

Her fingers trail up your spine. Before you know it, she's lying behind you with her front against your back. Pressed together from head to toe, not an inch of space separates you.

She kisses the back of your neck. Her hand rests on your stomach, rubbing gently. "You're right", she mumbles. "You've trapped me. Pizza it is."

The words trapped me make your cheeks go warm. You snuggle into her and ignore the guilt and satisfaction warring inside you. This is something she'll find out about one day. Maybe. But right now, you're too happy in your little bubble to make it pop.

"I want garlic bread, too."

"So demanding." She hums and dips her hand into the front of your shorts. Her bulge presses against your butt. "How hungry are you, exactly?"

You whine softly. With the pregnancy making your body overly sensitive, every little touch sends sparks of want through you. Heat pools in your lower belly and you shift, grinding against her. She hums, her fingers tugging at the waistband of your shorts. White lace is revealed, and she moans.

"Really hungry, actually", you mumble, squirming. "But I'm willing to wait."

"Thank god", she says, peppering your shoulder with kisses. "I was considering jerking off in the bathroom otherwise."

"Gross."

"Love you too."

Natasha somehow manages to place the order. It's difficult, though, especially when you roll over. One leg hooked over her waist, she whines and rocks her hips against yours pathetically. You laugh and then moan, feeling her hard-on nudge all the right spots.

You bury your face in her neck and place kisses until her entire neck is covered in lipstick. Finally, she tosses her phone aside. You both ignore the sound of your roommate's lamp crashing to the ground and instead focus on each other.

. . .

Natasha was never one to get easily distracted by an audience.

Now that there's a tiny viewer in the stands, though, that has changed.

Niko is barely old enough to stay awake for longer than two hours, but that doesn't mean he can't go to his mom's basketball games and watch. One hand wrapped around your finger and earmuffs that look way too big on him, he's undeniably the star of the stands.

You thought he'd be a tiny you. As it turned out, Natasha's genes are a little too stubborn for that. His eyes are still baby-blue, but the redness of his hair is unmistakable. Paired with the matching jersey he's sporting, you feel like you're carrying a much smaller version of her around.

You ignore the looks and the delighted whispers. As always, your focus is on Natasha. That's something that, even now that you have a baby, never changed. It's her game. She's the important one here.

You watch her dribble the ball as she scans the court. Focus unwavering, she dodges a defender and leaves them stunned. With one leap, she soars into the air and lets the ball swish through the net.

Not too long ago, you would've jumped up and cheered. But you don't want to jostle the baby too much, so you settle for clapping awkwardly while holding Niko in one arm.

Natasha turns, eyes glistening, and spots you in the crowd. You take Niko's hand and make him wave at her. Her smile only widens.

Minutes later, the buzzer sounds. Another victory.

Natasha comes rushing to the stands before anyone can even attempt to congratulate her. She helps you over the barricade, then takes off her jersey to hand it to you. The piece of fabric is swapped for the baby, who clings to her like a little koala.

"Did you see that?", she asks, breathless, and pats Niko's back when he starts fussing. "What a shot!"

You nod, laughing, and kiss her cheek. Sweaty as always. And, also as always, you don't find it in you to care.

"I did", you say, putting on her jersey. "Much better than in that first halftime, babe."

"Yeah?" She looks at the baby. He's still fussy, one hand grasping at her shoulder. "What about you, bud? You like it?"

"Didn't even cry once", you say, brushing your fingers over his tuft of hair. "Which is a miracle."

"It definitely is."

You linger by the barricade, talking and smiling, exchanging quick kisses. Natasha's teammates approach you to ask whether you want to go out and celebrate, but you decline. They leave, buzzing with joy, only for a few girls to introduce themselves to Natasha.

This time, all they get is a brief smile. She kisses Niko's cheek and leads you away from the court, away from the crowds, away from the noise.

"Not gonna stay and talk a bit more?", you tease. It's surprising, how much has changed. Her habit to flirt excessively seems to be gone. It's something you're thankful for — having to fight her about that was tiring.

Natasha shakes her head. You walk through a hallway, sneakers squeaking on the floor, and turn a corner. The locker room is empty when you enter it.

"Nah", she says, sitting down on a bench. She gently takes the earmuffs off Niko's head and watches him yawn. "I'd rather get home. He looks tired."

"He is, yeah."

"You're tired, too", she points out. You tilt your head and smile faintly.

"And here I thought I applied enough makeup."

"Don't worry, you're gorgeous. But you also look tired."

No point in denying that. Niko is merely four months old, and he's far from sleeping through the night. In addition, Natasha is unable to get up most nights, since practice and the games are demanding. She tries her best to juggle college, basketball, and an infant.

"Fine", you admit. "He kept me up all night. But I'm okay, I swear."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I'd look more put together, but you try applying lipstick while holding a squirming baby."

Natasha laughs and reaches up to take your hand. You're on her lap before you know it, nestled against Niko. She kisses your shoulder.

"You look put together", she assures you. "Tired, but put together."

You smile and lean into her. Her arm is strong around your waist, biceps swollen and veins popping, and you turn your head to kiss her cheek.

"All for you", you mumble. Then, you tap Niko's nose. "This' all for you, too."

"Oh, I know." Natasha nuzzles her face against your shoulder. "Lucky me. Lucky you. We're all lucky."

Lucky you, indeed.

[kylermalloy]

Set in the boyking!Klaus AU

Rebekah gasps when she sees Elijah changing his shirt. “Lijah, what happened to you?”

Bruises pepper his neck, his shoulders, his hips. Small, but dark. Intense. Fresh.

Niklaus’s gaze snaps to her at the use of his name for Elijah.

Elijah hurries to put on his new shirt, hiding the marks.

“Were you in a fight?” Rebekah’s concern pitches her voice high. Elijah’s not the one to get in fights. That would be Kol—or Nik.

Elijah will not meet her eyes. “Something like that.”

His lip is swollen too, she notices.

She cannot stop herself from asking, “Did you win?”

“Not quite, Bekah,” Nik interjects. His hand creeps around Elijah’s throat to finger one bruise, still visible above his collar. “He was bested. In fact, I’d say he was torn to pieces.”

Nik’s smile is positively gleeful.

“Niklaus, please.”

“What? You were practically begging for mercy.”

Rebekah wonders what manner of fight would have Elijah plead for mercy while Nik stood by and let him be beaten.

“Brother…”

“You know I love when you lose control. That helpless look in your eyes.”

Elijah ducks his head as color rushes to his cheeks.

Rebekah leaves them to their playful quarrel. There’s no stopping Nik when he wants Elijah’s attention. As usual, they seem to be speaking a language she does not understand.

“That wrinkle in your brow. Let me smooth it out.”

“Niklaus.”

“Just one kiss.”

“Later. She’ll see.”

“No, now. You’re too pretty to look so worried.”

Rebekah turns around long enough to see Niklaus embracing Elijah from behind, with his hands inside Elijah’s shirt. He drops a kiss on Elijah’s cheek, letting his lips linger there.

Elijah’s eyes are closed, his brow indeed wrinkled in some worry or conflict.

Niklaus catches her staring. “Eyes forward, little sister.” His hand curls around Elijah’s jaw possessively.

She hurries on her way.

“Going to kiss you now.”

“Nikla—”

(She does not understand.)

More boyking snippets

[mango-bango-bby]

This is kinda my first time requesting something to you. So I'll try my best to explain

Imaging mafia!Dabi so upset that you paid more attention to hawks then him so you decide to give him a little attention. If you know what I mean.. While hawks is outside the door listening (by dabis orders)

You can just skip past this is you dont like the idea. Bye!!

♡ Alone Time ♡

(A/N: I love this idea!! I’ve been getting a lot of requests for Mafia AU DabiHawks 😭😭 Like I don’t have any Haikyuu requests lol!!! But I hope you like this, I’m not sure if I’m to great at writing smut like this 💖)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, MAFIA AU, NSFW, penetration, fingering, slight voyeurism, slight humiliation (I think???)

Summary: After giving to much attention to Keigo, Dabi decides he needs some alone time with you (Yan!Dabi x Fem!reader x Yan!Hawks)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

Series Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Dabi and Keigo always had a rivalry when it came to you. Although they compromised to share you, that didn’t mean they didn’t fight over you. Especially when it came to you favoring one over the other, so after Dabi found you in a compromising situation with Keigo, he demanded some alone time with you too.

Keigo leans against the bedroom door, being locked out. Of course this was part of the agreement when they each had your alone time with you, the other was forced to sit on the other side of the door.

“Don’t cover your face” Dabi commands, hearing you whine when Dabi curls his fingers against your inner walls. “If you do that again, I’ll have to tie your hands” He teases, chuckling lowly when you immediately pull your hands away from your face. You now clutch onto the satin sheets.

“Dabi- ‘M gonna cum” you whine, pushing your lips together so you don’t let put to many loud moans. Dabi slows his movements. “You’re gonna cum, hm?” He asks, watching you weakly nod and your chest heave. Just as your climax comes, he pulls his fingers out of you leaving you wanting.

“Don’t stop, please” you plead, Dabi putting his hand on your hips to stop your wiggling. “Fuck...” Keigo mumbles, only imagining how you look right now. Although, he guesses for now he’ll just have to deal with hearing your moans and cries.

“Wouldn’t wanna waste that on my fingers, I‘d rather have you cum on my dick” Dabi says, smirking at the flustered look on your face. You let out a yelp when he pulls your hips closer to him.

You bite down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from crying out when you feel Dabi push into you. No matter how many times you did it, it never failed to burn with how large he was. “Let out those moans, doll” He says, using his hand to grab the back of your neck and push you into a kiss.

“You know he’s listening” Dabi says against your lips, watching you pull away, your lips slightly swollen. “W-what?” You ask, quivering and letting out a sob at how he hits your sweet spots while not even moving yet.

“Keigo. He’s right outside the door, princess” Dabi says, watching your eyes flicker to the door. Keigo huffs on the other side of the door, he’s not sure if Dabi said that to tease him or you. Keigo just had to wait though, after all he gets his alone time with you next time.

“Don’t keep your noises down, how about you give him a show, huh?” Dabi groans, speeding up his pace on an instant. You gasp, whimpering as you hold onto his back, your nails slightly digging into his skin. “W-wait! Slow down!” You cry out, feeling your eyes roll back at the sudden force.

“Fuck... you feel so good. Such a good girl for me” Dabi grunts, pulling you away from his shoulder to see your face. You look so beautiful with your mouth hung open as moans spill out from you.

“Who’s bigger, sweets, me or him?” Dabi smirks, snapping his hips into yours. Keigo feels a sneer work its way onto his face. You only whine and shake your head. “What? Can’t say?” He groans, watching you shake your head. You can’t say! No matter what you answer with, one will be upset and try to prove you wrong.

“C-Can’t say” you whine, tears leaking out of your eyes at how fast he thrusts into you. “Slow down! ‘M gonna cum!” You moan, throwing your head back in pleasure but also so you didn’t have to look at him in the eyes. “Fuck- You’re gonna cum already?” Dabi grumbles, leaning on your shoulder to leave marks. He always felt the need to leave bite marks all over your skin. To claim you.

You nod shakily, balling up the satin sheets in your hands. Dabi groans at the look in your eyes. So helpless. You look at him as if he’s your only hope in getting you to cum. “Go ahead, baby” Dabi groans, a devilish idea popping into his mind. “And since you can’t tell who’s bigger, how about for the next round we let Keigo in” He says, Keigo standing up from his position against the door.

Although his words were phased as a question, you know it’s not. You know Keigo will be joining you two. You are in for a very long night

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

[kiribaku-queen]

Heyyyy. So i was thinking a out mafia au fic like where kuroo is a mafia leader and youre his gf. Somehow, while his group were in a war, u got kidnapped which made him furious ofc and whiel saving u and trying to escape, u saw someone trying to shoot hima nd u go ahead and sheild him which made u got shoot. Its a angst but a hppy ending. Ill let u do what kind of ending u want 😁 anyway congrats and hv a great day!

Beginnings of a War

Angst

Kuroo x reader

Word Count: 3.5K

TRIGGER WARNING: violence, gun mentioned, blood

A/N: I had so much fun writing this piece and I literally couldn't wait to start this one! I thought of this Bokuto when writing this piece because I can't get enough of him

Happy reading and I'd love to know your thoughts!

The tension in the room was uneasy as the two leaders from opposite gangs stared each other down, neither saying a word. There was no easy conclusion to their mess but the longer they sat there, the more impatient both parties got. Yet, Kuroo was never one to give up easily. He was persistent and determined. Meanwhile, the two-toned haired man who goes by Bokuto was notorious for always getting his way. Right now, they were both stuck in the middle. Kuroo leans back on the black, leather couch, resting both arms behind the back.

“That’s my final bet. Take it or leave it. You either release him and take the money, or we’re gonna have some trouble,” Kuroo finally spoke up. Bokuto slants his eyes at him, clearly not persuaded by his offer.

“You’re a good comedian if you think I’m going to release one of your men for that small amount. After what he did to ten of my men?” Bokuto was trying to place the blame on the other leader but that only made Kuroo’s eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

“Your men attacked his family and his girl, leaving her in a hospital. If anything, your men deserved everything coming to them,” Kuroo set him straight. Even though Bokuto knew that, he knew that his men were in the wrong, he still had to protect them. So his comment visibly upset him as he slammed his fists down on the glass table in front of him, almost causing it to break if he hit any harder.

“I don’t give a shit what my boys did. All I care about is what your men did to mine,” he stated clearly. By now, Kuroo was getting a headache.

“Then what do you want? You don’t want the money, you don’t want anything else I offered. Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want!” he grew impatient and raised his voice. Before Bokuto had a chance to open his mouth, the double doors behind him flew wide open and in you came, eyes only on your boyfriend as you walk towards him. Sexy and sultry-like, you come to greet your boyfriend after a long day of shopping, not paying attention to his special guest. But he was paying close attention to you.

The click of your heels meeting the floor caught the attention of all the men in the room. You loved it when all the attention was on you because you knew. You knew you were attractive. You had the confidence, the walk, the clothes, the attitude. Everything a girl boss should have. Even though eyes were on you at all times of the day, only one man caught your attention and you would do anything for him.

Striding towards the mafia boss who was clearly in the middle of an important meeting, you made your way into his lap. You made yourself comfortable, touching the back of his hair before pulling him in for a steamy kiss. The kiss was slow and deliberate. You made sure to taste every part of him, your tongue gliding against his, purposely biting his lips ever so slightly. You kissed him like there was no one else in the room. But little did you know, Bokuto was looking you up and down, clear interest written all over his face.

You pulled away with a soft hum, satisfied to be with your boyfriend again. Kuroo, who was annoyed, is now smitten with you. He has, and always will have, a soft spot for you and isn’t afraid to show it.

“I’m a little busy, sweetheart,” Kuroo mumbled against your lips, lost in your eyes, your taste, your smell, your everything.

“I just missed you, daddy,” you cooed with a pout.

“Alright, I’m almost done,” he promises. He puts a protective hand over your waist and you wait in his lap like the good girl you were until he was done with his meeting. Kuroo focuses his attention back to his guest, acting like that whole interaction didn’t happen.

“What do you want?” Kuroo asks again. This time, Bokuto locks eyes with you and you just give him an innocent look that makes Bokuto obsessed.

“Her.” He points to you. That shocks both you and your boyfriend. You didn’t know what was going on, maybe because you just forced your way into their conversation, but you could tell that Kuroo wasn’t very fond of his answer. His hand tightens on your waist.

“She’s off limits,” he almost growls. Now that’s a voice you haven’t heard in a hot minute.

“Then the deals off,” Bokuto says simply, leaning back while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Kuroo slants his eyes and gives you a few soft taps to your butt.

“Go upstairs,” he demands. You know by the tone of his voice that he was upset and you knew not to talk back. Last time you did that, you couldn’t walk for two weeks. And that was… so long ago that you can’t even remember. So you immediately got up and walked out of there, but Bokuto still had his eyes on you.

When you left the room and completely out of sight, Kuroo sits back and crosses his legs. He lets out a deep sigh and glides his tongue across the inside of his cheek in annoyance. He didn’t understand why Bokuto wanted you all of a sudden, out of all people, but there was no way in hell he was giving you away.

“I’ll give you anything you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you. You want the money? Fine. Take it. You want a woman? I’ll find you one who can’t resist you. Name your price, but she’s my woman,” Kuroo made things clear with the man across from him.

“I’m not leaving until I get her,” Bokuto was set on having you, taking you and making you his. Kuroo uncrosses his legs and leans forward on his knees.

“Oi. Can you fucking hear? I said she was off limits.” Bokuto copies his movements.

“Does it look like I give two fucks? If you want one of your men back, give me the girl,” he compromises. Kuroo clenches his jaw and leans back.

“Then there’s nothing to discuss. Leave.” Kuroo glares at him. And that was asking him nicely. But Bokuto lets out a loud chuckle.

“You’re gonna let a bitch get in the way of your men?” the mafia boss taunted. And boy, did it work.

“Do you want to die?” Kuroo asked through gritted teeth, a vein clearly visible on his forehead from how much anger he was trying to hold in.

“Is that a threat?” Bokuto turned serious, all jokes out the window.

“No. but this is,” he says, standing up and pulling a gun out of the inside of his jacket pocket and points in straight in his opponent’s face. With his fast reflexes, Bokuto saw it coming and also took his gun out. So now both men had guns pointed in their faces, neither of them moving. Just glares being exchanged.

“Tsk, tsk. Now is that how you persuade an old friend?” Bokuto shook his head in disappointment.

“Friend? More like business partner,” Kuroo corrected him. They had a silent face off. Pointing dangerous weapons at each other but neither wanting to pull the trigger first. Bokuto thought this was exciting. He laughs, spins his gun with his finger and places it back in his pocket. He turns around, looking unfazed by the whole situation and simply leaves. Somewhat relieved, Kuroo also puts away his gun and cautiously watches the other boss leave. Bokuto stops right as he’s about to step through the door to give Kuroo a wary warning.

“You better be careful. I always get what I want,” he said before making his disappearance.

You were waiting patiently in your shared bedroom, swinging your feet around with a pout on your face. You didn’t know what you walked in to, but it didn’t seem good from the looks of it. Kuroo looked so serious down there, you thought to yourself. But your mind wandered to naughty thoughts because you loved seeing him like that, even though the situation doesn’t call for it. He just looks so sexy what he’s serious.

Kuroo opens the door to the bedroom and before you could say anything to him or greet him, he smashes your lips together without any explanation. You were surprised by his actions but you kiss him back nonetheless. From the way his lips move against yours, you could tell that he was in a bad mood. Your lips were too smushed and teeth were rubbing against each other, so much that he was starting to hurt you. Kuroo moves on to attack your neck and then you were finally able to breath.

“Kuroo,” you whined, still short of breath. He ignores you and instead starts to suck on your supple skin, creating bruises of all kinds of sizes on your neck. He grabs your face again, smashing your lips together and he pushes you back so that the back of your knees hit the bed, causing you to fall backwards, Kuroo falling on top of you. His legs were on either side of you as he dominated the kiss.

“You’re mine. All mine,” he growls, hands wandering to grope your body harshly. He licks from the top of your breasts all the way up your neck and captures your lips again. Your hands go to tangle his raven locks and wrap your legs around him.

“I’m all yours,” you whisper against his lips. Kuroo smirks, quickly removing his jacket then undoing his tie before he goes to unbuckle his belt. Excitement started to rise in you. Angry sex? Fuck yes. You were in for a hell of a night and let’s be honest, one hell of a week.

You were kept inside for a time being because Kuroo was wary of what Bokuto said to him at that meeting. He wasn’t going to take any chances, but you understood where he was coming from. It was boring not being able to leave the fancy mansion you lived in, but you made your boyfriend make it up by letting him by you all sorts of gifts to apologize.

But after a while of nothing happening, your boyfriend lets you go on a shopping spree to make up for your boredom and loss of time. But you couldn’t leave until you brought extra bodyguards to look out for you. Annoying as it was, you obliged. There was no use in arguing because if you did, he probably wouldn’t have let you out. The whole threatening fiasco didn’t bother you one bit. You couldn’t count how many times people have said that to him and nothing has ever happened to you. You believed that nothing was going to happen this time around.

You were walking down the empty street after a successful day of shopping, having every single one of your bodyguards hold bags of clothes, accessories, shoes, food, things that you couldn’t resist buying. You skipped along the sidewalk, feeling happy and free, the warmth of the setting sun and the blow of the oncoming evening wind was making you feel content with life. You wonder if your bodyguards were feeling the same. Speaking of bodyguards, they were being awfully quiet. Spinning around, you realized that you were alone.

You paused, stunned frozen.

Where were your bodyguards? All of a sudden, several men appeared out of the shadows of the alleys. You sighed in relief, realizing that it was just your bodyguards pulling a prank on you.

“You scared me! How could you leave me alone like that!” you jokingly scolded them. But they were indeed not your bodyguards. The smile that was on your face was quick to drop upon realization. You took a few steps back, trying to get away from these men who were getting closer and closer to you. But you were stopped, running into someone’s chest. You looked up to see who it was and all of a sudden, everything turned black.

When you woke up, you found yourself sitting on a chair, arms wrapped together and duct tape covered your mouth. It didn’t take long to realize that you’ve been kidnapped. The classic empty warehouse and burning fire in a can was proof of that. You checked your surroundings and was surprised to see that your legs weren’t tied together. You weren’t blindfolded either, but you were tied down to the chair. It wasn’t long after you woke up that Bokuto makes his appearance, sitting backwards in a chair right in front of you. He looked happy to see you but you couldn’t say the same. You slanted your eyes at him, disinterested in whatever he wants to say or do. You tried to keep your composure by being still and keeping a poker face, because if you didn’t, you don’t know what he’ll do to you.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Bokuto greeted you. “You’re probably wondering why you’re not tied up.” He starts, then rips the duct tape off your mouth and cuts the ropes around your arms. Then he leans down to your level and smirks.

“Because I know you’re not going to run away. Look at you shaking,” he says and looks you up and down then going back to his chair. It was true. You were shaking. You’ve never been in this situation before. You’ve always imagined it: being nonchalant and bored of all the empty threats and your savior of a boyfriend would come save you from all the madness. But now you were second guessing yourself, now being caught in this situation. You were shaking, but you were still going to stand up for yourself. That’s what Kuroo taught you to do.

“You’re not going to get away with this. Kuroo is going to save me and you’ll regret ever doing this to me,” you ran your mouth. But Bokuto doesn’t respond. So you go on. “Kuroo is the strongest fighter I know. He could kick your ass in his sleep. You don’t even look like a fighter. I bet you’d do down so easy!” You said that anything that came to mind. Yet, Bokuto continued to stare at you with a bored expression. And that made you nervous.

“I would never date you. You’re ugly, mean, and-and… you suck!” you couldn’t come up with any good comebacks. But for some reason, that set him off. He stands up so fast that it knocks the chair over and that shuts you up real quick. He walks over to you, duct taping your mouth again.

“Noisy bitch. Maybe this’ll shut you up,” he says and tightly seals your lips shut with the silver tape. He then grabs your chin to look up at him. You glare up at him, already tired of how rough he was handling you. He tilts your face from side to side, getting a good look at you.

“See, you’re prettier when your silent,” he comments. He looks down at the tape and frowns. He tapped the tape that was over your mouth over and over again, like there was something missing. Bokuto opens the palm of his hand and one of his guys puts a bright red lipstick in his hand. With a swift action, he pulls the cap off with his teeth and applies the lipstick on the duct tape that outlines your lips. He spits the lid on the floor and smirks.

“There, that’s better,” he says. He grabs your chin again and pulls you in for a kiss. You struggle to get out of his grip but he was stronger than he looked. When Bokuto pulled away, the lipstick was smeared across his lips, but didn’t seem to care. He was about to say something until he heard screaming and grunts of pain. He turns around just in time to see your boyfriend getting thrown on the floor, all bloodied and beaten up. You gasp, tears beginning to form at the sight.

This was wrong. That couldn’t be your boyfriend. There was no way. Your boyfriend was strong. He beat up and sometimes even killed when anybody got in his way. How could this have happened?

Kuroo was thrown on the floor and a handful of men continued to beat him up, kicking him in all places. You shook your head in denial, not even wanting to watch but couldn’t look away. Bokuto was loving everything. Your expression. Kuroo’s sounds of pain. He was getting a kick that things were turning out how he had planned.

“Look who decided to show up,” Bokuto kneels down to his level, grabbing a handful of hair and picking him up to show his face. Blood was dripped down the sides of his face, from his nose and mouth, his cheeks were bruised and he looked like he was about to pass out.

“Let her go,” Kuroo barely manages to let out. Bokuto clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“I told you, didn’t I? I want her. Anything you want to say to your little girlfriend for the last time?” Bokuto allows him to say some final words. But Kuroo was too out of it to comprehend what he was saying.

“What about girlfriend over here!” he exclaims, presenting you perfectly fine and free from any scratches. Bokuto rips the duct tape off and cries ripped from your throat.

“Kuroo Tetsurou! You better get up! Stand up please! Fight back!” you cry but that just causes Kuroo to get more kick and punches to his body. Large tears escaped your eyes and you couldn’t stop the sounds of agony coming from your mouth.

“You’re the best fighter around, right? Fight back please!” you begged him. Getting beat up, okay. But not even trying to fight back? That’s not the Kuroo you know. What was wrong with him? Why was he allowing them to do this to him? Kuroo looks up and faces you with a smile.

