#mind you all of this pales in comparison to the embarrassment that is the list of female companion ages

[tearlessrain]

I still refuse to believe that Vector is a day under 30 when he meets the Agent. even disregarding the true fact that nothing about him scans as a guy in his twenties, how did he have an entire very successful career as a diplomat and then spend multiple years as a Joiner if he's 26. did he graduate space college at age twelve??

[hlizr50]

Welcome back to the ACOTAR Writing Circle, organized by the incredible @azrielshadowssing!

For part two I was tasked with continuing the Feysand fic the story starts when it was hot and it was summer and by @damedechance (read part 1 on tumblr or on AO3) and boy did she know what she was setting me up for. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm that slow burn kind of girl, but we are in full banter and smut territory already for part two!

That being said, this fic is now officially NSFW!

You can check out the master list for this writing circle here and see what everyone is writing! Part 3 will be posted in two weeks!

One week.

Seven days.

One hundred sixty eight hours.

Ten thousand eighty minutes.

As Feyre lay sprawled on the tile clad in nothing but a bralette and panties, she contemplated trying to math out just how many seconds she’d been sharing this apartment with Rhys.

“No,” she chided herself, cursing to the empty, heavy, oppressive summer air. “Rhysand.”

She gave up on figuring out how many seconds had been in that week. Math wasn’t her strong suit, anyway.

It had become increasingly difficult to hide behind her crumbling wall of practiced distaste for the beautiful man. Which was why she’d been avoiding him for nearly three years. Feyre had come to know what lay behind that infuriating arrogance and smooth calculation once before.

At least, she thought she had. And then she’d slept with him, like an idiot.

About a month after she’d returned from her beach vacation with Mor, where she’d met the tall, dark, unfairly attractive man and had finally succumbed to the urge to jump his bones, Feyre had been giddy at the prospect of attending his company’s autumn banquet. She’d tried to keep her enthusiasm in check; she and Rhys – Rhysand – hadn’t exchanged more than adoring smiles and casual kisses before they left the beach house in separate cars, keeping their dalliance a secret. But it had been the best sex she’d ever had, and she saw those incredible luminous violet eyes in her dreams more often than she cared to admit.

When he strolled through the ballroom wearing an impeccably tailored suit and a bowtie, her mouth had gone dry as a desert. He’d looked like a movie star, with all the confidence that he so rightfully possessed, and the tall, striking redhead with her perfectly manicured fingers tucked into the crook of his arm was a fitting, beautiful, disgustingly perfect pairing.

Even now, as she did her best to cool herself on Mor’s living room floor, her cheeks heated with embarrassment. She was glad she could blame it on the sweltering summer and the broken AC. She had been a fool; one of those silly girls she’d always felt sorry for in college, panting after a pretty boy who had made no promises and had gotten what they wanted. When Rhys had come to greet her and Mor, she’d thought perhaps there had been a flicker of surprise, perhaps regret. But she knew the latter had just been the crushed hopes of a plain girl who had little to offer a man such as that.

Especially in comparison to Amarantha.

Her hair was silken waterfalls of wine. Her skin, pale and smooth and pristine. Feyre hated the way her ruby red, pillowy lips seemed to tick up, as if she knew the thoughts and despair that was racing through Feyre’s mind. Her dark eyes seemed so deep and empty and soulless, and Feyre found herself delighted that the woman had at least one singular imperfection.

Since then, the young artist’s walls had been solid as steel and black as onyx, constructed from avoidance and distraction. Tamlin had started as a rebound, but he had taken care of her in all the ways she had dreamed a man would when she was toiling to make ends meet for her family, working full-time as she struggled to finish high school. While her father wasted away under the blanket of his despair and his perceived shortcomings.

Tamlin should have been everything she wanted – everything she could have ever dreamed. His family was wealthy, and he was an up-and-coming attorney at his family’s prestigious law firm. Feyre had wanted for nothing when she had been with him, at least as far as worldly possessions went. And the sex was good… not like the night she’d had at the beach with Rhys. But she could live with that.

Things had started to go sideways when Mor had reached out to her about a job; she’d wanted to revamp her entire office and thought custom art pieces in the lobby, hallways, and conference rooms would be a nice way to keep the environment exciting and positive. Feyre had been so excited to tell Tamlin – her fiance of a few months – about the amazing opportunity.

But he’d only frowned and asked if she thought that was a good idea. After all, she had to start planning a wedding, and he had a lot going on at the firm. He’d need her support, when he was available to receive it within the constraints of his increasingly busy schedule.

And not that she’d needed his permission, but she had assured him that she could make it work. She could negotiate a reasonable timeline with Mor that would ensure that she wasn’t frantically working late into the night, and she could do most of that work from home. So she would always be there, in the apartment they shared, when he returned at the end of the day.

Things had only gotten worse from there. It was as if that first pursuit of her own dreams threatened him. He became increasingly controlling, demanding to know what she was doing at all hours of the day and night. If she didn’t answer his texts immediately, though she was often covered in paint, he would call incessantly and send line after line of cruel, pointed words to the tune of the happy chime of her phone. Tamlin knew exactly where to strike, too. He took care of her. She wanted for nothing. Didn’t she remember where she’d come from? How hard it had been to slave away to keep herself and her family housed and fed? Didn’t she understand that he just wanted her to live in comfort and be happy and not have to do that again?

She’d endured it all, had adjusted so many parts of her life, because he had a point. And she believed that somewhere, deep down, he did care. He thought that love meant shielding and protecting and preventing, meant providing ease and comfort. Feyre could understand that – she sometimes wondered why she didn’t feel like that was what she needed – but to her, love was encouragement and a safe place to land, in case the risks you took didn’t pan out. She’d thought she was making it work.

Until he started coming home later, but without the expectation of dinner being ready for him. Until she noticed a sickly floral perfume wafting from his hamper of button-down shirts. Until the red smudges on the collars were too numerous to ignore.

 All of the names he’d called her. All of the insinuations, the anger, the yelling and the deadly silence. Feyre had endured it all, had changed so much about herself and her life and her dreams to try to make it work. Because Tamlin was right, in his way: he took care of her and she should be grateful for that.

But when the towering blonde had just huffed a disbelieving laugh and shook his head and all but blamed Feyre and her “silly little art projects” for his infidelity, she’d thrown the colossal diamond engagement ring in his face.

And now she was here. On the smooth tile floor of Mor’s apartment, willing any modicum of chill from the stone into her body. Because the air conditioning was still broken after a week.

“Well this is unexpected.”

And just like that, she was frozen. Dread prickled her flesh, the goosebumps rising over her entire body. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath. If she freaked out, he would only respond with that infuriating grin. She couldn’t let Rhysand know that he could get under her tingling skin so easily. So Feyre relaxed, willing her limbs to stay spread wide even though all she wanted to do was cover herself, and sighed.

“I’m not sure why. We’re on the top floor, in the middle of the summer, with no functioning AC. We’re basically next to the sun. Clothes aren’t practical.”

“Indeed.”

With the rustle of fabric that seemed to roar in her ears, Feyre knew she’d made a mistake. Her eyes flew open just in time to find Rhys pulling open the front of his charcoal button-down, revealing a chiseled landscape of abs and pecs and ink. Heat flooded her, and not because of the summer air, as she took him in. His body sure hadn’t gotten any less delectable. Damn him.

“What are you doing?” she asked before she could stop herself. God, she was an idiot.

“You said so, yourself,” he crooned in response, draping his shirt over the back of one of the barstools. “Clothes aren’t practical.” He practically sauntered toward her as her lungs struggled against his attention. The quirk of his lips was so damned sexy that she hated him for it, and she tried to cling to that disdain, even as her insides twisted with a want she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

Instead of pouncing on her, Rhys allowed himself to fall into the armchair to her left. Feyre couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed. As if he could sense her inner conflict he smirked down at her, violet eyes twinkling like jewels bathing in firelight.

“Ask me why I didn’t take off my pants.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and then willed them shut, trying to calm her racing heart and roaring blood. But her newfound roommate wasn’t content to let her be.

“I didn’t take them off, Feyre darling, because then I’d be completely naked. And I’d hate for you to feel like you’d have to remove those lovely underthings to even the playing field.”

She groaned, doing her best to ignore that he’d just informed her that only a few steps and a thin layer of fabric separated him from her. “Why are you so annoying?”

“You mean undeniably charming? It’s a curse, truly.”

“Yes, you are a curse,” she grumbled back, rubbing her hands over her face. “I think you’ve decided to stay here just to make me miserable.”

“As entertaining as that sounds, I told you that there are some major plumbing updates happening in my house. I scheduled it like this because I knew I’d be able to stay here,” he explained.

How convenient for him. On the contrary, it had been a total accident that she’d found herself single and homeless the day Mor had left.

“What?”

Her heart stopped and her eyes burst open, her gaze immediately snaring on his. Rhysand’s jaw had gone slack and disbelief painted the features that were usually so carefully controlled. 

She’d said it aloud. Oh, God, how was that possible?

Feyre scrambled to her feet, desperate to make a run for it, but Rhys met her chest-to-chest in the space between his chair and the couch. And she couldn’t take her eyes off of that broad expanse of tan skin and swirling tattoos, lifting and falling with the breaths that she could feel skating over her disheveled hair. It was fine that she was staring at his bare chest, because that meant she wasn’t looking at his face or into his eyes.

She cursed the world when she felt gentle fingers curl under her chin and lift, forcing her hand. The stare she met was not arrogant or mischievous, nor was it clouded with pity. No, Rhysand’s incredible starlit eyes were dark with intensity. Stormy with something she dared not try to identify.

“Single?” His voice stuttered, as if he could hardly breathe. Feyre gave a half-hearted shrug and jerked away from his hand.

“Tamlin was cheating on me.” Might as well not beat around the bush, though she didn’t feel the need to explain that she’d stuck around for the lies and the name-calling and the snide remarks about her body and her appearance and her work and… everything. Feyre bravely snuck a look back at Rhys, who was still just regarding her intently.

“And homeless?” God, why was he so intent on her laying herself bare at his feet? Didn’t he know how beaten down and humiliated she was already? Her shoulders sagged as she sighed again, her feistiness and annoyance replaced with exhaustion.

“Well, Tamlin’s name is on the lease, so…”

She didn’t have the strength to say anything more. Not to this perfect specimen of a man who could have anything he ever wanted at any time. A man who hadn’t wanted her. All of her bravado had faded away, and she realized that she was practically naked before him, both physically and emotionally. Taking a step back, Feyre folded her arms over her chest.

“I’m going to go get dressed,” she whispered, turning to flee.

She’d only made it two steps when a heavy hand fell on her shoulder. She spun, ready to ask Rhys what the hell he wanted now.

And then his lips were on hers.

Rhysand was kissing her. And she couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. The hand that had been so forceful, had spun her around, now cupped her nape with such tenderness as his lips and his tongue set her aflame.

No matter how loudly and forcefully her mind screamed that letting this happen was not a good idea, Feyre couldn’t bring herself to care. Not with the warmth of his palm leaving a trail of goosebumps down her back. Not with the way his heaving, muscled chest rose and fell beneath her hands. Not with the way he was kissing her, as if she were his salvation.

Rhys moaned against her mouth as he lifted her thighs, sweeping her .up against him and his obvious need without breaking the contact between them. Feyre was too enraptured to even squeak in surprise. And then they were moving, even as their tongues danced and their fingers squeezed. She had the fleeting sensation of a bead of sweat crawling down her spine, but it was quickly replaced by the sudden free fall of Rhys tipping them over onto a bed. The heat of his skin radiated into her, boiling her blood as need roared through her veins and pooled in her core. She was caged beneath him, and in the back of her mind the last crumbling vestiges of her self-preservation were calling out to her, rambling through a list of reasons that this was a mistake that was going to end up with her crushed beneath the weight of this man’s saccharine smile again. But all of that fell away as his open-mouthed kisses started moving up her jaw and then followed the path of her heartbeat down her neck.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Fuck, she was a goner, for sure.

And so her hands found the ridges of his obliques and trailed over the rippling muscles of his abs and up over his chest. As his mouth moved lower, she wrapped her arms over his broad shoulders and sighed, awash in the sensation of his soft lips on her burning flesh. His journey continued into the hollow between her breasts, still covered by flimsy lace.

“Can we take this off, Feyre, darling?” His question vibrated through her breastbone and sent shivers to the tips of her toes.

Feyre couldn’t recall ever having ripped off an undergarment with such urgency.

And when she was bare beneath him, his eyes had turned dark and stormy and desperate. “Fuck, you’re even more gorgeous than I remembered.” The way he whispered the words was nearly reverent, and they washed over her like a spring morning mist, chasing away the sweltering summer and leaving her skin prickling with anticipation. Rhys lowered his dark head and tongued at one of her nipples, his large palm sliding over her other breast. Feyre arched up into his sensual touch with a stuttered gasp and slid her fingers into his thick, midnight hair. It was so soft, so at odds with his hard body and his wicked mouth.

He sucked her nipple between his teeth and gave her a nip, and she yelped, surprised and delighted at how the short, sharp sting made her inner muscles clench. Soon the infuriating man shifted his attention, laving his tongue and lips over the other nipple whilst gently pinching and pulling at the one that was now standing at attention.

After another playful bite, the wetness of his mouth moved away from her chest, and Feyre felt bereft from the loss. But that trail of fire, ignited by his lips and teeth, moved down her stomach. Lower and lower and lower. Until she felt his fingers curl under the band of her panties. Blinking her eyes open, she lifted her head and gazed up at him, his unspoken question blazing in his starlit eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” she breathed. Rhysand’s lips tilted into a devastating, devilish lopsided grin as he chuckled.

“Nothing at all,” he crooned in response. Then he slowly peeled the veritable scrap of fabric down over her legs, his gaze keeping her pinned and breathless. Feyre could feel the color bloom upon her cheeks the further down he got, until she was fully naked on the bed and he had lifted himself up onto his knees to take her in. 

She couldn’t help but notice the way his slacks were tented in front, the considerable bulge only making her blush more. But she grinned lazily. Satisfied.

Tamlin had been critical of her body, though most of the time not pointedly. But he did love control, and that included watching her like a fucking hawk when they ate meals together. His comments about needing a wife who stays trim – who could easily shop at all the high-end stores that only sold sizes 2-4-6 – had eroded her self-esteem somewhat.

But the way that Rhys was looking at her now made her feel like the sexiest woman on the face of the planet.

“Oh, Feyre, darling. You look absolutely delectable,” he murmured softly, his tilted grin widening into a wicked smile. Rubbing his palms together, he made a show of licking his lips. Feyre would have rolled her eyes if she hadn’t been paralyzed by the implication of his words. “I think I’d like a taste.”

Rhys moved with surprising speed, and she barely had enough time to suck in a breath before he pounced on her, quickly hooking his arms under her thighs and diving in to feast upon her.

“Oh, my God!” Feyre gasped, her hands fisting desperately in the sheets. Rhys let out a feral growl that vibrated against her clit and sent her eyes rolling.

His mouth was unrelenting, his attention ferocious. Rhys ran the flat of his tongue over her sex and flicked the tip of it over the tiny bud that was swollen and needy and sensitive. He took his time to pleasure her in every way, plunging his tongue into her and fucking her with it, then pulling out and sucking her clit into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. Feyre’s hurried breaths and gasps had grown into moans and cries and curses, her hands desperately searching for something to hold onto, to keep her grounded. Her fingers would sink into Rhys’s hair, then she would flail and clutch at the sheets, then she would lift her arms and grip the pillow above her head. But nothing could stop the torturous pleasure as her body wound tighter and tighter, this infuriatingly skilled man bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Rhys!” She could barely speak with the way her muscles were clenching and spasming. “Oh, fuck! I –” Her words pulled apart and mixed into an unintelligible scream as her orgasm surged through her. Rhysand’s tongue on her clit sent wave after wave of pleasure through her body, and he kept licking and sucking at her as she fell from the precipice. Feyre wasn’t sure that she could breathe or think as her sight and smell and touch and sound were overwhelmed by the ecstasy that his mouth was wringing from her. 

Her eyes were watering when Rhys finally took mercy on her, her chest heaving with deep, panting breaths. Feyre watched with a bleary gaze as this sex god stepped off the bed and hurriedly removed his pants. When his length sprang free, hard and proud in front of him, she could only manage a fleeting thought that he hadn’t been bluffing before. She must have been staring, because his smug, smooth voice drew her out of her haze.

“Like what you see, Feyre, darling?”

She scowled. “It’s… fine,” she grumbled.

“It’s fine?” Rhys balked. He crawled back onto the mattress and then slowly, languidly prowled over her prone form. When they were face to face, his arms caging her at her shoulders, he lowered his head. His words seared the shell of her ear. “I’m fairly certain that you know that my cock is much more than fine.” He pressed a deceptively chaste kiss against her jaw, then another on her cheek. When his mouth met her lips, he plunged his tongue between them, igniting the passion and desire that was still simmering after her mindblowing climax only minutes before.

Rhys pulled back, breathing hard, and stared into her eyes. “I’m all too happy to remind you how much better than fine it is.” Stars danced in her vision as he thrust into her, seating himself to the hilt. She’d forgotten how big he was, how deliciously he filled her – enough to steal her breath. Her back arched as her lungs kicked back to life, just in time for Rhysand to lift his hips and then push them back against her, burying himself deep inside her again.

And then he unleashed himself upon her.

Feyre’s breathing hitched and her voice cracked as she yelled any number of colorful words and cried his name as he pounded into her, her arms hooking around his neck and clinging to him. Her feet hooked around his thighs, opening herself further to his punishing rhythm. Fuck, she’d missed this: this deep, sensual connection of bodies and pleasure. Tamlin had never been able to make her feel like this. Hell, he’d hardly had the desire to try.

Rhys captured her lips in a hard, searing kiss. He pulled out of her and she whimpered at the emptiness she felt. But it was only long enough for him to grab her legs and bend them back toward her chest, pinning her knees down on either side of her torso. When he plunged into her again her eyes rolled back into her head, the intensity of the sensation almost too much to withstand. Rhys fucked her in deep, long strokes, drawing a tormented wail from her lips at the base of every thrust.

“Fu – uck. You – you’re s-s-so deep,” Feyre stuttered around the impact of his body against hers. Rhys hissed a laugh between clenched teeth.

“And how does it feel, Feyre?” he growled. “Does it feel fine.” He punctuated the abhorrent word with another stroke.

 “Oh, my God!” she gasped. “Oh, fuck, Rhys!”

“Tell me, Feyre. Tell me how it feels.”

Her vision was blurring as he pounded into her, the noises coming from her mouth things she didn’t even recognize. He was driving her mad, keeping her dangling perilously over the cliff’s edge. But the fall was just out of reach.

“Rhys! P-p-please!”

“Tell me how good it feels, Feyre, and I’ll give you the best orgasm of your life.” Somehow he still crooned the words, as if he were still in full control over his body and his mind. God, the power of his arrogance was truly mythical, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about anything other than claiming this climax.

“It – it feels – fuck!” She moaned again, desperate to get it out. “It feels… amazing. Rhys, please. Fuck, I’m so close.”

“Good girl,” he praised, and with the next surge of his hips he released one leg and circled his thumb around her clit.