“I can’t let you get hurt, baby girl,” he professes. And that just breaks your heart. More sobs escaped your mouth but the sounds of skin hitting skin was louder. Kuroo was being tossed around, kicked, punched, spit at. Blood was stained everywhere, and you didn’t know what to do. Even though he was getting beat up so badly, he was still standing. And that seemed to annoy Bokuto. Time was ticking and he was getting impatient. If he was doing to die like that, then he was going to have to do it himself. Bokuto pulls the gun out of his pocket, aiming for Kuroo. You see it just in time and as if your feet were moving on it’s own, you run to shield him before he gets shot. The moment you touched him, you heard the gun shot and everything went black

The feeling of soft sheets under your fingers woke you up. You jolted awake, sitting up in the bed that was all too familiar to you. You were at home, but how did you get here? You checked your body all over but there were no signs of pain or even wound marks. There was no bullet, no bruises, no scarring. So, what the hell happened? Then your mind went to your boyfriend. Getting right out of bed, you ran to his room and he was resting in bed, bandages covering his shoulder.

“Kuroo,” you called out to him, running to his side and grabbing his hand. He shifts in his position, sighing deeply. Then he brings your hand to his lips, placing a small but meaningful kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re up, my dear,” he says as a fact, eyes barely open. Concern washed over you and so many questions came to mind. You didn’t know what to ask first.

“How-what-but I… I took the gun shot for you,” you tried to recall what happened. Kuroo knocks your forehead and you pout.

“You think you’re so slick. I saw what you were trying to do. I flipped you over just in time. Now I have this to remember,” and then points to his shoulder with the bandage. He took the bullet for you. You pout again, feeling bad. Not only did he get beaten up pretty badly, but he also got shot that night? That was supposed to be your job.

“If I didn’t get shot, then why did I pass out?” you questioned, more to yourself.

“I think you passed out from the shock, baby,” he comforted you. It made sense… but when you looked at your boyfriend in this condition, it made you upset. You started to burst into tears and hit him in the chest.

“You idiot!” you yell, accidentally hitting the place he got shot and he jumps up in pain. But you cuddle right up to him to make up for it. But you thought he deserved it.

“What about Bokuto?” you shot up and looked at Kuroo was worry written all over your face. He softly smiles at you and pets your hair.

“We all retreated. For now. But it’s not over,” he tells you. Oh, it is far from over. This is actually just the beginning.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Not sure what kind of AUs you write, but could you possibly do a Mob!Bucky x Soft!reader? And by soft!reader I mean she’s generally very kind, gentle, and cutesy, the “wouldn’t hurt a fly” type, except when defending those she cares for, then it’s like someone flipped a switch and she’s hell on wheels lol

All Bark and No Bite

Summary: When you fell on hard times, comfort came from the very last place you expected

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Soft!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language, intimidating behaviour

Author’s Note: I really loved this request :) thanks so much anon

---

Approaching the front door of your apartment, you heard low talking coming from inside. Your dad hadn’t mentioned anything about having guests over, but you were making his favourite spaghetti for dinner, so maybe he’d just invited a friend over to try it.

He loved showing you off to people, and you loved the proud smile he wore whenever he did.

You turned the key and pushed open the door, seeing your father in the front room, sitting beside a youngish man you didn’t recognise. Clean shaven with neatly slicked back hair and a pretty expensive-looking suit, he was absolutely nothing like the friends who were usually brought home for dinner.

As soon as your father saw you he jumped up from the couch, looking a little antsy. ‘Hi sweetie. This is Bucky, a friend from work.’ He walked over to you and gave you a kiss on the cheek, before turning round to look back at his friend. ‘This is my daughter, y/n.’

You gave Bucky a warm smile. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You too darlin.’ He had a thick, deep Brooklyn accent that made your stomach tingle.

‘Are you staying for dinner? I’m making spaghetti.’

Bucky sent a nervous look towards your father, who seemed to be attempting a very subtle head shake, hoping you wouldn’t notice. There was definitely something weird going on, you could’ve cut the tension in the room with a knife.

‘That’s alright.’ Bucky eventually replied. ‘I should get going soon.’

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence as you took your coat off and hung it by the front door. Only when you walked through to the kitchen did you hear the deep mumbling start again, far too quietly for you to make out any of the words.

You heard the front door open and close, then you heard your dad quickly shuffle into his bedroom.

---

An hour after the guest had left, dinner was ready, but your father was still locked away. You walked to his bedroom and timidly knocked on the door, inching it open to see him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

‘Dad? Is everything alright?’

He looked up, you could immediately tell he’d been crying. He sighed and patted the bed, inviting you to sit by him.

‘I sorry, sweetheart.’ He reached out for your hand and squeezed it. ‘You know we’ve been struggling a bit lately and, well, I owe some money to some bad people.’

‘That man, who was here earlier?’

‘He’s one of them, but he was here to try and help me out. If they found out he could get into a lot of trouble.’

His grip on your hand was tightening, almost to the point of being painful, but if that’s what he needed to do to keep him grounded then you were happy to let him.

‘How bad is it?’

He turned to look at you, tears welling in his eyes. ‘We could lose everything.’

That hit you like a punch in the gut. He looked absolutely devastated. You hadn’t seen him like this for years, not since you lost your mother.

You moved your arms to circle his shoulders, giving him a tight hug.

‘It’s okay dad. We’ll figure it out.’

---

The next day, while your father was out at work, you were woken by aggressive banging on your apartment door. You considered ignoring it, but they didn’t let up, almost thudding the door off of its hinges.

Opening it cautiously, you saw two burly, intimidating guys staring down at you, and Bucky stood slightly behind them looking a little sheepish.

‘Hey there sweet thing.’ The one at the front said, his alcoholic breath washing over your face. ‘Is your daddy home?’

‘No, he’s not.’ Bucky’s face dropped slightly, obviously shocked by your firm tone.

‘Can you tell me where he is sugar?’

‘No.’

Bad breath gave a low, sinister chuckle before stepping forward and lowering his face to level with yours. ‘I really think you should. We don’t want to have to do this the hard way.’

You were probably being stupid and reckless, but no way were you going to be intimidated into compromising your dad’s safety. You leaned in even closer to your unwelcome guest, leaving barely an inch between your forehead and his.

‘If you so much as touch me, I’ll scream this fucking building to the ground.’

It took a second, but he eventually backed up. ‘I like you, kid. I’ll be seeing you. Soon.’

He turned and walked away, the other man you didn’t recognise following him closely. Bucky hesitated for a second, staring at you while his mouth curled into an impressed smile. He grabbed a cigarette from behind his ear and put it between his lips, winking at you before finally following his colleagues down the hallway.

After firmly pushing the door closed and sliding the chain across, you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a few shaky breaths, thankful that you’d come out of that interaction unscathed.

You never told your father what had happened. He had enough to worry about.

---

A few days later, you were working a double shift at the diner, trying to earn as much money as you could to help your dad out. You’d been on your feet for thirteen hours straight but, thankfully, it was pretty late, so the place was almost completely dead.

You were filling up the coffee machine with beans when you heard the bell above the door go. Turning your head, you saw Bucky saunter in, eyes glued to the newspaper in his hands.

He took a seat at the counter. You wiped your hands on your apron and went to stand opposite him.

‘Hi there.’ He seemed to recognise your voice, his head snapped up as soon as you spoke.

‘Hey.’ A wide smile spread across his face. ‘I’ve never seen you in here before.’

‘I don’t usually do the graveyard shift. Just, y’know, trying to earn some extra money.’

His smile dropped slightly after hearing the exhaustion in your voice.

You hadn’t intended to make him feel guilty. If anything, you owed him your gratitude, cause knowing that there was someone else helping your father out made you feel so much better about this shitty situation.

‘Coffee?’ You chirped, trying to lighten the mood a little.

‘Great, thanks.’ You grabbed him a mug and started pouring. ‘I, uh- I’m really sorry about the other day. Doorstep intimidation was really unwarranted, I tried to convince them out of it.’

‘It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.’

He smirked slightly. ‘You handled it well enough. I was impressed.’

‘Oh I’m definitely all bark and no bite.’ You passed him his coffee and gave him a warm smile. ‘But keep that to yourself.’

Pottering around behind the counter for a while, you felt his gaze on you whenever you passed by him. It was actually quite nice, having this devilishly handsome man show some interest, so you found yourself coming up with as many excuses as possible to walk in front of him.

Ten-or-so minutes after he’d arrived, you had to duck into the kitchen briefly, and when you came out you found yourself pretty disappointed to see that he’d left.

You trudged over to his empty coffee mug, picking it up and double-taking when you saw that it’d been sitting on top of a fifty dollar note.

He must’ve left it by accident, surely? Fifty dollars is a ridiculous tip for a cup of coffee.

You slid it into your apron, figuring you’d give it back next time you saw him. You could even use it as an excuse to get your dad to invite him back to the house, but you hoped you wouldn’t have to resort to that- you hoped that maybe he’d come around by choice.

---

It’d been a week since you’d seen Bucky at the diner, the fifty dollar note was still sitting in your bedside dresser. Your father had been going downhill, getting worse everyday, and the temptation to give the money to him was getting more and more difficult to resist.

Coming back from the grocery store, you climbed the stairs of your apartment building and turned into your hallway, the sight that greeted you making you stop dead.

Bucky was sitting outside your apartment, leaning against the door, looking like he’d just been in a horrific car crash. As soon as he saw you he struggled up onto his feet, the full extent of his injuries becoming apparent as you got closer.

‘I’m really sorry y/n, I didn’t know where else to go.’

‘God Bucky, what happened to you?’

‘They found out what I’ve been doing.’

Your eyes widened in shock. ‘They did all this just because you helped my dad out?’

‘Not exactly.’ He winced as he limped out of the way of your door. ‘I haven’t been playing ball with them for years, I’m tangled up in more shit than I can keep track of.’

It was definitely a stupid idea to let a guy being chased by the mob into your home, you knew that, but you were really struggling not to feel sorry for him. He looked completely broken.

‘My dad’s gonna be out all day.’ His dejected nod at that was the final straw, you knew you had to help him. ‘But I’ll clean you up.’

You gave him a reassuring smile as you let him through the door. He steadily lowered himself onto the couch while you fetched a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. You didn’t really know what you were doing, but you figured at the very least you could give him a bit of comfort and wipe all the dried blood off his face.

You took your makeshift first aid kit into the front room and sat next to him.

‘Look at me.’ He shifted his face towards you. You wrung out the cloth and gently pressed it to a deep gash above his eyebrow, making him wince. ‘I’m really sorry this happened, you didn’t deserve it.’

He chuckled lightly. ‘You gotta teach me how to do that.’

‘Do what?’

‘Flick between the nicest and the scariest person I’ve ever met.’

You gave him a faintly amused smile. ‘We lost my mom when I was a kid, my dad needed all the kindness he could get.’ Bucky looked a little shocked at your honesty. ‘But he’s also stupid as hell, so he needs defending pretty often.’

‘He’s lucky to have you.’

Your eyes flicked to meet his, sensing a hint of sadness behind his words. ‘Do you have anyone?’

‘If I did, I probably wouldn’t have ended up beat to shit and on the run.’

You sighed and nodded, dropping the cloth back into the bowl and scanning your eyes over his face again. ‘That’s about the best I can do. You’ve stopped bleeding, but you won’t be winning any beauty contests for a while.’

He chuckled and ran his hand over his hair, taking a deep breath.

You were really conflicted about what to do next. Having him here could put both you and your father at risk, but were you really just going to throw him back out on the street? Anything could happen to him out there, you’d never forgive yourself if he would up in an even worse state.

‘Bucky, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.’

‘Thanks.’ You could almost see a wave of relief passing over him. ‘I don’t think my place is safe at the moment.’

You reached out for his hand and squeezed it tight, a calm silence falling as your eyes locked together. He slowly moved his free hand up to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes, then letting it come to rest at your jawline, gently cupping the side of your face.

You closed your eyes and settled further into his hand, almost feeling yourself melting under his soft touch. Between working and looking after your father, you’d never really had the chance to get close to anyone like this, so these sensations were pretty new to you.

You felt his body shift slightly, and a second later felt his lips press against yours. It was unexpected, shocking you a little at first, but it didn’t take long before you relaxed completely and returned the kiss. It felt like there was electricity flowing through your body, making all your hairs stand up and your stomach do flips.

Getting a little carried away, you lifted your hands up to hold his face to, completely forgetting his extensive bruising. He winced slightly and pulled away.

‘Oh god, sorry I forgot.’

‘S’alright.’ He flashed you a wide smile. ‘I knew you had some bite in you.’

---

[pure-kirarin]

Killer x reader (having a stressful day) English / French

Disclaimer : This will be in French and English. It was written originally in French and translated to english. I added the french version at the end of the post if anyone is interested. 

A/N :  こんばんは !  ♡ リクエストしてくれてありがとう~  @holykillercake​ san. This is my first time writing something both in English and in French. Alsooo, writing something for Pasta-husbando ! I hope that you will like it >o< I never noticed that Kirarin & Killer both have “キラ”, this explain why Killer’s hair is so healthy and shiny...Anyways~  始めましょう !

-ENGLISH- 

«- Relax. »

The moment his fingers touched your skin, your shoulders unclenched as if a weight or a burden had dropped off them. Your muscles were stretched to the limit; An underlying tension, no doubt, you were carrying the stress of a whole week on your frail shoulders. «- Y/N. » Just your first name, nothing else.

It was his way of asking you what was bothering you and you understood it. You were there, you had just come to his room, sitting on the sofa and there he is – as it has now became a habit – behind you, offering you a massage. Fairy fingers put pressure on your shoulders, fingers that could as well kill as take you to heaven. Never once you have felt afraid. His touch was comforting, familiar.

« -Don't worry. I just had a stressful day...The usual.  You melted under his touch. You felt his fingers tighten at your remark and you could make out his thought pattern. -No Killer, nobody bothered me. You won't have to kill anyone.  -I wasn't planning on killing anyone. You couldn't suppress a small laugh as you guessed his confusion. He was extremely protective of you, even if he hid it pretty well. Dear lord, just his presence was enough to put you in a better mood. -Yes, yes, of course. And what about the guy from last time ? » You reminded him of your last party, or rather, the party where you both had to babysit Kid once again. A man a little too drunk had taken advantage of the crowd to put an indiscreet hand on your lower back. Needless to say, Killer broke his arm without blinking – a reflex. To be fair, Kid would have reacted even worse, the redhead and you were like brother and sister.

His fingers reluctantly left your shoulders, he got closer to the large bookshelf, as big as one of the room's walls.

Killer was an avid reader, he had books from different origins. You were always in awe in front of his wide knowledge. When did he have all the time to read these books ? Certainly during nights of insomny. He came back and sat down next to you, in his hands, you recognized the book "A Thousand and One Nights", the cover was thick and decorated with a golden frame. You smile excitedly, you and Killer had this habit; whenever you felt bad or couldn't sleep, he would read you fairy tales. He had read dozens of them to you ; The Little Prince, Alice in Wonderland, the Tales of Hoffman. But your favorite was always “A Thousand and One Nights”. (Arabian Nights)  This book cristalised your love. Whenever you couldn't sleep, you would join the man in his room and he would tell you, like Scheherazade, the astonishing tales. Before you even knew it, you had fallen under his spell. He patted his knees and you rested your head just there. His voice carried you to the sands of the east. A voice extremely gentle, mesmerizing. This intimate moment was enough to eradicate all your worries. One hand was carrying the book, while the other stroked your hair and cheeks in turn. His voice told you about the adventures of Sindbad, the famous sailor from Bagdad.  He had bought this book from an old bookstore in Alabasta and it introduced him to the oriental beauty. When he finishes reading the tale you get up slightly and snuggle up in his arms. He circled your waist with his as you stayed there for a moment. -I love it when you tell me about the adventures of Sindbad. I feel like I'm seeing a side of you that no one else can access. -And that's true. You are the only one who wants to hear these stories. He strokes your hair. -All credit goes to you. You are an excellent storyteller. -And you are an excellent listener. » He smiled behind his mask, maybe if he took it off, you could've seen the rose-color that tinted his cheeks.

He appreciated how you cared about everything he said and everything he loved. You were the only person in the world he shared this with, who he could stand sharing all of this with. The stress of the day was now nothing but a vague memory. Only one thing was missing. You wanted to get closer. You wanted to look at him and kiss him. The adventures of Sindbad were not enough. « -I want to look at you...  » You breathe out, your voice was no more than a sigh, a slight whisper that made him smile behind his mask. Smile that you don't see but that you could imagine. You didn't have to see him, you just had to pay attention to his chest rising with the rhythm of his breathing. You now knew how to decipher every gesture and the slightest variation in his voice. But it didn't stop you from wanting to look at him. You knew each other more than anyone, but you always wanted more. You wanted him  entirely to yourself. You wanted him to lay bare his feelings just as you did, because he was your comfort zone and you wanted to be his. You sit, your slender fingers brushing against the hard surface of the mask. You feel his breathing stop. « -For me... » you add, insisting.

It wasn't the first time you'll see him without a mask, but could you be satisfied? He even kept it on in his sleep. Your fingers start caressing the golden locks. « For you. » He repeats, his voice was firm but penetrating. Coming from behind the mask, it was somewhat veiled. Someone else would never have guessed his hesitation but you? Easy task. You couldn't suppress a smile, one of a child that was promised a sugar cube. You were now sitting next to him on the sofa, wrists on your hips, catching your breath, eyelashes barely batting.

The mask was now resting on the armrest. Your eyes layed on his perfectly sculpted face and the purplish lips that you were dying to kiss. Did he hide his face, like Medusa hers, out of fear of petrifying you? «- Killer ... You are so...beautiful. » No need for words, a finger rested on your parted lips. Your gaze was enough, words were sometimes too overwhelming. His azure eyes shone behind a curtain of golden hair. You hesitate, a second then two, before coming to sit on his knees. He was surprised by this proximity but it didn't bother him since he put your hand on his chest. His skin was warm, his heart was beating considerably faster. He didn't say it, that gesture meant "I love you" and you knew it.  - Thank you for being there for me.  » Your face was inches from his. His lips barely caressed yours before kissing you fully as his hand rested on the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. Once again, the gesture spoke better than the words. I love you. I want you. I want you to give me all your stress, all your pain, I want to carry it for you.

- (Y / N) ... A sigh ... I lo- Suddenly, the door thudded open. You didn't have to look back, you knew, both of  you knew who that was. -Killer! When are we gonna eat I'm sss---... Wait what, FUCK- - Can't you knock on the door for once? You grabbed a pillow and threw it at Kid, who was already turning around, embarrassed to have interrupted you. He disappeared as quickly as he had come, uttering a myriad of obscenities in his way. Killer buried his head in your neck, embarrassed to be found in this compromising situation, although it could have been way worse. You cursed Kid inside for interrupting you.

-Killer, what were you saying ? He puts his mask back on murmuring a « nothing »

-But I swear I heard you say it. You were going to say « I love you », right ? You teased

-If you heard it then why are you asking ? He was extremely thankful for wearing his mask at that moment.

-Because I want to hear it again ! -Too honest, you were too honest for his own good. -I love you. -W-wait I wasn't prepared ! You were now the one to blush. Killer wasn't the kind to express his feelings all the time and that openly, so it meant a lot to you.

« Cute » was all he thought of you in that moment. He got up holding you tight against his chest ;

-Well, I think that Kid is really going to throw a tantrum if he doesn't get to eat. You must be starving as well. Would you like to help me in the kitchen ?

-Of course I would. But first put me down. -I am scared that is out of the question. 

He simply answers as he proceeds to hold you over his shoulder, heading towards the kitchen. - French -

«- Détends-toi. »

A l'instant où ses doigts entrèrent en contact avec ta peau, tes épaules s'abaissèrent comme si un poids ou un fardeau en disparaissait. Tes muscles étaient tendus à l'extrême ; Une accumulation de tension sans doute, le stress de toute une semaine.

« - (T/P). »

Juste ton prénom et rien d'autre.

C'était sa manière de te demander ce qui te tracassait et tu le compris. Tu étais là, tu venais tout juste de rentrer dans sa chambre pour t'affaler sur le sofa et le voilà qui -comme à son habitude- t'offrait un massage. Il avait des doigts de fée, comment des doigts pouvaient-ils aussi bien tuer que t'emmener au paradis ? Tu n'avais jamais eu peur de lui. Son toucher était réconfortant et familier.

« -Ne t'en fais pas. C'était juste une journée stressante. »

Tu fondais sous son toucher, sa présence derrière toi était rassurante. Tu sentis ses doigts se crisper à ta remarque et tu pus deviner son schéma de pensée.

«- Non Killer, personne ne m'a embêtée. Tu ne devras tuer personne.

-Je ne comptais tuer personne.

Tu ne pus réprimer un petit rire en devinant son trouble. Il était extrêmement protecteur lorsqu'il s'agissait de toi, même s'il ne le montrait pas. Bon dieu, rien que sa présence était assez pour te mettre de bonne humeur.

-Mais oui, bien sûr. Et le type de l'autre fois, on en parle ? 

Tu ne manquas pas de lui rappeler votre dernière soirée ensemble, ou plutôt, une énième soirée où il fallait prendre soin de Kid. Un homme un peu trop alcoolisé avait profité de la foule pour poser une main indiscrète sur le bas de ton dos. Inutile de mentionner que Killer lui avait fracturé le bras sans ciller. Remarque, Kid aurait agit pire, le roux et toi étiez tout deux comme frère et sœur.

Ses doigts quittèrent tes épaules à contre cœur, tu le vis qui s'approchait de la grande bibliothèque qui occupait un des murs de la pièce. Killer aimait énormément lire, à vrai dire, il avait tellement de connaissances et il avait des livres de différentes origines. Tu étais toujours admirative devant son savoir.

Il revint et s'assit à côté de toi, entre ses mains, tu reconnus le livre « Mille et une nuit », la couverture était épaisse et ornementée d'un cadre doré. Tu souris avec excitation, Killer et toi aviez cette habitude ; à chaque fois que tu te sentais mal ou que tu n'arrivais pas à dormir, il te lisait des contes. Il t'en avait lu des dizaines maintenant ; Le petit Prince, Alice au pays des merveilles, les Contes d'Hoffman. Mais ton préféré restait toujours « Mille et une nuit ».

Ce livre représentait ton énamourement. A chaque fois que tu n'arrivais pas à dormir, tu rejoignais l'homme dans sa chambre et il te contait à la manière de Shéhérazade les contes étonnants. Avant même de t'en rendre compte, tu étais tombée sous son charme.

Il tapota ses genoux et tu posas ta tête là où il l'avait désigné. Sa voix te transportait vers les sables d'orient. Il y mettait tant de douceur. Ce moment intime était assez pour éradiquer tout tes ennuis. Sa main portait le livre, tandis que l'autre, caressait tour à tour tes cheveux et tes joues. Que tu étais chanceuse de l'avoir. Sa voix te racontait les aventures de Sindbad. Il avait acheté ce livre lors d'une escapade à Alabasta et était tombé sous le charme.

Lorsqu'il finit de lire le conte tu te relevas légèrement et tu te blottis dans ses bras. Il encercla ta taille des siens et vous restèrent un instant dans cette position.

-J'adore quand tu me racontes les aventures de Sindbad. J'ai l'impression d'accéder à un côté de toi que seul moi peut voir.

-Et c'est vrai. Tu es la seule qui veut entendre mes contes.

-C'est tout à ton honneur. Tu es un excellent conteur.

-Tu es une excellente audience. »

Il sourit derrière son masque et ne manqua pas d'en rougir. Il aimait comment tu t'intéressais à tout ce qu'il racontait et à tout ce qu'il aimait. Tu étais la seule personne au monde avec qui il partageait cela, avec qui il pouvait se permettre de partager cela. Le stress de la journée n'était plus qu'un vague souvenir. Une seule chose te manquait. Tu voulais plus de proximité. Tu voulais le voir et l'embrasser. Les aventures de Sindbad n'étaient pas assez.

«-Je veux te voir... »

Tu expires, ta voix n'était plus qu'un soupir, léger murmure qui le fit sourire derrière son masque. Sourire que tu ne vis pas mais que tu pus deviner. Tu n'avais plus à le voir, tu n'avais qu'à prêter attention à sa poitrine qui s'élevait au rythme de sa respiration. Tu savais maintenant déchiffrer chaque geste et la moindre variation de sa voix.

Tu le connaissais, vous vous connaissiez plus que personne mais tu en voulais toujours plus. Tu voulais qu'il s'offre entièrement à toi. Tu voulais qu'il mette à nu ses sentiments comme tu le faisais avec lui, parce qu'il était ta zone de confort et que tu voulais être la sienne.

Tu te redresses, tes doigts graciles viennent toucher du bout des doigts la surface dure du masque. Tu sens son souffle s'arrêter.

« Pour moi... » tu répètes, insistante. Ce n'était pas la première fois que tu le verras sans masque, mais pouvais-tu en être satisfaite ? Il le gardait même dans son sommeil. Tes doigts se perdent maintenant dans sa chevelure dorée.

« Pour toi. » Sa voix était ferme mais pénétrante. Venant de derrière le masque, elle était quelque peu voilée.

Une autre n'aurait pas pu deviner son trouble mais pour toi ? Tâche facile. Tu ne pus réprimer un sourire d'enfant auquel on promettait un morceau de sucre. Tu étais maintenant assise à côté de lui sur le sofa, les poignets sur tes hanches, le souffle coupé, les cils battant à peine.

Le masque reposait à présent sur l'accoudoir. Tu pus découvrir son visage parfaitement sculpté, ses lèvres violacées. Cachait-il son visage, comme Meduse ses yeux, de peur de te pétrifier ?

«- Killer...Tu es magnifique. »

Pas besoin de mots, un doigt vint se poser sur tes lèvres entrouvertes. Ton regard était assez, les mots parfois l'encombraient. Ses yeux azur brillaient derrière un rideau de cheveux dorés, ils étaient fuyants. Tu hésites, une seconde puis deux, avant de venir t'installer sur ses genoux. Il fut surpris par cette proximité mais elle ne le gêna pas puisqu'il vint poser ta main sur sa poitrine. Sa peau était brûlante, son cœur battait considérablement plus fort. Il ne le dit pas, ce geste signifiait « Je t'aime » et tu le savais.