Feyre screamed, but it was shredded and raw and broken. Broken like the rest of her shattered mind as everything unraveled and she was carried away in the unstoppable current of her orgasm. She felt Rhys, hard and thick inside her as he plunged in and out a few more times before unleashing with her name on his lips. He fell between her quivering legs, his cheek resting upon one of her breasts as they both came back to earth. In an instant the adrenaline disappeared and her muscles all seemed to fail. Her body went limp as her hand found the soft hair at Rhys’s nape. Her breathing grew deep and her eyelids grew heavy, and then she drifted to sleep.

~~~

When her blue eyes blinked open, Feyre was alone in the bed, and she couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that stabbed her in the gut. But as she blinked at the clock on the opposite nightstand, it read 8:03am, and she leapt from the tangle of sheets.

She was going to be late for work.

Her shower was quick, not allowing any time to ruminate over Rhysand’s departure without so much as a, “Thanks for a good time”. Perhaps, once again, it hadn’t been as meaningful to him as it was to her. It was exactly what her subconscious had tried to tell her the night before, but she was too desperate for him to listen.

Feyre’s sour mood lifted, however, when she finally made it into the kitchen and found a coffee mug – stamped with a scripty Hello, darling – on the counter next to a note:

You looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to wake you. Obviously, my FINE cock really tired you out last night.

If you need to stay home, I’ll be glad to inform my cousin that you were simply not ready for my sexual prowess. Just let me know.

I won’t be back until late tonight, but I wouldn’t mind finding you sprawled out on the floor again. Or maybe on the table? My own personal feast, perhaps?

~Rhys

God, he was going to be even more insufferable, now, wasn’t he?

Feyre shook her head, unable to stop herself from snickering, and made herself some coffee and packed her lunch. Then she carefully made her way down the many flights of stairs. If she fell down the steps, Rhys would give her endless grief about not being able to walk the day after they had sex. She was not willing to endure that.

She was breathing hard by the time she made it to the landing and walked out the door, and the summer sun was already beating down on her. Her car was just around the corner, though, and then she would have sweet, sweet AC once more. 

“Feyre.” The voice stopped her in her tracks and stole the air from her already struggling lungs. All she wanted was for her feet to keep moving, but they were frozen in place. When she heard her name again, her body turned in spite of her better judgment. And there, not ten feet away from her, stood a tall, perfectly groomed man with a green sport coat and glossy blond hair. Feyre lifted her chin, determined not to let him see the anxiety that rattled in her bones.

“Tamlin.”

[more-than-a-princess]

She should've known that he'd find a turn of phrase that would ensure her eyes to widen and a blush to creep over her cheeks. Just for a moment, with a sigh and smile ensuring the color faded away just was quickly as it came. "A good finger, then?" She chided him, holding back a laugh. She couldn't help herself: for someone who was supposed to remain polite and proper at all times, Wylan had a way of drawing out a sense of humor not fit for a castle. "Do I need to remind you that we're in public and you should be mindful of your fingers?"

She made a point only to mention the public aspect of such a warning, her expression playful as she led, or more aptly tugged, Wylan along. She'd lost him for so many months already, she wasn't about to let him go now. Metaphorically and, for the moment at least, physically. It wasn't like they'd done much of it before, hand-holding, but now that they were...

...well. There was no one else's hand she'd rather hold more. Silly and charming and brash and yes, with a complicated past he needed to bury without her. He was the missing piece that unexpectedly fit into the puzzle of her life and made it make sense, made it work. At least for the time being, until she had more practical matters to face beyond the adrenaline in her veins, the warmth of their clasped hands and coordinating smiles, and empty stomachs. His likely far more than her own: she'd attended a wedding after all, even if the portions were barely a bite or two at most.

 "Then promise me two things, then. Just two," She asked, though her smirk was proof that she was unable to ignore his appetites. And she'd just mentioned his fingers. Now she had his appetite to occupy her thoughts. And his rather smug face. And his horrible dining posture, which she happened to adore. "One, that if you do find yourself in trouble and in need of help, to ask for it. And two, to not hold back where the menu is concerned: you just traveled halfway around the world, regardless if you were coming from America or Asia. A good meal is surely needed after that."

She neglected to mention what had more recently unfolded: his waiting, her surprise, their mutual emotional onslaught, their kisses. Her cousins attempting to murder him paled in comparison to the rest of it, and in hindsight, it seemed as if they'd be all right now. She hoped, at least: she wanted at least two people in her corner before the sun rose and they'd face a whole lot of people with varying degrees of disapproval.

Except he wasn't intending to have her hold back either, particularly where burger consumption customs were concerned. Sonia laughed, a bit embarrassed as she tore her gaze away from the familiar menu. "Very well, it'll be your fault when I make a mess then. You'll have to cope with my being untidy and thereby unfit for the public eye." Which was a right shade better than drunk and panicked, terrified by the outcome of her brash decisions in Las Vegas.

Which might be in contention with the current brash decisions she was making: throwing her heart right at him once more and hoping he wouldn't shatter it. And being given full rein of the ordering process. Wise, since between them she was the one who spoke fluent French. And unwise, well...

"Merci monsieur, Je voudrais..." Sonia began, listing everything she intended to order at once, considering the menus were swiftly taken away. Soon enough, the food began to arrive: a bottle of wine, slices of crusty baguette, onion soup topped with a broiled layer of thick gruyere cheese, a small salad of green beans with figs, honey, and walnuts, and perhaps most importantly...two hamburgers. With cheese and cooked precisely as the fast food versions had been months before. Wylan's plate came with frites, thin and piping hot, while Sonia's plate was conspicuously empty besides the burger itself.

She shot him a Cheshire Cat grin, devious as she'd known all along what to order, as another buttoned-up and aproned server pushed a giant copper pot on a cart to the table. With a spoon, he blended something that smelled delightfully cheesy tableside, stretching it in long strands before depositing a generous helping of the stuff onto Sonia's plate before disappearing with the cart back into the kitchen.

"In this case, I couldn't have fries," She told him, reaching for her fork. "This is aligot, perhaps the most sinful mixture of cheese and potatoes to exist, outside of poutine that is. It's mashed potatoes, cheese, cream, and a bit of garlic, and it's popular here."

It wasn't nearly as elegant as the platters of steaks and seafood that sailed past on perilously balanced trays, but it was them. And true to her promise, Sonia pushed back the cuffs of her cardigan to her elbows before taking her burger in hand, beef juices and melting cheese running down over the brioche bun and onto her fingers. "It's time I made my life a little messier and far happier," She said, with a smile that seemed genuinely, permanently stuck. It was the closest thing she could make to a toast before taking a bite.

"C'mon Sonia, it's been some months, not some years. I think I still got a good finger on how you work otherwise I wouldn't be here. Oh. That actually works in a few ways." Wylan realizes bemusedly. Metaphorically and literally it took some knowledge of the bulldozer princess to pin down where and when she would be. And how to deal with her. Or survive, as the cases usually played out. It's something that, like the rest of the evening, provides additional irony to his original intentions.

The more he thinks about the circumstance and what lead him into it. The stupider he feels! Not as pleasant a thought. But it's enough to eke additional amusement from in order to fuel the smile that carries him (hand in hand) along with the princess and the Parisian streets. He'd never been a tourist in the area before, and there's a sad sense that this would fall into the folder of incomplete experiences.

"-nobody can stop you from the worries or cares you hold onto. I wish I could say that's over with some of me but... well, I'm awful at promises. So we'll be playing all that by ear too. Wow, you're all ready to go to this restaurant aren't you- I'm coming I'm coming."

Wylan shouldn't be surprised, he knows. Even if Sonia was quite capable of keeping herself composed it'd be ridiculous to think that the excitement of reuniting was only to be held on his end of the pair. She had been waiting too. For someone like him to spend time with. Bereft of humor and American charm. Clearly. Most Europeans would see a monster truck rally and feel disgust. And now the princess had been handed a lifetime ticket.

Lifetime...

Don't dwell too much on that yet!

Wylan takes the door from Sonia, ushering her inside instead with a nudge of his hand. As if she'd get to be the one showing courtesy in the presence of a guy like him. If it turned into a competition, it'd be one fraught with trickery and you best believe that. Wylan is already letting the seeds be planted of games. Up the stairs they go and towards the booth.

"Okay. Maybe I'll have a few things then. I happen to be in the presence of someone who spurs up quite a few of my appetites. Ah- damnit." Booth style. That match is lost before it began then. Can't pull a chair out for a lady like this. He clicks his tongue, a silent loss recorded into the back of his mind before sitting opposite of her.

It's then of course, as he listens to Sonia regale about the menu and offerings, that he hadn't realized how nice it was to just stare into her eyes when she went on her rambles. Honey sweet voice that played like a string as blue eyes danced like polished pebbles. Heh. Hm. Ha.

"No." He says finally, once she's done with her nostalgia trip. Wylan has his cheek braced against his arm that was propped on the table surface. Far from proper manners. But given he wasn't necessarily dressed for the occasion, why bother fighting the uphill battle for cutting a presence he didn't care to hold anyway? For who, the waitress? Nah.

"So long as you're with me I think you're required to eat every burger with your hands. If only so I can watch you make more messes. Makes me feel better about myself, you know?" A smirk and a wink passed her way. He hasn't even bothered to look at the menu yet. Why put another barrier between himself and the woman he was falling in love with all over again? "Soon... maybe." This still doesn't feel real. But he's glad it is.

"Tell you what though. I'll let you order for me. Seeing as you got a grip on what this place has that's tasty. And I want to be surprised. If this adrenaline doesn't keep running I may just pass out and it's a little too early for that."

[writingfics-passingtime]

Hide and Seek

~6500 words of ler!loki fluff

CW: light swearing. Otherwise SFW.

As you army-crawled through an air vent of the Avengers Compound, you reminisced on some of the times the euphemism “sticky situation” was most applicable to you.

There was that time when you got the hiccups during a funeral. A mild embarrassment, nothing too drastic.

Another time, perhaps a bit more drastic, is when the branch you were perched on cracked just as an enemy convoy was passing underneath. You scrambled for another hold and managed to swing your body behind the large oak tree before the bullets could catch you.

Or that time an enemy clocked you from behind and knocked you unconscious. You woke up in a cage that was about to be dropped into the ocean when one of your colleagues, undercover on the bad guys’ side, took them all out and pulled you back onto the boat. That one took a little while longer to recover from, emotionally.

You could list off dozens of these cases. All of them mostly turned out okay because, hey, you were still alive. But dodging bullets, escaping cages, and a loud hiccup during a eulogy paled in comparison, in your mind, to the situation that had occurred not ten minutes prior to you crawling through this vent.

It was a relatively quiet morning in the compound. Most of the team, including you, had returned from a peacekeeping mission two days prior. Injuries were healing, nothing major, some minor scratches and bruises. Sam had a cracked rib and that was the worst of it really.

Leaving the comfort of your bed, you showered and slipped on some exercise clothing for the recovery training you’d do later in the day, then left your bedroom. Yawning loudly, you walked down the hallway to the kitchen in search of coffee. Wanda had just made a fresh pot. You could have kissed her. Instead, you hugged her tight from behind, declaring your love, and she cracked a smile, pouring you a mug and handing it to you without a word.

You blew on the steam as you two walked into the living room together and sat on the armchairs, chatting about the training you’d do later today and the movie you’d watched with Peter and Bruce last night.

“Ah, good morning, fair maidens” Thor’s voice boomed cheerily as he passed through the living room and noticed the coffee in your hands, nodding approvingly and seemingly going in search of his own.

“Where’s Vision?” You asked, taking another sip and leaning back in the chair.

“Mmm,” Wanda swallowed her sip and smiled, rolling her eyes, “Off doing this and that, being a pain in my ass.” Her playful tone told you she wasn’t actually annoyed at him. You giggled, knowing Vision had his ways of being painfully… Well, Vision.

“What’s he up to this time?”

“What’s who up to, this time?” Thor asked as he plopped himself down on the largest sofa, comically small cup of coffee in hand.

Wanda shook her hand dismissively, “Vis has been trying to be a more traditional boyfriend. Being sneaky and playful, trying to surprise me, things like that.”

“Ah! Excellent,” Thor grinned with a single nod of content. “He means to make you feel happy.”

“He does,” Wanda agreed, “Though I’d appreciate him not trying to jump out and tickle me every time I walk into our bedroom. Oh, ‘scuse me.” She noticed her phone ringing from the table and summoned it to her hand with her magic, as if it were a normal thing that someone would do.

Thor laughed and pointed at Wanda as she rushed out of the room, “Yes, a classic! Jane used to love it when I would get her laughing.” Wanda rolled her eyes but flashed him a smile as she left.

“She did?” You asked, carefully and incredulously. You and Thor were now alone in the living room.

“Oh yes,” Thor smiled and sipped his coffee again. “Women love to pretend they hate it, but it makes them happy to be tickled.”

You felt a bit of blush creep into your cheeks so you raised your mug to your lips, “I think that depends on the woman, Thor. Besides, not every woman is ticklish.” You cleared your throat and sipped your coffee nervously.

“I’m afraid I agree with the young agent here, brother.”

Your stomach tightened a bit as Loki sauntered into the room. Great. The last thing you needed was the tall, dark and handsome God of Mischief entering this conversation. He sat himself in the armchair across from you and made himself comfortable as he eyed the coffee in your hands, perhaps considering finding a cup for himself.

“Morning,” you smiled briefly and politely, then turned to Thor to try and change the subject, “How is Jane, anyway?”

“Oh she is very well, she-”

“Now, hang on a moment,” Loki interjected and looked at you with curiosity, though you could see a flash of mischief behind his eyes. “I don’t believe this conversation was over.”

“You’re right, Loki. It’s not over. We segued into something else,” you explained slowly and snarkily, like he was a child, “That’s how conversations work on earth.” You tried your best to look casual and collected, but you couldn’t ignore the pricks of heat in your cheeks. Neither could Loki and, now that you just talked down to him like an infant, he wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Oh, but I had questions,” Loki mused, “because if it depends on the woman… how about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you ticklish?”

You scoffed to hide the alarm bells that went off inside your head. Loki leaned forward in his chair, eyes trained on you to read every movement and reaction. You knew you had to tread very, very carefully. Loki learning you were helplessly ticklish was not high on your list of things you’d like to happen today. Being around him, you already had to compose yourself enough to not get flustered by his intense stare, his harmless flirting and playful nature. He already had enough power over you. But you couldn’t say no, because everyone says no and that’s just asking for it, so you tried to play it off.

Shrugging, you looked him calmly in the eyes and smiled, “Sure, a little bit. Isn’t everyone?”

Loki looked at you suspiciously, still trying to weed out any weakness, “And you’re just admitting that, are you?”

You laughed and shrugged again, “Why would I lie? People who try to tickle me get bored after a couple seconds because my reaction isn’t juicy enough. It’s not that bad.” You sipped your coffee and shot a glance at Thor, who seemed to have bought it.

“So where are you most ticklish, young maiden?” Thor asked innocently. You laughed again and shook your head, placing your coffee on the table and turning to rest your legs over the arm of the chair. You needed to appear relaxed, unafraid.

“That’s not information people willingly divulge, Thor.”

“Come now!” He laughed, “Why not? I’m most ticklish right here,” he declared, pointing to his hip. Loki watched your breath become shallower, still deciphering, plotting.

“Of course you’re not afraid to admit it, you’re incredibly strong,” you pointed out. “The rest of us have to contend with mere human strength, and the looming threats of demigods who would find any excuse to torture us.” You shot a glare at Loki, but felt the colour drain from your face when his features noticeably lit up with victory.

“Torture?” He mused, leaning back in his chair with a shit-eating grin. “Strong word for someone who’s… now, how did you put it? Just “a little bit” ticklish.” He put air quotes around the words he used against you.

“You know what I meant,” you scoffed again but a nervous laugh slipped through.

“Brother, I think I’m making her nervous,” Loki commented with a glance at Thor.

“No you’re not,” you lied, but you felt your composure slipping.

“Do you enjoy it?” He suddenly learned forward again, grinning when you flinched.

Your heart started beating just a little bit faster. “E-even though it’s not that bad, I still don’t enjoy it.” You tried not to stammer through your fib.

“Why not?” Thor laughed heartily, “It’s fun!”

“Not for everyone,” you snapped back a little too anxiously. Frustrated at yourself for losing your composure, you tried to reign it back in.

“Aw, come now,” Thor winked at you and teased, as if it were obvious to him, “You know you love being trapped and made to laugh.” You visibly shifted in self-consciousness and Loki’s plot began taking shape.

“Well she’s only ever been tickled for a couple of seconds, brother,” Loki interjected again with a false innocence, as if he were clarifying a fact. He then shot forward to the edge of his seat, elbows resting on his knees, a viscous smirk plastered across his face, speaking slowly and agonisingly, “How do you know you don’t enjoy it as Thor does? If you’ve never been trapped and made to laugh.”

“Hmm. You make a good point, Loki. You should consider that,” he nodded to you and sipped his mug, now fully aware of the devilish duel of wits and composure between you and his younger brother.

Your head spun as you tried to gather yourself. This couldn’t be happening. How did all the stars align for this conversation to occur when less than five minutes ago you were drinking coffee and chatting with your best friend?

“The same way I know,” you started, controlling your breathing, “That I wouldn’t like my leg to be cut off.”

Loki laughed sharply and leaned back again in his seat, like a lazy king on his throne. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he dismantled you with his eyes. You immediately knew you’d spoken too drastically again.

“Your leg. Cut off.” He played with his fingers and spoke to Thor, not breaking his gaze on you. “The girl is unbelievably ticklish, brother. Look at how flustered she is.” He titled his head down and gave you a downright predatory stare, “She’s terrified of what I’m about to do.”

“No I’m not!” You urged through clenched teeth, but it was just the panic of being caught. The panic of Loki declaring his intentions. Loki stood slowly, and you quickly got to your feet and leapt behind your chair for protection. Thor looked on in amusement, knowing full well that you were screwed. It was going to happen, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Drop the act,” Loki sighed and tugged his sleeves slightly away from his wrists, “and let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Loki, no.” You readied yourself to bolt.

“You never answered my question,” Thor laughed from the couch and wiggled his eyebrows at you, making this all so much worse. “What’s your most ticklish spot, little spy?”

You opened your mouth to protest but closed it again. Loki put his hands in his pockets and cocked his head, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “A useless question, brother. She’d only lie,” he sighed, cocked his head the other way and hummed sadly, speaking as though the situation pained him, “I’ll have to find it myself.”

“Don’t.” You held out a hand and flinched again, but he hadn’t yet moved. For some reason, his look of calm indifference was much more terrifying than the mischievous smirks and grins he wore before. He looked at you, stone cold, then tilted his head towards the door.

“Would you like the mercy of a head start?”

“I- You-... you can’t-” Your knuckles turned white from your grip on the back of the armchair as you stammered nervously. With a growl of frustration you took off down the hallway.

You’d always been quick and light on your feet, a trait that served you well as a spy. Something that didn’t serve you well is how short of a time it had been since you moved into the compound; you didn’t know many secret passages or good places to hide. Granted, it hadn’t been long since Loki had been brought here to stay, so he probably didn’t know either.

Not wanting to disadvantage yourself by trying to determine how far he was behind you, you opted to run as far away as you could before seeking a place to hide. Maybe he’d search each room on the way. Maybe he’d give up if you hid for hours.

A glimmer of hope appeared at the end of the hallway you just turned down. “Peter!” You whispered loudly. He whipped his head around in confusion as he saw you quickly approaching. In a split-second decision, you decided it would be better if Peter didn’t know why you were running. You loved the kid like a little brother but, hell, he had no poker face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, reading panic on your face. You quickly grinned.

“Hide and seek,” you lied, pulling him by the arm to run with you. “I need an air vent entrance.”

The teenager’s eyes lit up with joy and he grinned at the prospect of helping you win the game, and that you trusted him to A: know where the secret spots were, and B: keep your secrets safe.

“This way,” he whispered back and kept running in the direction you were already going. A door slammed in the far distance behind you, so you knew Loki was now on the move. The chase was on.

He led you into a large foyer area and you felt very exposed, turning to keep an eye on all the entrances. “Up there!” Peter pointed to the ceiling and you winced in panic. It was at least forty feet from the ground. You looked at him with pleading eyes and he grinned, holding his hand high in the air. He shot a web at the ceiling and was pulled towards it quickly. His fingers fiddled with the latch as he grunted, “it’s stuck!”

“Hurry!” You whispered loudly. Another door slammed closer by and you gasped in panic, your stomach growling with a lack of food and your nerves being on edge.

After several more agonising moments he declared, “Got it!” and pulled himself inside.

Not three seconds later, you sensed a presence in one of the foyer entrances about thirty feet behind you. You froze.

“Disappointing,” Loki’s dark rasp filled the room, “I would have thought you’d come up with a better escape route.”

You turned to look at him, but concealed the smirk on your face. He didn’t think you had an escape. He didn’t know about Peter. You held your hands high in the air, appearing to Loki as if you were surrendering, but Peter knew what to do. You heard the small sound of release and, less than a second later, felt a strong stringy substance wrap around your knuckles and interlace through your fingers. You clenched your fists and smirked at Loki before tugging to signal to Peter.

Loki noticed what was happening and charged at you with a growl, but it was too late. Peter’s super-strength and the stretchiness of the web careened you towards the ceiling where he caught your hands and pulled you into the large vent, releasing the webs from your fingers after you were safely inside. You stuck your head out of the vent and grabbed the side of the panel.