«- Merci d'être là pour moi. »

Ton visage était à quelques centimètres du siens. Ses lèvres vinrent caresser les tiennes à peine, avant de t'embrasser pleinement tandis que sa main se posa sur sur ta nuque pour approfondir le baiser. Encore une fois, le geste parlait mieux que les mots. Je t'aime. Je te veux. Je veux que tu me donnes tout ton stress, toute ta peine, je veux la porter pour toi.

-(Y/N)...Un soupir...Je t'ai-

Soudain, la porte s'ouvrit en un fracas. Tu n'eus pas besoin de te retourner, tu savais, vous saviez de qui il s'agissait.

-Killer ! C'est quand qu'on mange je meu--...PUTAIN mais...

-Tu peux pas frapper à la porte pour une fois ?

Tu attrapas un coussin et tu le lanças en la direction de Kid qui se retournait déjà, gêné de vous avoir interrompu. Il disparut aussi rapidement qu'il n'était venu en prononçant une myriade d’obscénités.

Killer enfonça sa tête dans ton cou, gêné d'être découvert dans cette situation compromettante, quoique ça aurait pu être pire.

-Tu disais quoi, chéri ?

Il remit son masque tout en murmurant un « rien du tout ». 

-Mais je jure que je t'ai entendu le dire ! Tu allais dire « Je t'aime », n'est-ce pas ? Tu le taquinais un peu trop pour son bien être.

-Si tu m'avais entendu, alors pourquoi demandes-tu ?

Il était extrêmement heureux d'avoir son masque sur le visage à cet instant précis. 

-Parce que je veux l'entendre à nouveau. Si honnête, un peu trop pour son bien. 

-Je t'aime. 

 -Qu-quoi ? Je n'étais pas préparée à ça ! Tu étais maintenant celle qui rougissait. Killer n'était pas du genre à exprimer ses sentiments tout le temps et ouvertement alors ça signifiait énormément à tes yeux. 

« Trop mignonne. » C'était ce qu'il pensait de toi en ce moment. Il s'est levé tout en te gardant contre sa poitrine. 

-Bon, je pense que Kid va vraiment causer un désastre s'il n'a pas à manger. Tu dois mourir de faim également. Tu ne voudrais pas me donner un coup de main en cuisine ?

 -Bien sûr que oui. Mais tout d'abord...Est-ce que tu pourrais me poser à terre ? 

 -ça c'est hors de question. Il répondit simplement tout en te mettant sur son épaule et en se dirigeant vers la cuisine.

[soobmint]

sober thoughts | choi yeonjun [f] ; [s] friends to lovers! au, 2.05k words

s u m m a r y ; yeonjun has been your best friend for as long as the both of you can remember. he was there when you learned to tie your shoes, when you won your first spelling bee, when you had your first breakup, and when you graduated high school. now you’re both entering your first year of college—as the same old best friends, of course. the catch? yeonjun has conveniently forgotten to mention that he doesn’t quite see you as just a friend anymore.

n o t e ; my version of “suggestive” is still fluff, it’s just a tad more passionate than my normal stuff. i hope you enjoy this little musing of mine! it’s a very light-hearted oneshot that gave me so much joy while writing <3 (it’s almost too short for a oneshot, but definitely too long for a drabble, so i was a bit lost on what to categorize it as haha)

[back to masterlist]

CHOI YEONJUN WAS ALWAYS WAITING FOR YOU.

In elementary school, it was his job to wait for you every time you were running late, often forgetting to grab your backpack before you walked to school with him. He would wait beside of you on the sidewalk when you realized you had left your laces undone, or when he pointed out that your shoes were on the wrong feet.

As a middle schooler, he waited for you outside the orthodontist when you got your braces put on and during the countless checkups you had. And of course, he waited for you a few years later when you had both just entered high school as you got your braces removed. You had rushed out of the office right away, flashing him a big smile as you pointed to your teeth, chanting, “No more braces, Jun!”

When he saw your smile that day, he felt the butterflies for the first time.

Later that year, he waited for you when you were studying together for your first big test. You paced around the room, fretting and tugging at your hair as you complained about not having enough time to study, about the test being too big, about how you were certain you would fail. He waited until you paused for breath before he stood and took hold of your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face as he assured you that everything would be fine, that you were the smartest person he knew, so how could you fail?

When he gently held your hands and stared into your wide and sparkling eyes, his heart skipped a beat, and he knew that he liked you as more than a friend.

In your senior year of high school, he waited as you sat together at the bus stop one night, rain pouring down, your head on his shoulder as tears spilled down your cheeks, falling onto the fabric of his shirt, the denim of his jeans, the skin of his hand. He waited until you had finished telling him all about your first heartbreak. About how the boy who promised to give you the world instead caused it to fall to pieces around you, because you had been certain he was the love of your life, so how could he break your heart in such a terrible way?

He waited until your sobs had slowed to hiccups before he placed a finger under your chin and lifted your face towards his, bringing his hands to hold your cheeks so he could catch your tears with his thumbs.

When he saw your swollen face and felt you tremble from the heartache against his hands that night, he swore that he would do anything he could to restore the promises your jerk of an ex failed to keep. He would catch the very stars in his hands if that’s what it took to bring the light back into your eyes. He would do anything to see your smile, the same one that brought him those first butterflies all those years ago.

It was then that he knew he was helplessly in love with you.

But, as always, Yeonjun knew he would have to wait. He was certain that you did not love him as anything more than a friend.

If he planned to wait for your feelings to mirror his own, he figured he’d be waiting forever.

But what else was he to do?

YOU WERE LATE FOR MOVIE NIGHT, AND YEONJUN WAS GROWING ANXIOUS AS HE WAITED FOR YOU TO SHOW UP.

Since you had both started college together a month ago, you had agreed to make time once a week for movies on Friday nights at six o’clock. They were usually hosted at your house, but this week, Yeonjun had invited you to his apartment so he could show off his new T.V. 

He had excitedly prepared your favorite drinks and your favorite movie snack—popcorn with M&Ms mixed in. He had to carefully pick out all of the red M&Ms by hand. It was an old habit; as kids, red dye had always made you exceptionally hyper. Whenever you ate M&Ms, he would pick out the red ones and eat them, leaving the rest for you. No matter how many times you told him that it didn’t effect you any longer, he refused to change his ways.

“After all that trouble, you’re not even going to show up?” He mumbled from where he sat upside down on the couch, his head on the floor, legs stuck straight up in the air. He glanced at his phone, pouting at the lack of a text or call from you. It was twenty minutes past six.

After a moment of debating, he decided to try calling you. He was shocked when you picked up right away.

“Jun!” You said cheerfully, the volume in your voice louder than he had expected.

 He pulled the phone away from his ear with a grimace before answering with, “Where are you?”

“I was just about to call you! Some friends of mine dragged me to the bar, and I didn’t get a chance to tell you’d I’d be running a bit late,” you explained. 

“The bar?” Yeonjun furrowed his brows, swinging his legs down so that he could sit up straight. You had a tendency to say—and do—odd things when you were under the influence, so you usually avoided drinking in public. He found it odd that you’d go out drinking so unexpectedly, and with such little resistance.

“Don’t worry! I’m on my way to your place right now,” you assured him. “Actually, I’m here now! Could you ring me in?”

“Mm,” Yeonjun hummed, standing to his feet as he ended the call. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling more nervous than he usually did at the thought of you coming over. In the past, whenever you were drunk and around him, you would get really close to him, touch his arm, lean in when you spoke to him, and hug him way more than usual. Of course, he didn’t mind these things. But he was afraid every time that he’d accidentally let his guard slip and end up telling you the secret that he’d been keeping from you for years; he was in love with you.

With a sigh, he buzzed you in, doing his best to steel his nerves before you walked in. 

He was already back on the couch and turning the T.V. on when you burst through his door, slamming it shut behind you as you tore your shoes off and slid your feet into the pair of slippers you kept at his apartment. He glanced at you over his shoulder, unable to stop the grin that spread across his lips at the sight of you rushing about.

“Yeonjun!” You shouted, stumbling over your feet and nearly falling to the floor as you ran to the living room. You planted yourself firmly in front of him, blocking his view of the T.V. 

“Hey, move over would you?” He griped, swatting at the air in front of you with his hand. “I’m trying to get the movie started.”

“I have something to say first.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, curiosity biting at the back of his mind. But, he remembered that you had been out drinking, and decided that anything you planned to tell him was probably a result of the alcohol in your bloodstream. Not wanting to put himself in a compromising situation, he shook his head quickly, pouting. “Just wait ‘til after the movie, alright? You’re already twenty minutes late, you’re lucky I didn’t start it without you—“

He stopped in the middle of his sentence when you tore the remote from his grasp, switched the power off, and threw it to the ground. He watched, slack-jawed and dumbfounded, as the remote slid off under the recliner on the other side of the room.

“What—what are you doing?” He asked. Slowly, he raised a finger at you. “This always happens when you drink. Next time, I’m not letting you in my house drunk—”

He was cut off once again, breath caught in his throat as you leaned forward, placing both hands against the back of the couch on either side of him. He leaned back right away, but even with his back pressed fully into the cushion behind him, your nose was brushing against his, lips a breath away.

“What are you doing?” He asked again, his voice hardly above a whisper. 

Your eyes searched his for a moment.

And then, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his.

He gasped against your mouth, and he could have sworn that his heart went still before it began pounding against his chest at triple the normal rate. It was a moment that he had imagined for years; lying in his bed late at night, wondering what it would feel like to have your lips against his, the smell of your perfume encircling him, the feeling of having you so close to him, of your body moving closer, your lips growing insistent as they moved over his own.

But now that it was happening, it was all wrong.

It took everything within him to bring his hands up to your shoulders and gently push you back, breaking the kiss. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, something similar to the hurt he had seen after your first breakup present in your gaze. He glanced away, hands gripping the fabric of your shirt sleeves.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I thought—I just thought that you maybe felt the same way.”

“It’s not that,” He said quietly as he slowly brought his eyes back to meet yours, lips still tingling with the memory of your kiss. He glanced down at your lips, swallowing before he said, “You’re drunk.”

You furrowed your brows at him, tilting your head to the side. “I’m not drunk.” You narrowed your eyes. “Are you drunk?”

He blinked once, then twice. “N-No? But you said you were out at the bar—”

“Yes, as the babysitter for my friends,” you finished for him, a smile breaking across your lips. “I drove all of them home before coming straight here. I didn’t have anything to drink, Jun.”

He was quiet and still as he tried to process what you had just said. In an instant he had leaned forward, his lips capturing yours in a swift kiss that caught you off guard and caused you to stumble back a bit.

He pulled away quickly, swiping his thumb across his lips as the gears began to turn like crazy in his mind. 

He tasted no alcohol when he kissed you. Only the overpowering flavor of the cheap mint toothpaste that you always used.

That meant you had been sober the whole time.

That meant you had wanted to kiss him.

In a flash, his hands were on the sides of your face, his lips covering yours in another kiss as he stood to his feet, bringing you up with him. His kiss was desperate, his lips moving against yours feverishly, trying to make up for all the years they had spent waiting to touch yours. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck as he began to walk forward, hands pressing you up against him as he backed you up.

He moved forward, lips never leaving yours, until your back met the wall behind you. His hands traveled up your sides as he moved to kiss the corners of your mouth, then your cheek, then your jaw. He exhaled against your neck when your hands moved to his hair, tangling in the long threads and pulling on them gently. He placed his arms against the wall on either side of your face, caging you in as he moved his lips back up to yours, catching your bottom lip in his teeth.

He kissed you with all the passion and adoration he had been harboring for so long. After all those years of hoping and dreaming, of wishing and wondering, he kissed you like there was no tomorrow. 

Because Choi Yeonjun no longer had to wait for you, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment ever again.

[newswcanonprompts]

Children Fall AU

Padawan Anakin with a group of initiates all ‘Falling’ at the same time

Maybe a Gathering gone wrong or something. Everyone is captured. Pirates or bounty hunters or just awful people.

No knights or the knights are killed.

Anakin is trying to protect the younglings.

Sacrificing himself if he can.

Falls in the process.

The kids are too young. They're not supposed to be in the field yet. There's a reason you're supposed to be a certain age before field missions. Before being chosen as a Padawan.

They can't handle their emotions.

They try to save Anakin right back but Fall, too.

Maybe they get overwhelmed by Anakin's Falling, since he is a supernova? And their shields aren't enough to protect them?

They survive and everyone is dead or dying but Anakin stands among a group of children, all with eyes of gold and he doesn't know what to do.

I want there to be like a noble reason for it?

Maybe but that definitely doesn't help the situation.

Maybe he remembers the tales of the Sith and executions.

He takes the kids and runs.

He doesn't know what he'll do, he just wants to protect them.

Maybe he Falls because he can't defeat the pirates/bounty hunters otherwise

They are kids, they can't be that dark, could they Fall by a Coruscanti Jedi point of view? Not so much Dark as too much attached, multiple Force Bonds attached? The question is more along the lines of Anakin knowing that, though.

They are holding each other together so closely that they would break if you tried to separate them? The pieces make a coherent whole together, but otherwise they would just be broken?

What if the younglings fell first and Anakin fell so that they wouldn't be alone.

Like the idea that the younglings would be hunted or at the very least isolated and he couldn't let that happen (Bariss and Ahsoka could be part of that group, they are in the right age range, right?)

He promised to protect them and he kept them alive but ultimately failed in the way that matters most to the Jedi.

It also could be about healing and building far away from what you used to know and considered home.

So the situation is too much too soon and they all fall. And Anakin with his too big heart and shields that still don't block emotions as much as they should is overwhelmed and he could fight it but…

But these kids need him. They're scared and terrified and he knows that they aren't going to risk heading back to the Jedi, not with the horror stories told about Sith and Dark Side users.

He can't leave them. They need someone, anyone. Even if that's probably him.

You could have them pick up other Force Sensitives kids in bad situations as they flee and protect each other. Like a travelling clan of Forces Sensitives.

The use of the word clan makes me wonder if this version of Anakin would look into alternative Jedi philosophies, like Vizla.

And the Jedi mourning Anakin plus the Initiates because they think they're dead.

The Jedi eventually track down the pirates, but the base has so much blood and darkside surrounding it that they assume that the pirates were blindsided by a dark force user/sith and the children were taken. The Jedi finding the building and feeling the overwhelming about of dark side energy that was used there.

Privately the Council almost hope they're dead because they think that it would be a kinder fate than to be tortured and broken by the Sith.

Quinlan not being able to get a read on anything because it's so heavy with pain and dark side energy.

All he sees is gold eyes and screaming.

He doesn't notice that it's more than one pair. Doesn't realise that they're each filled with tears and oh so young.

Obi-Wan is convinced that Anakin is still alive because the bond didn't snap but it might as well have because it's never been so solidly closed to him.

Anakin was always leaking emotions and thoughts through the bond and now all that meets Obi-Wan is a durasteel wall.

Also, Anakin becoming a bounty hunter to make sure the kids get enough food

If he looks into the Mandalorian Jedi, as a way to teach the Fallen kids, he could become Mando and do the bounty hunting as a way to take care of them. Just an idea, though.

What if they all become bounty hunters and no one realises that they're Sith or Dark Side users? Until a fight ends in a helmet being knocked off.

I like the thought of the kids forming a new Order of nomadic Force Users, you could fit so much Force worldbuilding here as they figure things out away from Coruscant.

What if dar jettii Ani and his gaggle of kids has a run in with Jango Fett. Depends on canon or fanon interpretation really.

I would imagine that Jango would absolutely adopt this smol child (teenager) and his band of even more smol children.

Wouldn't that be hilarious? Jango with 8 new kids?

One sullen teenager that refuses to trust. And then he plops Boba in Anakin's arms and Anakin just freaking melts and it's all over from there.

So, this Jango has his hatred of Jedi balanced by his love of children?

Or is it part of his plan against the Jedi to encourage Force users to create an alternative that won't make the same mistakes the Jedi did that led to the slaughter of his people?

I don't know since Anakin & Co. here aren't exactly Jedi. Though I think this Jango would have his hatred of Jedi balanced by his love of his 8 foundlings.

Jango as the Mand'alor.

Anakin pitches a fit when he finds out about the clones and Jango doing right by them

And all eight new kids have lightsabers, but they're not Jedi, so..........Boba/Jango might get the Darksaber in this!!!

Anakin finds out that Vizla has a Jedi artifact and just gets it back.

Hands it to Jango: “Like what? You needed this, right?”

Jango is a tired new dad. So Anakin is just like running around doing whatever and causing his dad stress.

What if Jango adopted them and didn't tell them?

Like, he said the words and Anakin didn't understand. The others did too, because they had that class, but Anakin didn’t

I mean Anakin would jokingly call him "buir" or "dad" at one point or another and Anakin is like "why do you even care".

He gets it eventually.

When he sits the fuck down and stops running around trying to protect everyone and puts the time in to sort his shit.

Read: When Jango gets the kids to sit on him when he starts looking like complete shit.

Yeah, Jango absolutely enlists his siblings' fellow former-Jedi to get him to slow down and relax.

They have it out at some point that Jango adopted him probably when he's gotten himself injured and doesn't understand why Jango won't leave him

and Jango's like "You kriffing di'kut, you're my son" and Anakin's like "?!?!?!? What?!?!"

Anakin can speak several languages but not mandoa. Jango tries to teach him, but his accent is atrocious.

Anakin can understand Mando'a and he sometimes uses some words, but he can't speak it.

Plus, he sometimes crosses Mando'a with another language or several and it just becomes an incomprehensible mess unless you understand all the languages he's crossed Mando'a with.

how about Mando'a's too close to something else he knows.

He keeps getting it super confused with another language.

Like french and spanish, but there's no cross meanings, so it might sound the same, the meanings AREN'T.

At this point, everyone just goes "you need a translator droid if you want to speak with Anakin"

However, he will offhandedly speak in another language or start writing in one language and end in another no matter how fluent he is.

And his accent is still atrocious. The closest comparison is the bastard compromise between Texan and Yorkshire.

Anakin is that one person who will use words from whatever languages are the best to speak about any given subjects.

Or whichever language he associates with a given subject. That's why he learned how to speak binary in the first place.

Boba becomes fluent in binary before speaking fluently in Mando'a.

I wonder how the discovery of Kamino would pan out in this.

Anakin accidentally starts a clone rebellion, and oops, it looks like there might be a Revolution on Kamino.

Slave rebellions are always very very good.

Dex: Ah yes Kamino, or how the Mand’alor got his groove back. Outer Rim politics got wild a while back let’s just say. Long story short, the Mand'alor adopted eight new children, one of them pitched a fit about clones, and things devolved from there.” 

The Clone Wars are going to be a wreck.

There’s an army missing!

Sheev running around his office like: “Now, where did I put that”

He is furious because there's an army missing, his future apprentice is missing, his future apprentice has a stable support system

basically, his plan just collapses.

Obi-Wan starts to cry because oh thank the fucking force they’re alive but Anakin and the kids misinterpret it.

Anakin's just like "I'm sorry, I wasn't going to let them be hurt anymore! I wasn't going to let anything else happen to them!" Obi-Wan: "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

[lunar-jimin]

i can be temptation, you can be my sin

Pairing: Jimin x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Genre: smut, tiny side of angst and fluff, office!au (not the TV show), coworkers!au

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dom!Jimin, sub!reader, spanking, fingering, semi-public sex, dirty talk, degradation, reader sends nudes

Summary: Between bragging about his prolific sex life and his horrific design ideas, Jimin has managed to make your work life a living hell. Then one little accident sends you hurtling towards him, and as hard as you try, you can’t seem to stop yourself. 

A/N: This is a commission for @ppersonna​ for @ficswithluv​‘s ChangesWithLuv project dedicated to raising money for BLM. I’m so sorry this fic took forever to write (I’m not sure why), but I hope that you enjoy it! A huge shout-out to my lovely beta-reader, @jinterlude​. She’s the best!

| m.list |

“Jimin…” a groan tumbles out of you, “that shade of yellow is-“

“Bright and comforting?”

“-awful.”

His thick lips curve into a pout, eyes doing little to conceal his mock hurt. Exasperation runs through your body, grasping your brain in its clutches. Your entire week has been filled with Jimin’s progressively hideous design ideas for a book cover, to the point you’re beginning to wonder how he got hired at all. The piss-yellow mock-up in front of you is just another straw in the stack that is going to break your back.

“What?” he looks confused, “You said you wanted something eye-catching, and I would have to say this is pretty darn, eye-catching.”

“It’s blinding is what it is. Maybe if we toned it back a bit…” your eyes drift over the design, horror twisting in your gut.

You want to cry. A week ago, your boss had enthusiastically paired you with Jimin to design a book cover for an up and coming YA author, claiming the two of you were the best designers she had, even promising the both of you a promotion if things went well. You aren’t sure what designs Jimin had produced in the past, because what he was bringing to the table now wasn’t much better than a shitty college club poster.

Jimin didn’t make for great company either. Sure he had legs that went for miles, and a face that would outshine angels, but his mouth was filthy. If the two of you weren’t bickering over fonts and hex codes, you were stuck listening to him brag about how loud he could make a girl scream. What’s worse is that while your brain was logical enough to know that Jimin was no good for you, your body had other ideas. As a result, you often went home after a long day, frustrated in more ways than one.

With a little luck- and quite a bit of compromising- you manage to make it to five ‘o’clock without murdering anyone. You manage to talk Jimin down off the yellow in exchange for completing the pitch presentation by yourself. Presentations are time-consuming and tedious, but it’s better than being out of a job because Jimin is set on making the cover look like a neon highlighter.

A half an hour later, you're collapsing on your soft couch, ready to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the weekend. A sigh of relief carries an iota of the stress out of your body as you sink back into the welcoming cushions. You grimace as the tension in your neck became apparent, and you feel the growing ball of angst you have for Jimin tighten. You were going to send him the bill if you had to go to a chiropractor.

In an attempt to move on from your hectic week and into your relaxing weekend, you wander to the kitchen, searching for the merlot you have yet to open. The tall green bottle greets you from the counter. You find a glass and watch as the red liquid quickly fills it. You savor a long sip as you let your mind stray away from the thoughts of work and stress and into notions of self-care and relaxation.

An hour later, having eaten a frozen pizza, you find yourself soaking down into the hot bath suds. The heat begins to draw the ache out of your sore muscles. Once again, Jimin flashes through your mind, coupled with resentment. Your eyes prickle at the thought, sick and tired of Jimin living in your mind rent-free. Why is he preoccupying your brain instead of Seokjin, the cute cook you matched with on Tinder?

While you had yet to meet in person, you and Seokjin had hit off right away when he opened with the cheesiest pick-up line you’d ever heard. He worked at a five-star restaurant a few blocks from your office, but you’d never met in person. That didn’t mean that you hadn’t had a few scandalous conversations. You weren’t usually one for sexting, but Seokjin’s way with words left you little choice.

Eager to take Jimin off your mind, you grab your phone from the side of the tub, quickly opening your messages. You’re much too impatient for small talk, so in the interest of sparking some saucy dialogue, you take a few snaps of your bubble-covered nude body. You suck in a breath as you hit send, anxious for your reaction. It wasn’t the first time you had sent him a nude photo, but it didn’t make you any less nervous. Seokjin was one of the most attractive men you had ever had the privilege of laying eyes on, and it was only natural for you to question your appearance in comparison to his. He would always reassure you, though, flattering you with compliments, both sultry and sweet.

When he doesn’t respond fifteen minutes, a knot forms in your stomach. What if he didn’t like them? What if he was seeing someone else? What if he lost interest? You check your messages with hurried concern. What you find on your screen mortifies. In your haste to tease Seokjin, you had accidentally sent the photos to the last person you texted: Jimin. Worse yet, the little grey “read” sits just beneath the last picture. As you stare at the screen with abject horror, a little speech-bubble pops-up. Your stomach twists in knots, anticipating of what he might say striking you with fear.

The Office Brat: if you wanted a piece of me baby girl, all you had to do was ask 20:33

You suck in a breath when he immediately follows the text with a picture of his own. He’s shirtless, lip between his teeth as he grabs his prominent erection through grey sweatpants. You can’t help the whine that slips out of your mouth at the image. You try to ignore the heat that rushes to your core as your legs rub together. When your senses finally return to you, you drop your phone on the bath mat before sinking into the water, leaving only your face out. The photo is still seared into your brain, taunting you with his delicious abs and what turned out to be a healthy sized dick.

You immediately resolve to forget it ever happened. You spend the rest of the weekend attempting to distract yourself through a binge of every cheesy rom-com you can find on Netflix. You sent Jimin a quick text, informing him that the photos weren’t actually for him. He hadn’t responded, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or not. It certainly didn’t aid the dread building in your stomach at the thought of having to face him again on Monday.

When you walk into the office two days later, you’re relieved to find that Jimin seemed nowhere to be found. You pray that he actually had an iota of shame and quit out of humiliation. Your hopes are crushed when not five minutes later, you notice him prancing toward your cubicle, his ever-present smirk plastered across his face. When he reaches you, he plops down in an extra desk chair, arms crossed across his chest, eyes looking you up and down. You can’t help but shiver at the knowledge that he knows precisely what you look like underneath your work clothes.

“What do you want, Jimin?” you sigh.

“Haven’t I made that obvious, baby?” He grins. “I want you.”

You roll your eyes.

“Jimin, what happened this weekend was an accident,” you give him a firm glare, “so no matter how much you claim to want me, I want nothing to do with you.:

He raises his eyebrow, eyes locked on yours, before standing and walking to you. His breath is warm on your neck as he leans over to whisper in your ear. You clench your thighs in an attempt to extinguish the heat beginning to burn in between them.

“We’ll see about that, now won’t we, baby girl?”

He pulls away with a smirk, before turning to head to his desk. Your eyes trail to his ass as he leaves, only worsening the situation in your underwear. You silently vow to yourself not to fall for his tricks. You have more self-respect than to allow yourself to be yet another notch in Park Jimin’s bedpost.

Brushing thoughts of your troublesome coworker from your mind, you turn back to your bright computer screen, determined to lose yourself in your work. Your eyes widen when you find an email from Jimin taunting you in your inbox. Heart pounding fast, you click on it, half afraid to find another nude of his (it wouldn’t be beyond him). Instead of a naked Jimin, a PDF with the details for the cover design presents itself. You’re taken aback. Not only had Jimin swapped the yellow for soft coral, but he practically redesigned the entire thing. Scrolling through, you’re embarrassed to admit that it was nearly as good, if not better, then some of your best works.

You immediately realize that this means he’s been pulling your leg for over a week. A groan escapes you, and your head falls forward, smashing into your keyboard. Of course, he was a fucking amazing graphic artist; you shouldn’t have expected anything less. Fury floods down your spine as it dawns on you that it was all a trick to get out of doing the PowerPoint. Now you were stuck making an entire presentation, just because Jimin had pretended to love piss-yellow.

It takes every ounce of your self-control not to march to his desk and strangle him. White anger flashes in front of your eyes, resentment growing to cover every waking thought in your brain. When you finally calm enough to rationalize that murder isn’t going to get you anywhere, you decide that your best course of action is to avoid him until the day of the two of you are scheduled to present to the board.

The world isn’t being kind to you today, because when you finally head to the break room for lunch, you immediately run into your new worst enemy.

“What’s got your panties in a knot now, love?”

You glare at him, not trusting yourself not to stab him with your salad fork. He smirks in response, before turning to leave. At the last second, he turns back to you.

“Have fun with that PowerPoint.”

You want to scream.

“Jimin, I swear to god, you little shit, I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna what? Spank me?” His cheeky grin widens. “You know, baby, I’m usually a dom, but if it meant feeling your sweet pussy, I’d definitely be a sub.”

You are lucky that no one else is around to hear his words because you are mortified enough. Red creeps across your face as Jimin winks at you. When he finally leaves, you collapse back onto the counter, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. You swear to high heaven that you’ve never hated someone so much in your life, yet feel so attracted to them at the same time. As infuriated as you are with him, you are even more infuriated with your inability to control your body’s reaction to him.

Why did he have to know exactly what to say to soak your panties? Why was he so hellbent on getting you to sleep with him? Why did you ever have to be assigned to him in the first place? These questions plagued your mind as the week trickled slowly on. Your anger with Jimin was beginning to be diluted with anxiety about your upcoming presentation. No part of you looked forward to standing in front of the company board to make a potential career-changing pitch with the person you hated most in the world. Not to mention public speaking made you want to hide under a rock and never come out.

Thankfully, Jimin is kind enough to offer to do most of the talking- even if his original deal included a blow job- but it also meant you had less control if things started to go south. By the time Friday rolled around, you’re shitting yourself with fear. Jimin does his best to calm you down as you sit in hard plastic chairs outside the boardroom, waiting to be called in.

“Look, we’ll do fine. You made an amazing presentation, and I’m pretty brilliant at charming people if I do say so myself.”

He reaches over and gives your hand a small squeeze. You’re just nervous enough to offer him a small smile. For what it’s worth, he wasn’t terrible at comforting people.

“Thanks, Jimin. I’m sure everything will go great.”

Everything did not go great. In fact, it went very, very badly. Somewhere out there, someone must have hexed you because that’s the only reason you can think of that would explain why you placed Jimin’s original yellow design in the slideshow instead of his new one. You feel terrible. Not only have you fucked up in front of the entire company, but you’ve put both of your jobs on the line.

As soon as the meeting ended, you rushed off to the bathroom. You already embarrassed yourself enough as it is, you don’t need everyone to see you cry too. Tears roll down your face as you sit on the toilet, praying for the sudden end of your existence.

You had one job and somehow you had managed to fuck it up. You managed to ruin your career. You’re going to end up jobless. Broke. Destitute.

You’re jolted out of your thoughts by a knock at the door.

“Doll? Are you in there?”

Jimin’s voice is soft and comforting, and if you weren’t so afraid of humiliating yourself, you would have gladly welcomed his arms around you. But you are, so you try to stifle your sobs in an attempt to make him go away.

“Doll? I know you’re in there. I can hear you crying,” he sighs, “Please just let me in. I just want to talk.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you debate your options. If he already knows you’re crying, what difference will it make if he sees you? You stand up from your seat on the toilet, make a quick attempt at cleaning up your ruined makeup, and hesitantly open the door to let him inside.

He immediately takes you in his arms, closing the door behind him. The feeling of his body wrapped around yours only serves to induce more tears, and you find yourself crying into his shirt collar.

“I’m so, so sorry, Jimin,” you hiccup, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how I used that one. I’m so sor-”

“It’s okay, baby.”

You pull away to look at his eyes.

“What? How can you say that? I ruined the presentation, and we’ll be lucky if they want us to come back to work tomorrow.”

“They loved it.”

“What?”

“They loved it. They thought it was bright and innovative and really demonstrated that we understood design enough to push its limits.”

You look at him in shock. They loved it. They thought it was great. Your job was safe. You weren’t going to be fired. You may even receive a promotion.

“Feel better, doll?” He smiles down at you.

For once in your life, you return his smile, while shaking your head in affirmation.

“Well, then…”

You’re still smiling but suddenly unsure of what to do. Jimin’s hands are still on your waist, and you hated how aware of them you’re becoming. He seems to notice at the same time and quickly pulls them away.

“I have a question.” His voice is soft and shaky, and his eyes shift from side to side, seemingly unable to focus on you.

“What?”

“Why do you hate me so much?”

You’re taken aback. Jimin, who was usually so confident and larger than life, is now standing before you, small and meek, like an underfed puppy begging for scraps.

“I, I don’t hate you, Jimin.”

“But you must,” his voice is curt, “You never flirt back with me, yet I see you tease Hoseok all day long. You never laugh at my jokes. You never praise my work. As soon as I come anywhere near you, you close up. You snap at me, and you have no patience with me. You avoid me at all costs. So let me ask you again: why do you hate me?”

This time, instead of avoiding eye contact, he stares at you like he’s trying to read your soul.

“I really don’t hate you, Jimin.”

He raises his eyebrow.

“I just don’t want you to hurt me.”

He looks genuinely confused at your statement.

“How could I possibly hurt you?”

“The same way you hurt all those other girls.”

“What other girls?” His voice rises with defense.

“You know, the ones you sleep with in bathrooms, only to leave them broken-hearted when you never so much as glance their way again? The one’s you brag about fucking every chance you get until I want to slam my head into a brick wall? The ones that prove you’re nothing but a narcissistic fuckboy whose only goal in life is to get his dick wet? Those are the girls I’m talking about.”

Jimin looks shocked before his face morphs into an angry scowl, eyes heated and alert.

“That’s what you really think about me? That I’m a no-good player who uses girls for their bodies? Do you really think I trick girls into sleeping with me? Because you're wrong. They know what they’re getting into when they agree to restroom rendezvouses, but they always seem to convince themselves that they can convince me that I should be in a relationship with them. That’s not my fault. I would never sleep with someone under false pretenses. And I bragged about them because I wanted you to like me! Do you not get that? I don’t ever try this hard to get anybody to sleep with me, but I like you. I like you a lot, and this whole time you just thought I was a misogynistic fuckboy because you never cared to get to know me better.”

Jimin is seething, like a dog that went feral. His chest rises with heavy breaths as he backs you into the wall, eyes staring down yours. You let out a small whimper when he leans into your ear, hot breath ghosting your neck.

“If you think I’m such a fuckboy, then a fuckboy is what you are going to get.”

Before your brain can properly register his words, his lips are covering yours in a desperate kiss. Despite your lack of cognizance, you respond immediately, lips moving against his as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into you. His hands ghost down your side before he grabs your ass with a rough squeeze, eliciting a whine from your mouth.

He flips you around before bending you over the sink, eyes holding yours in the mirror reflection.  

“I think you’ve been a bad girl, don’t you agree? Leaving me with blue balls just because you think you’re better than me.”

Words fail you, so you nod instead. His hand slips under your skirt, softly massaging your ass.

“Don’t you think Daddy needs to punish you?”

You whimper, eyes struggling to hold his in your shared reflection. His gaze was burning with lust and fiery.

“I need you to use your words, baby.”

“Yes, daddy, I need to be punished.”

He grinned before flipping up your skirt to reveal the supple curve of your ass to his waiting gaze.

“Fuck, baby, do you know how long I’ve stared at this ass walking away from me, trying not to pop a boner in front of the whole office?”

He grabbed a rough handful.

“So long, baby, much too long. I think ten should suffice. Count for me.”

“Okay, daddy.” You whine.

“Say ‘red’ if it gets to be too much.”

“Yes, daddy.”

The first spank sent shocks running through you. While you expected the pain, you hadn’t anticipated how hard he would hit you, or how the contrast of his warm palm and cool rings would send pleasure singing through your body.

“O-one.”

The word barely made it out of your mouth, your brain hazy with lust.

The subsequent slap on the opposite cheek once again jolts you, and you fall forward, bracing your hands on the cold porcelain sink before you.

“Two.”

By the time he made it to five, tears had begun to well in your eyes, and you were sure your ass was painted a nice shade of crimson. By the time he made it to ten, tears had streaked your cheeks as moans and whimpers left your mouth alongside your garbled counting.

Jimin takes a moment to step back to admire his handiwork, his smirk only widening as he takes in his handprint bruised into your ass.

“Holy shit, baby, you’re so hot. You took your punishment so well. Look at how much of a good girl you are.”

Even in your hazy state, you beamed at his praise.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“I think you deserve a reward, baby girl.”

You nod vigorously at that, eager to feel him finally inside you.

“What do you want, baby? Use your words.”

“Your fingers, daddy, please.”

In an attempt to convey your desperation, you grind your hips into his crotch.

“Patience, baby girl. Where do you want them?”

“In my pussy, daddy. Please. I’m so wet for you.” Your sentence ends with a light sob, the need for him overwhelming you.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

With that, he pulls your panties to the side as he cautiously rubs his pointer finger up and down your soaked slit, before slipping inside.

“Fuck, baby, your dripping. Did spanking you turn you on that much? Is my baby girl that much of a pain slut?”

“Yes, daddy. I’m a pain slut just for you.”

He adds a second finger, and your head drops between your shoulders as he begins to move his digits in and out of you at a quick but intentional pace. Moans fall from your lips, and you let out a sharp squeal when he crooks his fingers and brushes against your g-spot.

“Fuck, daddy, right there.”

He quickens his pace, rubbing you perfectly over and over again as he brings you closer to the point of no return.

“Shit, baby, I’m so hard right now. Your pussy is so tight and wet around my fingers; I just want to sink my cock into you.”

“Please, daddy, I want your cock too. I want you to cum inside me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“

Words fail you as you are sent hurtling into your orgasm, waves of euphoria crashing down around you. Your body is shaking as you collapse against the sink.

Jimin lets out a groan at your fucked-out state, removing his hand from your pussy and bringing it to his lips to taste you. He lets out a moan as he does, freehand going to the front of his pants to rub his prominent erection through the black fabric.

After you recover enough to stand, you turn around and replace his hand with your own, pussy clenching at how big he was.

“Will you fuck me now, daddy?” You look up at him under your lashes, and his head falls back at your mock innocence, a light whimper escaping his lips. He tilts his head back up to look at you, hand coming to grab your waist to pull you to his lips.

You taste yourself on his tongue as your hands come to play with his hair, tugging on the strands. He ruts up into you, desperation getting the better of him. He pulls away, revealing his swollen lips and hazy eyes.

“Fuck yeah, I’ll fuck you now, baby girl.” He makes quick work of his belt zipper, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to let out his cock and balls. The tip is an angry red, beautifully contrasted with the white of his dress shirt. Your mouth waters as you take in its wide girth and slight curve. You’re desperate to taste it, but right now there were more important matters at hand.

You drop your panties, before hopping up on the edge of the sink. Jimin gives his cock a few short tugs before lining up with your dripping entrance. You let out soft moans as he sinks into you, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him as close as possible. His hands grab your ass, pulling you to the edge of the sink, before slamming back in. He sets a slow but intentional pace, the sound of skin and desperate moans echoing throughout the small bathroom.

You aren’t going to last long, having already come once, and judging by his quickening pace, neither is he. Your lips meet each other in a messy kiss as he pulls you tight against his body. It’s hard to discern what is a part of you and what is a part of him. Your limbs are so intertwined, that it feels like you are one body.

As his cock continues to drill into your g-spot, stars begin to cover your vision. With the force of a freight train, you come unannounced; your mouth opens in a silent scream. Jimin follows right behind you, painting your walls white with his seed. He lets out a groan of your name, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

Both of you silently shake as you take a moment to catch your breath and process what just happened. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, watching as his cum pours out of your cunt.

“Fuckkkk, that’s hot.” He groans, tucking himself back into his pants, before wetting a paper towel to help clean you up.

“I’m sorry I thought so poorly of you.” You give him an apologetic grin, as you pull up your underwear.

“It’s okay. I can see where I might have led you to think that I don’t treat girls well.”

“Well, now I can see that I was wrong. You seem like you would be a fantastic boyfriend.” You move to exit the bathroom, eager to get away so you can process the rampage of emotions flooding through you now that your lust wasn’t getting in the way.

“I can be yours.”

You pause at the door.

“What?”

“I could be your boyfriend.”

“I-“

“I’ve liked you ever since the first time I saw you, and I think that maybe you like me, and I just really, really want to be your boyfriend.”

Your mind is racing at a million miles per hour, trying to process everything that’s happening. One moment he was fucking you like it was your last day on the earth, and now he’s standing in front of you, pleading for you to make him yours. You aren’t sure what to make of it.

“I think I would really like that too, Jimin,” he beams,” “but everything is going so fast, and I just need a little time to take everything in.”

His face falls a little, but he nods understandingly.

“That’s fair. Let me take you on a date, at least.”

You grin.

“Okay.”

“Coffee on Saturday?”

“Sounds great.”

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

First of all, I want to tell you that you're absolutely amazing and that I love everything you write!! Okay about my request I was thinking about Harry's younger sister x Draco!! I had this idea in my head for days and I'm dying to read something like that! Maybe a no Voldy AU where H and D still have their 'rivalry' and then D falls for his sister ofc. They have a secret relationship and to add a little bit of ✨spice✨ Harry finds them in a ... compromising situation... AND WHEN JAMES FINDS OUT

First off: I absolutely LOVE THIS CONCEPT. I haven’t even begun this request yet and I’m already thinking of James dialogue. Second off: You guys are all so sweet omfg I might actually cry. 

Note: This ended up A LOT LONGER than I anticipated. Hope you guys like it.

Harry. That was your damn brother alright. He was older than you by one YEAR. And my God did that point come up ALL THE GOD DAMN TIME. It definitely didn’t help when it came to the fact that Harry became a seeker in his first year, making him the golden child of Gryffindor. You were honestly kind of thankful you were a Hufflepuff because sharing a common room with your brother would’ve actually made you murder someone. You were a little bit of a loner though, only keeping close to your friend Cedric. Lily told you that she was a little bit of a loner too growing up and then she met your dad James. Here’s the thing though: At least she didn’t have to grow up being overshadowed by an older brother. You didn’t hate your brother. You just hated the environment around your brother. As in: You hated that everyone seemed to focus solely on your brother. To be honest, Harry hated it too. You were talented in so many things and Harry could recognize his achievements overshadowed yours. You kind of lucked out on the big brother front though: At least you weren’t related to an asshole. Harry did care about you and supported you. Sometimes (especially during Quidditch season, when he usually became a bigger spectacle) he’d hide out in the Hufflepuff common room. But he usually refrained from doing that. Because that increased the possibility in running into Draco Malfoy. Harry made this fun little nickname for him. “The Crown Prince of Douchebag, long may he reign” Harry would always say making you laugh. Your dad didn’t seem too keen on Lucius Malfoy either. Your mother though, wasn’t vocal on disliking anyone in the Malfoy family. Lily always did have a way of seeing the best in people. Even your strange professor Snape. Your Uncle Sirius seemed ready to kick Draco’s ass anytime Harry complained about him. The thing you always noticed when talking about Draco though is that no one ever called him “Draco.” it was always “Malfoy” 

You never had any interactions with the boy until your third year. Hermione insisted you study for the upcoming exams. You almost didn’t but when you passed the library her voice kept sounding off in your head and you sighed before walking in. You sat at a table, noticing the place was beginning to fill up with students, all of them most likely prepping for the same exams you were. You were reading intently before you heard someone clear their throat. The silver blonde hair immediately made you recognize the boy. “Can I help you Draco?” You asked. He showed a small reaction to hearing his first name being used rather than his last. “Can I sit here? The other tables are full.” He asked. You nodded and he sat down. You didn’t say anything to him for a good long while, even though you could feel him staring. You finally looked up “Can I help you Draco?” You asked. There it was again. His name. “Aren’t you one of the Potters’?” He asked. You frowned. “My legacy is not determined by my brothers, if you’re going to refer to me you will do it by my name.” You said sternly making him surprised. Not only did you call him by his first name but you showed zero fear in speaking with him. Interesting indeed. “...No offense but... What is your name?” He asked. You started to understand why Harry had such a strong disliking for this guy. “Y/n. My name is Y/n.” You said sharply. He opened his mouth but someone sitting next to you made him go completely silent. “Hey Cedric.” You said. “Hey. Do you have your potions notes with you?” He asked. You pulled out your notes and you went back to reading. Draco didn’t get up for a while. Not until after you left. 

From that point on he began to notice you more. Were you always in three of his classes? You definitely showed an aptitude for taking care of magical creatures after seeing you in Hagrid’s course and witnessing the way Fang was with you. You never seemed to pay anyone else any mind though. You always kept to yourself, very rarely interacting with other students. Sure, Draco would see Cedric near you. But you didn’t really interact with anyone else. Fred and George would make themselves present near you, usually to check on you and see how you were doing. That let Draco know that you did have people active in your life. He noticed your presence was very rare in quidditch though, usually only when Hufflepuff played. But if that was against Gryffindor then you’d be absent then too. Draco was smart. He knew exactly why you never showed up. Harry God damn Potter. You never went because of your brother. Sure, yes: You made it clear by being seen with Harry that you cared about your brother. But you actually didn’t participate in any activities around a lot of people when it came to your brother. Cedric? Sure. He noticed you present for Cedric winning a Quidditch match and celebrating. Harry? No. You weren’t there. Harry didn’t seemed bothered by this set up though. Draco was curious. He HAD to know why. 

Another opportunity came when Draco’s dumbass walked right up to Buckbeak. Of course Buckbeak nearly attacked him but you intervened, forcing the creature to look at you. “BUCKBEAK.EYES ON ME NOW!” You shouted. The creature merely glanced at you before getting ready to attack. You snapped your fingers though and he finally cut his attention to you. You blocked any view of Draco from Buckbeak, calming it down. Draco was mesmerized by your ability. Course the dumbass did actually fall and scrape his arm. “Christ you’re an idiot.” You sighed helping him to his feet. Draco frowned. “Sorry. That thing almost attacks me and I’m the idiot?” Draco asked. “You’re the jackass that ran up to a creature you knew next to nothing about, that is also in a foreign environment might I add, and expected it to act the way you wanted. Yes Draco. I’d say by this point you’re the village idiot.” You said making Harry snort. James. That was ALL James and if your dad could see you right now he’d be pissing himself of laughter. “Come on.” You sighed walking. “Where the hell do you think you’re taking me?” Draco asked. “You scraped your arm you git. I’m walking you there. Come. on.” You said sternly. Draco grumbled the entire time walking. “I swear I’m beginning to really understand my brother when it comes to you.” You sighed. “Excuse me?” Draco asked. “Surprised my brother talks about you?” You asked. “No I’m surprised you actually mentioned your brother with how little you choose to interact with him.” Draco said. You stopped walking, glaring at Draco. “I don’t know what you think you know Draco, but that’s not true.” You snapped. “Really? Because from where I’m standing you barely interact with him and you got offended by association!” Draco pointed out. “Do you have any idea what it is like to have to live in your sibling’s shadow Draco!? I don’t interact with him here because everything I do here is compared to what he can do.” You snapped, clearly very pissed with Draco. “Actually I do know what that’s like, but it’s not a sibling” he admitted. “Who, pray tell, do you live in the shadow of?” You asked, clearly annoyed. “My father.” he said with a sigh. Oh. Oh shit that actually was a reliable answer. “Yeah. It doesn’t feel great does it asshole?” You asked sharply. “No. Which is why I can’t seem to hate you.” Draco said making you halt again. “...What?” You asked. “You always call me by my first name. Never the last. At first I figured you did it because you liked to annoy the shit out of me. Now I think you do it because you know what it’s like to live behind a strong name defined by someone else.” Draco explained. You hated that the explanation made sense. Why couldn’t he be an idiot? It’s so much easier to hate an idiot. You walked into the medical wing and bandaged him yourself. You were used to having to do this to Harry after quidditch games that backfired. 

Draco watched you carefully. “I don’t hate you.” You muttered. “Hmm?” Draco asked. “I don’t hate you. And that pisses me off. Because I want to hate you.” You muttered. “I’d love to hate you too, but that doesn’t seem like it’s in the cards.” Draco shared your sentiment, making you crack a smile. That smile was so... pretty. “you’re good now.” You sighed, finishing the bandage. “You’re good at this.” He said looking at your handiwork. “Harry injures himself all the time. You should’ve seen mum when when he broke his arm playing quidditch. She looked ready to kill someone.” You chuckled. You and Draco exchanged a look. One of mutual understanding. You held out your hand. “I vote that we become friends.” You said. He rose a brow looking at you and then your hand. “...Call me paranoid because of Fred and George. But if this is a prank I will hex you.” he said. You snorted. “I���m not one for pranks.” You shrugged. Draco shook your hand and you smiled. “See you around.” You said walking away, saluting him as you did. You made him chuckle at that. 

The Hogsmeade trip finally approached and you were excited. Sirius was meeting up with you and Harry along with Remus and Peter. You ran into the three broomsticks with a smile. “Uncle Moony!” You said excitedly, hugging him. He chuckled and hugged you back. “Hi Songbird, goodness you’re growing!” He said. Draco was sitting in a booth, reading when he noticed you. “No hugs for me. I’m hurt, saddened. Shocked.” Sirius said dramatically making you snort and hug him. You hugged Peter too and sat down with Harry. You and Remus were close, along with Peter. Don’t get me wrong. Sirius and you were close. But not as close as Remus. “How’s school going?” Remus asked. “Meh. Boring. I swear if Granger tells me to study one more time I might actually fight her.” You groaned making Peter laugh. “You have James’ spark I’ll give you that.” Peter said. “Make any new friends?” Remus asked making Draco listen. “Uhhh... Just one.” You said. “Well, come on now who is it?” Sirius asked. “I’m not saying anything in front of you or Harry.” You said with a laugh. Remus leaned in so you could whisper. You told him and Remus rose a brow. “Come on Moony who is it, I’m dyin’ here.” Sirius said. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Can’t say.” Remus said, doing the “Scout’s honor” salute. “Even I don’t know this one.. Oh God it’s not Moaning Myrtle is it?” Harry whined. “No! Harry I have standards.” You said making the table laugh. “Is it someone I know?” Harry asked. “Not saying.” You said simply. “Uncle Moony at least drop a hint.” Harry said. “Nope.” He said, taking a long sip of butterbeer. You and Remus exchanged knowing glances and smiled. He handed you a book and you chuckled. “Thanks Uncle Moony.” You said, him hugging you. “I should go, Cedric is waiting.” You said. “Have fun Songbird.” Peter said making you chuckle. “Thanks Uncle Wormtail.” You said walking towards the exit. You noticed Draco looking at you and you gave him a smile. He felt.. Warm seeing that. You walked outside seeing Cedric with Cho. “Best not interrupt them.” You mumbled. You weren’t bothered being on your own, you actually didn’t mind it. But someone caught up to you making you jump. “Gah! Jesus Draco, say something before just sprinting next to me.” You gasped. “Sorry.” He laughed. “Who were those men in there?” He asked. “My uncles.” You said walking. “Why’d they call you Songbird?” Draco asked. “Were you eavesdropping?” You asked. “No, I just happened to notice it on your way out.” He lied. “Hmm. According to Uncle Remus I can sing. So they just call me songbird because of that.” You shrugged. “Ah... Were you talking about me earlier?” He asked. You stopped. “You were totally eavesdropping, you little shit!” You said. “Little shi-- I’m older than you!” Draco said making you laugh. “How’s Captain Pain in the ass?” You suggested. “God no!” Draco said making you laugh harder. Draco noticed that smug little smirk and decided to throw a snowball at you. “Oh you little--” You threw one at him making him laugh before you threw another one. You two fought on for a while until you tired yourselves out. But that smile just... God Draco’s heart seemed to hammer against his chest when he saw it.