“Better luck next time,” you called to Loki and slammed it shut, suddenly losing your false confidence and breathing deep breaths of relief. “Thank you, Peter. You saved my life.”

“But… he found you,” Peter’s eyebrows knitted together, “Doesn’t he win?”

“He has to catch me,” you explained.

“W-why are you so nervous?” Peter chuckled, clearly confused.

You sighed and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s better I don’t tell you,” you smiled sadly, “You’ll need plausible deniability if Loki catches you too.”

“What, why?!”

“Thanks, Peter!” You whispered loudly and turned, and rushed in a crouched scurry towards where you thought your room may be.

So there you were, crawling through the vents on your stomach so you could move as quietly as possible. You peaked occasionally through one of the panelled doors, only once catching sight of Loki, who looked eerily bored. You occasionally paused to listen and feel for another presence in the vent, but none came.

With your general knowledge of the building you were in and the peaks you got at the hallway, you thought you’d be able to find the vent to your room, which would be a safe-haven. Though, it was proving difficult. Your watch told you you’d been in the vent for forty minutes and you felt pretty lost.

“Friday,” you whispered at your watch. “Please show me my room.”

“Of course,” Friday whispered back, following protocol to be subtle if spoken to in secrecy. A hologram appeared showing your room in its current state.

“Any life detected there?”

“None at all.”

“Great, please lock the door.”

“Door has been shut and locked.”

You heard a door shut and lock click not too far away and you swelled with hope. The compound was programmed so each patron had full exclusive access to their room, which could only be overridden in case of emergency. You couldn’t see into anyone else’s room, no one could see into yours. It was a feature you were very grateful for at this moment in time. Suddenly, the hologram of your room was replaced by Tony’s confused face. You audibly gasped and slammed a hand over your mouth to keep quiet.

“Hey, Jason Bourne,” he quipped, clearly in the middle of something in his lab, “What are you doing in my vents?”

“Hiding,” you shrugged.

“From?”

“Loki.”

“Uh-huh. And why, might I ask?”

“... Personal reasons.”

“I see,” his head tilted down as he did something that sounded like tightening a bolt. “You know, I’d probably meddle in whatever little game you’re playing if he hadn’t thrown me out a window when we first met.”

“Considering I’ve never thrown you out a window, how about you give me access to the compound data so I can track his movements?”

“Hmm, nah,” he winced as he tightened the bolt to its full security, “I’m firmly Switzerland. But bet’s on you, superspy!”

And with that, his face was gone. You breathed a sigh of relief and crawled towards where you heard your door shut.

When you finally reached your room, you carefully undid the latch and thanked the heavens your ceiling wasn’t also forty feet tall. You dropped and rolled, protecting your body as you finally felt safe in your room. Looking up at the panel, you wondered…

“Hey, Friday?”

“Yes?”

“Any chance you could close the air vent in my room?” It snapped shut. You smiled. “Thank you.”

Breathing another sigh of relief, you collapsed onto your bed and tried to calm your racing mind. You searched your brain for solutions, for ways out of this, but the inevitability of the situation slowly came crashing down. You would eventually have to leave your room, Loki would see you, he would chase you, he would eventually catch you and pin you down. He’d test every inch of your body, without mercy, until he discovered where you were most sensitive. And the worst part; he’d maybe discover that you liked it.

You’d told the truth earlier, about not having ever been tickled for a long period of time, but something about the conversation excited you. Life as a spy - everything was calculated. Aside from brief moments of affection with your best friend Wanda, or a fellow agent’s arm around your waist as you had posed undercover, you didn’t get to experience affectionate touch all that often. Loki’s fingers would be evil and determined and you weren’t sure you could classify them as affectionate… but it was a game, right? It’s supposed to be fun. At least, Thor was right, you found it fun, and you longed for those moments of release and carefree vulnerability.

You listened to music and did stretches in your room on a yoga mat for almost an hour before remembering you needed to eat. Some protein bars in your bedside table did the trick and staved off hunger for a little while longer. Lounging on your bed, you surfed Netflix until you found a docuseries that looked interesting. Three episodes later, you had almost drifted off when there was a knock on your door.

“Dinner time!” Steve’s friendly voice called, he tried to open the door but noticed it was locked. “We missed you at training. You feelin’ alright?”

“Fine! Just getting changed,” you fibbed and suddenly felt your cheeks flush hot at the prospect of seeing Loki at dinner.

“I’ll wait for you,” he offered. Not knowing what to say, you swore under your breath and pulled on socks and sneakers. Your sports shorts would have to do for now, and you pulled a hoodie over your t-shirt. You still felt exposed, but knew Steve would get suspicious if you waited any longer. You opened the door and he smiled at you as you shut it behind yourself.

“What’s for dinner?” You asked casually as you glanced up and down the hall for any sign of a certain demigod on a mission.

“Uh, I think Wanda’s made some Sokovian dish. It’s their independence day so she wanted to do something a little special.”

A smile pulled at your lips, “That’s nice.”

He chatted happily to you as you walked towards the kitchen together, discussing how training went today. You tried to engage in conversation but your mind was elsewhere, your hands wrung nervously in the pocket of your hoodie. Right before you were about to enter the living room, Steve’s eye caught a door and he did a double-take.

“Oh hey, the tape is gone. It must be all done. Have you seen this?” He nodded excitedly at a room you were about to pass and stopped in his tracks. “It’s a movie theatre, check it out.” He opened the door and you peered inside.

The room was dimly lit and housed a large number of comfortable lounging chairs and couches, all dark crimson. A pristine popcorn machine sat against the wall out of the way of the immensely large screen, and a small interactive screen on the wall, you guessed, was for selecting any movie you wanted. You grinned and shook your head, “Tony’s too good to us.”

“Yeah,” Steve made a noise of agreement. “It’s cosy and large and,” you furrowed your eyebrows when you felt his hand at the small of your back, then his voice turned low and menacing “it’s also completely soundproof.” You didn’t have a chance to question him before he shoved you inside and swung the heavy door shut behind him. The force of his shove caused you to stumble but not fall, you whipped your head around just in time to see the worst possible thing happen.

“Ohhh shit.” You watched in horror as the illusion of Steve lifted from Loki’s body, and he stood there with that same cold and indifferent look on his face. “Oh, SHIT!” You yelped again and backed up instinctively.

“Hello, darling,” Loki said in a low growl.

“No. No, no, NO!” You whined and took steps backwards as he took them towards you. “Loki, please,” you winced as your eyes darted around looking for the best way to jump in and around the sofas to make it back to the door, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to evade him. “Mercy, please.” You held out a hand as if to command him to stop taking steps towards you.

He shook his head, “You’ve had your mercy.”

“A head start is not mercy!” You whined, sensing the wall close behind you. “It made this all so much worse.”

“Not my fault you took the chance to run,” he smirked.

“It was your suggestion!”

“You took it.”

“Why shouldn’t I?!”

He smirked when your back hit the wall and you slowly sank down to the floor, cowering with your arms clamped down to protect as much of your torso as you could. He crouched in front of you and met your eyes with a startling intensity. "I'm the God of Mischief."

His hand shot out and grabbed your ankle. You gasped, pre-emptive nervous giggles bubbled over your lips as he stood and started dragging you towards the middle of the room.

“No, please,” you pleaded through giggles as you clawed at the carpet. He wasted no time pulling the sneaker off your foot and you gasped and cried out, “NO!” before using your other foot to try and kick him away. A fatal mistake. He caught your other foot, locking them both in the crook of his elbow as he pulled your other sneaker off. You were in an impossible situation, only your back on the carpet as he secured your feet high off the ground, you shook your head frantically and pleaded again through messy laughter but it was no use. He had already given you his mercy.

Loki had no intention of starting slowly, you learned when his fingers firmly and speedily began scratching at your socked feet. You squealed and jolted but succumbed to desperate giggly laughter, smacking your fists on the ground and covering your blushing face as his fingers wormed their way under your toes, around your heels, down your soles then over the tops of your feet. You tried to twist your body to hit at his ankles, but it was no use.

“I tried to be a benevolent captor,” Loki called to you over all your noise, clearly enjoying himself at how easily he was taking you apart, “choosing a room with all these options to make it more comfortable for you.” He sighed and slowed his fingers, not stopping completely. Looking down at you with a smirk he tilted his head towards a large four-seater couch. “Now, would you like to stay writhing on the floor like a rabid animal, or submit and let this happen somewhere more enjoyable.”

“I-I submit, I submihihit!” You cried, squealing again when his fingers flitted over the ball of your foot. He swiftly leaned down to scoop you up bridal style. A yelp left your mouth when he tossed you over onto the couch several feet away. Perhaps he thought he’d weakened you enough already, or that you would genuinely submit, but you were a desperate cornered prey and you were not about to give in that easily.

The second your body hit the couch you launched yourself over the back of it and bolted through the couches over to the door. Before your hand could grab the door handle you felt Loki’s arms secure around your waist and his clawed fingers, hitting as many spots as they could, wormed their way into your horribly sensitive sides and stomach. You hit out but accidentally catch the touch screen next to the door, causing the lights to dim to almost nothing. A movie started to roll on the main screen, and it was now the main source of light in the room.

Loki couldn’t help but grin at your shrieking laughter and how you crumpled against his evil touch. He didn’t relent as he carried you back to the largest couch. Your hands pushed helplessly against his as your begging was lost in your laughter; you couldn’t even form the words.

He put you face-down and sat straddling your hips, still working his fingers into your sides. “Why would you try to run? You must have known it would only make it worse for you.” He laughed and clicked his tongue when his fingers hit your ribs and you jolted harder than before. “Now, what’s this?”

“Dohohohon’t,” you laughed into the couch and clenched your arms that were clamped at your ribs as he tried to work his fingers into the bones. You felt him lift his body ever so slightly and roughly flip you around, grabbing hold of your wrists as he sat back down on your hips. His grin told you just how much he was enjoying this and you couldn’t help but be thankful he’d dropped the scary act. Mischievous and playful Loki was much more bearable.

He started working to pry your arms from protecting your body, doing so with a terrifying ease. Your eyes went wide as he pulled them higher and he eyed the t-shirt poking out from under your hoodie. “Ah, good, this can come off then,” he nodded before shooting you a smirk. You shook your head, having enjoyed the limited protection the thick fabric had provided you. He expertly slid his grip over your hands, bunching the fabric in his fists and giving it a firm and long tug. The hoodie slipped off your body, but your arms were free again. They shot back down to your sides to protect your ribs, but left your stomach vulnerable, even more now that the force of the hoodie being stripped off had left your shirt disheveled and exposing some skin.

You gulped for air while you could, letting out a brief cough. “You should really buy a woman dinner before you rip her clothes off.”

Loki chuckled and shook his head, “Attempting to seduce me will do nothing to help your case, but I do so appreciate the flattery.”

Your mouth went wide, “I wasn’t atte- NOHOHO!”

The words were killed by the squeals in your mouth when Loki’s hand shot back down to spider his fingers against the skin on your stomach. Still trying desperately to protect your ribs, your hands had limited range of function to try to protect much else. You squeaked through your laughter each time one of his fingers would find its way into your belly button, thrashing helplessly beneath him.

It was too late to pretend like your ribs weren’t your worst spot, Loki had clocked it the second you first reacted to his fingers there, but he was deathly curious to see how much you would endure to keep it from him. He moved from scratching at the bare skin of your stomach to drilling his thumbs into your hips, causing you to let out a small scream followed by loud laughter and further desperate attempts to twist out of his grasp.

Keeping his left hand on your hip, he reached behind him to squeeze at the muscle above your knee with his right hand. Your laughter went up a pitch as tears formed in your tightly-shut eyes, your torso lifted from the couch to sit up underneath him but your arms remained firmly at your sides. “P-PLEHEHEASE! LOKIHI!” You tried to fight him with as much strength as you could from your elbows down, hitting at his chest. As he switched his hands to attack the opposite hip and knee, he couldn’t shrink the fond grin on his face when he realised you weren’t really fighting as hard as you could.

He’d seen you around the compound, giving longing looks you thought no one saw when you observed others in displays of affection, whether platonic or otherwise. How you stole hugs from Wanda, or how you’d breath a sigh of contentment and smile shyly when someone would fall asleep on you during a movie. Truth be told, he’d had a soft spot for you from the first second you threw a witty comeback his way. You weren’t afraid of him, sure you were a bit nervous around him, but not in the way that made him feel like a monster. He knew you were enjoying this just as much as he was, but that wasn’t something he’d ever voice; he didn’t want to embarrass you like that. He had plenty of ways to fluster you, and this seemed like a game too precious to ruin. He also didn’t want to ruin it by pushing it too far, so his hands finally relented and he grabbed your wrists that were currently gripping the thick blue fabric on his shoulders.

“Would you really endure this for so much longer to protect that one spot from me?” He smirked down at you as you caught your breath, noticing the smile that stayed on your cheeks.

“I don’t back down,” you coughed, residual giggles leaving your mouth as you tugged on your wrists in his grip. You blushed when you realised your position still underneath him. His face was mere inches from yours and you desperately wanted to hide your hot cheeks from his view. You looked at the movie that had started on the screen and smiled softly, “this is a good one.”

“Well how about a bargain, then?”

You turned back to him and narrowed your eyes, “Do tell.”

“Darling, I simply can’t leave this worst spot neglected,” he smirked then gave you a fake sympathetic smile. You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off, “-ah ah. No, it’s not up for debate. But should you allow me access, instead of forcing me to weaken you further, I give you my word it will be the last of this torture. For tonight at least,” he added with a wink.

You winced and let out a small whine, and his heart unexpectedly fluttered when you rested your forehead on his chest in resignation. You breathed out a deep sigh and nodded, lifting your head back up, “UGH. Fine,” you glared at him, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “But get off me, you’re heavy. I want to be comfortable for my last moments alive.” He laughed heartily and stood up, allowing you to stand but still holding your wrists. You shot him an unimpressed look, “I’m not gonna run,” you jeered.

“A wise decision,” he nodded as he released your wrists. You gestured to the couch.

“Sit,” you instructed.

“Ooh, yes madam,” he couldn’t hide his pride at his victory, and excitement at his coming prize. He sat down in the middle of the couch, legs apart as he usually sat. You sat down on the couch between his legs and focused your eyes on the screen, slowly lifting your arms with whimpers of nervousness. It was going to be bad. You knew you’d be done for. Your heart pounded in your chest as his arms wrapped under your arms and around your torso, pulling you into his chest. His fingers, not yet moving, rested wide apart on your ribs as your heart pounded in your ears.

“Just… go easy on me?” You spluttered as you felt his laugh rumble behind you. He leaned forward to whisper in a low seductive growl,

“Absolutely not.”

When his fingers started scratching firmly at your ribcage you thought for sure the entire compound would have heard your scream, soundproof room be damned. Loki was genuinely surprised at how violently you thrashed in his hold, actually feeling a bit of pain when your fists pounded on his forearms. He couldn’t help but laugh along with you, amused to the core by your reaction. You didn’t have the composure or wherewithal to form words to beg, and you knew they wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Knees curling in on yourself, your body fought hard against his devilish tickling fingers.

Weakened by your massive bouts of laughter, you didn’t have the energy to keep fighting against him. So when his fingers finally stopped scratching and instead dug in, vibrating harshly in every crevice, you only had one strong jolt in you before going limp and succumbing to your silent laughter, tears streaming down your cheeks, weakly writhing in his arms as you let the sensation overtake you.

Loki beamed at the happy mess he’d made you, finally slowing up when he noticed your silent laughter had gone on long enough to leave you needing air. He released his right arm from your body and used it to pull your knees over his right leg, turning you so your head could rest against his heartbeat. You coughed weakly and let yourself collapse into his chest, wiping the tears of joy from your still-closed eyes.

He breathed out a sigh of contentment and let his back rest against the couch, pulling you closer as your breath and heart slowed to normal. You finally looked up at him with an attempted menacing glare, he laughed again and raised his eyebrows at you,

“So, just a little bit?”

You groaned and buried your face in his chest. He wondered if you noticed his heart skip when you did so. Muffled by his thick blue protective clothing, you admitted, “Unbelievably.”

He smiled fondly, even though you didn’t see it, and kept holding you as you closed your eyes and rested against his heartbeat again. It was strong, steady and sounded quite nice mixed with the historical fiction romance that you’d accidentally set in motion during your fight for freedom. Loki’s warm hands were on you, one resting on your leg and the other still at your ribcage, but with only pure intentions this time. As you were wondering how long he would let you stay like this, you felt the beginnings of sleep tug at your mind. You couldn’t bear to fight it.

“I’m telling you, man. It would be so cool!” Peter urged Thor as they walked towards dinner together. The young spiderling had been trying to convince Thor to throw Mjolnir with Peter attached by web, then call the hammer back, slingshotting Peter at near the speed of sound.

“Sounds dangerous,” Thor grunted, but stopped and grabbed Peter’s shoulder with a gleam in his eye, “Let’s try tomorrow.”

Peter grinned excitedly, even more so when he noticed the tape to the new movie theatre had been removed. “Oh cool! Mister Stark said it was almost done, I wonder- oh.” Peter looked over to Thor from where he had peeked into the theatre. “Hey, Thor. How exactly does Hide and Seek work on Asgard?”

Thor gave him a confused look but then also took a peek inside, beaming at the sight before him. A movie played on the screen, illuminating the sight of your sneakers discarded on the ground, your sweatshirt thrown over a random couch, and you and Loki sleeping soundly with you held protectively against his chest.

Thor took the door handle from Peter and quietly shut the door, replacing his hand on the boy’s shoulder to lead him towards dinner.

“I’ll explain when you’re older.”

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Sometimes You Have No Option

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: scar mentions, mostly just vague nothing too graphic at all, very quick mention of the ‘heat death of the universe‘, it’s one throwaway line but just to be safe!

Summary: Virgil wonders what Roman gets up to on his adventures that leaves him battered and bruised. What he finds isn’t what he expected....

---------

There was always this unpleasant feeling that followed Virgil whenever Roman came back from traversing the mindscape on an ‘adventure’; sometimes he’d come back bruised and bashed, other times he’d sport a limp, but nearly every time, Roman would come home with new scars.

Virgil couldn’t understand the appeal of it, though far be it for him to say anything about it. Sure, maybe it did hurt a little seeing someone he cared about come back each time more banged up than before. 

But that's none of his business, right?

Virgil wondered just what Roman got up to each time he went out. He’d never seen the things Roman could conjure outside of the main mindscape; some called it the ‘imagination’ but they were already within the imagination technically. No, what Roman would conjure was more like a simulation within the mindscape, as far as Virgil understood it. Like adding an extension onto a home…. Only to tear it down once you were done with it in the end. 

Perhaps calling them ‘daydreams’ was a more accurate comparison.

There were many times Virgil would let his own imagination run wild with the kind of journeys Roman must have gone on. Forests and kingdoms, perhaps a seafaring adventure if Remus agreed to not set the kraken on him. Or maybe he branched out even more. Something like the spaceports of Treasure Planet, or something more akin to a spiritual journey you’d find in a Ghibli movie. Who knew what Roman was up to most days, honestly.

It was a lazy Saturday in the mindscape when Virgil finally decided to ask Roman about it.

He hadn’t necessarily planned to do so, but Logan and Patton were both busy elsewhere, and all Virgil had to do was watch TV and contemplate the inevitable heat death of the universe when Roman had returned. Mismatched eyes latched onto the creative side as the prince made his way to the kitchen. He winced as he watched Roman root around for frozen peas and press the bag to his left cheek.

The injury was just out of Virgil’s sight, but as Roman turned and made eye contact, he could see the beginnings of a bruise forming. Despite the way the sight made Virgil’s lips pinch into a frown, Roman met him with a smile that made his stomach do flips as he made his way over to the sofa,

“What’s that look for, Woe Troham?”

Virgil snorted, “Wow, we’re getting obscure with the nicknames now? You’re really earning that extra credit in Emo Studies, Princey.”

Roman rolled his eyes fondly and sat down next to Virgil, careful of the anxious side’s bunched up legs, “You do realise we ALL went through Thomas’ emo phase, right?”.

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Whatever...”, he was about to leave the conversation there when he remembered the matter at hand, “Hey, uh, Roman?”

“That’s what they call me, yes.”, the creative side smirked playfully, “Typically preceded by ‘Prince’ but I’ll cut you some slack this once.”. Virgil wanted to slap that smirk away. Or maybe smooch it. The jury was still out on that one.

He sighed in mock annoyance, “Can we cut out the nonsense for once, Romano?”

He bit his lip to stifle a chuckle at the insulted huff Roman let out. 

“Okay, seriously, I was gonna ask what happened,”, Virgil continued when Roman fixed him with a perplexed frown, “Y’know, to cause that.” .

He freed one hand from his hoodie paws to gesture to the bruise under the frozen peas in Roman’s hand. Said creative side shrugged, “It’s nothing to worry about, Virge. I’ve had far worse before.”.

Oh great, because that’s what Virgil was absolutely dying to hear. 

The words left his mouth before the anxious side could stop them, “.. Can I see?”

Okay, that had to have crossed a line, surely. Those scars were probably super traumatic or heavy with meaning, or perhaps they were-

“Okay.”, Roman shrugged. He was already hauling his shirt off by the time Virgil had registered how casual Roman was about this whole thing. He was about to voice his confusion when Roman’s shirt fluttered to the floor; leaving Virgil with a moment of gay crisis, but even more so a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach.