You and Draco were a little on the secretive side of your friendship. Not because he was ashamed to have you as a friend. God no. But your brother was now watching you like a fucking hawk to see who this “New friend” was. Thank God he took after James and was completely clueless to who you spent time with. Well. Until Cedric answered that burning question. “Who do you think she hangs out with?” Harry asked Ron. “I dunno. I don’t really see her much.” Ron shrugged. “Draco.” Cedric answered. “Hmm?” Harry asked turning to Cedric. “She’s been hanging around Draco, last I saw.” Cedric answered making Hermione drop her spoon, Ron nearly choke, Fred and George both exchanging looks of “OH. SHIT.” Harry’s eye seemed to twitch at hearing this and it soon became obvious why Harry didn’t know. Harry got up, walking to the Hufflepuff common room and finding you reading on the couch. “Malfoy!?” Harry asked. You looked up confused. “What now?” You asked expecting to hear about some argument the two boys had. “You’ve been making friends. With Malfoy!?” Harry asked. Shit. “Uhh... No?” You lied. Harry shot you a glare. “Okay fine! But in my defense, I want to hate him. But once you get to know the guy he’s not that bad!” You said. “Christ, Y/n.” Harry said. “You’re lucky I won’t tell mom!” He sighed. “She already knows Harry.” You said. “So you told everyone but me?” He asked. “Do you see the way you’re reacting right now!? Excuse me if I wanted to AVOID this!” You snapped. “Malfoy--” “His name is Draco! For God’s sake Harry just GET TO KNOW HIM!” You snapped. Harry had never seen you this aggravated with him. “Fine! Fine. If it means that much to you I’ll try.” Harry said.

Instead Harry avoided that kid like the plague. Draco laid off the snide comments and snarky remarks because he knew you’d yell at him later if he said anything unwarranted. Harry didn’t want to run into the guy because he didn’t want to have to be nice. Quite frankly, Harry didn’t want anything to do with him. When the summer approached you were not hearing the end of this “Malfoy? Really?” thing. Remus and Peter was your escape and you were grateful for that. Honestly it reminded them of Snape and Lily. Except less dramatic. Hopefully. “I just don’t get it. Harry doesn’t even try with Draco.” You sighed, throwing a ball and catching it as you laid on the couch. “He gets it from James.” Peter said. “This is all just... It sucks y’know?” You said, unaware that Harry was listening from the kitchen. “I finally make a friend and my brother hates him.” You sighed. “All that matters is your opinion of Draco Songbird. Harry might come around eventually.” Remus assured. You smiled at your uncle. “Mum teach you to be this insightful?” You asked. “Life taught me that... And yes Lily did too.” Remus chuckled. 

Lily didn’t have a problem with the friendship. James was of course worried because his baby girl was making friends now with mainly guys. Oh God he was not ready for this year. You rode with Draco on the train. When he saw you he nearly died internally. Your hair was longer, you were taller... Oh God this was a crush wasn’t it!? NO. NO NO NO NO NO-- “Draco? Are you alright, you seemed spaced out.” You asked. “Hmm? Oh I’m fine.” he said. FUCK. FUCKING-- FUUUUUUUUU-- “I heard from dad there’s something weird going on this year.” You said pondering. “Oh. You mean the tournament.” He said. “How did you know?” you asked. “Father works with the ministry division that works with the school.” Draco answered. “Ohhh.” you nodded. Sure enough the boy was right. The cup was introduced. The rules were a little bit odd but you met all the requirements to participate. Sooooo... Why the fuck not? You signed a parchment, stuck it in the cup and it was accepted. Your mindset was “Well plenty of more qualified students are signing up, I’ll be fine.” Well... There was a problem. The Goblet of Fire goes off at random, not by who’s more qualified. So your name DID get chosen making Harry and Draco both FLIP THEIR SHIT. Both boys were well aware of how brutal this competition could be. News got back to Lily and James and they were equally panicked. 

Cedric however had FULL confidence you could do this. He trained you, making sure you were physically and mentally prepared for everything. It felt weird being the only third year in the room but you didn’t have a problem with it. Harry was practically begging you to drop the competition. “Harry! For God’s sake, just SHUT UP!” You finally snapped. He blinked, as did a few students hearing this. “I watch you play quidditch and you get hurt all the time, you do not hear me throwing a bitch fit over this! The only thing I need right now is your support!” You snapped. Harry didn’t argue either. Draco was supportive over you being in this but he was definitely nervous. “And you’re sure... This is what you want?” Draco asked. “I’m sure.” You nodded as you geared up for the first trial. “Okay... I’ll be in the stands... If you need me just... say something.” He said. You nodded giving him a small smile. 

You thought everyone was being a bit ridiculous... Until you found out the first trial. “Oh no.” You muttered watching Krum run for dear life across the field. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned. “Dad!” You breathed before hugging him. Lily, Remus, Peter and Sirius all stood there. “Alright. You’ve got this Darling don’t worry!” James said, eyes twitching as he was clearly worrying. Draco ran in. “Draco?” You asked. “Which dragon did you draw?” Draco asked. “Uhm. The Hungarian Ridgeback.” You said. “...Shit.” Draco muttered. “Guys. I’m fine. Really.” You assured. Why in the hell were you so confident. Draco looked into your eyes and you felt your heart pound. Lily noticed the look and rose a brow. “Promise me you’ll play this safe.” Draco said. “Draco--” “Promise me. Please.” He said, looking at you and putting a hand on your shoulder. His feelings towards you were quite obvious to everyone... Except James. “I promise.” You said softly. “Y/n. You’re up.” Viktor said. You held Draco’s hand for a second before cracking your knuckles. You walked out, the arena being loud as hell. How in the world did Viktor deal with this for a living. Harry ran into the tent, noticing his family watching as well... And Draco. You seemed to be completely calm, despite having seen Krum nearly roasted. The Dragon thrashed against it’s chains and Lily swallowed her anxiety. You did something strange. You... Sat down. “What the fuck is she doing!?” James screeched. “Hi.” You said to the dragon. It roared in your face, blowing your braid so it was off your shoulder. You maintained eye contact with it though. How in the hell were you calm-- You didn’t even flinch when this thing roared at you. You stood up, the dragon retreating back before you held out your hand. It snarled making Remus uneasy, but you kept the same calm expression. It sniffed you, before you lightly pressed your hand to it’s snout and smiled. “see. I’m not so bad.” You said softly. Everyone was wide eyed. “I need the egg.” You said looking at the golden egg. It let out a huff but you kept eye contact as you grabbed the egg. It tried to follow but you halted the creature with your hand. “Stay.” You said softly. It did. You walked back out of the arena leaving everyone shocked. Did a fourth year just... TAME A FUCKING DRAGON?

You walked back to the tent and Lily hugged you, “You did so well-- Oh honey!” She said. “Well done Y/n!” Sirius laughed, clapping his hand onto your back. “I’m proud of you.” Harry said as he roughed up your hair, making you laugh and swat his hand away. You looked at Draco and he said nothing, pulling you into a hug. You dropped the egg, hugging him back. James nearly went “PROTECTIVE DAD MODE” On this kid’s ass but Sirius halted him along with Lily halting Harry. “When were you going to tell me you could tame dragons?” Draco laughed making you smile. You pulled away and chuckled. “I just remembered Hagrid rambling on about dragons and I went with what he told me” You admitted. Draco shook his head with a laugh and cleared his throat after noticing all of your family staring at him. “Uh... Hi?” He waved. “Uncle Moony, this is the friend.” You said. Remus smiled and held out his hand, Draco shaking it. “Pleasure.” Remus said. James’ eye was still twitching as Draco sat with you through the rest of the trial. Harry was too. Like father, like son. “Can I punch a kid? Is that illegal?” James whispered to Lily. “Yes James it is. It’s called assaulting a minor. And he seems perfectly fine.” Lily hushed him. James pouted and Harry kept watching you two. 

The next few days were spent trying to figure out what the fuck the egg actually was supposed to do. “What the hell is this even for?” Draco asked, looking at it as it sat on the coffee table in the Hufflepuff common room. “Have you opened it?” Harry asked. “Yes. It screams.” You said. “Charming.” Hermione said sarcastically. “It makes me want to drown the damn.... Wait a minute!” You gasped. “What?” Draco asked. “What if I put it underwater to quiet the noise?” you asked. “Why would you want to do that?” Ron asked. “It clearly makes noise for a reason dipshit.” Fred said, smacking Ron upside the head, understanding your logic. You sprinted off to the baths, doing just that. You listened to it’s riddle, coming back up for air and raising a brow. “Come seek us where our voices sound, We cannot sing above the ground ,And while you're searching, ponder this: We've taken what you'll sorely miss, An hour long you'll have to look, And to recover what we took. But past an hour - the prospect's black Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.” it sang. “What the absolute fuck does that mean?” you pondered aloud. You walked back to the common room, hair still wet. “Any ideas?” George asked. “Well I was right. It gave me a riddle.” You muttered pondering. “Where our voices... sound-- Are there any mermaids on campus?” You asked. “...What?” Fred asked. “In the lake, I think.” Hermione answered. “That’s where the next trial is.” You said, snapping your fingers. “Damn that was quick!” George laughed. “Sure you’re not a lost Ravenclaw?” Fred asked. You sat next to Draco and chuckled. Your eyes were gorgeous when the fire from the fireplace reflected off of them. “I should get some rest. Tell Dad about the competition.” You yawned, leaving. Draco got up. “Sit.” Harry said as everyone else cleared out. Draco frowned. “I’m not going to just--” “I need to talk to you, sit.” Harry said. He finally sighed, sitting down. “I know you like my sister.” Harry said. “...What--” “Don’t play dumb, even my dad can see that you do.” Harry said. Draco looked at Harry. “Let me guess: You don’t want me anywhere near her right?” Draco asked. “Preferably: Yes. But Y/n likes having you around so I will say this...” Harry leaned forward, his eyes piercing through Draco. “If you hurt my sister I will kill you. Am I understood?” Harry snapped. “....Okay.” Draco nodded. “You can go.” He sighed, turning back to the fire. Draco got up and stopped for a moment. “I would never hurt her Potter. She means too much to me to ever do that.” Draco said before leaving. 

The next trial of course had to be on a day where it was FUCKING COLD. Your family all stood outside with everyone else. You looked around noticing Draco’s absence. “Where’s Draco?” you asked. “Mcgonagall asked him to come with her this morning. Haven’t seen him since.” Goyle answered. “Hermione isn’t here either.” Ron noticed. You frowned, remembering the riddle. “Oh no.” You said. “What?” Sirius asked. “I think I know what this trial is.” You said looking at the lake. You pulled your hair back and Cedric handed you something. “You’ve got this.” He said. You cracked a smile, looking at the item. It was going to help you breathe underwater. You took it, waiting for the sound off. It finally rang out and you dived in, swimming through the murky water. You had an hour. You used your wand to provide light, swimming through the lake before you finally found it. They seriously chained students to the bottom of a lake? What the fuck was this competition? You unlocked the chains, gripping Draco’s arm before swimming back. Viktor popped out of the water first, Hermione with him. You popped out, water dripping from you. Draco shivered from the cold water and chuckled. “When Mcgonagall said I was needed for your trial, this is not what I expected.” He said, making you laugh. Fleur came back empty handed. “I couldn’t... She- she’s still down there!” She wailed. You frowned looking at the clock and then the lake. You knew who was Fleur’s challenge was. And that was a child. You shoved off your towel and jumped back in, making everyone run back to the edge. 

“What happened!?” Lily asked Draco. “I don’t know-- She just jumped back in!” He gaped. The clock’s loud ticks did not make the waiting any less anxiety wracking. Remus was staring intently, Sirius gearing up to jump in after you before you finally reemerged with Gabrielle. Draco helped you out and you pulled your hair tie off, your hair falling to your shoulders. Fleur hugged you, thanking you for saving her sister. “My kids are awesome.” James said hugging you and Harry both. You shivered and Draco lifted his arm as to say “Get under here” You did, panting out of breath. The last three minutes of you being in the water were you having to hold your breath because the item wore off. “I’m proud of you Y/n...” Draco said, making you look at him with a smile. His eyes wandered to your lips and you both seemed to be looking at each other. That’s finally when James grasped the situation. Oh no. OH HELL NO. “Lily. That boy likes Y/n doesn’t he?” James asked. “It took you this long?”

You were quickly becoming aware of that damn school dance, as many students were asking others to go with each other in front of you. You were a sappy romantic, sure. But if you saw one more kid with a fucking ukulele or guitar you were prepared to kick someone’s ass. You sat in the dance class, loathing every moment of being there. You definitely had James’ left feet, because you could NOT dance. “Choose your partners.” She instructed. You sighed and Draco extended his hand. “I can’t dance so if I step on you, this is your fault.” You said making Draco laugh. You stood with your hand on Draco’s shoulder and his around your waist. Your face was probably pink from the feel of things. “You can move closer Y/n, I don’t bite.” He teased. You blushed, moving slightly closer and he walked you through it. “How do you know how to do this?” You asked curiously. “My family throws parties where we have to dance. It’s terrible.” He explained. “Sounds like its something out of Pride and Prejudice.” you said. “Hmm?” he asked. “Muggle book that goes over old English customs.” You shrugged. “Ah.” He nodded. “So the Yule ball is coming up.” Draco said, clearing his throat. “Yep. I’m aware.” You muttered. “Not excited?” He asked. “No I am but I’m beginning to despise the ukulele and guitar after this week.” You admitted making him chuckle. “The younger students have... Gotten creative.” He nodded. “Alright Grandpa, calm down.” You teased making him roll his eyes. “I was wondering.” Draco started before twirling you. You did, your back against his chest. “Would you like to go with me?” He asked in your ear. Thank Merlin’s grey ass beard that your face was turned away from Draco. “Y-yeah... S-sure.” You stuttered out. He twirled you back around and you were so red that if you weren’t moving right now, he would’ve thought you were dying.

You went back to the common room, pacing. Do you talk to your mom? No. She’d tell dad and then you’d have to deal with a potential murder. Who could you trust? Then an idea hit you. Next week was Hogsmeade. Remus! Well and Sirius. You loved Remus to death but he did not have that much experience in this area like Sirius did. So you wrote to them and of course they agreed to meet up with you. You went to the Three Broomsticks, sitting at the table as the two men sat down. “What’s wrong Songbird?” Remus asked. “W-well.” You sighed. “Oh... Do you need a pad?” Sirius asked. “What!? No!” You said. “Thank God. I am not ready for that conversation.” Sirius said. Remus smacked Sirius with a book, turning back to you. “What’s going on?” Remus asked. “I... I’ve been asked to go to the Yule ball.” You admitted. Sirius gaped with a smile. “who’s the lucky guuyyyy-- Or girl, I don’t judge.” Sirius asked. “Draco.” You answered. “Ohhhh.” Sirius nodded. “I don’t know what I’m doing guys. I’m freaking out here.” you whined. “Calm down. So he asked you?” Remus asked. “Yeah.” you nodded. “Well then what’s the problem?” Sirius asked. “What do I even say!? OR DO!?” You asked, panic clearly in your eyes. “Shit. Uhhhhhh. Well, the best advice I can give is don’t use too much tongue--” Remus, again slammed his book against Sirius’ head. “Keep doing what you’re doing now and go with the flow. You don’t want interactions with him to seem forced.” Remus said. “Thanks... And.. I hate that I’m asking this but what if he does kiss me?” You asked. Remus sighed and looked at Sirius. “I’m scared of that damn book.” Sirius said looking at Remus’ hand which was resting on top of the book. “Look. The best thing I can tell you is this: If he does kiss you, just go with the flow like Remus says. Unless you don’t want him to kiss you. Then you kick him in the dick and run.” Sirius said. “No hit for that last comment?” You asked Remus. “He’s right.” Remus nodded. 

So there you were. The night of the Yule. Christ could you stop shaking!? You asked Cedric to walk you down the stairs because you had like, zero confidence walking by yourself in heels. “I am going to kill you Draco.” Harry muttered. “I am just taking your sister to a dance Potter, I’m not Fred here and being a playboy.” Draco said. “Hey-- wait no. No that’s fair.” Fred nodded before you walked down. Draco’s eyes went huge, lips parting as he saw you. “Thanks Cedric.” You said. “Anytime. Have fun!” Cedric said walking off with Cho. Harry’s eye twitched and George dragged him off, leaving you with Draco. “Shall we?” You asked nervously. Draco nodded and you took his arm, walking and standing ready with the other champions. “You look beautiful Y/n.” Draco said making you smile. “You’re not so bad yourself Draco.” You chuckled. You’ve been hanging out with Sirius for WAY too long. The doors opened and your grip tightened. “You’ve got this Y/n.” He said in your ear. “Not if you keep whispering in my ear I don’t.” You muttered. “Hmm?” “Nothing!” You lied. You two did that ridiculous dance, you dreading every second of it. But the music finally slowed down and you sighed with relief. You and Draco swayed to the music and you smiled. “Hectic year.” You said. “I bet it has been for you. Though, being held hostage by mermaids didn’t exactly make my year normal.” He replied making you chuckle. “I think it’s been a good year for us though.” He added. “What do you mean?” You asked. “We’ve gotten a lot closer, haven’t we?” He said. “Y-yeah.” You nodded. Form proper words Y/n, Christ. “And... I’d like us to be.. Closer if that’s alright with you?” He said. Fuck. Words can’t even form now. “Y/n?” He asked. “Like.. Dating?” You asked. “Only if you want to.” He nodded. Where was the holy spirit of Sirius’ dating life now!? “I’d like that.” You said with a small smile. His lips seemed to hover over yours, you now being able to feel his breath. You could feel Harry drilling holes into Draco with his eyes. “Uhm... Should I be concerned that Fred is holding back Harry?” Draco noticed. “Very.” You nodded. “Uhm... Wanna get out of here?” He asked. “Yep.” You nodded. 

The two of you walked around campus, the winter air hitting you hard. You shivered and Draco took off his jacket wrapping it around you. You smiled and he slid his hand into yours. “So your parents seem nice.” Draco said as you walked. “Wellll... To be honest dad is more of a jackass. Harry takes after him.” You said, earning a laugh from Draco. “And your mother?” He asked. “Calm. But definitely murders people in her mind.” You answered. He laughed again. “What about you?” You asked. “Hmm.” He pondered. “My mother is very... Patient. She’s nice.” He said. “And your father?” You asked. “Stern. But I know he loves me. If that makes sense.” He answered. “It does.” You nodded. Draco smiled at you and brushed a hair from the side of your face. You smiled at him and he slipped his fingers under your chin, kissing you. Soft. His lips were soft...

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” You heard. “Fuck.” You sighed followed by rapid footsteps. “I AM GOING TO KILL--” you clothesline Harry as he sprinted towards Draco. “Wow.” Draco gaped. “I have uncles.” you shrugged. “Give this a rest Harry. This is just sad.” You sighed, helping him up. Harry’s nose started bleeding and Draco sighed. “I’ll take him to the medical wing.” Draco said. “Your jacket--” “Keep it. I’ll get it from you later.” he said with a smile. “I am so kicking your ass.” Harry grumbled, holding his nose. Draco walked the idiot down the hall and you turned to go back to the Hufflepuff common room before feeling someone tap you. You turned and Draco kissed you again smiling against your lips before finally dragging your dumbass brother away. 

“You did not just kiss my sister in front of me, you fucking prick.” Harry said holding his nose. “Hey, I’m not the one who got clotheslined by her.” Draco reminded. “I didn’t expect her to do that.” Harry winced. “Yeah trust me, neither did I.” Draco snorted. “I wasn’t lying Draco. You hurt her--” “I’m not going to Harry, I swear.” Draco said. Madame Pomfrey rose a brow. “Did you two fight again?” She asked. “No, this was my sister.” Harry said, removing his hand. She winced at the sight. “Tell your sister she did a good job.” She said before Draco walked away. “Promise me that you’re not going to break her heart.” Harry said making him stop. “What?” Draco asked. “Promise me you’re not going to break her heart.” Harry repeated. “Harry. I swear it. Do you want me to make a blood pact or something?” Draco asked. “...Is that an option?” Harry asked making Draco roll his eyes and walk away. 

The last trial finally approached. You were kind of anxious about it too. Draco however was confident you had the damn thing in the bag. “You tamed a Dragon Y/n. Whatever this next trial is, you’ve got it in the bag.” Draco said. James finally came with the rest of the family. “You ready?” Sirius asked. “Hell no.” You breathed. Viktor walked over, along with Fleur. You let out a shaking breath.. “We just wanted to say... What ever happens... Good luck.” Viktor said. “T-thanks.” You said. “Champions, approach the start!” The announcer yelled. You sucked in a breath and walked forward. You halted and turned back around, kissed Draco before leaving the Viktor and Fleur. Remus, Sirius and Peter hid smiles but Lily, again was having to hold back her idiot husband and son from killing the poor kid. “JUST ONE PUNCH--” “I’M WITH YOU HARRY!” James screeched.

The challenge began and you booked it, sprinting as fast as humanly possible through the maze. Find that damn cup. You took so many twists and turns, stopping for a brief moment to try to figure out where you were. Then you noticed that the maze was pulling you to the wall. “OH FUCK NO” was the only thing Viktor heard before rapid footsteps and you booking it as the maze walls were closing. You sprinted, Viktor right next to you as you ran. He went left you went right. Ironically, right was the right way considering you found the cup. You sprinted and gripped its handle before you seemed to float. 

Your body hit the ground hard and you coughed. “God I’m so feeling that in the morning.” You groaned before getting up. You brushed yourself off unaware to the crowd that was about to scream in celebration of your victory. Well, until you heard “THAT’S MY NIECE MOTHERFUCKERS!” Followed by “SIRIUS!” and a loud smack. You gaped and looked at the cup and then the crowd as they all screamed in victory, Dumbledore holding your hand high before your family sprinted out. “I knew you could do it!” Draco said with a smile you hugging him as the crowd cheered. You panted, looking at Draco as your arms were around him and he kissed you. James didn’t even care by this point because damn it: You did it! Holy shit! You let go of Draco and he smiled before Sirius lifted you onto his shoulders. “THAT’S MY GIRL! WOOOOOOOOHHH” Sirius screamed making you laugh. 

You all celebrated that night, sitting in the Great Hall with the cup. “So what are you doing with the victory money?” Sirius asked. You pondered. “Hmm... Hey, Fred, George?” You called. “Hmm?” Fred asked. “How’s business?” you asked, confusing the group more as you spoke. Did... you not hear the question orrr- “It’s going good, we’re beginning to need more room for the equipment though.” George answered. “Great.” You smacked the check down. “Buy a building.” Was all you said before getting up. The two boys looked at each other and then you. “Are you serious right now?!” Fred asked. “I don’t need it. Take it.” You said walking away. Lily snorted and James nearly pissed himself laughing. “She’s definitely James’ kid.” Peter laughed. Remus noticed one thing no one else did. Draco left with you. He smiled to himself and laughed at a joke one of the kids made. 

You stood in the library looking at the genres. Of course your way of celebrating would be to read. You read a few passages before feeling arms wrap around your waist. You smiled, turning in Draco’s arms to face the boy. “Hi.” You said with a smile. “Hi.” He said. You smiled as he kissed you, sinking into his arms. “I really am proud of you, by the way.” He said after pulling away for air. You chuckled. You kissed his nose and he chuckled, kissing your forehead. “AAaanndd Got ya.” Sirius said making you sigh. “Padfoot. Five more minutes.” You whined. “I believe that is how long it took to conceive your brother.” Sirius said making you gag. “Okay! Moment ruined, I’m leaving.” You said walking away. “Works every time.” Sirius said. Draco smiled, watching you jump on Remus’ back. “She really is something isn’t she?” Sirius said, a hand on Draco’s shoulder. He smiled to himself as you laughed at your dad nearly screaming at the bloody baron popping out of the wall. 

“She really is”

[kariachi]

Me: *gets sudden scene for the pre-Osmobeast au story* *writes*

The question popped into my head of ‘when does Gar start wondering about shit’ so...

~~

Things actually went okay for a while. Shipments came in and were delivered. Commissions were completed and paid for. The heroes had proved Kevin’s caution extraneous, which was really the best anyone could hope for. By all evidence Garfield really did just like looking around the place, and Koriand’r was more than happy to come around as often as they could stock things from her homeworld.

She didn’t tend to need to though. Garfield had developed a habit of coming in once every week, every other week, about that. It’d been a source of stress at first, until Argit had convinced him to always come on the same day of the week. He’d claimed it was their slowest, one and since the place was so small him coming to chat and meander around was easiest on everyone that way. Definitely. One hundred percent. And it’d worked, they just had to keep the other side of business to the other six days a week, perfect compromise.

Until some dumbass newbie with her head up her ass decided not to stick to schedule.

Still, it was fine. Leave Argit and his cooler head in the back to handle her, while Kevin stayed up front, all smiles and charm to continue chatting with their established guest. It had all worked out fine, Garfield was none the wiser, business still got done, everything well, good, and

And there’d been a crash in the backroom. A muffled voice that was very much not Argit’s. Garfield and Kevin both had tensed at the counter, but only Kevin felt the bolt of aggravation shoot down his spine. He took the urge to bare his teeth and shoved it down into his gut, throwing on a concerned expression instead.

“One second,” he said, patting Garfield’s arm companionably and not waiting for a response before he slipped into the back.

The door clicked shut behind him as he took in the scene. Argit, ears back and quills raised. The newbie, standing there like she was somebody important. His latest project in pieces on the floor. Himself, unable to start taking heads off without causing a Situation. Kevin rolled over like a thundercloud, a tight grip on his powers to stop the lights flickering in the building.

“Seriously,” he asked, keeping his voice low, “we’ve got a fucking hero out front!”

“Girlie thinks she gets to haggle,” Argit answered similarly before she could open her mouth. For the love of- And of course if the lot of them got found out he’d be the one fighting the damn hero. Bunch of motherfucking-

“She gets to get the fuck out my store before I turn her into a pair of boots,” he growled, glaring at her and flashing long Ossy teeth that seemed to get the situation through to her, “while you call Maddie and let her know her little recruit is causing problems. She wants payment she can send somebody capable, but I damn well expect a discount for the trouble.” With a nasty smile, Argit nodded and began waving off the little Hell Kitten.

“Sure thing, Ravrsa. You heard the man- out, before you start wishing you just had to deal with Maddie…”

The girl clearly wasn’t happy about it, but she was also clearly green, easily intimidated by Kevin’s size and teeth. It was only when she was heading out that he turned around, pulling himself back together before slipping through the dividing door again with an apologetic smile. Garfield’s nose was crinkled, eyes narrowed, frowning in concern and curiosity.