Roman’s entire torso was covered in scars. Some were fresh, likely only days old, while others were already paling with time. The anxious side had no idea where his hands obtained the audacity to trail themselves along Roman’s skin without permission, but the creative side seemed content to let him continue.

Surprisingly confident fingertips traced valleys and trenches of healed and healing skin, only ever stopping on each route if Roman protested. Virgil had no idea why Roman let him even do something that felt this intimate in the first place, but the question that bubbled out of his throat instead was, “What…. Happened to you?”

He expected Roman to turn away, to dramatically cover himself once more, perhaps muttering a barely audible “some things are left unsaid” or “it’s…. Personal”, and then he’d retire to his room while Virgil did the same and let his mind swim in it’s usual cloud of anxious self depreciation. 

What Virgil did not expect was for Roman to immediately start pointing them out and listing every single cause like it was his grocery list.

“Well!”, Roman began, pointing to a scar on his left hip, “This is one I got from accidentally laying down on a light bulb.”

The prince pointed to more scars as he went, all too oblivious of Virgil’s stunned silence, “This one here is from running through corn stalks with my shirt off, and that one was a mosquito bite I scratched, which yes I know you shouldn’t do that, but you know how dreadfully those itch.This one here is from the time I tried to fight a goose- Oh! And this one I procured from falling out of a window during an impromptu tickle fight with Remus-” 

“Why does anyone try to fight a goose?!”, Virgil blurted out. Of all the rapidfire information his brain just tried to absorb, he wasn’t sure why that was what his brain latched onto, but he couldn’t exactly take back the question now.

The anxious side watched Roman’s expression take on a distant, stoic edge, but having known him so well by now Virgil knew the prince’s fake dramatic long distance stare a mile away. “Sometimes,”, Roman began, and Virgil did his best not to give a fond huff of annoyed laughter at the creative side’s faux drama tone, “The goose leaves you no option-”

Virgil couldn’t stifle the peal of laughter that slipped through his teeth and betrayed his irritated facade. The whole conversation had been an emotional rollercoaster but Virgil was mostly just happy that even if Roman was constantly getting into scrapes, at least it was nothing overly serious. By the time Virgil had stopped laughing, he realised Roman had also fallen victim to the case of the giggles.

“You’re ridiculous, goddamit, Roman!”, Virgil snarked weakly, the gentle smile he wore betraying any attempt at true irritation. Roman simply continued to beam at Virgil, brilliant and bright, a beacon of pure adoration. 

“That’s a rather funny way to pronounce ‘handsome and dashing’, but I’ll take it!”

It’s unfair that Roman got to be so well put together while Virgil was just standing there, hands still resting on Roman’s bare chest, blushing up an absolute storm. Something about the way Roman smiled at him - so gentle and adoring - made Virgil want to do something crazy. 

Like kissing him.

Yeah.

He should kiss him.

No, wait, he absolutely should NOT do that.

In fact, Virgil caught himself just as he was leaning towards Roman, intending to turn away. However, Roman’s arms snaked their way smoothly around his waist, keeping him close but still remaining loose enough that Virgil could break away if he wanted. 

“.... Virgil, can I ask you something?”

Roman’s voice was hesitant, a little less sure of himself than his expression implied. To save himself from embarrassment by not subjecting Roman to any barely passable attempts at a verbal affirmation, Virgil nodded bashfully. 

Roman’s gaze landed on Virgil’s lips then settled back into half lidded eye contact, a small quirk of laughter dancing across the prince’s features.

“Am I the only one who’s been subtly flirting this entire time? Because if so, I am going to be utterly scandalized.”

Even Virgil was surprised by the relieved laughter he let out; it was the ugly kind that gave away just how smitten he was with Roman. He tapped his fingers against Roman’s chest, humming playfully.

“Hmmm, looks like you’ll just have to be scandalized, pretty boy.”, he teased.

Roman’s shocked expression was too cute, how could Virgil resist? The anxious side sighed out a low chuckle, rolled his eyes, and lent forward to reward him with a much earned kiss.

-----------

We love us a couple of pining dorks

Based on this post and so I tag @count-woe-laf as promised!

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (1/?)

This is dedicated to @peachworthy - my plan is to work on this when I can. I was going to try and write a full long thing (all puns intended) but thought it might be fun to just do sporadic bits instead!

“As you can see, it’s a pretty nice place…” Mr. Super Tall and Super Handsome and Super-Out-of-Link’s-League tells him as he walks him around the place. Link’s only been half listening because he’s been trailing behind this uniquely sexy giraffe of a man for about half an hour now and it’s been hard to not just…eat him up with his eyes.

Link’s lived in LA for about two years now and while he’s seen some attractive people, they all pale in comparison to…

…oh gosh, he’s forgotten his name again! Not a good thing to do when being toured by your potential roommate to be. Although Link’s pretty sure his current tour guide is just being nice.

No way he’s seriously considering letting Link move in. First of all, Link is a late in life college student trying to get a film degree. Second, this guy could have anyone live with him.

Anyone.

The fact he even needs a roommate is staggering. After all, this place is already furnished. It’s clear he’s lived here for a while now – so the need for someone else-? Link doesn’t get it.

But he sure as heck can’t stay on campus anymore. It’s embarrassing. Most of the other students there think he’s a professor as it is; and bunking with kids half his age has been a nightmare.

Not because he can’t identify with them per say, but because he just-? He wants to interact with people on the same wavelength as him.

And no way is this Greek God and he on the same wavelength. No doubt the guy’s an actor. Almost everyone in LA is. And, no doubt, the guy has probably had some gigs. Several, if the house is anything to go by…

Maybe he lost a role recently? Maybe that’s why he needs the extra income? It’s the only thing Link can think of and he’s stupid enough to voice that, “It is a nice place, man, but I don’t see how I’ll be much help. What you’ve got here looks pretty well lived in. Take it you’ve been here solo for some time and I’m not sure how-?”

“I have,” Handsome admits and oh, that southern drawl. It makes Link think of home. How perfect can one man be? “And, frankly, I don’t need a roommate, but I’d like a roommate.”

“For parts? Like the Black Market?” Link can’t help but joke, and the guy throws his head back and laughs and oh, no…

…Yeah, Link can’t live with this man. It hasn’t even been a full day and Link is practically already in love with him. And thinking of the ‘him’ he forces himself to sheepishly ask, “Um, I, ah, forgot your name again...”

“It’s Rhett.”

Of course it is.

Rhett is such a romantic name.

Rhett Butler immediately springs to mind and Link sighs, “Look, Rhett – like I said, it is a nice place, but-!”

“I tell you what I’d expect in rent?” he asks and when he lists the price, Link decides that – besides being insanely attractive – that the guy is just insane in general.

The rent is cheap. Far, far cheaper than Link expected and it must show on his face, because Rhett shrugs, “Look, Link – I can’t say what it is, but I gotta feeling about you. I’ve met with a couple of potential roommates and, honestly, none of them have gone this far. I haven’t let ‘em. But there’s something about you…”

“My natural charm?” Link asks, but he’s sort of giggly and weird when he does and oh, gosh – why is he so awkward? Isn’t he too old for this? Don’t you reach a certain age and awkwardness just…drops off?

But apparently not and, apparently, Rhett isn’t turned off by it, because he gives him a warm grin, “Might be.”

“Rhett…”

“Might be the accent to be honest,” he confesses, seeming almost shy and that should be illegal, because it just highlights how cute he is, “I’m from North Carolina and it just-!”

“Hey!” Link perks up, “Me too!”

“Really?” Rhett gushes and Link nods, “Yeah, Buies Creek.”

“Oh! My family and I almost moved there! Ended up in Charlotte instead!”

“Wow! Crazy! What are the odds!” And Link hates every cliched thing coming out of his mouth right now, but he can’t seem to stop and Rhett just looks so damned pleased.

As if his feeling about Link is right on the money and Link wishes it was, but this can’t possibly work. Can it? And just as Link is about to voice that, Rhett suddenly looks…apprehensive. Fidgety.

And Link’s caught a bit off guard by it, because – up until now – he’s been so cool. Cool and collected. But now Rhett runs a hand through his thick mane of hair and sighs as if a great weight is upon him, “Ah…actually, I, ah, well – I forgot…”

Here it is. Link’s been waiting for this. The big secret. The big reason someone as amazing as Rhett would need someone like him. Maybe it is the Black Market thing. Link has some nice organs. Real juicy. Maybe revealing his background has made the big guy feel bad – like he can’t carve up a fellow North Caroliner.

Rhett rocks on his heels, “I told you, none of the other potential roommates made it this far and…there’s a reason for that. Even the one or two I kinda considered…well, I, um, I told them what I do for a living and that’s when things sort of fell apart…”

…oh shit. He IS a Black Market organ dealer!

Link’s Adam’s apple bobs as he looks around skittishly. The house is big and they’re alone in it. He’s been so distracted by how hot Rhett is that he hasn't even thought about that fact.

Until now.

What if the other potentials didn’t get this far because they got cut up beforehand? Maybe the whole roommate thing is a farce! Maybe it’s a con! A con to draw people in and-!

“I work in the entertainment industry.”

Link blinks. Blinks and feels like the dumbest man on planet earth as he says, “Well, yeah. You and half of LA. Heck, I’m here trying to get into film myself! Do some directing or sound editing or-!”

“No,” Rhett says firmly, smoothly, meeting Link’s eyes head on as he says in a full deep register, “When I say I work in the industry, I mean it. I’ve, um, had a pretty healthy and…and long career…”

“Really?” Link asks, eyes wide behind his glasses, “Have I seen anything you’ve-?”

“Doubt it,” Rhett interrupts with a humorless huff, “You don’t seem the type. But then,” he eyes him thoughtfully, “I’ve been surprised before…”

Link doesn’t know why he’s being so cagey about this, “What’ve you-?”

“My resume is…” Rhett finally looks away, as if he can’t bear to look at Link when he says it, “…of the adult variety.”

“The adult-?” Link starts to repeat and then it clicks. It clicks and it hits him so hard over the head it’s like a physical blow. The house, the handsomeness – the…everything.

Rhett looks back at him, jaw firmly set as he speaks, “Look, it’s not that I’m ashamed of what I do. Far from it. It’s just a job and it’s one I happen to be good at. But it’s also one that people in polite society aren’t too keen on and considering you’re from my home state you might-!”

“Porn?” Link croaks out and he feels a little like he might faint, “You’re a porn star?”

Rhett just kind of shrugs and the reason Link feels lightheaded has nothing to do with his shock at the man’s career and everything to do with the fact that Link has only seen a few porn films and none of them have ever stared someone so breathtakingly beautiful. The idea that Rhett has been in something like that…

Heat suffuses through Link’s system with equal mixes of lust and shame. Lust because, well, look at Rhett and shame because Link doesn’t want to just view the man as a sex object, Granted, that’s kind of his job, but it just seems…rude.

While Link doesn’t know Rhett well, he knows him well enough at this point to say he’s just a regular guy. An extremely gorgeous regular guy, but a regular guy all the same.

Thinking of him in simple black and white just doesn’t do him justice. So he’s a porn star. So what? He’s nice and this place is amazing and the rent suggested is fantastic and-!

“Take it by your silence you’re gonna decline…”

“No!” Link cuts in quickly and Rhett’s eyes shoot to him, wide and amazed, and Link feels a little sense of superiority at that. At catching this giant off guard, “No, uh – your…your profession isn’t a problem.”

“It’s not?”

“Well, I mean,” Link looks around once more, "You don’t-? You don’t film here, do you?”

The laugh that booms out of Rhett at that makes Link’s toes curl with pleasure, “Nah, man. This place is sacred. Like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

“And…” Link scratches at the back of his head, “And you won’t, like…bring over a-a partner or partners and-!”

“Don’t have one,” Rhett admits and then the sexiest crinkles form around his eyes, “Although I gotta say, that’s about the slickest way anyone’s ever asked me if I was single…”

The heat from before returns full blast, no doubt coloring Link’s cheeks pure red and it comes completely from shyness, an emotion he is much more familiar with than most, “Oh, no! I-I wasn’t-!”

“Think you were asking if I do some weird sex shit here in the house of the personal variety and, again, no. You work in my field you kinda lose a bit of a taste for it.”

“For sex?”

Rhett nods, “And for a lot of things. It’s like I said – I'd like a roommate. Mainly ‘cause I’ve been feeling a little…disconnected of late. Feel like I need someone in my life who isn’t in the business. Someone I can just, y’know…” his shoulders roll and he bobs about a bit, clearly bashful, “…jam with.”

“Someone on your wavelength…” Link whispers and suddenly, Rhett’s idea that Link might be someone worth keeping around feels totally legitimate. Because Link is suddenly reciprocating it and then some. Because Link's starting to have a feeling about him too.

A feeling that this could work.

It really could.

And, this in mind, Link asks, “When can I move in?”

[raekahnsfw]

What if I’m not good enough for you?

Pairing: Shindo Yo x Reader Rating: Explicit (LIKE BE WARNED!), NS*W Warning: Smut, Drunk Sex, Slightly Dubious Consent, Aged-up Characters, Pining, Angst, Insecurities, Slow-burn fluff Word Count: 10,699  A/N: These BNHA characters are 18+ and are nearly graduating seniors.

Summary: You’re a senior at UA with a long-standing crush on Shindo Yo but you’ve sworn never to be in a relationship again. Your last one destroyed you with insecurities so you’ve decided the only path is to be a lonely pro-hero. But with the opportunity for a one-night drunken stand with Shindo, you take the chance and expect to be forgotten. Shindo won’t stand for it.

From Me: (Follow me at @raekahwritings​) This is my first fic ever into the BNHA fandom and for one of my favorite heroes, Shindo Yo! I want to give a huge shout out to @thewheezingwyvern because she helped to beta-read this monster of a fic. Basically, this is the first I’ve written in a near decade and with her advice, it became something I was too embarrassed to share to something I’m really proud of. Here we go for Shindou Club and BNHA Book Club, Provisional License.

Also, inspirations for this work is from @katsukisprincess, @lady-bakuhoe, @iwvs-on-ao3, @bnhabookclub, @/lemonlordleah-shinzawa, @/marilla-eldriana, and others because I’m too embarrassed to tag them when they’re so amazing.

There was always a question in the back of your mind; was love worth sacrificing your pro-hero dream? 

“Hey Mina.” You watched your pink haired friend scroll through Tinder on the dorm room couch.  You all were seniors in UA academy and studying for finals. Or supposed to be anyways. You slumped over on the table, smushing your cheek on the cold, hard plastic as you took a brief reprieve from your textbook.

“Would you rather be somebody’s girlfriend or a hero?” Mina turned around and lit up at your question. 

“Depends. How hot is my boyfriend?” She waggled her eyebrows at you and started listing off a number of heroes that would ‘totally rock her world,’ cackling loudly how she’d totally give up everything for some mad sex. Soon enough, she flopped back over the couch and was engrossed in another possible hook-up.  

Maybe you should’ve asked Momo. But she didn’t seem very experienced in relationships and you were currently in a dilemma. You, Y/N, an aspiring hero had sworn off relationships because your freshman ex-boyfriend had thrown you an ultimatum: “Why do you need to be a hero when you’re already my girlfriend?”  

You had broken up with his sorry ass right there and then. Nothing would get in the way of being a hero. Apparently, Mina would joke otherwise. 

“....I don’t think sex is everything, Mina.” Mina started whining petulantly, lamenting over the lack of hotties on her dating apps. You laughed it off while she tapped her phone in frustration. Mina would forever be Mina. 

“Y/N, do you think he’s hot or am I just too thirsty right now?” She was soon waving her phone to you with somebody’s profile picture, some asshole who was obnoxiously showing their abs off. You rolled your eyes before making a ‘nixed’ gesture. 

“Mina, you are way too good for jerks who think showing off their naked body parts is gonna score chicks.” You scoffed at seeing their disgustingly lewd caption. Mina moved on to the next one, muttering. 

“Jeez, Y/N, what is your type even? I’ve never seen you hook up or with a boyfriend before?” She tried valiantly to quiz you and show you more pictures but you ignored her in favor of going back to studying.

Honestly, you had a type. But if Mina or anyone knew, it’d probably be too surprising for them to fathom; you were the serious girl who always said you didn’t need a boyfriend. You prosaically told people, ‘learning to be a hero is way awesomer’. But if there was one shocking thing you could say about yourself….

It would be that you were a fucking idiot to fall in love with Shindou Yo. Somehow, your heart had chosen the most devious asshole you ever could’ve ever met.

Shindo Yo didn’t even go to UA Academy. He was a mutual friend of the UA’s Midoriya, Todoroki and Bakugo. Actually…. you weren’t sure if they were even friends… With the way Bakugo seemed to fight with him, it seemed more like they were mortal enemies. Nevertheless, it seemed like he was showing up more often to outside gatherings and to parties that you and your UA classmates frequented. It was a relief that Mina hadn’t figured it out since she was surprisingly perceptive. 

“Hey Mina. I’m gonna go to the library to meet up with Kirishima.” You kept an eye on the time and started packing up your bag. You had made plans to exchange study notes for a drink. She nodded, already distracted with her next conquest. You sighed. 

Jeez, you shouldn’t have asked Mina. She hadn’t caught on though… because if anyone had ever found out about your silly crush, you wonder what they would say. Shindo was universally seen as a jerk at UA. There was every reason to avoid him instead of falling in love with him. Shindo Yo was self-assured and manipulative. Bakugo had called him out on his shit early on in the UA Provisional Exams. You had personally seen Shindo turn on the charm to your fellow UA students, only to decimate his nice-guy exterior to turn the tables on your unwitting classmates and team. You had first-hand faced his cunningness in action. Did you have every reason to mistrust him? Yes.

But on the flip side, you also saw how loyally compassionate he was to his fellow teammates. You saw how he pulled through at the eleventh hour to get him and his teammates to success. He never hesitated to use his sinister two-faced nature to protect his friends at Ketsubutsu Academy High School.

One situation, in particular, was on your mind…

Shindo had shown up at the karaoke club with Tatami and Camie in tow, ‘inviting’ himself to a casual graduation party for Mirio, Nejire and Tatami. Everyone thought it had been reserved for UA students but someone had let it slip to other schools…. (It was Mirio. His nice-ness was over the bounds. Throwing out invites left and right like a loveable idiot.)

Shindo had somehow weaseled himself into the roster of singing anarchy – grabbing a mic and belting a love song to Uraraka with a significant wink to Midoriya. He even got Jiro and Tatami together on a song. He had challenged Bakugo to a song (which didn’t happen) but a girl could dream about that blackmail material.

But one of the beginning moments that you had fallen in love…

He had been sitting around, mulling over a drink when you saw him look discreetly around for Tatami and Cami. They had both been gone for a tad too long….? Shindo took a break on the pretense of Bakugo’s death glare being too much and laughing his way out of the room. You sat near the door, so you had a surprisingly good view of when his eyes narrowed, and he dropped his friendly demeanor on his way out. You turned your head inquisitively…? Shindo’s sights were set on a couple of low-life frat boys who were heading for an unsuspecting Camie and Tatami leaving the bathroom. You watched him walking towards them, heading them off, and shoving them into another hallway.

You followed him out and stayed behind the hallway to try to see what was happening. What could you say, curiosity got the better of you?

You couldn’t make out what he said but the low threatening timbre of his voice had sent cold chills down your spine. You had never heard this level of sinister maliciousness from even Bakugo. This Shindo was probably more of a villain that he had let others believe. The culprit’s voices became heated, but it was abruptly stopped by the vicious slamming of the wall. Then you could hear running.

You backed up into an empty room, afraid to show Shindo that you had been waiting there. He rounded back—thankfully not seeing you—and you could see the genuine and sincere relief at seeing both Tatami and Camie laughing… in ignorance of what they had just avoided. He rounded the two to join the karaoke room, keeping a watchful eye on the other unsavory participants…

You had leaned against the dark and empty room’s wall to calm your beating heart. Shindo was undoubtedly an asshole but you knew how fiercely protective of the people he loved.

Maybe that was the spark that ignited this wistful thought – “I wish someone loved me that much.”

But love paled in comparison to upcoming finals. Obviously. Get your act together. You made it to the library and waved to several of your classmates studying nearby. Everyone turned back to their own work and left you alone. Just as well. You drummed your fingers on the library desk as you flipped open your computer and continued typing a study guide.

During times like this, your mind wandered a bit. After the karaoke incident, you found yourself looking for moments with Shindo—hoping to catch a glimpse beneath that nice-guy exterior. You found yourself wondering if he was going to ‘show up’ to parties. You found yourself floating over to conversations with the Ketsubutsu crowd if they were ‘mysteriously’ invited. You wondered what Shindo treated his girlfriend like—probably Tatami—but there was no confirmation they were dating.

In your dorms, you sometimes found yourself chuckling along with Todoroki or laughing at Bakugo and wondered what Shindo might say if he was there.

Maybe you yearned to come back to your dorm room and see someone waiting to greet you with a sarcastic quip and sugared, cunning words. Maybe you had stuffed your fingers in between your legs in a pitiful attempt to dampen the rising heat… especially when you thought of a certain brunette and his dark timbre of a voice in the depths of the night.

Maybe you could lie to yourself and say, Shindo was not that person you imagined. 

But you were an independent person who would never allow yourself to be weak or dependent on anyone. If you ever confessed, you would be trapped in a relationship where your partner would inevitably resent you for putting your career first. These were the thoughts that plagued you in your hidden moments. You tried to push these insecurities away but they lurked nearby.

Resentment. That was quite familiar to you. That’s inevitably what you heard and felt. Your last boyfriend resented he was never a priority over yourself, your hero aspirations, and the success of your friends and classmates. You had resented his feelings, trapping you and confining you to change who you were.

So yes, you were independent, amazing, and awesome. But you were lonely... A realization that would sneak up on you every so often. You looked at your computer screen, lifting a hand to crawl over the painful feelings in your chest… as if to reassure yourself.

Because who would want someone like this? How selfish would it be to confess to someone and expect them to understand this?

So yes, you had decided love would never be in the cards for you. It was a practical and logical decision.

“Hey Y/N, you look lost in thought over here.” Kirishima came over to your study table in the library, holding two drinks. You waved off his concerns and lit up at seeing what was in his hands.

“No, no, I’m not! Gimmie the goods.” You tapped the desk impatiently for him to put the hot chocolate down. Kirishima looked at your childish drink in bemusement as he put down his black coffee. “I promised to give over these study notes for you so the least you can do is not judge my drinks.” You stuck your tongue out at the red-haired boy.

Kirishima chuckled, dropping his backpack noisily on the floor. “Y/N, I’m supposed to join Bakugo soon for warm-up... How long do you think you’ll be?” You rolled your eyes a bit at hearing that. When wasn’t Bakugo training or something? Whatever, you were doing Kirishima a favor after all.

You absentmindedly decided to ask, “Isn’t Bakugo supposed to have a match or something? Is it against UA’s Class B or…?” You tapped your backspace key rather impatiently. Aizawa-sensei had been organizing more hero trainings lately for individual members. Something alongside hero work studies; that was certainly keeping you busy. It seemed everyone had something going on lately. You lifted your cup for a quick sip.

“Actually...” Kirishima scratched the back of his head nervously. “It’s against Ketsubutsu Academy’s students.”

You nearly spewed out your precious hot cocoa. Your arms flew up to wipe your keyboard in an awkward attempt to muffle your surprise.

Kirishima had an inkling of your crush for the earthquake bastard. But you were always so quick to dismiss any remote implication that he wasn’t quite sure…. But if he didn’t know before, he knew now.

“…. Apparently Joke-sensei kept pushing Aizawa-sensei for a collaborative ‘event’ so this is what they came up with. It’s supposed to be the beginning of a ‘school-wide’ effort for cooperation and teamwork for heroes across different areas. It’s still in the works but…” Kirishima trailed off at seeing your pinched face.

“What time is it?” You curtly asked. Kirishima looked at his watch.

“It’s supposed to start in an hour.”

“Goddamnit Kirishima. I’m sending you your stupid notes so we can get to this match.” You didn’t even realize you had dropped your formalities. What was racing through your mind was that you had less than an hour to get back your dorm, get ready, see Shindo without looking like a complete nerd who spent too much time studying.

You had luckily been on the ending revisions, but it wasn’t like Kirishima needed all of it. You hastily typed his email in, cursing when your computer loaded too slowly, and sent off the file.

Then came shoving Kirishima into the directions of the dorms so he could “hurry the fuck up”. Kirishima may have dragged his feet a bit, snickering at Bakugo’s choice words falling from your mouth.  It wasn’t like he had to do anything for the match anyways. You on the other hand….

You couldn’t salvage much of your looks, so you tried to throw on a large oversized sweater over your skirt and put on a touch of eyeliner and mascara. Sheesh, you didn’t want to look like you tried too hard. You looked critically at yourself in the mirror and saw… nothing special. You deflated a bit.  Well. Fake it until you make it. Even when you tried, it didn’t seem like much had changed. So what if you didn’t look as pretty as the others like Momo? You had slowly built up your shattered self-confidence before. Better this than looking like a cakeface or a tramp, you supposed.

Then Momo and Jirou knocked on your door. “Y/N, you ready yet?” You opened the door and shoved the feeling of inadequacy in the back of your mind.

“Yea!” You followed the UA crowd out of the dorms and you could see Midoriya and Ochaco talking excitedly about the match—it seemed you weren’t the only one surprised by this. Midoriya was vividly recounting Shindo’s quirks and the pros and cons against Bakugo….

When you went over to the gym where the match was being held, your group joined with the other classmates already there. It looked like Kaminari had saved a row for everyone, patting the seat next to him for Jirou. Mina waved to you, grinning like a banshee and wildly flailing for the seat next to her.

“Y/N, I saved the best seat for you!” She slyly gestured to the view…. that was angled towards Bakugo’s back and… Shindo’s front muscular chest. Did she know? Your heart leaped. Then Mina pointed towards the Ketsubusu’s Academy’s growing crowd. “This is our chance to see the hotties from other schools! I mean we got some fine men but a girl’s gotta window-shop!”

“Hmmm….” You watched interestedly now—you had only ever seen Tatami. But it seemed a fair number of girls had gathered and were pointing at… Shindo? You saw him gesture with his ‘aw shucks’ routine, bashfully giving a smile to the girls before the match. You recognized that look from the UA Provisionals, it reeked of blatant insincerity. You guess fangirls really were blind in love and adoration? They would be in for some cruel reality…. Meanwhile, people were avoiding Bakugo since he had his threatening face on. He was flipping people off and giving no attention to any of the bystanders around him. He just wanted to beat the earthquake bastard.

“Yo, Bakugo, you might wanna look a little less murdersome!” You shouted in good fun from your seat. Bakugo flipped you off while Kirishima and Mina snickered at Bakugo’s salty expression.  Really, you admired Bakugo’s hero ethic, nothing was gonna stop him from getting to the top. But Shindo…? That was a different story. Eh, you couldn’t ponder it anymore since Aizawa sensei had shown up (with a sour look at all the audience) before commencing the match.

You were on the edge of your seat for the next 30 minutes as Bakugo and Shindo traded blow after blow; Shindo had a weakness since Bakugo was airborne due to his thrusters. But Shindo would drag Bakugo down and engage in hand to hand combat. Your legs were creeping closer and closer together at seeing those broad shoulders, rivulets of sweat down his neck and temple, and his determined expression. How would it look if it was faced at you? Focus on the match, not Shindo’s muscles. Focus, Focus. Eventually it came down to the timer and Bakugo had landed a higher number of blows.          

At Shindo’s loss, you felt a keen sense of disappointment. Some part of you cheered for Bakugo but you were desperately craning your neck to see Shindo’s reaction. His face remained darkened though as he turned around and went to his growing number of fangirls who cooed over him. With that many girls, why would he ever take a second look at you? They would cling onto him and stroke his overbearing ego—unlike you. You didn’t even have the courage to attempt to flirt with him. So what? You were blissfully single; you weren’t looking for anything with him.... Right?  

“… Y/N!” You were jolted away from staring, and secretly fantasizing, at Shindo. “Come on, let’s head out!” Kirishima put an arm around your shoulders and Mina was tugging at your sleeve in post-match excitement.

“Yeah! What are we doing now?” You pushed your hair back over your ear, the locks falling in every which direction. Slowing just a step back, you took one last look over your shoulder…  You mentally took a picture of those sinewy muscles, pledging to engrave it forever for those dark moments in your lonesome room. You had a great pro-hero path ahead of you, great friends, great family…

But fuck.

You definitely did not see Shindo looking at your retreating form with a smirk on his face.

 ----------------------------------------------------------

Repeat that fuck. Because you were in another karaoke room with this raucous UA and Ketsubetsu crowd mere hours later. It turned out that everyone wanted to celebrate the match by getting stupidly, wildly drunk. Drinks were smuggled in—god, you knew Aizawa was probably looking the other way—gotta let students be students.

People were chugging alcohol and dancing on tables. This was probably the most normal ‘school’ experience you could’ve had… Even ‘hero’ schools needed to let loose sometime. But you honestly didn’t do very well in this scene. You were content to nurse your drink while leaning against a quiet corner.

God, even Bakugo and Midoriya were drunk— Bakugo had been egged on while Midoriya probably didn’t even realize he took some spiked punch. He was a new level of naïve and that adorable boy had turned beet red. You just face palmed at seeing his embarrassing antics.

“Y/N!” Camie came bouncing over to you, palpable relief on her face. “You’re the only sober looking one here! Can you watch this idiot for a second? Maybe get him to drink some water?” She brought on over… Shindo?! “He’s becoming deadweight and he is ruining my chances tonight! He is the worst wingman ever to get so drunk after losing!” She dropped the deadweight—Shindo— onto the floor next to you with his legs sprawled open.

“I swear to god, he isn’t going to remember anything tomorrow! This incorrigible jerk is going to be black-out drunk like always….” Camie’s voice trailed off and got a little bit... higher? She looked away nervously, but you could see her gaze fall on … Ojiro? She said wingman... Oh no, she was trying to get together with him! You blushed for her!

“Camie, I got this. I’ll make sure he gets some water!” You tried to give her an encouraging look. Oh god, you were so bad at flirting and set ups! You could see how awkward this was for the both of you! But you would try your hardest to help her.

She bounced away while you…. Bent down… Oh gods you had never been this close to him before. You put your palm to his forehead, trying to feel how hot he was. Damn, he ran like a furnace. Shindo merely lolled his head to the side, sighing when your cool fingers made contact.

“Fuck, that feels nice.” Your hand shot back at hearing him talk. You didn’t think he was awake…

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. Do you want some water?” You were careful to keep your voice low, awkwardly putting your hand on his clothed shoulder.

“I’m thirsty.” His voice dropped low and you felt a twinge between your thighs at the cool gravel of it. “But I’m thirsty for something else…” He let the comment sit between you two…. But your inquisitive eyes flew between him and the punch.

“Honey... don’t look away.” His hot hands wrapped around your neck to crane your face towards his. “I want something wet, something that tastes like you.” You stood shock still, trying to see if you had misheard him…? Was he flirting with you?! Shindo gave a seductive grin as his other hand snaked up your bare thighs.

“Shindo!” You couldn’t hold back your squeak of surprise, feeling him so close to your panties. You tried to look down but he kept you locked in place.

“Come on baby, don’t you want to console little ‘ol me?” His voice was doing things to you— you could feel your legs grinding closer together, trapping his inquisitively still fingers between your thighs. “Baby, you’re so warm and wet for me already?”  He started rubbing his fingers lightly over your panties, feeling the damp spot that had built up from his earlier match.

“Wait—“ You tried to curl in, reach for his hand to stop him but he pushed aside your panties to slip a finger, rubbing it up and down your slit. A single lone digit had you stopping any protests, feeling it fucking vibrate. You leaned in closer, gasping, and he gave a satisfied smirk. His other cupped your butt in delectable promise.

“I can make a mess of you if were a little less of a public place…. Unless you’re into that, baby.”

Public place. Oh god. You straightened out, remembering you were in the dark karaoke room with people everywhere! He was fingering you where everyone could see! “Please, you’re not thinking straight.” You tried to say but stuttering as he pulled his digit away and licked it obscenely.

“Baby girl, don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” Shit, shit, shit. Baby girl. You moved before you could think, crushing your lips to his. He moved as if he knew what his sultry words would invoke, immediately balling his hands into your messy hair, plunging, ravaging, owning you.

“Wanna get out of here?” You nodded helplessly. He quickly hauled you up and left the raucous karaoke room with you by his side.

Fuck it, he wasn’t going to remember anything after tonight. What harm was it if you grabbed this one night with him?

You were inexperienced with sex, probably bad at it, but you didn’t care. It wasn’t like he would remember right?

So, repeat that fuck. No one would’ve ever expected you to be in the bathroom, sitting on Shindo’s lap and spreading your legs lewdly open for him. Your panties had long been discarded as you rutted desperately against Shindo Yo’s hand. “Please, Shindo…” Shindo squirmed a thumb into your asshole, teasing the puckered hole and was thrusting fingers in your cunt. You wanted something more…. Something bigger.

“Fuck…” Shindo watched at how wet you got for him, the sound of his fingers moving in and out and squelching lewdly. “Can you feel that?” You made a dissatisfied noise until his fingers went deeper into your cunt. “Bitch, you’re not satisfied. You need it deeper?” You made a keen whining noise, wiggling your hips. He shoved another digit in, now thrusting three of his digits deeper in while vibrating it and feeling the delicious squeeze of your cunt around him.

“I guess alcohol makes you numb huh? But the fun things I can do to you…” He breathed the words into your neck, giving a salacious grin at your wanton, deprived state.  Shit, vibration hero wasn’t just a title. He relished watching as your hips jerked forward, your boobs shoved lasciviously into his face in desperate need.

“God, you’re so buttoned up and serious most of the time. But here and now? Are you so hungry for me that you wanted to jump me in the bathroom?” Shindo’s fingers withdrew to your dismay. You whined as he gripped your cheeks painfully, smirking at your needy expression. “Honey, you gotta tell me what you want? Don’t just expect me to do all the work here.”

This was your only chance with him. Come tomorrow, he wouldn’t remember a thing and you could hold this memory in the darkest corner of your heart. Just one good long fuck and he would get back to his life and yours without anyone being the wiser. “Shindo, please...”

“Do you want me to finger you until you cum?” Shindo could get you off here and now—but you shook your head wildly and gave him a pleading look. Your cunt was throbbing for him and you wanted to feel his cock in you.

You laced your hands into Shindo’s hair and forced the brunette to look at your lust-hazed eyes, pitching your own voice low…  “Please fuck me, Shindo. Just stop teasing me, use me like I’m your fuck toy.” Shindo groaned low as he lowered his hands to your thighs and squeezed painfully at the plump flesh there.

“Babe, you’re such a dirty girl.” He hauled you up, shoving his pants down low with his cock jutting out. He couldn’t even be bothered to take his jeans off, but this sordid detail made the encounter more real to you. You looked down at his engorged length, heavy and hot against your cunt. God, even his dick was deliciously huge. Wasn’t just ego then.

 “Tell me, are you the type of slut who just wants a dick when you get drunk?” You took a deep breath; ignoring your rational thoughts that this was a stupid way to tell him and decided to just confess…

“Just you Shindo. Please… I’ve been wanting this for years. Please, please….” With that, Shindo groaned as he forced his cockhead into your abused cunt. He eased in... making you think Shindo was more gentle that he let on? Right up until he shoved you down onto his cock, grinning at the sharp jerk of your body and the scream that tore itself out of your throat. Shindo thought to himself: You wanted him to use you like his toy, so that’s what you would get.

You had heard Shindo fucked well. That didn’t begin to describe it—your pussy clenched against his cock at the rough treatment, the burning stretch turning you on with its delicious bite of pain. He thrusted with a piston movement, faster than you’d ever been fucked. When he started vibrating again? You felt your orgasm crash upon you. Your own nails raked against his back as he continued thrusting through your climax, biting down on your neck as he came inside you.

You both sat there for a second… breathing too hard to say anything. You had never had an orgasm that good before—and you honestly didn’t know if Shindo thought this was just a good fuck or shitty sex. Coming down from the high…. You had time to think. Which made you feel wildly inadequate—was this the part where you said something? Like, ‘thanks for the sex, I’m out?’

Was it too dumb to ask if he liked it? Was it even dumber to think maybe he had heard that you confess?

“Um…” You moved your leg and winced at feeling the seeping wetness crawl out between you two. “Shindo..?”

He was surprisingly quiet. His usual smug expression was hidden as he slumped into your shoulder. You eased away from him… but felt his hands tighten on your thighs as if to keep you there. Now you were very unsure of what to say.

“Shindo…. Let me look at you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the dark locks as you tried to lift the heavy weight of his head to see his expression…? Was this something more to him too? “Please, let me know if you’re okay...”

“SHINDO! HONEY BUNS! LOVE OF MY LIFE!”

But then you were crushed with an overwhelming sense of guilt as you heard Tatami’s lilting voice calling for Shindo. The very same name but her cheerful bright voice was laced with concern—

“Fuck.” That what his first words after his sexual interlude with you was. From his forceful, angry gaze at the door… Oh god, were you his sordid secret? Your heart sank. He was drunk, he would probably black-out, did he even realize who he was with? Did he think he was fucking Tatami? Is that what this was?

“Shindo, let me go.” You crawled off his lap, forcing the hot and wet threat of tears down and keeping your voice steady. Shindo looked at you in panic—he couldn’t even bother to look at you earlier, but he would for Tatami? You didn’t even warrant your own, thank you, fuck you. “I guess it’s time to run huh?” You pulled your hair back, pulled your shirt to a modest length, as Tatami’s voice got closer.

Shindo shoved his pants more fully on, “Hey—this isn’t what you think this is. Let me explain.”

“Really?” You whirled around and threw him the most venomous glare you could muster—“Do you even know my name? Or am I just a fucking nameless bitch you mistook for Tatami? Because she is right there,” You jerked a thumb to the door and bit your lip, “She’s perfect and so amazing—” and you remembered Camie…. She trusted you. You had taken advantage of this. “And you’re fucking drunk so I’m literally the shittiest person ever. God, please forget this ever happened.”

Shindo was starting to look irritated at your non-stop words and made a move to speak but you slapped your hand on his mouth. Why else would she be looking for him? “Shindo, don’t explain anything to me. Just make things right by her and don’t ruin this because of this. You guys would be amazing together and she doesn’t deserve to know I fucked it up for you.”

You shoved him back into the bathroom as you exited, rather abruptly as Tatami turned to the wrong hallway. This would be perfect because it would give Shindo some time and you could escape— you could hear Shindo fumbling with the door, but you ran before he could catch you. Turned out your UA skills made you slightly faster than him.

You shoved your way to the exit, screw your purse, you could text Kirishima to take it home for you. You hailed the first taxi out the door to get you home as quickly as possible. It wasn’t until the car sped away that you took your first real breath… and sobbed.

“God, I’m so stupid to think he would ever look twice at me.”

You curled your hands around your cold arms, arms that had just been around Shindo… Was it too much to ask for a single night?

Was it too much to be in love?

--------------------------------------------------------------

 “Y/N!” You had stayed in your room for the week, only crawling out to the third-year common rooms on Friday. You had gone home that night and laid on your bed, sobbing into the sweater that had briefly held Shindo’s scent. Maybe you were masochistic or something; holding onto something that was so painful to you. But the faint earthy smell, musk, and cedar was hard to let go.

“Yes?” You tried to smile. Midoriya came bounding up to you with a worried look. “You went home so suddenly the other night! You disappeared and never came back!”

“What, you get sick? You look like shit.” Bakugo snickered. Sero slapped him with one of the pillows and you could hear his frantic whispered conversation, you don’t tell a girl she looks horrible. The other girls were around, and Mina was creeping up on Sero, Kirishima and the others to get closer to you.

“Um… Yea.” You tried to laugh it off. But Midoriya still looked worried as he took in your slightly puffy eyes. It seemed like he could see through your flimsy excuse.

Thankfully, Mina interrupted you both with a mischievous grin. “Y/N, you had people asking after you after karaoke!” She had a sing-song tone, waggling her eyebrows. But your heart sunk further… Had it been Tatami? Camie? Had she found out? Because coming from Mina, this could be anyone.

“…Who was it?” If it was, you would face up to it. Because you were Y/N, and you didn’t run from your problems and you’d apologize to her.

“Actually…. It was Shindo.” Mina squealed and made kissy-kissy motions at you.

“Guys, shut up. It would never happen—” Bakugo scoffed and gestured toward you. “She wouldn’t date Mister Two-Faced, no one here is stupid enough to do that.” You felt defensive at hearing that about him, even if he is the source of your misery right now. 

“Bakugo, just because I wouldn’t date him doesn’t means he’s not a good hero. I’m just….” You trailed off, trying to come up with an excuse. But maybe your emotions were too raw, you found your bravado lacking as your voice became small. “… not good enough.”

Anything further was cut off as Bakugo suddenly lurched up, staring daggers at you. Even Midoriya had gone quiet, his brows furrowed. What had you done wrong?

“I don’t think saying that is reason for both of you to be so mad at me. What did I even do?” You wouldn’t stand there and take Bakugo’s shit. You weren’t good enough for Shindo but you were good enough to take on any of your friends in a fight. “Guys, why are you so mad at me?”

Kirishima’s mouth may have been open, he swears he wasn’t but you saw him rapidly point to... you? Behind? Whatever. His eyes were blown wide and he was trying to be subtle as fuck but you weren’t having it. You were trying to get over heartbreak, you came to see your friends and this was what you got?

“I swear to god, I will kick your ass, in training, Bakugo if you don’t look me in the eyes and talk to me like I am a human being and not like I grew another fucking head—”

You heard someone clear their throat, maybe even hold back a scoff and that voice was oh-so-familiar. Like someone you recently heard moaning. Someone that you… kindly shut your mouth and swiveled around with the fakest smile plastered on your feature. How did I miss Kirishima’s cue?

Shindo Yo was in your apartment complex. In your dorm common room. In front of you. Probably had been behind you and overheard what you said. To your dismay, he wasn’t uglier, but he was even more handsome in your two-day respite and everlasting embarrassment that could swallow you whole right now. Please let me die.

“Hey fuckface, you’re in the wrong school.” Bakugo was snarling at him as Shindo waved to the room.

“Hey blastie, it’s nice to see you too.” He gave a saccharine sweet smile to Bakugo, fully knowing how easily riled he was. Bakugo scowled at the name, ready to call him out.

Shindo smirked at Bakugo but otherwise held his hands up placatingly. “Don’t jump down my throat, I’m not here to pick a fight or spy on you all. You UA students are so jumpy.” Kaminari and Bakugo didn’t look believing but Midoriya finally smiled and gave him a friendly wave.

“What brings you here Shindo? And calm down Bakugo, he’s probably authorized to come inside. UA doesn’t let people just walk in.” Shindo nodded and held up… your bag and phone. No wonder Kirishima said he couldn’t find it! You had tried to ping it on your laptop, but it had been a mess without it and to text the others.

“I’m just here to return Y/N’s stuff and hopefully have a conversation with her.” He cocked his head to the side, glancing at you. He had his own (fake) smile on, giving a puppy dog look to the girls as they started fussing over you two.

“Of course Y/N would be grateful to talk to you!” You would? You looked back at Yaoyorozu who started shushing all the other guys, including Mineta who was shouting that ‘you had betrayed them all for Ketsubetsu!’ You were about to protest but Mina quickly slapped her hand over your mouth, nodding like a crazy person.

“In fact, you two should have some privacy! Off to your room, Y/N” And she discreetly whispered, “Preferably before Bakugo punches his face.”

Not my room. Not my room. You shook your head but Shindo took you by the arm and tightened his hand in warning. “Y/N, it’s the least you could do after I went through all the trouble of coming here.” It wasn’t until you both reached the stairs that Shindo dropped the smile, following your stiff movements to your room.

You waited until you were both safely away from prying ears and you closed your bedroom door behind him. “Shindo, you don’t need to be here. I don’t think we have anything to talk about unless you want me to apologize for troubling you?”

Your brain was running miles a minute. But you didn’t even know how much he remembered. Maybe just play ignorant for now.

Shindo sat down on your bed, throwing your purse carelessly onto a chair. God, he was so sinfully handsome in his black shirt and dark wash jeans. He knew how to flaunt his assets.

“Y/N, you need to stop playing games.” You hovered at the door and inched towards the doorknob… “If you decide to run away again, I’m going to fucking chain you to this bed until you hear me out.”

Scratch your idea of escape—but hot damn, you swallowed down your nervousness and felt your cunt throb. Being chained to his bed sounded far more appealing than it should. You tried to relax… tried to not show how much the threat turned you on. Because you clearly had priorities.

Like how he remembered that you ran away.

Shindo gestured for you to sit. You sat on the farthest corner away on the bed. Shindo gave a long-suffering sigh at your reluctance. “Y/N, I’m not going to bite. I’m not trying to trick you.” He took on a slightly more cajoling tone, tapping the sheets close to him.

“Shindo, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You looked nervously between the bed and him. His eyes turned darker and his voice a little lower.