“Sorry about that.”

“Is everything alright,” he asked. “What happened?” Kevin tutted exaggeratedly and shook his head.

“We were cat-sitting this past week,” he explained away, “Jess dropped the carrier picking her up is all. It’s all good.”

“Uh-huh.. You’re sure?” Garfield’s expression didn’t much change and it raised Kevin’s hackles.

“Yeah, some people just too clumsy for pets,” he chuckled, flashing a smile, and pulled up the first distraction that came to mind, rounding the counter. “By the way, remembered, we got some music in our latest delivery if you wanna take a look?” To his concern there was no indication Garfield believed the excuses, but he relaxed a bit, lips twisting back up into one of those pretty smiles, and let the matter drop.

“Sure, what sort’ve music are you talking?”

It would have to do.

“I may have overemphasized the stuff I’m into in this order so, fingers crossed you like Redfire and Avereia of Jeirni-”

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || ari punishes you for being a brat during your date out at the summer carnival

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || pure filth, smut with some fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || modern AU agent!ari levinson × [black//woc]!reader + crossover!ransom drysdale

𝐰𝐨𝐫�� 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 4K ⟶ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw daddy!kink, age gape: reader is twenty one and ari is thirty five (don’t like, don’t read), heavy language, dirty talk, punishment: overstimulation, eating out, blowjob + spanking mention, movie crossover! + you might get a cavity just from reading this

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || melting by kali uchis ♡ angel by kali uchis ♡ honey baby (SPOILED!) by kali uchis

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || this was initially for @jtargaryen18’s writing challenge #30DaysofChris but i took a long break in the middle of writing it, sorry for the long wait lovely! ♡ this took less time to edit and write than i thought and believed but i hope you guys enjoy it just as much! ♡ reminder : italic means flashback, bold italics means thoughts/exaggerated dialogue, and non-italic/bold means present!

 + p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

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BABY THIS IS A WONDERLAND

when your tongue licks the bittersweet honey glaze of my pussy lips, where my sinfully divine bubblegum dreams collapse with your good boy deeds but you just keep licking my core desperate. ‘cause baby the milk that leaks from the honey hive in between my thighs is like a strawberry cone to you- and your going to lick me up before I melt under your hot gaze.

"Ari," your meek whimper spills but he keeps licking.

as if he's trying to break the dam that'll give him the strawberry milk that will quench his undying thirst. you’re stuck in this pleasurable killing punishment, if only you knew to stop when you were told to. listen to the voice in your head to stop acting like rotten spoiled brat and you’d have the pleasure to grind your honey slicked cunt against his bearded face.

if only you listened...

"behave," Ari growled into your ear.

the single command is enough for you to roll your eyes and stick your tongue out up at him and so you do. of course Ari is used to seeing this brat but he was sure that with a glare or two you’d clean your act up but you’re still continuing your rotten attitude.

no, you don't want to fucking behave.

subtly walking away from him to the cotton candy vendor, the sound of the man pouring the sugar into the spiraling machine is music to your ears. a glare marks your sharp roseate lined eyes and a pout pulls at your glossed lips, all focused away from Ari but he still sees your rage.

it really wasn’t fair how he expected himself to go on this carnival date with you but not do the one thing that made you want to go. all that adding on that he expects you to behave and not be upset, it wasn’t for and you weren’t planning on calming down.

not even a little tiny bit, cause you want to go into the tunnel of love with him. all the small promises and little compromises made throughout the day as you and him walked and played the colorful tent games did he promise you that you and him would ride.

Ari knew how much this meant to you, you always wanted a special someone to sit besides the romantic boat ride with ever since you were a small girl.

it was his fault that he fell in love with a hopeless romantic, someone yearning to allow themselves be enveloped within the arms of their lover. feel their warmth as the red violet lights start to dim, kiss your lovers lips when you two meet the darkness. giggle when he confesses his sweet darling thoughts of you, you were a romantic for gods sake.

you wanted it so bad, yet every time you seem to mention it Ari deflects the topic with something else. another question or comment or confront your claim in the most abrupt yet sweet way possible.

“not now sweetheart, later maybe-”

“babydoll, do we really have to go in there?”

“it’s to much of a risk for daddy, honey bear!”

he would sweeten those claims up with kisses that would butter your mouth like the popcorn he hand fed you. it was tiring Ari out with your demands to ride The Tunnel of Love but now as he stand there witnessing his precious apple dumpling turn into a rather rotten and bratty apple he may fully turn down the conversation.

on top of that your pink and white gingham sundress displays a bit too much cleavage and leg for Ari’s liking. well he doesn’t like the dress, he loves it but he wouldn’t want you going out displaying it for everyone to see besides him. the nymphet styled cloth you walk so confidently may or may not have half the boys and men eyeing you everywhere you go.

this scene, the boys and grown men undressing you with their list filled hues and eye fucking you with every step your platforms take does make Ari want to snap at them. wonder if their mothers taught them better than to gawk, glare at the silly pubescent boys until they run away shitless. maybe intervene with the lustful stares of the men with a double fist threat.

it doesn’t ease the fire behind his eyes and the clenched fist he has when he’s noticing your smirk- the pounce in your stride that you seem to enjoy the attention.

the very way you bend down near the mirrors of a souvenir cart to re-apply the amber peach lipgloss to your lips is almost intentionally teasing for both Ari and anyone else watching. the way you glance at him through it, lashes batting and your glimmer hint hues screaming fuck me

he now knows this is all part of your game of acting up, you think you can get what you want from disrespecting his order and authority. it was so cute to him how you thought you could get away with your spoiled behavior.

sooner then later Ari is going to bend you over and teach you a lesson on teasing him in public.

the taste of strawberry cotton candy and buttery popcorn is still fresh and lingering in your mouth but you want to taste your juices on his candy red tongue.

"Ari," you carp, his tongue just keeps lapping up at your labia. unbothered and unfazed as hair spills over his forehead, he doesn’t care for he smiles when your plush thighs cage his face.

the continuous strokes of his talented tongue make your pussy flutter and spine shiver. wishing he’d push a fingers or two, god those thick fingers could undo any orgasm from you in matter of seconds. the thought makes a little drool seep from the corners to your mouth and you hug the large blue raspberry bunny Ari won for you closer to your chest. smelling the fruity scent as you whimpered when he bit at your cunt and kissed it better.

you’ve kept the fluffy berry scented stuffie close when Ari striked your ass cheeks earlier wit the same hands that keep your thighs gaped now. allowed you to have that dear comfort as he took on punishing you with his rough spanks.

the burning hand prints are probably visible now just as the wet tears around your eyes. the same streams that stained your peachy cheeks have dried but it wasn’t just your teasing that brought you up in your well deserved punishment.

no, you were in much deeper trouble than for that…

after your little tease show Ari figured to let you have your way, for now. it was always best for him to let you have your way since you were generally upset about not riding on the Tunnel of Love.

now, the golden rays of the sun setting radiated your glowing figure, hand with Ari’s the other holds your frosty pink cotton candy as you take the last bites of it. glancing up at Ari, you see the almost finished chocolate sprinkle swirled ice cream cone in his hand being treated with long slow licks.

attention going from the melting cone to his tongue you can’t help but want it.

want his hot tongue on you, in you.

you want it so so bad that you’re caught off guard when he smirks, not looking at you at all but feeling your stare. he feels your needy wants, knows the devious perverted thoughts going on in your pretty head and its all a dead giveaway when you hold his hand tighter before turning your head away from him.

your sudden shyness makes him let out a laugh. finishing the small cone within a few licks and bites. damn you are a contradiction of innocence and dirtiness that only helps his blood pound in devotion and cock harden in desire.

“what did we say about manners princess? it’s rude to stare at people while they’re eating,” Ari’s deep hushed words rattle your thoughts.

“I know daddy, I-” your words almost stumble when you feel the cool chocolate breaths wave upon your ear and his muscled arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“is my princess getting needy? politely tell daddy what you want and maybe he’ll give it to you,” Ari whispers with a soft yet quick peck behind your ear, it’s almost enough for you to whine for more.

Ari knows you just can’t have that, it doesn’t even fill in a teaspoon of the battered lust that needs to be soothed. you really weren’t good at telling him what you wanted, sure physical and replaceable things weren’t an issue, clothes, purses, shoes, books. lets make it clear, if you see it, like it and want it- Ari bought it without hesitation.

however in situations like these, it wasn’t as if it was easy or hard to tell him what you want or what you want him to do to you. you just want him to just touch you, to feel his delicious large and warm hands- his gifted mouth on you already without being asked so many teasing questions.

“I want your tongue, daddy,” your words almost stumble out.

eyes to his now, they flutter innocently at him, biting your bottom lip you look down to notice the small tent at his pants and you smirk. given that rather rude action Ari’s hand that’s on your side goes down to grope the curve of your ass, giving it an equally gentle yet painful squeeze.

“you want daddy’s tongue princess? first tell daddy where you want it-” his sentence was interrupted by the loud vibration of his phone.

buzzing in his pocket you scoff at him when he takes it out to look at the pixel name displayed on the small screen. rolling your eyes when he doesn’t put it away you cross your arms, and let out a huff glaring up at him.

"daddy! mhmm!- daddy no more!" his eyes snap to yours, the sight of you makes him lick his lips.

shiny hair sprawled in all directions, face clouded with lust, the neckline to your pretty dress folded down to reveal your plump tits covered in his love bites. he’s trying his hardest not to give in to the throbbing temptation and smash his mouth against yours, take handfuls of your tits and fuck you till you can only say his name.

but he has much more control than that, he isn’t a needy baby like you. drooling at a few licks to your messy cunt and tits, god Ari knew he was lucky to have landed such a woman like you and you were his to bring as many orgasms as possible.

even if you didn’t want them, you were his little baby and his baby had rules to follow. breaking those rules resulted in punishments and as much as it hurt him to see you cry and whimper it was getting his cock hard to.

“now princess you wanted daddy’s tongue, and now you have it. that’s what you wanted so that’s what you’re going to get.” he muses as you licks your sensitive over-stimulated folds.

“but daddy you gave me four cummies already!-” you fumble into somewhat of a sob but the cry stops once Ari pinches the meat of your inner thighs making you whine at the sudden pain. “ouchy!” you snap, hating these painful thigh pinches but adoring the slow pussy licks.

“i’m teaching you a lesson princess, you’ve been such a fucking brat today so i’m going to treat you like a fucking brat.”

“but daddy!-”

“but what, princess? Daddy told you to stop but you never listen, you’re such a bad listener.” the tinge of disappointment is heartbreaking. tears swimming in your eyes knowing you have let your daddy down and you only wish at that moment -no matter how overstimulated your pussy- you’d go back in time an hour ago to prevent yourself from acting up.

“i’m sorry daddy-” the little broken sob that slips between your trembling lips makes Ari question himself if he’s punishing you too harshly but he thinks otherwise.

so he just tuts you as if he is scolding a child and your eyes swell up with more tears and you feel your bottom lip trembling in hurt.

“Daddy doesn’t want to hear an apology, daddy wants you to stay still so he’ll bring two more cummies out of you,”

hot tears fall as your throbbing pussy is fluttering with pain and pleasure, honey euphoria taking over you moan as your thighs shake and you release on his rubbing fingers. chest slightly heaving, you sniff as you feel your tears drying on your cheeks and watch Ari bring your creamy essence to his lips.

“princess look at the mess you made on daddy's hand. let daddy clean it up for you,”

after that rude phone call you were said to be meeting up with a friend of Ari's, well wouldn't want to say ‘friends’ more on the lines of acquaintances.

"I thought today was just us, he's your friend so why are dragging me into this." you mutter, yet when you feel his soft gaze on your eyes ease on your anger.

"be nice for daddy, okay princess?" he murmurs into your ear, snuggling into your neck. your chest lifts as you try to take in a deep breath and all the offensive rude snappy remarks on the tip of your tongue soften.

you hate the effect Ari has on you, your superior diva persona of sharp wit and pettiness strips away at his sweet and considering remarks. you’re his little spontaneous firecracker but when he cups your chin you turn into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. his feisty tiger cub that always calms down with his calming words and even soothing touch.

“fine,” you say and he smiles down at your stuff pout, it’s the best you’re going to give him and for that he pulls you closer to his side in gratitude.

walking side by side through the crowds, Ari adjusts the cap of the baseball hat down his forehead and you tuck in a piece of his hair behind his ear. making a rose heated blush appear on his cheeks which only brings out a wide smile and giggle from you.

“so, where is he? where are we meeting your ‘friend’?” your comment is sharp yet still soft enough to not avert the vex towards Ari.

“he said to meet us at the circus tent, before the clown stunts,”

“you thinking i’m going to meet him is a clown stunt-” you couldn’t help but let it slip out, you were still mad and you can’t help not to express it.

“princess what did we agree to-” Ari heavily sighs, a simple sign your running his patience but you roll your eyes.

“I know what we agreed to but I know nothing about your so called ‘friend’,”

how the hell did Ari expect you to be nice and peachy with a complete stranger when he warns you of them on a constant basis?

“we aren’t friends, we just have business to deal with,”

“yeah and what a professional scene to deal business then in a tent with lions, tigers and bears-” and suddenly a sharp slap hits your bottom and your to stunned to even register it.

oh my, oh my you’re in for a surprise and you sense it when the powder blue egg color of Aris mystic eyes shades darker. that again is a warning, for you to drop the attitude and suck up to this little silly social gathering but the pulling voices of your angry thoughts echoing fuck no are getting the best of you.

you always had your way, always and forever.

you two were surrounded by people and you even thought yourself no matter how pissed he was he wasn’t going to spank you. not pull you over his lap for children and parents to see but looking around you notice the sound of rides, people chattering, and laughing and playful screaming is to loud. everyone minding there own business to even notice his hand gliding up to wrap his fingers around your neck.

“don’t make me loose my patience. you are going to greet him politely, sit with him and-”

“god Ari do you want me to fuck him to?” you grumble and with that Ari grabs your jaw, directing your stare to his.

the grip on your wrist slightly tightened, his soft lips are to the shell of your ear and from afar it may seem like Ari is whispering something kind and dear from the way he’s smiling but you feel the snide in his harshly hushed words.

“is it that hard for you to be nice for my sake for ten decent minutes? I won’t fucking hesitate to pull you over my knee and spank you for the clowns and acrobats to see. I promise princess, if you even step a toe out of line you’re going to pray you haven’t. do you understand me?”

your glare is your only response until you mutter a small I understand daddy through your teeth barely loud for him to hear.

“speak up princess. I said, do you understand me?” Ari says, his words softer now and the grip on your jaw and wrist soften.

pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek he averts her face to meet him. “I promise you’re not going to regret meeting him. i’ve pulled a few strings to get him here but it’s all for you to enjoy,” he says and you quirk a brow at him, a smile finally pulling at your lips easing Ari.

“and who is that?” you say but Ari shakes his head with a small smirk, “I know you’ve been telling me how close you are to publishing your book and I thought why not I bring the finish line to you,” he says, you are still confused.

Ari was right, you are so close to making a publishing deal but you haven’t received any word in months. you yourself are getting anxious but the way you left the establishment shaking hands with the famous Harlan Thrombey himself. how he emphasized being invested in your work tore all those worries and fears away.

although, you were suppose to receive a call months ago, yet deadlines and interruptions of some sort keep on pushing your meeting with Harlan week after week. after that a contract was supposed to be sealed and editor negotiations completed and done for. not three months later you’ve received nothing and here you are wondering if Mr. Thrombey is having second thoughts on your work.

what is Ari planning for you with his friend?

⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄

sweat glistening your hairline, your soft whimpers fill the fairy light tent, only causing Ari to grip your inner thighs tighter. all this while his hot cherry tongue slides in and out your slick hole, you throw your head back. this pleasure feels like a fantasy and you’ve been reminiscing it to this point.

trying to move your glossy locks of hair away from your eyes, you hate the way he snapped at you earlier how you weren't allowed to touch him. not touch his soft toffee hair, his thickly bearded cheeks and muscled forearms- not even the comfort of his hand.

cause you’re in trouble and you aren’t allowed to touch him or yourself now or later until he says so. you’re the bad girl and the bad girl doesn’t get what she wants, no matter how much she pouts and cries.

"daddy!" and his eyes snap to yours, the pretty innocent blue now replaced by yearning.

knowing better to call his private title in public but the empty red, blue, and yellow striped carnival tent is the only event to do something like this. the soft music of the carousel in the background fuzzy, one of his hands creep up your bodice.

pulling down the tight neckline of your dress, he grips the soft mound tit in his hand and you erotically whimper as he roughly pinches the hard nipple. your pale pink and white gingham dress crowded your upper hips yet still lengthy enough that it covers Ari’s head. large warm palms caress your frosty cotton thigh highs as long slow licks smooth the folds of your fluttering pussy, aching to be satisfied by the pulse of his dick.

slow circular strokes of his thumb rub along the small slippery nub and your thighs twitch in blissful thrill over each of his shoulders. your feet in pink strap heels bounce and flinch every time Ari shoves his tongue in your hole. pouring out moans from you as you imagine his lips polished and shiny with your sweet pussy milk.

you want to see him, you want to see him eat you up you’re desperate to move the cloth over his head. see him licking and sucking the sinful treat he craves everyday. hating the sight of just his head bobbing up and down and side to side from the cover of your own dress you want to meet his eyes as he loudly moans while eating you out. slipping the small and loud growls and carnal noises release as he as his special treat.

daring to do so, you reach the hem of the dress and pull the fabric off his head, and there you see your handsome candyman. tawny brown hair tasseled and cheekbones red from the heat his eyes twinkle in mystic hunger, his lips soaked in your sensual essense. both his hands softly gripping your thighs, stroking your hips as his tongue still deep in your hole you let out a small whimper as he slips it out.

pupils wide and both the corners of his mouth leak with saliva and your cum and you feel your legs shaking a slight when he licks the corners. more so feel your pussy wetten when he glides his tongue over his top teeth glaring at you. awaiting the degrading scowl he has for you yet your surprised when you doesn’t pinch your thighs or claw at your hips even when he just smiles.

“peek-a-boo angel,” he purrs, eyes back to their cloud heaven blue and you feel your heart melting in your chest although it quickens when you brings his tongue right back to your pussy.

“so you must be {y/n l/n}, i’ve heard so much about you.” the young man sitting across from you chimes. You and Ari sit side by side on one of the many picnic tables around the humongous red and white circus tent.

“good things I hope, you must be Mr. Drysdale. how are you?” flashing your pearly white smile you rest your hand in the mans extended hand.

“what a doll, i’m doing great and how are you doing on this fine day?”

peachy fucking keen

he sounds like he’s trying his hardest to at least sound interactive and social. blue eyes move from your face to your cleavage and you want to snap at him to fucking pick.

“well today was excellent as a matter fact, a special day. all until you came along, you see Mr. Drysdale-”

“please, call me Ransom. Ari Levinson, long time no see! before we catch up why don’t you buy your lady a soda pop. i’d like to know the writers first before signing them off to my publish house,” the young man remarks, his eyes not to yours at all but to the way your dress tightly hugs your body.

Ari sees this, anger bubbling inside him he bits his tongue. meeting Ransom from his latest cases he was shocked to find out that he hadn’t been convicted for the third degree murder his buddy was investigating that had him wrapped up into it. even more shocked to find out that he had inherited his grandfathers publishing company.

this ‘meeting’ is to ensure you get your book published and live in your glory. so instead of barking at Ransom telling him to stop eye fucking you he instead offers you a kiss to the cheek and a soft stern whisper in your ear.

“behave while i’m gone,” and with that he walks away to the food vendors, knowing full well that it’s going to be you that’s going to drive Ransom crazy and not the other way around.

“I don’t understand, when I spoke to Ari-”

“well sweetheart today’s your lucky day, it’s not like everyday you meet the CEO of the company you dream your work be published in.” his voice smooth he stares down at you with hungry blue eyes.

cursing yourself for wearing such an unprofessional outfit but how were you going to find out that you were going to make a book deal on a date.

“I don’t understand, I was suppose to meet with Mr. Thrombey-”

“oh have you not received any word? Harlan, my grandfather, passed away three months ago,” he says but every word in his voice sounds fabricated, remorseless.

your surprised once you feel a hand on your bare thigh, gripping it firmly and you shift away from Ransom. his tongue slowly licks his bottom lip when his blue irises catch yours, you had to admit they were pretty like Ari’s but they held something else- something darker.

keeping a safe distance away from you and Ransom you don’t move your eyes away from him, not cowering under his gaze but holding a stronger glance to him. you knew guys like this, you grew up surrounded by them and you even dated guys like him but not in a single situation did you let them take advantage of you.

so, besides sitting at the table trying to avoid a conversation you get this “meeting” over with. Verbally deflecting the flirtatious remarks of Mr. Drysdale. dodging the charming maneuvers of him asking you for more face to face meetings and you can sense the anger radiating off him. it only makes you wonder how long it takes just for Ari to get you a damn soda pop.

“i’m not sure if you’re qualified enough for a place at my establishment. you don’t seem to meet my criteria options and your work isn’t up to our standards,” he says looking down at his phone, typing a message to someone as if you weren’t worth his time.

“I don’t seem to meet your criteria options? you mean offering to take me out when you damn well know i’m already in a relationship? what is this? I thought we were talking about my book,” that sharp remark leaves him dropping his eyes back to his phone after he receives a message.

“my question is why are you with a man like Levinson? a sweet little lady like you with a busy man like him can’t treat you well, can’t pamper you well, can’t fuck you well-”

“we’re done here,” you feel your face getting hot with rage, you were wasting your precious vacation days on this. “and what about your book Ms. {y/l/n}?”

you’re up and away front the table yet you turn your head to meet his eyes again. no way in hell were you going to publish your book for a company runned by Mr. Drysdale.

“it seems as though your establishment isn’t up to my standards Mr. Drysdale,”

"d-daddy, am I sweet?" fluttering your lashes to him, a deep groan shakes against your throbbing cunt and you feel your organism washing over.

the continuous licking from the tip of his tongue tracing your hole and his thick fingers rubbing your puffy folds are removed just for his mouth to suck the sweet essence pooling your rose bud.

his sweet and innocent angel, so naughty and dirty at these times. such a sweet fucking treat, a sickeningly saccharine poison to easily overdose. sporting soft cotton candy thighs he doesn’t mind at all being in between them, licking the sweet sugary sweetness.

y/n l/n is a wish candy girl that’ll rot Ari’s teeth to his graveyard kind of girl and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

"like candy dolly. you're sweet like fucking sugar." you moan at the comment and he won't stop licking. sugar cotton floss, sticky candy apples, rainbow swirled lollies, and buttery caramel popcorn- you’re the whole damn candy bar and his head is so deep in Candyland he can’t think straight.

all he wants is to see is your pie crumble before him as you give him the custard filling. it’s what he’s been craving and the various messages that Ransom sent him whilst in the food line asking him if he could “take you off his hands” only increases the grind of his mouth and tongue on your bountiful mound.

"daddy's on a sugar rush," you giggle completely unaware of the situation Ari has dealt with but otherwise he smiles into your pussy.

god you always had the cutest shit to say when he’s eating your pussy and he fucking loves it, eats it up.

"bad princess, you're going to rot daddy's teeth," trying his hardest to not think about Ransom at a time like this, in his position with his mouth on you.

"mmh!- that’s so sad daddy. I always liked your smile," you moan and sigh, testing his patience once more you begin to lace your fingers through his long hair.

Ari shakes his head disapproving though he seems to occupied licking your saturation from your mound to bother telling you to keep your hands to yourself. keeping your fingers in his hair, his eyes meet yours in anger and with the glimmer of menace he knows so well in your eyes he should prepare for your reckoning.

with that a pretty petty smirk curls your lips as you yank his chocolate locks downward, shoving your dripping cunt as it grinds against his mouth. Ari doesn’t back away but invites it, pulling away slightly to glide his skilled fingers over the soaked folds avoiding your desperate hole.

a whimper slips out when Ari doesn’t give you the pleasure that’s lingering and dripping from your crux but only avoides you; but then again how long can Ari avoid your need for another release. burly arms wrap around your body’s waist as you pulls you onto his lap, letting you saunter your arms around his neck you stuff your face in his chest letting out a whinish sob.

“i’m sorry for misbehaving today Ari,” a bang of regret hits Ari’s chest.

this was all his fault for demanding you meet Ransom to see some opportunities for you when he himself knew it wasn’t the best idea.

“don’t be sorry angel, I went too far and you were right. I shouldn’t have forced you to meet him. shouldn’t have thought of this in the first place,” that little whisper followed with a kiss in between your brows.

he still can’t get the sleazy voice of Ransom offering to take you “off his hands” so you’d get a position at his company. feeling his sugar high blood boiling just remembering Ransom talking about you as if you were nothing but a pawn item for bargaining, right in front of you as if you had no say whatsoever.

“you know how I hate cutting corners, I wanna be successful because I worked hard. not because my boyfriend wanted me to take it easy and let a rich boy take care of it for me,” you whisper, head snuggling in Ari’s neck which he hums.

god, you may be stubborn but you were so loyal to your aspirations and independence. strong when he met you and stronger now, he always has admired that.

“remind me next time whenever I want to introduce you to someone who runs this relationship,” and you giggle at those words.

quickly straddling his lap arms wrapped around his neck you pull him closer till your nose rubs against his and your lips briefly touch his.

“I run this shit,” you cheekily whisper subtly licking his bottom lip and Ari takes your ass in his hands, lifting you up your legs wrap around his waist. “yes, you fucking do.” Ari growls and pulls your lips to his.

he’s all yours, your caring daddy, your carnival carnivore.

truly yours.