“Why?” Shindo breathed out.

You shook your head, recognizing the line of question – he was fishing. Better to still be ignorant. Better to stay on-topic.

“So.” You changed the topic. “What do you mean by playing games, Shindo? I’ve never….” You kept the unspoken words in your head, ‘played, I’m in love with you.’ You continued on, "I’ve never asked you to come in. You could’ve just turned this in and gone back to your girlfriend.” You decided to test the waters because maybe he only remembered parts and not the entirety. You could still salvage this situation.

Shindo scoffed again. “And they say I’m the player. So, what if I have a girlfriend? You mean you’d never date me right? Because you’re such a high-born princess. Telling all your friends out there how you’d never consider me.” Your hands tightened together on your lap.

“Does it matter? You don’t need another notch on your belt, you have someone amazing and wonderful. She’s probably an amazing girlfriend already.” You were confused at his disparaging tone. Why was he turning this around on you? Why did he want you to suffer here with him? Did he just want to humiliate yourself?

“I’ll be nice and cut to the chase Y/N. Do you think I’m the kind of asshole to cheat on … Tatami?” It seemed to take a second for him to say her name. Like he was uncomfortable.

Well, if he was going to be honest…. “Shindo, I don’t think you’re an asshole. You act like one but I know you care and you’re not as evil as you say you are.” You breathed deep, reminding yourself you would face him once and for all. “I think you were drunk, and I was in the wrong for doing what I did.”

“Then why did you do it?” Shindo stared at you.

“Because—” Wow, this was getting uncomfortable fast. “You probably wouldn’t remember, and I thought you wouldn’t care. Not that I would ever help someone cheat, but can I blame you for mistaking me for her?” You tried to give off a casual shrug. “It was dark, it was hard to see. Obviously, my fault for thinking it was something else right?”

Shindo quirked an eyebrow, giving you a vague ‘hmm’.

What was up with this?

“You said you wanted to talk, and I said my piece. Why don’t you just tell me what you want me to do? Tell Tatami? Tell you I fucked up?” You were getting a little peeved; Shindo was literally your wet dream and he was in your room. This was the stuff of your daydreams, but this was the worst situation imaginable.

“I think you’re lying to me.” Shindo kicked off his shoes and swung his legs up to make himself comfortable. “And I don’t feel like leaving until you tell me the truth.”

Oh dear lord, this man was insufferable.

You crawled across the bed and shoved a hand into his chest. Trying to push him off but he made himself more comfortable into your pillows. “You, Shindo, are dating another girl and you’re sitting in my room wanting what? The truth or did you want some sex? Because this sounds like you want some pussy and I’m not the kind of girl who gives it up like this.”

“You gave it up in the bathroom.” Shindo’s eyes fell to your revealed cleavage, the neckline of your sweater had fallen when you got onto the bed. You shoved his face upwards, indignant now.

“That was because I thought you wouldn’t remember and you would forget everything! Even if I confess to you, it doesn’t matter.” Your voice broke on the last word as you finally felt the tears come back.

Shindo’s arm reached out for your elbow, grasping it slowly. Almost like he was actually unnerved by the fact you were crying. The gentleness in contrast to his normal roughness was endearing. He even rubbed your arm as he waited for you to continue. “Stupid Shindo, don’t look at a girl crying. That’s what I call an asshole move.”

“Y/N, do you want to be friends with benefits then?”

“Absolutely not.” Your answer was immediate. You wouldn’t compromise your morals for even him. “I’m not gonna help you cheat now I know you’re dating.”

“So you wanna date me instead then?”

You looked to the side. “No...” Even if it was in the realm of possibility.

“Then why did you confess if you want nothing from me? You wanted a good fuck? Should’ve known you’re the one who wanted a notch on your belt….” He sighed in mock disappointment.

You turned to him, affronted for both you and him. Your feelings weren’t that shallow! If anything, he should know that about you. “I won’t be your friends with benefit because I’m too invested in you. I actually like you and I’m not stupid enough to do that!” You couldn’t handle that kind of relationship.

“Then why won’t you date me?” Shindo goaded.

You couldn’t believe his asinine words. “Did you not get how I said Tatami is literally perfect?!” You were furious enough to shove a punch at him and he dodged it. You scampered upright and gestured to yourself.

“I’m not delusional Shindo so please fucking shut up about dating. I’m not good enough for you,” You threw up your fingers to rattle off your points, “I’m not pretty enough, I’m not confident enough, I’m not sexy enough.”You couldn’t stop yourself, memories of your ex-boyfriend’s accusations came flying in. “I’m a ‘fucking selfish prude’ because I want to be a pro-hero more than anything; even more than a stupid relationship.” You caved into your stupid insecurities and rants, expecting Shindo take a step back. Any guy would walk away from this kind of crazy.

Because everything your ex-boyfriend had pointed out, showed that you would never be good at a relationship. You were too independent, you were too focused, you were too selfish to ever be a good girlfriend. But … “I know this and I wanted to know what one night with you would be like….” Your voice fell to a pathetic, desperateness that you never wanted him to hear.

There was a certain relief though. An ease because you knew he would probably run away and any chance of a relationship was crumbling apart. So, he would leave. Maybe he’d tell everyone downstairs how insane you probably sounded.

“In fact, you’d do yourself a favor if you walked out and forgot this all happened.” Emphasis on the word favor, with as much derision and contempt you could feel.

Shindo rubbed one of his hands at the base of neck as he looked to the side, sighing even more. “You’re a clusterfuck of issues, princess, aren’t you?”

Wow, great words there Casanova.  You gestured to the door in agreement. Obviously, you can leave. Because what could you say? You sighed heavily when he didn’t move though. It seemed he wanted to prolong your misery, embarrassment, and possibly the most botched confession of all time.

“Okay, yes, I’m a cluster fuck of issues. You deserve better than whatever my stupid feelings would take you. So just be happy because you deserve someone amazing.” You knew you were being contrary, you had just confessed to him and turned him down.

“You’re getting to be a broken record Y/N”. Shindo still didn’t leave. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, taking a deep breath in and out…. maybe he was just honestly needed a few minutes for it to sink in.

“Y/N, I’m still here. Closing your eyes and wishing me away isn’t gonna work.” Shindo was giving you a skeptical look now, cross-legged on the bed. He reached over to pull a pillow into his lap. Why was he getting even more comfortable?

Shindo sighed. “You’re a mess but now that the truth is out—the entire truth instead of this half-assed ‘I should be with Tatami’ shit, I have a few things to say.” Shindo wasn’t obtuse, he knew you had been looking at him. You had caught his eye from the get-go when he wondered what you looked like, what happened when your studious exterior was broken and stripped away. In fact, he thought of toying with you and fucking you once until your interest dissipated. It always did when girls found out his true nature. But you… you were different.

“First of all, I’m not dating Tatami. What she was calling me…” He rubbed his fingers between his furrowed brows. “She calls me that for shits and giggles in front of fangirls to mess with me.” You double-took at this.  “I was trying to hook up with you, Y/N, and I’m not dicking around with my friends.” Shindo grimaced at the mere thought.  “Whatever you came away with, I’m not desperate enough to pretend you were her.” You still felt yourself deflate though. He was dicking and fucking around right? At least he knew it was you… Much relief that was, you thought sarcastically.

Shindo waved his hand in front of your face, snapping his fingers. “Hey. Listen to me before you get the wrong idea.” Huh. Shindo was getting surprisingly good at reading you. “I don’t want to date Tatami but I want a chance at dating you.”

You … probably misheard that. “Dating who?”

Shindo chuckled. Actually, genuinely chuckled as he pointed at you. You threw a look over your shoulder to make sure there was no one behind you.  Shindo tried to look put off but his mouth was quirked up in amusement.

“Y/N, stop acting like an idiot. Look at me because I’m not done yet.” He looked relaxed with a bit of snark. You weren’t sure if even Shindo could fake this expression.

“Shindo, you want to date me, a fucking mess?” You interrupted him.

“Sounds like a mess that’s actually in love with me and willing to give me a chance.” Shindo wasn’t oblivious to the fact most women shied away from his dual-nature and strong dose of sadistic cruelty underneath his nice-guy exterior.

“Y/N, we’re both humans. We both have a lot of shit to work through, but it sounds like someone told you that they were an insecure asshole and took it out on you.” He wasn’t…. exactly wrong about your ex-boyfriend. You grimaced at the memories, of all the time you wasted on him.

“I personally wouldn’t mind a pro-hero girlfriend who takes no shit from anyone—even me. In fact, we can both compete for top 10 and beat out your UA classmates.” Shindo appreciated that you valued being a hero rather than a vapid girlfriend. It gave him a vaguely smug superiority to think of you being a hero of your own right, watch you flaunt your success to your UA classmates and watch them look on in envy when you were his girlfriend. Even blastie didn’t score this.

“And you said you weren’t sexy enough? Selfish prude? Y/N, that sounds like a guy didn’t know what he was doing.”

Some asshole obviously didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. You saying this was a fucking invitation to Shindo—you were a composed, staid, straight-laced kind of girl.  It turned him on since he wanted to see how your tight, nearly virgin pussy would take him. He wanted to see your discomposed face fall open in pleasure. He wanted to see how far he could break your composure and seriousness. Shindo had to shove his arousal down, feeling a wave of excitement at the thought of trying to find all your kinks and desires. God the possibilities were endless.

You, on the other hand, were leaning into him in confusion.

“This doesn’t sound like a reason for you to want to date me. It sounds like you’re playing nice-guy to make myself feel better and less crazy?”  In fact, you still half-expected Shindo would say this was all a joke.

Shindo felt his lip curve into a smile, slightly more cunning and a little more saccharine-sweet than you had ever seen him. “Come closer and I’ll tell you why you’re worth the trouble?” He crooked his finger and you felt yourself crawling towards him. He opened his legs, his soothing murmur acting like a lure for you—your worries were overwhelmed in face of his temptingly strong arms.

“Y/N.” You leaned in close—close enough for him to grab your head and crush his mouth over yours. You were so startled that you parted your lips in protest and he took the chance to forcibly shove his tongue in. He kissed like he was devouring you, his tongue licking into all the crevices of your mouth, tasting your sweetness and barely giving you a breath. One of his hands locked your waist in, another at the base of your neck as he refused to give you an inch of space.

This went on for long minutes until he finally lifted his mouth to give you a reprieve. You had been so close, so very close to rubbing your chest against his to feel more of his brawny muscle—but you still had enough reason to stop and shove at him uselessly. Little sanity that you had left…

“Are you suuuuper sure that you want to date someone like me?”

“I want to date you. I’m not in it for some pussy, babe. The truth is you like me despite that I’m a selfish two-faced bastard.” He rasped out. “That you like me enough to want me to be happy even though I want to fucking ruin you.” You found your thighs getting wet at his harsh voice. Shindo chuckled, almost as if he knew what he was going to you. “Some asshole doesn’t know how to handle you but that’s on them. I could have you riding, begging for me and making you come over and over if you were my girlfriend.” You felt his burgeoning erection and you had started to gyrate your hips with his—and you didn’t even realize. Your eyes were starting to glaze over with the promises he made…

But Shindo took on a more serious tone. “That you actually would cry over me because you want me here.” Your hands clenched in his black shirt, finding your sappy sentimental heart at war with the lust crawling from your hot throbbing cunt. As for Shindo…. He remembered your endearing show of affection. After you had left him in the bathroom, he had almost snapped at Tatami for ruining his post-coital moment. It actually felt nice to have you cuddle with him because he normally never cared for it.

“And you crying does things to me.” You looked up, a lilting questioning glint in your eyes. “I want to be the only one you’re crying about. Mostly when I’m fucking you, but I don’t want you with some other dick.” He wanted to be the only person you fell apart for.

“Shindo, I think that’s called sadism.” You quipped. Wow, in the heat of his confession, you still couldn’t hold back your commentary. Shindo liked this about you. Even in the throes of oncoming sex, you also could put him in his place but make him laugh.

“Hey, a relationship is all about compromise, right? It’s a fair trade when you’re the complicated one.” God, Shindo was crude but this confession was better than any flowery words ever could’ve been.

“I don’t know if it’s a compromise when I’m complicated and you’re a sadistic asshole… SHINDO!” Shindo thrust his erection into your clothed cunt as he cut the conversation short.

“Y/N, you’re either going to agree to be my girlfriend and I can fuck you right now. Or you can say no, and I will leave.” Shindo wasn’t really giving you a choice.

“Fine. If you are willing to take me, ‘clusterfuck’ of a mess as I am.” You said, finally feeling an inkling of hope beyond the fears you had built around yourself. You never thought Shindo would take a chance on you… nor you, on him. Because you were also starting to realize Shindo was never going to be the ideal, caring, considerate prince you had imagined in your childhood. And that wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted Shindo just as he was.

Shindo eagerly took off your shirt now, whistling once he saw your bra-less chest. “How could you keep this from me?” The bathroom lighting had done you no justice. You said you weren’t pretty but you were gorgeous. He muttered as much, you thought you even heard something about ‘thank god no one’s gonna fucking know how sexy you are’ but it was muffled as he stuffed his face between your boobs.  He started to slip off your shorts, but you stopped him with a soft kick. “Baby, that’s kinda violent don’t you think?” He didn’t let up though as he tugged it off.

You tugged at his shirt and put on a petulant pout, “Hey, I’m all for equality. Take off your clothes.” Shindo grinned and peeled off his shirt, finally letting you look at his muscled abs you had been admiring for months, that you had only taken peeks at. You impishly stole a kiss from him and unabashedly ran your hands down his abs.

“Wow, now that you’re not all desperate in a bathroom, you’re really mouthy.” He reluctantly ended the kiss, brushing a thumb against your lips at the end of his sentence. You gave a mischievous lick to his fingers, relishing the taste of Shindo’s skin. You craved more, leaning upward to lick the sweat off the base of his throat. He did a quick intake of breath as he growled, “Y/N, I thought you said you were a prude.”

You fell back onto the bed and gave a questioning look? “Apparently? I’ve never been so curious as to how someone else tasted.” You licked your lips to savor it a bit more. Shindo literally groaned.

“Stop saying shit like that or I‘ll be stuffing your mouth full of cock, babe.” Your face went beet-red as you suddenly stared down at his bulging briefs, of course he wore briefs, and envisioned it. “Oh babe, were you imagining it?” He cooed, smugness filling up the room. “You wanna see if I’ll take it slow? Let you get used to it?” He inched his briefs down, inch by inch. “Or will I stuff your face, watch you drool and choke on it?” You tried to cover your face because oh god, you had never been teased before.

“Oh baby, you’re in for so much if you’re embarrassed by just this.” Shindo was going to savor every bit of your embarrassed innocence.  This was pure gold. You were the picture of corrupted innocence with your hair splayed on the pillow, your chest and neck blushing pink, legs lewdly open and he could see the wetness gathering on your panties.

“Shindoooo” You whined.  

“Calm down, I’ll take it easy on you.” For now, he thought silently. He trailed his hand down, exploring the soft skin of your neck, teasingly brushing his hands over your hardened nipples… smirking when you squirmed underneath his gaze. His hand came to your stomach and he held still for a moment. He wondered if his cock could fill you up to the point you’d cry? A thought for another time. He slipped his finger underneath the waistband of your panties and grinned.

“How much do you like this pair?” You shrugged, not really knowing what he meant. At least until he slipped it off and held it tantalizingly to the side. “I kind of want a memento of our first official date.”

“Shindo, that is fucking nasty.” You could actually see how wet it was. Shindo shrugged.

“You said you were in love with me. Nasty is my default mode.” Shindo descended to your navel, sliding lower as he made himself comfortable. He propped one leg over his shoulder—wait, what was he doing? You were too new to this, but he couldn’t be thinking of that right?

“Babe, you gotta let me eat.” He swooped in while you tried to twist out of his grasp but he wasn’t going to let you escape. Never gonna let you run away again. Shindo hadn’t said this but the fact you were faster than him disgruntled him.  He licked deep into your cunt, opening up your moist, tight lips. You couldn’t move from the climbing pleasure as he lapped like a man starved. His mouth followed the throbbing of your cunt to the aching to your clit.  He gently suckled your clit, making breathy whiny gasps fall from your mouth.

“Last time was a little hard and fast. I wanna make sure you know I can be gentle as you want.” He let your orgasm build, watching the quivering of your thighs pull taut—and then the bastard withdrew.

“But is gentle what you want?” Shindo just…. breathed over your sensitive cunt. Didn’t move an inch. You could feel his fingers stroking your leg but nowhere near what you wanted. He was purposely edging you. “I remember what you said before. Are you my little fuck toy?” You nodded a little desperately. But it was not what he wanted to see, judging from his tightening fingers on your leg. He tutted at you.

What had he said before? You scrambled to remember. Remembered how he had lost control of himself at something you said… You realized. “Shindo, fuck your girlfriend like you mean it.” You reached a hand down to spread yourself open.

Shindo had expected something but not like that. “I was gonna go nice and slow because you’re my sweet little girlfriend, but it turns out you’re perfect for me.” He finally, finally started the slide of his fingers to probe deeper into your wet cunt and scissor your insides open. He was looking for that fleshy spot, leering at how your mouth fell open when he did find it. He turned his vibrating quirk on, watching you scream at the sudden quaking pressure. Only when you lay gasping and overstimulated, did he started inching his cock into your wetness. It was snug, tight, and still twitching from your orgasm--- Shindo’s eyes glazed over with pleasure, looking drunk on the feeling of you. 

Once he moved.. oh god. He was drinking up your little whimpers and sighs, starting a dominating rhythm. It didn’t matter what you said or how you begged; he thrust hard and fast,  kept you on edge when he slowed down, only to surprise you by pushing his cock punishingly hard against your sweet spot. It seemed like you were his little rag doll, subject to his whims—at least until he took pity on you, letting you orgasm when he finally came inside you. Even afterward, he kept you impaled and still on his cock. He enjoyed the feeling of cum slipping out of you, rubbing it back into your cunt. You shivered at feeling his fingers circle around, glazing your thighs with his release.

When you finally had some energy to talk, you scoffed. “That was gentle?”

“You should be glad that I didn’t vibrate my dick.” He shifted to lay on top of you, caging you in. You noticed he was careful not to crush you—something small that showed that he cared. He brought his slick fingers back to cup your face. “Gross, Shindo.” He grinned unrepentantly. He nuzzled your neck and you couldn’t resist playing with your boyfriend’s soft hair. It was a moment to cherish.

Then came his next statement. “Hey, what’s your dorm rules on boyfriends?” He barreled on, as if a thought just occurred to him. “Can I surprise McBlastie Bakugo in the morning? What I would give to see his face when he wakes up to see me.” He snickered. “So much for the fact you wouldn’t date me.“ You literally groaned for a whole different reason.

Shindo wasn’t going to let it rest though. When you stubbornly gave no answer, he took a different tactic. “Babe, don’t you want to show me off?” He cajoled you, rolling his hips a little deeper into yours. You clenched around him despite how tired you were. “Or we can just show off how I make you scream? Maybe we can even fuck on his bed?”

Okay. Shindo was an asshole and troll until the end of time, but he was officially your boyfriend. One part of having your dreams came true, you also had to forever mediate between him and your UA friends.

Eh. They could live with it.

[boxofbadaddiction]

Careless

Fred Weasley x Reader

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List.

Prompts: 13, 19 & 23

"I'm so happy and not at all jealous."/"We had a deep and meaningful relationship/What was their last name?"/"I thought it mattered what I said or when I said it. Then I realised, all that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be."

Warnings: Swearing. War Scene - blood & injury. Angsty.

Y/n was trouble with a capital T. She was daring, confident, snarky and a massive Quidditch fan. In other words; she were Fred Weasleys perfect woman.

But it's not what you think, they were just friends. Chaotic, hell raising, perfect-for-each-other friends.

With the Twins and y/n around Hogwarts it were remarkable the Castle were still standing. But not for their lack of trying. After an especially careless prank, which left the Gryffindor Common Room with a new window, it's safe to say the threesome were there for one another through thick and thin.

Pranks however, weren't the only area in which Y/n, and Fred for that matter, were careless.

Both had the tendency to be rather frivolous in romantic relationships. It seemed like every other week the pair had a new partner on their arm. George liked to joke that, of all the people left in their age group, the only people they hadn't 'had a round' with were each other. The rumours, jokes or insults to character never bothered them though. They were young and weren't looking for anything serious - so what's the harm in having a little fun? That was y/ns reasoning anyway. It had been Freds as well...in the beginning. Until he were struck with a rather bracing realisation.

The reason why he rushed so fast into new relationships without a care wasn't so much 'for the fun of it' or genuine interest in the other, but denial. He were running and burying his head in the sand, or rather the bedsheets - as it were, to distract himself from the very chilling reality that he was desperately, hopelessly and unequivocally in love with his best friend. With y/n.

So after that particularly bitter pill to swallow, Fred's relations became a means to an end. A means of getting over her. Of finding someone to replace her.

It never worked, of course, because no other girl was her. No one made him laugh or smile like her. Nor did anyone get his heart racing like she did.

He did everything he could to bury his feelings; under piles of work, copious amounts of alcohol and an abundance of meaningless sex, and it genuinely seemed to be working...until the War came.

That walk into the Great Hall after the initial Battle is one Fred would never forget.

The smell; of death and destruction. The way his body ached and longed to rest.

Slowly limping through the destroyed arched doorway, accompanied by Percy - who's shoulders he'd drapped an arm across seeking support. They were talking with one another, throwing around light-hearted brotherly insults here and there, which helped keep Freds mind off the immense pain surging through his leg at the time, small smiles adorning their faces.

That's when they heard it.

A blood curdling scream. One of pure agony.

Their eyes shot directly to the source, on the far side of the room - where all the Weasleys were gathered around a body. A girls.

Arthur was holding tight onto Molly as she sobbed uncontrollably. Ron stood on the outskirts pale and afraid, while Bill and Charlie had a hold of Ginny in attempt to shield her. Fred's gaze flickered to where he saw George had knelt beside the body.

He was gripping one of her hands as his other tried desperately to keep her still on the floor while she writhed and cried out in pain.

She were covered in blood as Madam Pomfrey worked frantically to mend the severe wounds in her abdomen, where shards of debris protruded from her flesh.

The cry had been caused from the extraction of a particularly large shard, of what Fred didn't know.

George was running a tender hand over y/ns head, gently stroking her hair and the sides of her face as he whispered soothing sounds and comforting words in her ear.

Fred didn't know how long he'd stood there, staring in shock, he'd felt petrified - numb to everything but the fear coursing through his veins. Till suddenly his feet were moving.

A first painful step, which nearly crippled him, was followed by an equally sore but determined second. Then a third, and before he knew it he was running. Sprinting as fast as he could regardless of the pain it inflicted, nothing could stop him from reaching her side.

Barging past friends and family members he collapsed on Georges otherside. Eyes raking the ever paling and blood covered woman laid before him. George was shaking as he looked to his brother with tear-filled eyes but Freds stare was unwavering.

Somehow mustering the strength he spoke the only words playing through his mind, "What can I do?" His eyes never left y/ns wound, above which Pomfreys hands hovered as she worked.

"Fred?" Y/n cried through deep breaths, her head turning to the side in an attempt to see him. "I'm here, Sweetheart." He placed a hand to her knee. Her eyes were screwed tight shut as she threw her head back against the hard, cold floor. Tears parted tracks through the thick dust and muck plastered to her cheeks as she clenched her jaw inhaling sharply as the next piece of debris was removed - a relatively small piece in comparison to the earlier one. George continued to soothe his friend as Pomfrey instructed Fred on what to do.

They wished everything had gotten better from there. That after they successfully removed all the debris and stopped the blood from further pouring from her body that she'd been able to recover simply. But news only seemed to get worse once they reached St Mungo's.

She'd fallen into a coma. Y/n had suffered severe internal injuries and the Healers never held out much hope that she'd survive.

Y/n always was full of surprises.

She'd come out of her coma and began showing signs she could yet make a recovery. No one could have possibly anticipated the day healers would begin talk of rehab. They considered it a miracle she were even breathing.

Naturally the Twins were there every step of the way. Especially Fred. There were whole nights, even before she'd regained consciousness, where he'd spend every minute by her bedside. Nights he'd spend working tirelessly in the shops office to perfect ideas they'd concocted to help ease and enhance y/ns physical therapy. Inventions that worked so well Healers from all over were lining up to get their hands on, after seeing how successful y/ns recovery were as a direct result of their products. Hell, most days you couldn't even tell she'd been through a war - her scars the only physical reminder, to the untrained eye.

There were no doubt left in Freds body after that. He loved her with every part of his soul and that was never going to change, and so his involvement in the dating scene became virtually non-existent.

Y/ns on the other hand...well some things don’t change.

She was given a second chance and wasn't about to waste it worrying about what 'could' have happened. Life were too short for that. She did, however, start keeping an eye out for 'Mr/Mrs Right' during her rendezvous'.

Fred tried his hardest to be supportive. Opting rather to love her from the sidelines than risk hurting their relationship by getting his hands dirty and playing the game. After Y/ns most recent conquest however his happy facade may officially be waning.

It was just past sunset in Diagon Alley and so Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, much like all the other stores, were going through their nightly closing routine.

Fred was working through the registers whilst, much to his dismay, George were left to the Twins least favourite chore - cleaning and restocking the store.

That's when the front door burst open.

"Evening, Boys!" Y/n announced happily as she strode into the store. "Fred! I told you to lock the door, lest the riff-raff barge in!" George called jokingly over the railing of the second floor. Fred couldn't help but smile, not looking up from the task at hand "My mistake!". Y/n scowled up at George as she hopped onto the front desk, "Like that could keep me out." Leaning over the counter top she placed a kiss to Freds cheek, "Heya Freddie". He looked to her, instantly finding himself on cloud nine, and leant casually onto the counter to speak with her. "Hey, Lovely. How was your day?" "Oh, I am so glad you asked!" Y/n said beaming as she clapped her palms against her knees, kicking one leg atop the other. "It was fantastic!" "Do tell." George spoke, decending the stair case, "What's 'fantastic's name?" He goaded.

Y/n glared at him playfully, "Think you have me all worked out do you?" "You know we do." Fred interjects. "Can read you like a book, Darling. You've got not secrets from us"

"Especially after our little incident during rehab, when I had to help you in the shower." George added with a teasing brow, this causing y/n to scrunch her nose. "Okay, George, that's talking about it when we agreed never to talk about it!" The Twins laughed at her embarrassed expression. "Anyway, 'fantastic's name is Mason."

Fred swallowed thickly at the news of, yet another, romantic partner but still he suppressed his distaste as he normally would.

The next 30 minutes or so were spent listening to y/ns retelling of how she met, Mason. About how great they made her feel. Fred couldn't help but envy the way the mere thought of them had y/n biting her lip in attempt to suppress a giddy smile. He'd give anything for her to look that way while thinking about him.

Fred had been quiet through most of the conversation, untrusting of his own voice not to give away his utter disdain at the news. Still he smiled when he should and convincingly feigned interested as she spoke. It wasn't until she began talking about her date, tonight, with them that he finally spared himself the heartache and stopped listening.

Later that evening, Fred was trying hard to keep himself occupied with thoughts on anything but the date the love of his life currently found herself on. As George and he just finished their own meal he'd taken to determinately cleaning the dishes piled within their sink - whilst George dried, a small habit the two fell into thanks to years of Molly putting the pair on dish duty after meals.

Unknowingly to Fred, he'd been uncharacteristically quiet for the whole evening. Something his brother had not failed to notice. "So..." he began breaking the long running silence of the night, "y/n seems pretty bent on this new bloke doesn't she?" "Mmm" "Never know this one may even last" George let out a breathy laugh as he prodded Fred's shoulder with his elbow, watching carefully for his reaction.

George wasn't stupid. He knew exactly how Fred felt, well before the night of the battle.

Fred's eyebrows quirked, lips parting as he clicked his jaw, visibly unsettled by his Twins topic of discussion.

"You okay, Freddie?" "Yeah. No, they sound great. Absolutely perfect. He's bloody 'Mr Fantastic'" His voice was laced with attitude and sarcasm as he spoke.

Finishing washing the final glass Fred throws the dish sponge against the back wall of the sink harder than intended in his frustration. "Easy there mate, get you're not happy but don't take your jealousy out on the poor bloody sponge" George picks it up from where it'd landed, mockingly shielding it from his brother with an overly concerned expression. "What are you on about?" Fred sneered defensively, "I'm so happy and not at all jealous."

"Sure you are" George replied with a look which read 'really?' "Yeah no, I get it. I'd be fine too if the girl I fancied was out on a date with some other bloke." He shrugged nonchalantly as he walked back to the living room, lounging comfortably across their sofa.

Fred looked to his brother as if he'd grown another head. "Don't give me that look. We both know I know." George rolled his eyes. "Well then tell me, oh wise and all-knowing Brother" Fred bowed mockingly, "what would you do in my situation?" He walked over with an expectant brow, perching himself of the sofas opposite arm rest.

"Oh, I dunno...maybe confess to the poor girl." "You say that like it's the simplest thing in the world." "It is, Freddie." "No. No it's not, whatever this is it's not simple." "It won't get any easier if you don't try. Here look I'll help you" George sat up eagerly, leaning against the back of the couch. "You be you, I'll be- don't give me that look. I'll be y/n. Tell me what you'd say to her." "This is stupid" Fred rolled his eyes. "Don't be a prat, just...go. I won't judge." "Right, cause that sounds like you." "Fred-" George warned. "Fiiiine!" He groaned which only caused his brother to smile cockily, satisfied he finally got what he wants.

Fred looked at his brother who flicked his hair and batted his eyelashes dramatically. There's no way he can do this looking at him. Rolling his eyes again he looked away with a scoff, contemplating all the things he'd say to y/n if he had the courage to.

"Well?..." "I don't know. I don't know what'd I'd say to her or where to start, I've never thought about it." "Maybe it's time you start thinking about it Freddie." George clapped him on the leg as he stood from his place on the couch.

He were half way to his bedroom before stopping, having just faintly heard the words whispered after him...

"I love her, Georgie." George smiles sadly to himself, only just turning his head he murmurs a reply. "Tell her that."

---

The store was closed for the day and Fred had choose to have a rather uneventful night in, and so he sat on the end of the sofa reading the paper hoping for product inspiration to strike. George on the other hand were getting ready to go out for the night when came a rhythmic knock on the flat door. No need to ask who it were as they let themselves in, per usual.

"Hello, Boys" y/n bounded into the apartment, flopping casually onto their couch with her head in Freds lap.

He lifted the paper into one hand to better see her smiling face looking cheekily back up at him. His own fond and loving smile shown back. "Hey, Freddie" "Hey, Gorgeous." "HELLO, GEORGE?" She shouted listening intently for his response, "YEAH YEAH, Hello freeloader!" He yells back causing her smile to grow.

"You seem awfully happy, have a good day?" Fred asks as he begins to softly run his hands through y/ns hair out of a developed habit from all their late nights at Hogwarts. "Yeah it was good, just went out with Mason. We had a nice time but I'm just happy to be here with you losers." "Losers? How flattering" George calls from his bedroom. "Oh" at the mention of y/ns partner, Fred puts an end to his hands actions. Turning his attention pointedly back to the paper he'd been reading previously. "And how is 'Mr Fantastic'?" He sneers. "Yeah great...I think. I don't know, he sorta got carried away talking about work. Barely got a word in myself." Y/n chuckles fakely. Sensing her pent up reservations Fred can't help but resume his earlier actions, stroking her hair, but still his eyes stay on the page in front of him. Even if he can't seem to read a single word - too focused on the warmth y/ns body provides pressed against his. Wishing this were how he could spend every night, wrapped up on the couch with her in his arms.

"Alright, children!" George emerges from his bedroom, "I'm off. Don't destroy the place while I'm gone." "Oh that's right!" Y/n sits up excitedly to peer over the back of the sofa. "Tonights the big date" she rests her chin atop her arms as they fold over the backrest looking to George as he collects his wallet and keys. "That's right, Dearest." He ruffles her hair as he strides past to the door, "You're not the only one around here who goes out." He winks before leaving, a quick 'behave!' Called over his shoulder.

Y/n lays back down across Freds lap with a warm smile on her lips. "So...what do you wanna do tonight?"

---

Fred was quietly thankful for George being out of the apartment for the night, the quality time spent with y/n were more than he could possibly ask for. It felt like being back in school, when they'd sneak to the Lake or Astronomy tower past curfew.

They were currently sat on the lounge room floor; a bottle of firewiskey and several stolen sweets from George's stash, scattered in front of them.

"I can't believe you just called me a slag!" Fred shouts as y/n laughed loudly. "W-well it's true." She shrugged, speaking through poorly restrained giggles. "Need I remind you of your time spent with Alice?" "Hey! We had a deep, and meaningful relationship." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah!" "What was her last name?" Freds mouth opened in retort before swiftly closing. Eyes blankly scanning the room in search of the answer before realising he didn't have one. He nodded and shrugged in acknowledgement. "Point taken. Not that you're one to judge" he chuckled, taking a swig from the bottle of whiskey before offering it to her. "Also true." Y/n accepted.

"When was the last time you waited until the third date?" "Honestly?" "No. Lie to me." Y/n rolled her eyes at his question. "Katie Bell." "Noooo...in 6th year?" "Yeah. Go on then, when was the last time you didn't just give it up?" "What, 'Honestly'?" "No. Lie to me." Fred threw an every flavour bean at her for the mockery. "Okay...Mr Fantastic." "Noooo..." "yeah." "I don't believe you." "What!? Why?" "Because you're whipped by the bloke! Surprised he even made it to a first date- OW! Hey, chocolate frogs are NOT for throwing!"

Neither were sure how this odd game of confessions began, perhaps somewhere around the half way mark on their bottle of Whiskey, but the embarrassing dirty little secrets they'd begun to reveal to one another had them both in hysterics as a result.

"So, why not?" "I dunno he just...hasn't got me feeling that way, ya know? Like, he's great, and we have a good time together - I guess. But it's not like this" she guestured between herself and Fred, who was listening intently. "I can't seem to relax and just be myself around him. He doesn't get me laughing till it hurts. Or make me feel safe and comfortable." Fred's lips parted slightly at her words, eyes dancing hopefully back and forth between hers which seemed to hold the same emotion his did in that moment. Was it possible she felt the same way?

"Or ya know, something less sappy." She chuckled, taking a drink from the Whiskey bottle and turning away from him. Whatever moment he'd felt was gone, and reality set in with the familiar bitter pill settling in his mouth which he refused to swallow.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the disappointment that began to creep in. Over her comparison, in wanting someone like him, but in the end, not him. Never him. A sharp breath left him before speaking, "Yeah, well, I ah- I have work in the morning so I'd best call it a night." He avoided eye contact as he stood from his spot on the floor, all joints painfully stiff from the lack of movement.

Y/n was shocked by his abrupt change in attitude. He were no longer smiling, and there was an edge to his voice which wasn't there moments ago.

"Woah, wait...what just happened here? I thought we were having a good time." "We were" y/n stood, taking a tentative step towards him "So, what changed?" "Nothing"

"Fred? Come on, sit back down...please?" She grabbed one of his hands holding it close to her chest as she pouted at him. For a second Fred caught himself smiling at her antics. But only for a second. He shook his head, pulling his hand back from hers and stressfully running it through his hair.

"I can't, love." "Can't what?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "I just can't sit there and listen to you talk about us; me and him." He snapped looking away from her. "Why? What's that have t-"

"Because I'm fucking in love with you!" Fred shouted, turning back to y/n in anger. "I'm in love with you and sitting there listening to you talk about how I make you feel safe - and how you wish it were him - it's ripping my fucking heart out y/n! But I'm stuck. Because I can't move on but I can't have you. So I just sit here like an idiot, watching you jump from one relationship to another, waiting- hoping that you'll care. I keep hanging onto moments - like right there - thinking there may be the slightest chance you might feel the same way. But you don't. And I can't do it anymore...so don't ask me to."

"Fred-" "I think you should go." "No, Fred I-" "Please! Go."

Y/n stood in place, staring in shock as her body seemed reluctant to move. She were petrified - numb to everything, but the fear swimming within her blood. What would happen if she walked out that door. Would he ever let her back in, or was this it? What if she leaves and loses him forever - and he never knew...

She drew a shaking breath that seemed to give a modicum of control back over her body. Her eyes flickered over the expanse of the boys flat. It were always so cheerful and warm - so why did she feel so cold? Her body trembled as her feet began to move, each step more painful than the last.

As she opened the door every nerve screamed for her to turn back around. Her head turned to the side, mouth falling dry and lips parting to speak though no words came. But the tears did. Rolling sadly down her cheeks as the door sealed shut behind her.

She was gone.

Fred fell to the couch. Any strength that were holding him from the ground disappearing as she did. Slouched over his knees, elbows digging into his thighs whilst he ran his hands through his hair.

He let out a heavy breath, a small relief spreading in his chest from the weight that'd been lifted. But mostly all that came was pain and tears from the heartache he'd tried so hard to shield himself from for all these years.

There's no telling how long he sat there, furiously rubbing at his eyes as the tears refused to stop falling. Not till the familiar crack of apparation reached his ears could he fully hold himself high again. George couldn't see him like this, he wouldn't let him.

With the creaking of the front doors hinges Fred stood, clearing his throat and running a final hand across his puffy, tear stained cheeks. "You're back early, what'd happen you strike out?" He joked, turning only to be met with the equally teary eyes of y/n. Although hers held something else as well - anger. Fred felt cold. What was she doing back here?

"Where do you get the nerve?" She snapped. Freds expression screwed between a mixture of insult and confusion. "Don't you dare, for a second, think you know how I feel." "I do." "No. No you don't! Otherwise you would have realised that I fucking love you too!" "W-what?"

"You think you're the only one? That after all these years together; after all those nights in the Astronomy tower. After all those days you spent by my side as I laid dying in that hospital bed. After all your time spent healing me; that I haven't fallen in love with you?"

"Well...well WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING!?" "WHY DIDN'T YOU!?"

Freds mouth was open but no words were coming. He let out a defeated breath, leaning against the back of the sofa as the weight of everything set in.

"...when?" "I don't know when I fell. Only when I realised. Guess that was the only good thing to come from that evil, pink bitch being around." Y/n chuckled sadly.

"THEN!? you knew then?" "After your first detention. I bandaged your hand and we spent the night together in the common room. You fell asleep in my lap, that's...that's when I knew."

This was all so overwhelming. So much for the quiet night in. Fred stared fixedly at a point on the side wall in thought, lightly shaking his head, unsure of exactly how he felt or what to do. This was everything he'd ever wanted to hear and that scared him a little bit.

"Look, I didn't say anything because you mean too much to me to ever risk jeopardising what we had and I- I could never find the words to..." Y/n swallowed thickly as all emotion caught in her throat. Taking his hand tightly in hers she tried to ground herself within the moment. The action turning Freds gaze back to hers.

"I thought it mattered what I said, or when I said it. Then I realised, all that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be. I never want to lose that and if you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. All you have to do is just tell me; what do you want?"

Fred watched as the tears welled within y/ns eyes the longer she spoke, he wondered how they ever managed to be so goddamn obliviously stupid, that neither realised.

A soft smile crept across his lips as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "All I've ever wanted...is you." Y/ns whole body relaxed at his words, head falling in relief. Looking back into his eyes she bit her lip to suppress a giddy, lovestruck, smile.

"You've always had me."

[evening-starlight]

Daddy’s Best Friend

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12

Word Count: 1992

    The pile of clothes at the end of the bed seems impossible to sort as Amaris searches for her shirt. Her hands shake, and her mind yells at her. She said it would only be once, so why has she been in Tom's bed every day for the last week?

    "Here, your shirt," Tom says as he hands Amaris her ripped Metallica shirt. She didn't listen to the band much anymore; they were a little too heavy for her. She thanks him with a small smile and throws it on, finding her blue shorts quickly after. "You know, you don't have to leave so fast," Tom states, leaning against his bedpost. He hated seeing her leave so quickly after; it sent dread and sadness throughout his body. "We're still friends."

    Amaris can't help the heavy sigh that passes her lips. "Are we Tom? We haven't done friendly things since we started this mess. All we do is fuck," She bites, making her way out of his bedroom. It felt suffocating in there. Like all her evil deeds were ganging up to end her then and there. She didn't mean for the words to sound bitter, but it was true.

    Tom follows her out. "Then let's do something today. It's only noon. We have the whole day. Let's go bowling or something. Let's hang out, Mari. Let me show you we're still friends." Tom begs. He didn't want to lose her as a friend, which is why he hid these feelings for so long. It felt like his worst nightmare was happening before his eyes, and it had only been a week into the affair.

    He knew she was still with Armel, but he didn't care. He had her too, and he didn't mind sharing when she came to him to finish the job Armel couldn't. However, the jealously was nagging at him, and he had to continuously remind himself that this was what he wanted.

    "Fine. Armel and Juno are in classes, and I don't feel like dealing with Danny's drama." Tom smiles, stepping forward to kiss Amaris. She puts her hand up as a shield. "Strictly friends, Thomas." He sighs and chooses to wrap his arms around her shoulders in a friendly hug.

    "Deal. So bowling?" He asks. "Museum? I have no preference." Amaris thinks what the least romantic option would be.

    "Bowling," She states, pulling out of Tom's hug. It was public and loud, not a typically romantic place. She eyes him up and down, lingering on his shirtless torso a second longer than was platonic. "But I think you'll need to put a shirt on." She giggles as Tom flexes in typical bodybuilder poses.

    "What? Think you'd get too distracted by these guns?" He teases, flexing his biceps.

    "More like blinded by your pale skin," Amaris quips back. Tom fakes shock but can't hide the laugh bubbling in his belly. It felt good to joke around as friends again. Amaris could almost forget that she was slowly breaking Armel's heart. Almost.

    Tom holds the door to the bowling alley open for Amaris. The drive to the destination was full of jokes, singing, and everything they used to do when strictly friends. Amaris stays behind Tom, looking around for any fame hogs to steer clear of.

    Wherever Amaris went, she had to worry about someone using her to get famous or selling photos to the press. Of course, her being out with Tom wasn't anything new. The tabloids knew they were friends from a young age. But now that she's secretly sleeping with him, she continued to shift from foot to foot, heart pumping with exhilaration. She was out in public with her sideman, and no one knew but them.

    The pair sit in front of their lane, tying up their bowling shoes. "You still bowl with a ten, right?" Tom asks, standing up from his seat. Amaris confirms and goes to set their names in the tracker. She puts Tom under Tommy and hers under Mari. She wasn't the most creative when it came to nicknames.

    The first few rounds go by quickly, both adults focusing on dusting off their bowling skills. They used to bowl together a lot when Amaris was younger. This is the place he would take Amaris when she couldn't stand being a daughter of a millionaire much longer. Bowling was one of the few activities she had that made her feel like an average person again. At least for the duration of the game.

    "Take that, Maria," Tom jokes, finally getting a strike. He doesn't know where the nickname Maria came from, but it's only said during bowling. Amaris flips her friend off and gets set for her next bowl. When all pins are set up, she gets into her stance, focusing all her energy on trying to beat Tom.

    She pulls her arm back, about to let go when Tom's foot collides with her butt, throwing her off balance. The ball slowly rolls into the gutter. Amaris turns around to yell at Tom, stepping back when he's closer than expected. "That's a party foul," She whines.