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

[mikauzoran]

The Ascendancy of The Plan ™ (re: Mikau’s WIPs)

So, I feel like I’ve gotten a lot accomplished in the past few months since I last did one of these status updates. Most of the stories I ended up writing were much longer than anticipated, and I’ve had a lot of ideas just pop into my head that I hadn’t originally been planning, so this list isn’t going to look very different from the last one, but I promise that I have accomplished things, and there are some new projects in the works. ^.^;

I’m currently posting the final chapters of Among the Wild Things and Betting Against the House. Below is a list of works I have planned for the coming months. Let me know what sounds interesting or what you’re excited for.

Anhedonia: When Adrien Met Marinette: (Adrienette, post-reveal/pre-relationship, roommates) So, I’m taking a screenplay writing class, and we’re studying the scripts of several movies to get a feel for how the writer evokes different cognitive responses from the audience. One of the movies is When Harry Met Sally. I’ve never seen this movie, but apparently it’s about two friends finally ending up together after some trials and tribulations. It’s about never giving up on finding love and happiness...only I’m feeling depressed at the moment, and I don’t want to hear about true love because I’m lonely and despair of ever finding someone to share a life with. So I’m using my feelings to write a story. ^.^ Naturally. XD

It’s post-reveal/pre-relationship Adrienette. They’re roommates, and there’s been a misunderstanding because Marinette didn’t tell Adrien how she felt about him after she found out he was Chat Noir, and he’s told her that he’s over her because he thinks that the only way to preserve their friendship (since she’s already turned down his advances as Ladybug, so, obviously, she wouldn’t want him as Marinette either). It has a happy ending, and they straighten things out because I still believe in finding true love and happiness. XD I’m a sap like that, and these two deserve happiness.

Ladrien Present: (Adrienette, Ladrien) I’m still trying to write a story where Ladybug brings Adrien’s birthday party to him. ^.^; I have half of it written (the Adrienette half), and I have an outline for the rest. I just...need to sit down and make myself write it. I’ve seriously been procrastinating on this one. I don’t know what my deal is. -.-;

Marichat Prompt: This is an overflow prompt I received as part of my Productive Procrastination Prompt Giveaway. It’s about Chat Noir visiting Marinette and it somehow coming up in conversation that Marinette has always thought of Chat as a player. For some reason, this makes Chat really angry because he can’t stand her in particular thinking that about him. I thought this story out a couple months ago, but I didn’t write it down, so now I’ve forgotten, and I’m going to have to think up the plot all over again. XD

Alyadrino Prompt: Someone sent me an Ask that said, “Snuggle party makes me imagine what if nino and alya accidentally did to adrien what luka and marinette intentionally did to him in shades 12″, and I thought, “…Oh, all right. Why not?” I had a basic outline of what I wanted to do with this story a couple months ago, but I didn’t write it down, so now I have to figure it out all over again. Oh, well. I have the basic idea, I think.

Lukadrigaminette: At the beginning of the month, I thought, “I should do Valentine’s Day stories!” I ended up writing a Marichat one, and then I had this idea. It’s not Valentine’s Day related, so I decided to shelve it for later. So, several years ago, my friend and I concocted this scheme to bake for our respective crushes and win their hearts that way. It’s a really fond memory for me, and I’m turning it into a Lukadrigaminette story. Luka and Kagami join forces to bake for Adrien and Marinette in order to win their love.

Plagg and Wayzz Prompt: I got a comment on one of my stories that said, “Can you do a top wayzz bottom plagg one? Preferably in universe and in human form. Doesn’t have to be smut.” First I thought, “What the bloody hell?” because it was a comment on a Lukadrien story, and that’s all it said, and I thought, “Well, that’s random.” I’ve never really written Wayzz before, but this gave me the idea for a story where the team is up against an akuma that somehow separates them from their kwamis, leaving the heroes unable to detransform and the kwamis in defenseless human form. What I came up with really doesn’t have anything to do with the prompt other than Plagg and Wayzz will both be in human form. It will probably just end up being a Lady Noir identity reveal piece, honestly.

Supportive Adrien Lukadrien One-Shot(?): I haven’t actually pinned this story down well yet. ^.^; I was just thinking that I wanted to write something where Adrien is the one supporting and encouraging Luka, since I typically write Luka being a supportive presence for Adrien. I was thinking that the scenario could be that Luka is feeling down because Marinette still loves Adrien and things aren’t going well between Marinette and Luka, so Adrien takes Luka on an outing and confesses his love and they live happily ever after or something.

The only thing is that a different scenario is trying to creep into this story. It’s really weird. It’s post-Papillon defeat, and Adrien is twenty-four (Luka is twenty-six). He’s been in kind of rough shape the past few years since his father was arrested and he lost his family and home and fortune. He couldn’t finish university, and he’s been travelling around, trying to find work and make a life for himself. He ends up back in Paris, broke, and auditions for a band because he happened to see a flyer advertising for a new lead vocalist. It just so happens that it’s Luka’s band, and Luka ends up finding out about Adrien’s situation and taking him in and feeding him...but that scenario is just more Luka taking care of Adrien, and that’s not what I wanted to write. XD It also feels like multiple chapters, and I don’t want to go there. Oh, well. We’ll see what happens.

Adrien Trapped in AU-Land: (Adrienette, canon universe featuring AUs) My idea is based off of a writing prompt submitted by @graaythekwami on the @miraculousfanworks Discord server: AU where all the characters wake up in a different AU every chapter, fully remembering what happened in the last AU. My idea is for Chat Noir to get hit by an akuma (probably named Escapist or something equally dumb ^.^) who traps Adrien in a series of alternate realities (AUs) until he realizes his feelings for Marinette and manages to break free.

L’Amour de Loin: (Lukadrien, post-Papillon defeat, Félix wingman) I did a sneak peek for this here. This was one of the two “Winter Lukadrien Pieces” mentioned on my last status update. Adrien is living in London with his aunt and cousin three years after Papillon’s defeat and arrest. He’s in rough shape and hasn’t kept in touch with anyone from Paris. One day, he gets a text from Luka out of the blue, and they rekindle their friendship. Félix acts as wingman to ensure that it turns into something more.

Adrienette Hanahaki: Awhile ago I did an ask game about a trope I’d like to try writing, and the one I came up with was Adrien with Hanahaki disease (The one where you start coughing up flower petals due to unrequited love making flowers grow inside your lungs). I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve decided I’d like to actually write this story. My basic outline is: Adrien starts showing symptoms, and Gabriel badgers him about whom he’s in love with, and Adrien just blurts out, “Marinette!” And Gabriel threatens Marinette into dating Adrien, and they start fake dating but then fall in love.

Happenstance and Magic: Marichat May 2019. Marinette and Chat Noir adopt kittens together, and Adrien tries to get Marinette to see that he’s not perfect but still a worthwhile person deserving of her love.

I’ve been thinking about this one, and I think I’m going to cut the number of prompts I actually use. Once I’m done with the other stories, I want to sit down and make a more thorough outline of what I want the story to be and which prompts I’m going to use to get me there.

The Seduction of Adrien Agreste: This is part of the Springtime in Wonderland (Daisy/Jabberwocky) series. It deals with Luka and Adrien experimenting with physical intimacy to see if they can reach a compromise where Luka and (asexual) Adrien are both comfortable and have their needs met.

Things Currently on the Backburner:

The Rejects Club: Predominantly Marichat with Adrienette. Chat Noir and Marinette unexpectedly grow very close very fast as they open up to one another after Marinette overhears Adrien seemingly dismissing her as a romantic prospect. Identity shenanigans at farcical levels ensue.

I can’t really deal with Rejects right now. I’m feeling super overwhelmed by basic life stuff, so I don’t really have the mental or emotional energy to put into a story where I don’t know how many more chapters there will be until the end. I’m thinking that what I have planned will take at least another one or two hundred thousand words. This thing is just so massive, and I’m not in good enough mental heath to deal with it right now.

Springtime in Wonderland: Yeah, no. See the paragraph directly above. This is another one that’s going to take another couple hundred thousand words to complete, and I just don’t have the stamina in me right now. I’d rather focus on smaller projects that actually feel attainable. I’m trying not to burn myself out.

And that’s it for the moment. I’m sure I’ll come up with plenty of other stuff between now and the next time I do a status update post, but is there anything that you’re particularly interested in? Let me know what you’re thinking.

Thoughts? Feelings? Suggestions? Opinions? ^.^

[pocket-luv101]

First Impressions // Chapter 4

Fandom: Servamp Ship: LawLicht (main), KuroMahi (side), Tetsono (side), Jekuni (side) Characters: Hyde, Licht, Kuro, Mahiru

Summary: After Licht meets the wealthy bachelor, Hyde, she was certain that she could never be friends with him. Their paths continues to cross and she slowly comes to know him. Licht wonders if she judged him too quickly. (LawLicht, Pride and Prejudice AU, Fem Licht)

Ch.1 // Ch.2 // Ch.3 // (Ch.4) //

Hyde leaned against the door while he waited for Licht to change out of her wet clothes and into dry ones. He asked the maids to prepare clothes for her to wear while they sent her wet clothes to be washed. After the times he saw Licht protect her sisters, he predicted that she would visit Mahiru after she learned that she was ill. He never expected her to leap over the creek and almost trample him with her horse though.

The door next to him opened and Licht stepped into the hall. The dress she wore belonged to Hyde’s sister who was taller than her. Licht gripped a handful of the skirt and lifted the fabric slightly so she wouldn’t trip as she walked. She addressed the maid before she spoke to Hyde. “Thank you for the clothes and drying my hair, madame.”

“I don’t know many people who would be so polite to the staff.” His comment turned Licht’s attention to him. Her sisters worked closely with their staff and she considered them friends. They would tell her that noble families were often haughty and unappreciative of their work. Licht’s eyes narrowed at the thought that he could be the same. He appeared surprised by her kindness towards the staff.

“I believe a person’s character is shown through their work rather than their rank or wealth. I enjoyed speaking with her. She told me that my sister is resting in the room down the hall.” Licht nodded to the room and then she walked in the direction. Hyde fell into step next to her and he held his arm out to him. She knew that it was customary for a gentleman to offer his arm as he walked with a lady. “There’s no need to be so formal. It shall only take a few minutes to reach the door.”

“I was worried that you’ll trip on that long skirt. You can hold onto me so you won’t fall even if you become tangled in the fabric. I wouldn’t want you to twist your ankle. May I escort you to your sister, Angel Cakes?” He continued to hold out his arm to her. After a moment of hesitation, Licht let one of her hands fall from her dress and she placed it on the crook of his arm. She was able to feel his warmth and his toned muscles through his jacket.

They walked down the hall and Licht glanced to the family portrait at the end of the corridor. Hanafield’s manor was a grand building and the rooms inside were even more so. Licht couldn’t imagine how they were able to collect enough flowers to cover the tall walls. Despite how extravagant the manor was, her gaze would always fall onto Hyde. She had to admit that he was handsome but she didn’t know if his heart would reflect his exterior the way Hanafield did.

They stopped in front of the room they gave Mahiru and he opened the door for Licht. He noticed the way she leaned forward slightly to peer into the room and search for her sister. He thought the subtle gesture was endearing. Before he moved into Hanafield, he learned that his neighbours were a prestigious family. Hyde had assumed they would be cold and formal but he could see that he was wrong. He wanted to learn more about her. He considered asking her about her opinion on the play he gave her but he knew it was better to wait until after she spoke with her sister.

“Mahiru!” Licht almost tripped over her dress as she walked to the bed where she laid. She sat on the edge of the bed and she found that her sister appeared only slightly flushed. It was a relief that her cold wasn’t as dangerous as she feared. “We were worried sick when we learned you caught a cold in the rain. Mikuni and Misono wanted to come to see you but they had to attend to family business. They will come as soon as the work is done.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you or any of my sisters. I thought I would be able to reach the manor before the rain started. As you can see, the weather did not agree.” She told her through several sniffles. Licht took out a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to her sister. “Thank you, Licht. I’m glad you’re here but there was no need to fret. The Servamps would’ve written that they are caring for me. What would’ve happened if you got sick coming to see me?”

“Your motherly instinct would fight off your cold and you would rush to the kitchen to make me chicken soup.” She joked and Mahiru giggled. Her laughter was quickly overtaken by a cough and she pulled the blanket to her chin. Licht could easily see that she was trying to hide the symptoms of her cold and lessen her concern. “You’ve taken care of us for years but it’s my turn now. I’ll pour you some tea.”

Licht turned to speak with the maid but she saw that Kuro had already made a cup of tea for Mahiru. He placed it on the table next to the bed. “Would you like sugar in your tea?”

“Only a spoon, please. Thinking simply, it wouldn’t be good to have too much sugar while recovering from a cold.” Mahiru smiled up at him. Her face was a little red and she didn’t know if it was caused by the cold or Kuro’s kindness. “Thank you for staying by my bedside and making sketches for me. They have lifted my spirits even with this cold.”

“This man was alone with you while you were weak from a cold?” Licht’s eyes narrowed at Kuro. It was improper for a man and a woman to be alone in a room together. She knew the assumptions society would make if they knew. She hated the thought that people would whisper rumours about her sister. A scandal could quickly grow from the rumours and limit Mahiru’s future choices. She started to rise to her feet but Mahiru placed a hand on her sister’s arm to stop her from turning her anger to Kuro.

“Kuro has done nothing but treat me kindly and be respectful, Licht. Wrath has been with us this entire time as well. There is no need to worry about my reputation.” She nodded towards Wrath who sat next to the window. Licht had been so concerned for her sister that she didn’t notice the others in the room. With a light tug on her sleeve, Mahiru urged her to sit down again. “I know you mean well in your heart but you shouldn’t be so impulsive.”

“Licht is your sister. I understand why she would want to protect you.” He didn’t appear to be offended by Licht’s anger as others would be. Mahiru felt a warmth spread through her heart. She could only be with a man who respected and understood her sisters with their quirks. Kuro placed a sketchbook onto her lap and said, “I should go so you can speak with your sister alone. It has been a pleasure. Wait, I don’t mean to say I’m happy that she got sick.”

“I understand,” Mahiru laughed and her warm voice made him relax. She watched Kuro leave the room and she waited for the door to close before she turned to Licht.

Her sister sat in the chair next to the bed where Kuro had been. Mahiru tilted the sketchbook to Licht so she could see the drawing of a rose. “When I fell ill, Kuro came and asked if I wanted something to pass the time. He didn’t want me to be bored or lonely in this large room by myself. We both enjoy art and we took turns drawing in this sketchbook. He kept me company. He’s a good man.”

“You don’t need to convince me of his noble character. My sisters are fellow angels and their divine judgement is never wrong.” Licht told her confidently. Mahiru had always been able to make friends quickly and she trusted her opinion on people. As long as the Servamps didn’t give her a reason to object, she would support their relationship.

“I feel guilty that I might have caused you worry while I was here in a warm bed. Mikuni is already stressed about the house and Father’s will.” Mahiru let out a heavy breath. “A wealthy marriage would solve our problem because our husband can buy the house or inherit it. I like Kuro but I don’t know what I’ll do if he starts courting me. I don’t want him or anyone to think I’m with him for his wealth. Thinking simply, it’s not fair to either of us if we start a relationship with such doubts.”

“You’re not the type of person who uses others in such a way. I’m certain that Kuro will be able to see that as well. If he doesn’t, he wasn’t worthy of your heart.” Licht reassured her sister. “Maybe we can write a petition to the court and ask them to grant property rights to women. There must be other families with only daughters in a similar situation to ours.”

“The house’s title might fall to Haruto before the law can change.” Mahiru was the most optimistic of the sisters but she couldn’t deny that it was nearly impossible to keep their home. Mahiru laid back against the pillow and she stared at the tall ceiling. The golden leaves painting on the ceiling was beautiful but she closed her eyes to imagine the simple wooden roof she would see when she woke up. Others would call her strange but she preferred her modest home.

She felt the bed shift beneath her and Mahiru opened her eyes to see Licht lay next to her with her face buried in the pillow. At first, she was scared that her sister would catch her cold by lying next to her. Mahiru noticed how stiff her shoulders were and she could tell that there was something in her mind. She patted her hair like a mother would. “We’ll find a way to keep our home. Haruto might be a reasonable and progressive person who we can compromise with.”

“I yelled at Mother before I left the house. She deserved it but I know she’ll be angry at the both of us once we return home.” Licht chose not to tell her the reason she lost her temper at their mother. Anger still lingered in her blood at how their mother had been so cold towards Mahiru’s condition. How could she be more focused on matching Sakura with a Servamp when she learned Mahiru was sick?

“Families fight but we can understand each other after a talk. You won’t have to face Mother alone when you return home because I’ll be there with you. We’re sisters.”

Licht stepped out of the room and she carefully closed the door so the soft click wouldn’t wake her sister. She asked a maid to watch over Mahiru while she slept and to call her if her condition changed. She wanted to stay by her side but she thought she should take the chance to thank the family for caring for her sister. The maid gave her directions to the library where the family would likely be. The manor was large and she could easily imagine becoming lost in the winding halls.

She followed the faint sound of voices in the distance and she recognized Hyde’s laughter. Licht stopped in the doorway and there were a few other guests she didn’t recognize. The family sat with their back to the door so they didn’t notice her. Most of the group were seated around a table playing cards while Hyde was at a writing desk. Occasionally, he would look up from his letter to speak with his guests.

“I hope we are not boring you, Lady Hina. You came to visit in a very short time and we didn’t have the opportunity to prepare anything for your arrival. We’re cousins and we enjoy your visit but letters are a formality to help prepare us.” Hyde folded his letter and handed it to a butler. “You’ve caught us in the middle of work and we already have guests.”

“Do you mean the woman with the dark hair? I saw her briefly in the foyer but she didn’t stop to introduce herself to me when she passed. I would excuse the rudeness as shyness. It must’ve been mortifying for her to be seen in such a state. Her skirt was caked in mud. I overheard from the staff that she rode through the rain. Whether she is mad or stubbornly inclined to show her independence above other women, I cannot say. I can only assume she was a spectacle when you found her.”

“I assure you, Cousin, I thought no such thing. Licht is not the type to shy away from people due to social pressure either.” Hyde corrected his cousin. “She had something more concerning on her mind than polite greetings. Her sister has fallen ill in our care. I understand her motivation but I would not like the thought of my sister riding in this weather.”

“Your sister is from a prestigious family while I hear that the Eves hold a modest income. The Eve sisters can afford to be more reckless when their prospect for a husband is already so little. It must be difficult to find a match in their situation.” The feigned sympathy in Hina’s voice made Licht’s hands tighten at her side. “I stopped at a cute little ribbon shop and the seamstress told me that Kuro danced with an Eve.”

“Kuro never cared for the family title or wealth so he won’t consider those things when he chooses someone to court.” Hyde envied his older brother who had decided to retire to the drawing room rather than gossip with their cousin. He wished he could do the same but it would be impolite to leave now. “I would like to find a wife who is refined, witty, and talented in the dramatic arts.”

“Talented is such a belittling thing to call something.” Licht’s voice turned the room’s attention to her. She didn’t step back from their surprised stares and she stood with her back straight. She entered the room and she met Hyde’s red eyes. “The word implies that someone is born with a gift when most would pour hours of practise into perfecting their craft.”

“How would you show your appreciation for someone’s craft?” Hyde asked her, intrigued. He thought most would be happy to be called talented.

“I cannot know the preference for each artist or performer. I play the piano and I enjoy when a person dances along to Choppin or cry after I’ve played one of Beethoven’s Sonatas. It helps me know that I have moved the audience and properly portrayed the emotions of a song.” Licht stopped in front of Hyde and curtsied slightly. “I came to thank you for housing my sister while she’s sick.”

“It was our invitation that caused her to be soaked by the rain. How is your sister? I would wager she’s better since you’re willing to leave her side.” He moved from his spot on the writing desk to offer his chair to her. Hyde thought the tea would be more fun with Licht present. “We only arrived a few days ago and the staff haven’t moved the furniture in yet. You may sit here.”

“I wouldn’t want to take your seat while you’re working.” Licht nodded towards the letter on his desk. “The doctor says that Mahiru is recovering well and it’s possible she will be fit enough to return home within a few days. My sister fell asleep a few minutes into our talk and I thought it best to let her rest. I only came to thank your family so I should go now.”

“Sitting by yourself will be boring. Would you like a book to read and pass the time.” Hyde walked to the bookcase and took down a few novels. “I’m an avid reader myself. Did you enjoy the Shakespeare play I suggested last night? I could give you something similar.”

“I read the play with my sister and it was fun. I do enjoy gothic novels though.”

Hyde smiled at her words. “As do I. Though, Shakespeare is my preference.”

[sourbkg]

[suga] [when will i see you again; shakka]

┊- i  ͙۪۪̥˚┊get up, you know i’ll see you again┊ [ -ˏˋ⋆ˊˎ- ] song used 一∘.· [ -ˏˋ⋆ˊˎ- ] sugawara koushi x reader 一∘.· [ -ˏˋ⋆ˊˎ- ] mafia!au 一∘.·

[ -ˏˋ⋆ˊˎ- ] 𝙃𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚 was against him the moment he was born; having been brought into a family working directly beside the leader of the Karasuno Mafia group for generations, and not wanting to be the first to break whatever line of power they may have accumulated. Sugawara learned from a young age how to be a perfect right-hand. He knew how to load a gun by the time he learned how to do basic multiplication, and knew how to take someone down twice his size at the same time he figured out the difference between throwing knives and switchblades- all in the same year.  

Sugawara was 20 when he first met you, watching you wipe down counters in a seedy bar Daichi liked to frequent. He wondered if you enjoyed your job; being ogled by others as you ask what type of drink they’d like, or snickering when you switch out their tequila for water when they’ve had too much. Sometimes you’d catch his eye, but he’d look away just as fast, leaving you to wonder if he was staring at you in the first place. 

There were some nights when someone sketchy would be around you for too long, looking you up and down like a piece of meat. Sugawara didn’t mind taking it upon himself to teach them a lesson; whether it be to not leer at others who are obviously uncomfortable, or to just not stare at what he’s obviously interested in, he didn’t know. Regardless, there was unnecessary blood on his hands, all in an effort to defend you. 

And you didn’t seem to know a thing about it. Sometimes, he could hear you asking a coworker what happened to certain regulars, wondering why they just stopped frequenting the bar, then explaining that you’re grateful they aren’t at the bar. That they made you uncomfortable, but you still wish good health upon them despite their not-so-kind-intentions. 

Sugawara liked that about you. You were kind; forgiving, even if the person didn’t deserve your forgiveness. 

One night, while Daichi, Sugawara, and Asahi were talking about strategies, ways to get product a from location one to location two, he picked up your voice under the sound of loud music and his friends’ voices. It was strange, being able to hear it over anything, the only time you’re usually heard being when someone’s directly ordering from you. With a glance behind him, he sees why he hears you. 

A customer, he can assume, drunk, had you by the wrist, looking like he was attempting to drag you over the counter. With a nudge to his best friend and boss, and a nod of his head, the man had captured the rest of the group's attention. Wordlessly, the three slide out of their booth, Daichi putting out what remained of his cigarette and tossing a good amount of cash on the table, before tucking his wallet on the inside of his jacket. 

“Isn’t that the bartender you’ve been making heart eyes at?” Sugawara feels Asahi lean over his shoulder to ask, hands shoved in his pockets and feeling for whatever weapon he may have. Sugawara doesn’t look away from the situation, but doesn’t deny the claim. 

“Excuse me.” Someone says, loudly. You find yourself pausing trying to escape the drunk patron’s grasp, eyes meeting the group of regulars you’ve become used to. The darker haired man is the one who spoke, Daichi, you think you’ve heard them call him. He stands behind the man with his arms crossed, his friends flanked on either side of him. The man holding your arm pauses as well, sneer present on his face as he glances to whoever he assumes spoke. 

“Yer ‘scused.” He says, grip tightening when you pull yourself out of your stupor and attempt to use the distraction as a way to yank your arm away. The glare he sends has you freezing all over again, eyes meeting the hardened stares of the men behind him. 

“You’re bothering this bartender.” The man with his hair in a bun states the obvious, hands fidgeting in his pants pockets. 

Daichi steps forward, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder with a tight-lipped smile, “Why don’t we take a trip outside. Have a little chat?” 

The man eyes the hand on his shoulder with a growl, leaving you to stumble backwards as he lets go of your wrist to shove the appendage off. Without a second thought, it seems, Daichi uses his hands position to turn the man around before delivering a punch right to the apple of his cheek. 

“I said ‘let’s take a trip outside’,” he reiterates, “so, let’s take a trip outside.” 

With a nod to the man with a manbun, Daichi wipes his hands on a handkerchief and the brunette guides the offender towards the door. You stare at their backs as they leave, holding your arm to yourself as a means of defense as if the man would somehow break free and direct his newfound anger towards you. 

You jump when the remaining patron speaks, eyes wide and brows furrowed. You didn’t catch a word he said. 

“What?” You ask, willing your voice to not shake. 

“I asked if you were okay,” he says, voice soft. You find yourself nodding, despite your lip being pulled between your teeth as your eyes flit between him and the door. “Do you have time for a break?,” he continues, “you deserve one.” 

You look back at him, then glance behind you to the door that leads to your bosses office before shaking your head, “I-I.. I don’t, no-” 

“Then let’s go talk to your boss, see how he feels about Daichi having to deal with one of *his* customers.” 

He’s guiding you around the bar’s counter before you can really process it, grip soft on your upper arm as he leads you to the door you had just been looking to. 

“We don’t have to,” you try to sound assuring, “I’m fine.”

You know he doesn’t believe you from the way he eyes your trembling hands, “It won’t hurt to try, right?” And he gives you a smile, something sweet like honey and completely fighting the dread that had previously settled into your stomach. 

He knocks on the door before you can really think to protest, waiting patiently for your boss to answer while his hand moves from your arm to your lower back; maybe it’s to keep you grounded. To keep you from scurrying away from confrontation. 

Sugawara's hand settles on your lower back as an excuse to touch you, but also to make you remain in place beside him. He’s almost certain, if given the opportunity, you would’ve left the second you were able to. Within a few minutes, the door is swinging open, and the two of you are faced with your boss. 

A short, stocky man who holds a cigar between his teeth. His glare settles on you first, and you avert your gaze to the floor instead. Sugawara clears his throat, feeling your muscles tense underneath his fingers. At the sound, his eyes cut to Sugawara, before they widen a fraction and he ushers the two of you into the cramped office. 

It reeks of mildew throughout the room, and Sugawara wonders if this bar was really the *only* place you could find to work. You deserved somewhere better. 

“What can I do for you, Sugawara? Is Daichi with you?” Your boss asks, eyes finding his hand still flush against your back, “They did something wrong?” He continues, filling in gaps for himself and not waiting for a proper answer, “I can take care of them myself, just tell me what they-” 

“It isn’t anything they did.” Sugawara cuts in, voice icy and nothing compared to how he had previously spoken to you, “A customer of yours was causing a ruckus. It seems they were being harassed. Mr. Daichi, Mr. Asahi, and I had to step in. Mr. Daichi isn’t happy about it, at all, might I add.” 

He turns white at the explanation, “I-I see... I wasn’t aware this was something that... happened in my bar... “ 

“You should monitor what happens outside of this office more often,” Sugawara continues, the hand not on your back settling underneath his jacket, showing the weapon strapped to his belt. A warning. “And I’m here to give them the rest of the night and tomorrow off; compensation for having to bear the weight of something so heinous.” 

“I can’t let them go home tonight, I don’t have anyone to cover them, Sugawar-” 

“It’s Mr. Sugawara to you,” he punctuates, fingers flexing against the cool metal of his gun, “and I wasn’t asking.” 

You hear your boss gulp, sparing one glance up at the face of the man you’d deemed your savior, and seeing the steely look across his features. He wasn’t messing around or willing to compromise. 

“R-right, I’m sorry.” Your boss bows, writes something down on a piece of paper and passes it to Sugawara, “Here’s a waiver; the next time you come, drinks will be on us.” 

Sugawara takes it and shoves it in the pocket of his jacket before sending your boss a brief nod, then leads you out of the office. Daichi sits again at his regular table, the other man who you can assume is Asahi standing beside him. When the two of you approach, Daichi stands. You note briefly how red his knuckles are. He seems to take in Sugawara’s annoyed expression, looking his friend, then you, up and down. 

“Everything go okay in there?” He asks, taking it upon himself to guide your group out of the bar. 

Sugawara nods, though even you can see the tenseness in his shoulders, and feel the way his fingers flex as he continues to guide you outside by the small of your back. 

“Just peachy.” 

Asahi lets out a low whistle, “Seems like it.” 

No one makes any further comment. 

You have no idea where they’re leading you, but your apartment is in the other direction, yet you can’t find it yourself to ask. Sugawara’s armed, but you don’t think he’d hurt you... well, you hope he wouldn’t hurt you. He doesn’t seem like the type. His friends, however...

You’re brought out of your thoughts when they pause at a sleek black car; a BMW that looks more expensive than anything you own. Sugawara opens the door and gestures for you to enter. You eye him warily, giving the first bit of physical resistance since he’s begun helping you. 

“I’m not comfortable with... just getting into a stranger's car,” you cross your arms over your chest before adding quickly, “don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything you’ve all done so far but... I don’t know any of you.” 

Asahi gets into the front seat without a word, and Daichi eyes you from the driver’s door. 

“We’re not gonna kidnap you, if that’s you think.” He says nonchalantly. It’s not that  the thought hadn’t crossed your mind, you just didn’t want to speak it into existence. You open your mouth to reply, but Sugawara is quick to assure you. 

“We just want to make sure you get home safe; it would be kinda tragic if all our work was for naught.” He adds the last bit as a means of a joke, but you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the thought. You weigh your options. 

It *is* late out. And dark. It’s not that you’ve never walked home on your own this late, it’s just that... you’re still a little paranoid of the man from before coming out of nowhere and seeking an onslaught of revenge. And really, who are you to say no to these men after they’ve seemed to help out of the kindness of their hearts? No other person in the bar even batted an eye to your struggles. For a cherry on top, it’s a free ride- your feet are killing you. 

“Fine.” You agree after a moment, “I don’t live that far anyways.” 

Sugawara smiles at your acceptance, ushering for you to enter the vehicle, before climbing in himself and shutting the door. Dachi gives a satisfied smirk and gets in himself. As promised, the ride is short; Daichi pulling up to a curb beside a rundown apartment building. You gather what you own (which you realize, isn’t much. You’d been essentially ushered out of the bar- you hope no one steals from your work bag), and get out of the car, offering a small smile to the three. 

“Thank you for everything, I’m grateful you three were at the bar,” you pause for a moment, as if thinking of what could’ve happened if they weren’t, then shake your head, “I owe you guys. Really.” 

With one more wave goodbye, you’re unlocking the gate that leads into the building (you’re glad you at least kept your phone, wallet, and keys on your person), before going up to your own apartment. 

The next day is boring to say the least. You’re uncertain if you should abide by Sugawara getting you the night off, knowing your boss was not happy with the encounter, or being demanded on what to do. You also know you have bills to pay, groceries to buy, a life to sustain. With a huff, you’re pulling on your shoes and jacket. Too antsy to not do anything. 

When you pull the door open, a certain gray-haired man stands behind it, fist raised as if he was just about to knock. You both make a startled noise, eye widening as you take in the other person. 

“Uh... hi... ,” he says after a moment, lowering his hand until both settle themselves into his jacket pockets, “just wanted to uhm... check in on you. Are you heading out?” 

You clear your throat, blinking and glancing into your apartment for a second, “I was just heading to work... how’d you figure out which apartment is mine?” 

“Ah,” he blushes, as if he’s been caught in a secret. It’s kinda... sweet, “I just asked a tenant if they knew you. They told me what number.” 

You lean against the door-frame while puffing out your cheeks, “Well, I’m glad you’re not a murderer.” You pause, seem to rethink your words before narrowing your eyes at him, “You’re not a murderer... right?” 

“No, of course not!” He assures quickly, brows furrowing, “I’d never even think of killing you-” 

He cuts himself off when you laugh, the sound surprising him and calming his nerves at the same time. It’s cute. Really cute. You steel yourself within a few seconds, covering your mouth with your hand and letting out a few giggles. 

“So, you said you were going to work?” His shoulders perk back up, smile gracing his features as he asks. 

“I was, yes,” you hum out, “it feels weird just sitting at home, and I have things to buy.” His posture slumps. 

“Don’t tell me I got you the day off for nothing?” He asks, almost with a pout, “It’s like I said: you deserve the break. Especially after what happened yesterday.” 

“Maybe,” you shrug, “but still-” 

“Nope, no buts,” Sugawara cuts you off with a wave of his hand, “you’re taking the day off and that’s final.” 

He ushers you back into your own apartment, despite your protests. There’s a moment your eyes roam across everything you own; a stray blanket draped across your couch, some unwashed dishes in your sink, unorganized bills haphazardly thrown onto your table- you’re partially self-conscious, if only for a moment, but Sugawara is quick to draw you out of your thoughts. 

“How about we sit down and have some tea? I heard chamomile is great for helping with relaxing.” He guides you all the way to your couch, forcing you to sit by your shoulders, then steps back and points at you, “stay.” 

You hold your hands up in defense, brows raised, “I will, I will. I don’t think I have that blend, though.” 

Sugawara grins, “That’s alright, I came prepared.” He steps back towards your door, opening it and grabbing something from just outside of it; a plastic bag containing what you can assume is tea. 

“Wow, you are prepared.” You tease, moving to stand and assist him with making the brew, but the look he shoots you has your butt falling right back into the cushions. 

Instead, Sugawara continues without your help, looking through your cabinets for cups and a tea kettle. You watch from the sidelines, itching to aid him, but knowing he’d probably just ridicule you in the end; it’s funny, almost, how he basically made himself at home despite you only speaking to him once the night prior. 

It’s comfortable, the way he moves around your home without a care in the world. Within a few minutes, he’s pressing a warm cup into your hands and settling in the seat beside you. You sip on the drink, watching him do the same from the corner of your eye. 

There’s a pause, a moment of silence that isn’t unwelcome, before he asks, “So, why don’t we get to know each other?” 

Days turn into weeks that turn into months. Sugawara and his friends made themselves residents in your life, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. While they were wary, and rightfully so with their “jobs”, you didn’t seem to bat an eye. 

You understood where they were coming from, you did! But, the amount of people who harassed you had dropped down to a whopping zero, since you’ve become acquainted with them. 

It’s a miracle, really. 

The Boys, as you’ve decided to call them, come in every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday during the odd hours of the night. Your boss picked up very quickly on this fact, and ensured you were scheduled for them; out of fear or for brownie points, you were uncertain, but they were nice and left an outrageous tip, so you weren’t complaining. 

You felt it was unethical, taking money from whom you’d consider friends, but they assure you it’s alright. You promise to pay them back one day. They dismiss it with a wave of their hand. 

Sugawara makes it a point to stop by when he can; personal visits to your apartment with tea and his honey-sweet grin that makes your chest flutter and knees weak. Something more grows between you, but neither of you move to comment. You only go with the flow of whatever it is. Sharing soft kisses between sips of herbal tea becomes a regular occurrence, only to be distracted by the sound of Sugawara’s phone buzzing. He’d pull away with an apologetic smile, giving you one final peck to the lips, then nose, then forehead, before standing and leaving you to do his own business. 

He doesn’t hear your silent prayers for his safety, or your whispers for him to come back to you safely. 

You don’t see the hardening of his expression the moment he’s past your door-frame, or see the blood that stains past his fingertips while the cool metal of his gun presses against his palm. 

“What keeps you coming around?” You ask one night, your tea sitting forgotten on the coffee table while your head rests in Sugawara’s lap. His hands find purchase on your cheeks, pinching them slightly as if you’d just asked the dumbest question in the world, and you retaliate by scrunching your nose and holding his wrists with a whine. 

“You, of course.” He answers without missing a beat, seeming to enjoy the rise of sudden heat he feels against his fingertips. 

“Sh-shut up.” You groan, pulling his hands from your cheeks and instead pressing them against the entirety of your face. He assumed this is in an attempt to cover your growing embarrassment, but it does nothing to stop his teasing. 

“What? I’m telling the truth.” He feels you breath heavily from your nostrils, the air tickling his palm, before you press a kiss against the worn skin. 

Now, he flushes.

A light shade of pink decorates his cheeks at the intimate contact, despite the fact that you’ve done so much more before. You pull his hands away with a hum. 

“Your cheeks are red.” You comment nonchalantly, giving him the goofiest grin. 

He smothers your face with a stray pillow in retaliation. 

A routine is built between you and Sugawara. Not one based on a schedule, or written on a calendar for you to follow; he only comes to the bar to take you home (sometimes, he allows himself to indulge you in a drink, that soon has you drunk off him, instead). 

It’s endearing, the way he makes the time to drive you somewhere that’s no more than a ten minute walk, but you can’t find it in yourself to complain. It’s an excuse to talk to him. To be with him. You enjoy it. 

Sugawara insists it’s nothing more than to ensure himself you make it home safely, but you know deep down he enjoys the time spent together as much as you do, if the hand resting peacefully on your thigh as he drives is anything to go by. He makes it a point to walk you all the way to your door, and only pauses once you're inside safely. You take it upon yourself to press a chaste kiss to his lips; the same kind that could lead to more if he’d allow it. 

Tonight, he doesn’t let himself bask in your presence, pressing a kiss to your forehead and bidding you goodnight. The promise of seeing you tomorrow after a job being the last thing on his tongue as he gives his farewell. 

Being on your phone while working was never something you’d done before meeting Sugawara- your boss's icy stare used to be enough to make you hide it away in your back pocket until the end of your shift. Being involved (if you’d even call it that), has made your boss change his mind, however, now averting his gaze when he sees you take a glance at the screen and type a quick message to the gray-haired man. 

[kou 1:47 am] Are you sure you’re alright with walking home alone? 

[me 1:48 am] i’m sure i’ll be fine:)  i’ll have some tea ready by the time you get finished

[kou 1:52 am] If you’re certain... 

[me 1:53 am] i am, focus on your job! i’ll be waiting

You jump at the sound of someone tapping a glass loudly against the bar, pushing your phone into your pocket while sending the patron an apologetic smile. He doesn’t return it, only shoving the glass in your direction and grumbling something under his breath. Quickly, you refill his glass, along with his companions; a group of about five men that you’d never seen before that had come into the bar a few minutes after your shift started and hadn’t left. 

That was at 10:00 pm. You wonder how they’ve held down their drinks so well. 

The man you’d just served remained at the bar the entirety of the night, while his acquaintances seemed to make their rounds wandering the bar. Each one had matching rings, you note, golden bands with red jewels decorating the side and a ruby sitting in the middle- the letter N carved into the gem. 

You feel his eyes on you as you do anything- from wiping down tables, to serving others their drinks, his gaze rakes over your form. From the corner of your eye, you see him lean over and speak to who you guess is closest to him; a shorter man with dyed blonde hair and dark roots, whose eyes don’t leave the device in his hands. 

His other three companions seem to be scanning the bar, each a decent length apart and making eye contact with one another. You watch the man who’d been watching you, his eyes settling on his surroundings. Black hair covers his eyes as he lifts his hand, then brings it down in a motion just as quick. 

You should’ve been able to realize what was going on before. 

The three men pull out guns- automatics, you think. You don’t stay around long enough to see, instead dropping to the ground behind the bar seconds before shots ring out. Shakily, you pull out your phone and dial Sugawara’s number, lip pulled between your teeth and praying the sounds of the guns overwhelms the sound of ringing. 

“Well, well, lookie who thought they could just hide and be safe.” 

One glance up, and you see the man leading this charge; he leans over the bar counter with a lazy grin, as if the screaming and gunfire was nothing to him. Maybe it wasn’t. 

“You’re the bartender Sugawara’s been getting cozy with, right? A shame this had to happen to your lil ole bar.” He stands at his full height, and you scramble back against the opposite side behind the bar, feeling your shoulders press against cheap alcohol and shot glasses. 

“Is that the man himself on the phone?” He continues to speak, hazel eyes skimming over your phone. 

You phone, that lays abandoned where you had just been sitting, screen lit and face up. When did you drop it? 

The call read that it’d been going on for 00:24 and counting. Maybe Sugawara answered? Or maybe it was his voicemail. God, what could he even do? It’s not like he’s at your beck and call at the moment. 

“Oi, why don’t you pass it here? Maybe we can chat about something,” his grin widens, arms shifting as he moves to grab something you can’t see behind the bar. 

You’re scrambling to your feet before you realize, grabbing a stray bottle of vodka and throwing it haphazardly in his direction. You don’t wait for the shattering of the glass, or his cursing under his breath; instead, you stumble into your bosses office and slam the door shut behind you. 

After ensuring the click of the lock, you back away from the door, glancing around the room. Your boss, you note, is nowhere to be found. The room itself is almost barren of anything, and you wonder for a moment why. 

A stray letter on his desk tells you. 

Skimming over it all you need to do; apparently writing to the leader of the Nekoma gang, and explaining for a small fee, he’d allow them to come into his bar armed with the promise of Karasuno’s new toy being there. He sold you out. 

Rattling of the door handle has you freezing. 

“Come on, cutie, don’t be shy.” Another forceful tug, “Don’t wanna hurt you,” there’s a pause. 

,“yet”

You glance around the room again with desperation. There’s nothing that you can defend yourself with- hell, would you even try if given the chance? They have guns. 

“I’m getting impatient!” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Something slams against the door and you have to cover your mouth to hold in your scream. 

“Just make this easy for us!” 

Another hit. You can hear the wood splinter. You’re running out of time. Think, think, think.

Closet or window. Closet or window.

You open the window, breaking down the screen behind it with a huff as more splintering echoes in your ears. 

“This is irritating.” 

With one final hit, the door is thrown open. 

Kuroo Tetsurou walks into the room, pistol in hand. Kenma follows him in, glancing around the space with a grimace. 

“It smells in here.” 

“Doesn’t look like we’ll be in here long.” Yaku emerges past the two, eyes set on the opening within the wall. 

“A shame,” Kuroo sighs, putting his gun in its holster, “Yamamoto and Lev won’t be as kind as us.” 

A stray gunshot rings outside the building, and Kuroo pouts, “And here I thought we’d have something to hold over our friend’s heads. Oh well.” A shrug. 

Kenma hums, “We should get going. They’re nearby.” 

“What would we do without you, Kenma.” Kuroo’s grin returns, ruffling the shorter males hair. 

Kenma grumbles, swatting his hand away and is the first to exit the musty room. Yaku follows, snatching up the stray letting and crumbling it on his way out. Kuroo pauses, letting his eyes skim over the area one more time. 

“Kuroo, come on! We gotta pick up Lev.” 

With a sigh, the black-haired male obliges. 

You stay where you are, cramped in the closet. You don’t move, despite knowing they’re probably well away from the bar. 

It feels like hours before you find enough confidence to move, a burn in your thighs that settled forever ago. The second you move, you hear the sound of the bar’s front doors opening. You curse yourself for not leaving earlier. 

“(l/n)?” Someone calls out. You freeze all over again, recognition clear in their voice. 

Sugawara. 

There’s shuffling beyond the bar, the sound of chairs scraping and broken glass being crushed under footfall. 

“(y/n)!” You jump up at the urgency in his voice, scrambling to get out of the space and tripping over your own shaky legs just as he pushes past the broken door frame. 

The two of you stare dumbly at each other for a moment. 

“You’re okay.” He whispers, if only to assure himself. You throw yourself into his arms the second the words leave his lips, and he pulls you flush against his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a shuddering sigh. 

“You’re okay.” He says again, and you nod. 

“I’m okay.” 

He pulls away a moment later, cupping your face between his hands, and wiping stray tears from your cheeks. You didn’t even realize you’d begun to cry. 

“I need you to go now,” he continues. Your brows furrow. 

“What?” 

“You need to get out of here. Go to a friends house, the library- somewhere that isn’t here or your apartment.” He explains. 

“But-” 

“I’ll find you, I swear. You just can’t be *here*.” 

Looking into his eyes, you know he’s completely serious. You nod your head. 

“Good. Okay. Asahi will take you wherever you decide to go.” 

He’s met with another nod. 

Sugawara presses a quick kiss to the crown of your hair, lips lingering for a second longer than necessary before pulling away completely. 

“I’ll see you again.”

[ilytyun]

unideally yours // choi yeonjun

As long as you’re with Yeonjun, there’s no place you’d rather be. Even if it’s sitting across from each other while you chug beers at his kitchen table.

genre: fluff, friends to lovers !! also lowkey coworker au

words: 1485

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of underage drinking

a/n: happy belated to moa’s first love😭 i had a lot of fun writing this !!! i think i fell for cyj more than i already was ;;;

If someone told you this morning that you’d be ending your day sharing drinks with Yeonjun at his kitchen table, you would have laughed in their face. 

After all, you had the whole day planned to a T. Today wasn’t supposed to end with your work friend, it was supposed to end with your new boyfriend walking you home after a fancy dinner, telling you he had a nice time, and then kissing you goodbye at your front doorstep before making sure you got in safely. It couldn’t be so hard, it happened all the time in the romance movies you watched in high school. 

But alas here you were, rolling your eyes as Yeonjun laughs when you crack open your third beer for the night.

“You’re too much of a romantic. Isn’t this already the second time he’s flaked on you?” Your friend asks, taking a sip of his own beer. He scoffs when you ignore his question in favour of chugging down your freshly opened can. “That’s a bad sign. Break up with him before you get too attached.”

You take a few moments before parting from your drink, sighing in satisfaction at the refreshing sensation it left behind. It’s funny, you remember hating beer when you first sneaked a can from your uncle’s fridge as a teenager. Fast forward ten or so years and you basically rely on it like an at-home remedy. Well, that and a friend to listen to your misfortunes.

“I already beat him to the punch and dumped him. I blocked his number too, after texting him to say that it was over.” You paraphrase your actions, unconsciously swirling your can in a force of habit as Yeonjun nods in approval. There isn’t much liquid left to splash against the thin aluminum, but neither you or your drinking partner are too concerned. “And I’m not a romantic, I’m just an average, unlucky office worker with standards. Can’t I have standards?”

“Of course you should have standards, but your idea of what a relationship should be is too idealized.” Yeonjun’s advice seems more like a declaration. Especially as he sets his beer can on his wooden kitchen table with a contained force that doesn’t do much to scare you, but does enough to grab your attention. “Listen, men are horrible. There are already so many guys in this country alone who can’t even reach the bare minimum for standards everywhere.” 

A pout makes its way onto your lips. “So you’re telling me to just suck it up and settle?”

“What? No way. Never ever settle.” Yeonjun shakes his head in a strong disagreement to your question. “Instead, compromise. Relationships are all about compromise and you have the standards of an early 2000s romcom lead. You can’t be afraid of disappointment, but you’re only going to keep on being disappointed if you go on like that. You deserve someone who will treat you well.”

Though attentive to what he had to say, you don’t do much to react to Yeonjun’s commentary. You instead stare at the way his index finger circled along the top of his can while you formulate a coherent response.

After all, you couldn’t disagree more.

“I may have high standards, but I don’t think it takes a lot to make me happy. I’m not hard to please.” You start, your tone coming out surprisingly even.

Yeonjun quirks an eyebrow at your statement as you take a moment to take a sip at your drink. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, you do it all the time...” You set your can down. “Making me happy, that is.”

The shift in atmosphere that washed over the two of you felt as if it came out of nowhere. As if it sneaked into Yeonjun’s one bedroom apartment through the window he’d opened to let the night breeze in. You don’t know what to make of it, but you don’t exactly hate it.

“What are you saying?” Yeonjun laughs. Not quite awkwardly but more… expectantly. He leans forward and folds his arms on top of the table. “Are you saying you’re happy whenever you’re with me? Even now?”

Especially now, you think. Especially now. Nothing about your current situation was anything near ideal. After all, you were sitting across from your coworker, chugging cheap convenience store beers instead of sipping an expensive wine at a fancy restaurant, but you don’t think you’d want to be anywhere else. Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend, but you feel so much more at ease when you’re around him. So much more... yourself. How could that be?

Your eyes avert to avoid Yeonjun’s stare, and you unconsciously stare at his outfit. He’s dressed so much simpler than your own date outfit, having let you in his apartment immediately after you called him out of the blue. Of course, something about his beanie, sweatpants and t-shirt ensemble is endearing. Maybe because you’d only seen him in your workplace’s required attire of suits and ties. Maybe because you’re seeing a side of him that your other coworkers don’t get to see.

But you don’t say any of this out loud. You remember Yeonjun’s question, were you happy when you were with him? Even now?

“Of course.” You say, nodding without hesitation. “You treat me so well even though I’m only a friend to you. I don’t even know why I bother going out of my way to date around anymore.” At this point, you’ve finished your third drink. You knew what was running through your veins isn’t blood anymore. Just liquid courage. 

Yeonjun stays silent. You suddenly feel a warmth spreading through your cheeks. Was it because three drinks in a row really just hit you all at once? Or was it because Yeonjun’s gaze is heavy and unreadable as his eyes trail your every movement? You’re not sure if you want to find out. The suspense is killing you, maybe another beer would help.

But Yeonjun seems to think otherwise. He catches your wrist in a gentle hold before you could reach for another can. He doesn’t let go. His hands are cold, his demeanour seems like it should be intimidating but it’s somehow comforting.

“You’re already drunk?” Yeonjun asks.

You scoff, keeping your eyes locked onto how his hand gripped onto your wrist. “God, is it that obvious?”

“Then you won’t be able to lie to me.” Yeonjun’s voice is steady as he speaks. He leans in closer and tilts his head to meet your eyes. “I’m going to ask you something. It’s okay if you say no.”

You nod silently, keeping eye contact and egging him to go on. You’ve never been more attentive in your life. He blinks a few times before parting his lips,

“You like me, right?”

“Yes.”

Following your words, you watch in real time how Yeonjun’s once stoic expression morphs into a smile he couldn’t contain even if he tried. It reaches his eyes and softens every part of his otherwise sharp features. He looked elated; one hundred and ten percent satisfied by your answer.

All at once, the tension that had stuck itself into the atmosphere is released. 

“You too?” You ask quietly, a smile growing onto your own lips because you definitely know the answer.

“Obviously.” Yeonjun chuckles softly. Almost shyly. His grip slides from your wrist to your hand, and the way he intertwined his fingers with yours couldn’t feel more natural. “You put me through a lot. I’ve had to deal with you cycling through six different boyfriends even though I was right in front of you this whole time.”

“Sorry,” You giggle, enclosing Yeonjun’s hand into your own. “I knew there was a reason you always told me to break up with every one of them. No one would have lasted anyways. They weren’t you.”

“God, how cheesy. ” Yeonjun’s smile doesn’t leave his lips, even as he clicks his tongue. His other hand reaches across the table to pinch your cheek.

You laugh and lean in closer, only leaving a few inches between Yeonjun and yourself. “It comes with liking me back, unfortunately.”

Yeonjun scoffs. His fingers let go of your cheek and travel to play with your hair instead. “First I have to take care of your drinking problem and now this?”

“It’s not a problem… my desire to drink is what eventually brought us together!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Yeonjun snickers. His eyes seem like they’re looking at you in adoration, as if you’re the most precious person in the whole universe, and you realize that he’s looking at you the way he’d always had. You take it as a cue to finally lean in and close the distance between him and yourself.

Sure, today didn’t go as planned, but as you feel Yeonjun’s grin against your lips, you don’t think you could want to be anywhere else. You know this is where you belong.