    "Oh well," Tom says, walking back to his chair smugly. His roguish smile plastered on his perfect face as he takes a seat, leaving Amaris flustered.

    "You're an asshole, Hiddleston," She pouts, going back to the ball return. Tom chuckles and crosses one leg over the other. He felt proud of his actions. Amaris was a better bowler than he was, so he plays dirty when he can. It was also a mild excuse to touch her ass in public. It was the little wins for him.

    The joke was on Tom, though. After his little stunt, Amaris set out to obliterate the man and scored nothing but strikes and spares from then out. Tom steps up to the lines with an exaggerated pout. It was his last bowl, and he had to get a spare with split pins if he was going to try to make the embarrassing difference slightly less embarrassing.

    Amaris falls into a fit of giggles when Tom's ball ends in the gutter, hitting neither pin. Tom stalks over, not offended but feeling a swell of pride at the fact that he made her laugh this hard, all on his own. "Think something's funny, do you, Mari?" He asks hands on hips. The teasing was his favorite part of their dynamic, and he's thankful to all things good that it's back.

    "You bowl like an infant," Amaris continues to giggle, clutching her stomach. The last time she laughed this hard was when Juno slipped off their barstool after one glass too much and could only mumble an incoherent sentence about the 'stupid stool moving when I need it.' Amaris may have been tipsy as well. "I could bowl better from the womb," She continues.

    They both knew the joking and berating was good fun. It's just how Tom and Amaris were. They teased and fool around with each other until one cracks and gushes about loving the other. As friends, of course.

    Tom plops down in the seat beside her, crossing his arms. He could never be mad at her. Especially when she's laughing so hard she has to cover her mouth to muffle snorts. Those were Tom's favorite sounds. Sure, having Amaris scream his name was heavenly, but her snorts meant she felt safe and happy in her surroundings. He can't help but feel his smile widen at the fact that he's her safe spot.

    Amaris lays her head on his shoulder after her laughter dies down. "I'm pretty sure you find yourself funnier than you find me," Tom laughs, resting his arm across her shoulders. She nods, falling into another small fit of giggles.

    "'from the womb,'" She quotes herself. Amaris clears her throat as she sits straighter to look at Tom. "You know I love you, Tom," The words were so innocent, and she's said them to him before, so why did it feel different this time? Her cheeks burn, and her ears ring as if the words rang a bell right in her ear. "But please never take up professional bowling."

    "What do you mean? I could be the comparison person. 'And here we have average Joe to show you exactly how hard this dreaded spot, that's not really a sport, is,'" Tom jokes. Amaris giggles again, shaking her head to the man. "Keep laughing, and I'll throw you down the lane," Tom threatens lightly.

    "Don't threaten me with a good time, Tom," Amaris says, smiling widely at her best friend. It felt like all the guilt and troubles she's felt since Armel came to New York continue to fade into background noise when she's with Tom. He made everything feel brighter and lighter for her. Amaris felt like she could breathe for the first time when she's with him.

    "What? Sliding down the alley?" Tom asks, shifting to look at her better. She was the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Amaris's blonde hair was sticking to her face caused by the sweat, her smile was brighter than a thousand suns, and her eyes were like nothing he's seen before. They held so much joy that Tom forgot what sorrow was. Amaris nods. "Why not?" Tom asks, standing up from his spot, offering a hand to Amaris.

    "What?" Amaris asks in shock. She didn't think Tom would want to do something so juvenile with her, especially in public where anyone could see them making fools of themselves. Tom pulls her out of her seat.

    "Life's not fun if you take yourself too serious, Mari," Tom says, backing towards the lane. "You said you wanted to do this, so let's do it. I'll even go first."

    "Are you peer pressuring me?" Amaris asks, crossing her arms. The smirk she wears gives away that she was going to go after Tom anyways.

    Tom nods, a mockingly serious expression on his face. "Absolutely. Is it working?" Tom asks, waiting for Amaris's cue to embarrass himself in front of everyone. Not that he genuinely cared. They'd be a page story for one print, and everyone would forget.

    "You know I crack under pressure," Amaris says. Tom takes that as a yes and turns towards the lane. He takes a running start and maneuvers to slide down the alley on his belly.

    The disappointment he felt when he doesn't slide far makes its way onto his features. His feet weren't past the black line of the lane. Amaris stands behind him, giggling up a storm.

    Tom shuffles over to her, shoulders slumped, and head hung low. "Good luck," He wishes, patting Amaris on the back. She starts running from where she's at and makes it only an inch further than Tom did.

    Amaris jogs over to him, already seeing the staff discussing what to do about them. "That was extremely disappointing, and I think we're about to get kicked out," She laughs, gesturing to the staff. Tom laughs and hurries to sit down, taking off his bowling shoes. Amaris follows suit.

    This was one of the best days she's had since being home. It felt freeing to be out with Tom and not worry about anyone else but him. Her cheeks were growing sore from all the joy showing itself on her face. But the smile was only the tip of the iceberg. Her heart was pumping, and she felt like she was vibrating and needed an outlet for all the emotion. It was almost too much for her small frame to handle.

    Tom felt similar. He enjoyed spending alone time with Amaris. He didn't have to worry about business or what he hadn't done. Amaris helped Tom focus on what he is doing. And what he is doing is having the time of his life sliding down alleyways with the woman he loved with all his heart. As a friend, of course.

Taglist: @queenofallhobos​ @kingtwhiddleston​ @cynic-spirit​

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-3: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it.  And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

“And just where are you running off to now? “

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Police: Name?

Cindy: My name’s Cindy. My earrings are gone! I’ve spent an entire week on them. Please, you must help me find them!

The girl who was desperate to the brink of tears was none other than Cindy, the oldest contestant amongst us all.

Half an hour ago, Cindy had suggested reporting this to the police seeing as how many of the designers had their accessories go missing. Now, she was the first one to undergo questioning by the police.

Police: Earrings, you say? Alright, I’ve noted it down. Has anyone else lost anything?

Designer A: Me. I lost an Emerald hairpin.

Designer B: My pearl ring is gone too.

MC: I’m (Y/n), my brooch has also gone missing.

Police: I’ve gotten the gist of the situation here. All of your items were found lost after less than half an hour after having been left here.

Police: My colleague went to check the surveillance tapes. There was no one suspicious who entered and left the room during that time frame.

Cindy: How can that be…

Police: But there are blind spots where the surveillance cameras cannot reach. Plus, things don’t simply disappear for no reason at all.

Police: So, I’m asking everyone to think carefully about it again. Did any of you see anyone who was acting suspicious?

MC: A suspicious looking person…

The image of the figure dressed in black and wearing a mask flashed into my mind along with his skull pendant and flickering silver chains.

MC: I saw someone that I didn’t recognize walk out of the room, but I thought that he was a model…

MC: But now that I think about it, no model would come here.

Police: What did this person look like?

MC: He’s very tall and looks to be around 185cm. He wasn’t wearing a staff uniform.

Police: Can you give me a detailed description of his appearance and how he was dressed?

I nodded, trying my hardest to remember what I’d seen in that split-second.

MC: I couldn’t make out his features since he wore a black mask, but I remember his clothes…!

MC: He wore a black leather jacket paired with light grey jeans and a pair of studded boots.

MC: He had a long silver necklace with a skull pendant hanging from it along with a few silver chains hanging from his waist.

MC: His countenance is hard to describe. He appears to give off a very mysterious vibe, but honestly, the design of the pants he wore needs to be optimized…

I continued prattling on, unaware of how the policeman who’d been recording my descriptions down stopped short.

Police: Optimized?

Suddenly realizing what I’d just said, my face flushed in embarrassment.

MC: Sorry, but that’s pretty much all I saw…

Police: Alright. We’ll look further into the matter with this information.

Police: However, considering the large number of people here, the vastness of the venue and the small number of missing items, it’ll be quite difficult to find them.

Police: You’d best be prepared.

Everyone lapsed into collective silence after the police left. The solemness of the atmosphere in here was tangible, like a heavy cloud that hung over all of our heads.

Cindy had already succumbed to despair. She silently squatted down; head buried into the crook of her arm.

★Night Choice: Settle your own problems 

Even though I want to comfort Cindy, I know very well that whatever I do or say will only pale in comparison to how she feels right now.

Why don't we just spend the time to think our next step through, instead of being overwhelmed by negative emotions?

Most of the contestants around her have already recovered from the brief turn of events, returning to their tasks at hand.

The contest was just this cruel. Everyone couldn’t afford to be distracted in this race against time as they all raced to the finish line where the ultimate goal laid.

MC: How about just making another one since the chance of finding it is so slim?

MC: But there are only 3 days left… What if I can't finish it in time…

I subconsciously glanced out the window. The huge poster screen of Sariel greeting my wandering eyes once more.

MC: There's no time to be pondering over this.

MC: If it were Sariel in my shoes, he wouldn’t waste time worrying over things that may or may not happen.

The perplexing feeling of loss and the sadness I felt over this incident disappeared almost immediately as I immersed myself into re-making it. The light of the sunset shines through the glass window, bringing about a tinge of warmth.

☆Light Choice: Comfort Her

I walked up to her, gently patting her back.

MC: Don’t worry, I’m sure the police will be able to help us all find our missing accessories.

Cindy: You guys are all young and talented… you’ll have other things to fall back on if you fail here, so of course you wouldn’t be too worried about it… but such a thing doesn’t exist for me…

Her soft voice was distorted by her sniffling, so much that I could barely distinguish what she was trying to say between sobs.

I’d overheard the others talking about her before. Cindy was originally a white-collar worker who’d eventually resigned and got a loan to study design overseas. It was a do-or-die situation for her, in a way.

I didn’t know what I should say to comfort her, for everything I say right now would only pale in comparison to what she was going through. All I could do was to gently pat her back.

Cindy: Why did this have to happen now…? It took me such painstaking efforts to get this far…

All the doom and gloom that she exuded was contagious, and I soon felt my heart drop along with her worsening mood.

???: What are you crying about?

Wu Yue: Those who whinge and always feel sorry for themselves but do nothing to fix it will never succeed.

This was the first time I’ve ever heard her speak off-stage.

I couldn’t help but to be surprised at the look of dead seriousness on her face.

MC: There’s still another 3 days before the competition, so let’s hurry and start re-doing what we’ve lost.

Gao Cheng: I… I can help everyone fetch the materials they need. You can also ask me for help if any of you need an extra hand…

Designer A: I’ve already long since wanted to change my hairpin design! I’m sure the new one this time will turn out a hundred times better! You guys better watch out!

More contestants started inputting, and the gloomy atmosphere soon dissipated. Cindy had also stopped crying, vigorously rubbing at her eyes.

Cindy: You guys are right. I cannot give up here…

Despite all of us not knowing what results awaited us 3 days later, and despite all of us being fellow competitors, we were all teammates now, working hard with the same goal in mind.

After getting our moods in check, everyone returned to their own working space, making the best out of the remaining time left to continue with their respective creations.

❖☆———————————★❖

The hands on the clock had already moved past the 8 PM mark by the time if gotten up for a good stretch.

MC: The gown’s pretty much good to go, and I’ve also finished drawing out the new brooch design. Everything’s turning out pretty well~

Gao Cheng: Your design’s inspired by the starry skies, right? It’s really pretty…

Gao Cheng’s faze lingered on the draft of my design for a while before he seemingly snapped out of it. He raised his head, frantically waving his hands in front of him with a flustered look on his face.

Gao Cheng: S-Sorry, it wasn’t my intention to peek at your design. I just happened to get attracted to it when I walked past…

MC: Don’t worry about it, you came at a great time. Could you tell me what you think about it?

Gao Cheng: Is the brooch meant to represent the brightest star in the sky?

MC: Yup, it represents the north star.

Gao Cheng: But Polaris isn’t actually all that bright. It shines at 2nd magnitude, so you can use a darker gemstone to represent it.

It was as if he were an entirely different person when it came to the topic of stars. He gushed enthusiastically about it with unrivalled passion and seriousness.

Gao Cheng: Ah, I just like astronomy, so I know about it a little more than others. Please don’t get mad at me…

MC: Why would I be mad? I’m actually extremely thankful for your input!

I’d previously searched up pictures of the starry sky up on the internet to use as reference pictures, but what Gao Cheng said reminded me once again that even though the pictures captured by a camera’s lens turn out beautiful, it still isn’t as real as the real thing.

Nothing beats seeing it with your own eyes and ascertaining it for yourself after all.

MC: Maybe I should go up to the rooftop and check the stars out.

❖☆———————————★❖

The cold air of the night greets me as I push open the doors to the rooftop. The vast night sky was spread out before my eyes, the many little red dots beneath it denoting lights of the thousands of households below.

I held onto the railing with both hands raising my head to inhale deeply.

It was then that my phone rang to life as messages from An'an came pouring in one line after another.

An'an (SMS): I’ve gotten my hands on the guest list!

An'an (SMS): You won’t believe how elaborate this guest line-up is! Osborn’s actually coming, you know!? His club’s going to be collaborating with the Warson Group!

MC: …Osborn?

An'an (SMS): Please tell me you still remember him. I’ve shown you a picture of him before! He’s my favourite R1 racer who has won 4 consecutive championships!

I hadn’t yet had the chance to truly think back on it when I suddenly heard a faint noise. It was the familiar sound of metallic chains clinking against each other.

There had been no one here when I came up to the rooftop.

My heart leapt to my throat as I unwittingly headed towards the direction of the sound.

There was someone hidden within the shadows, standing silently in one of the corners where the moonlight never reached.

Seemingly having noticed my gaze, the person moved forwards, stepping out of the shadows.

❖☆———————————★❖

I finally managed to vaguely make out his appearance. He was tall and intimidating even from a distance away. He wore a black jacket across his shoulders, the moonlight glinting off the skull necklace that rested upon his chest.

MC: That’s the guy I saw back in the corridor!

I hadn’t yet recovered from the initial surprise of seeing him here when I suddenly noticed that he was holding a red earring between his fingers.

Cindy’s Earrings! So, he really WAS the thief!

The clouds blocked off the moonlight, darkening the skies as my heart raced, pounding loudly in my ears. Did I interrupt him in the middle of something? Am I going to be “silenced”?

All hesitation flew out the window the moment my thoughts stopped there. I immediately turned and made a dash for the exit.

However, just as I was about to pull the door open and make my escape, a well-defined hand pressed against the door, blocking off my escape.

??: And just where are you running off to now?

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-1) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-5)

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for giving me all the stubbly men

In the Offing

Chapter 17 — Hat Trick

Summary: In which our heroine believes in magic

Chapter 17 on AO3

“When you move

I can recall something that’s gone from me

When you move

Honey, I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free”

-Movement, Hozier

It had been a rainy couple of days since her trip out to the cabin with Graham. They had originally planned to meet up again and scan the area to see if they could find the Blanchard remains but the weather had prevented any chance of that. Instead, they had traded texts that included her thanking him for going on record with the paper to say she was no longer a suspect in the shooting. She had noticed a definite warming toward her by the citizens after his comments were splashed across the front page.

Of course it being Storybrooke, rumors had already begun to fly about who would take her place on the most wanted list. She avoided all requests for interviews and tried to focus on the task of finding the responsible party, encouraged every day by the positive news she received from August’s medical team.

Graham wasn’t the only one she had been texting with. As the date of the wedding drew closer, she started receiving messages from Elsa and her sister Anna, who happened to be a ball of chaotic energy that would put a toddler to shame. They were constantly inviting her over to help with this or that stage of the planning but she thought maybe it was really to make sure she didn’t disappear before the ceremony.

It seemed like the only person she hadn’t talked with was the one person to whom she actually had something to say. However, fulfilling his duties as best man had forced Killian into a last minute trip to Boston with Liam to pick up tuxedos and flowers arrangements. She had stopped by the cottage a couple of times to try to catch him, feeling that what she had to say would be better in person than by phone, but she never managed to connect.

So it was that Saturday evening under a clear twilight sky, she pulled up to the cottage. Nervously she ran her hands down her pale pink dress to smooth it as she tried not to think about the fact that she hadn’t spoken with Killian since she hung up on him several days ago. The front yard, which stretched down in a gentle rolling hill to a bluff that provided a beautiful ocean view, was transformed. There were a couple of large, white tents set up to accommodate the ceremony and the reception. Due to the heavy rain, someone had the forethought to have planking laid down in a walkway to the tents, which had also been raised on platforms and contained a beautiful hardwood floor to provide some protection from the wet ground.

As Liam had predicted, it appeared as though the entire town did show up. Waving at several people who caught her eye, she started to make her way over to Mary Margaret and David. Taking in the way their gazes never wavered from each other, she guessed that their wedding day wouldn’t be too far behind. Before she could reach them, Anna came flying over to her nearly vibrating with excitement. “Where are you going? I saved you a seat in the front row next to Kristoff.”

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary,” she protested. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself by sitting in a row normally reserved for family. Plus, if she was being completely honest, she wasn’t sure she could take being in close proximity to Killian while he was sporting a tux. The man oozed sexual magnetism in jeans so one could only imagine the allure of him in formalwear. She didn’t need a repeat of the kitchen debacle from a couple of weeks ago while the whole town was watching.

“Emma,” Anna whined with a pouty expression. “Do you see how empty the family section is? It’s embarrassing. Not to mention that Kristoff might fall asleep if you aren’t there to nudge him from time to time.”

“Fine.” She gave in easily when she sensed eyes drifting their way in curiosity. Trying to take her mind off the fact she felt like an animal in a zoo, she smiled at the other woman and said, “You look great.”

As Emma took her seat, Anna twirled in a circle and squealed, “I do, don’t I? This has always been a good color on me. I’m so glad we talked Elsa out of the all that ice blue. I mean, it’s a summer wedding. We need bold colors and lots of skin.”

“You will hear no arguments from me, babe,” Kristoff joked with a wink. As she was finding to be the case with the young couple, once they were honed in on each other she could do as she pleased because they were oblivious. Trapped by the puppy love playing out in front of her, she used the opportunity to study the lovely white roses and low lighting that showcased the tent to its best advantage. She couldn’t help but wonder how they had pulled off such an elaborate event with only days to plan.

Any thoughts she had about price tags and logistics were immediately frozen when she saw Liam and Killian step onto the stage about twenty feet in front of her. The Brothers Jones looked quite dapper and refined in their black tuxedos. Liam was calm and collected as always except for the faint hint of red across his cheeks, not even having one arm in a sling could diminish the happiness that radiated off him. Killian looked like a fantasy wrapped in a dream and dipped in chocolate.

Unfortunately, as she was feasting on him with her eyes he must have become aware of her idolizing stare. His penetrating blue gaze met hers full on for the first time in almost a week. Her heart beat out a painful thump at the emotion that flooded her but she couldn’t look away. He was perfect, from the top of his rumpled hair to the bottom of his precisely polished dress shoes. And she was an idiot.

“Geez, girl. Am I going to have to get you two a room so you don’t burn down the tent?”Startled out of her staring contest by Anna’s teasing, she looked over to see her companions watching her with matching grins. “Elsa mentioned there was something going on but she didn’t warn me that it was combustible.”

“Cute,” Emma said in tone that warned against further commentary. “Speaking of Elsa, shouldn’t you be helping your sister get ready?”

“Oh crap! I was supposed to be grabbing her a glass of water. See you guys later!”

For the next several minutes, Emma did her best to keep her gaze from wandering back to the stage even as she felt Killian’s eyes burning a hole through her. Kristoff was helpful in that regard because he was as much of a talker as his girlfriend, although in comparison he was still the shrinking violet in their relationship. The hum of conversations increased as the tent filled until the opening strains of the Wedding March began to play. As everyone stood to see the bride enter, she snuck a glance out of the corner of her eye and smiled shyly when she saw that Killian was staring back at her.

To no one’s surprise, Elsa made a beautiful bride. Her white blonde hair was styled in a complicated braid that looked soft and elegant. Her slender form was hugged by a white lace gown that looked fit for a queen. It was her serene expression that truly made her a beauty though. She had the look of a woman who couldn’t wait to start her future with the man waiting for her at the other end of the aisle.

Just like that, Emma felt tears forming. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one. There were several sniffles and weepy smiles in the tent as the pair shared their vows and promised to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. Liam’s deep voice never faltered and when the minister pronounced them man and wife, he didn’t hesitate to kiss Elsa soundly in front of God and everyone. And for rather longer than strictly necessary.

Laughter ringing out at the groom’s enthusiasm, the crowd began clapping as the newly married couple led the way to the reception. They were followed by the best man and maid of honor, whose heads were bent together as if they were plotting to overthrow the government. Knowing the two of them, Emma couldn’t completely rule out the possibility.

Kristoff offered her his arm to guide her into the other tent but she waved him on. She needed some time to collect herself so she continued to observe from the fringe of the crowd. The first dance was a slow romantic matter replete with loving glances and sighs. The cutting of the cake was a dignified event regardless of the taunting of some of the more rowdy members of the audience. As the band struck up a new song, couples started making their way to the dance floor. She was pleased to see Mary Margaret and David were one of the first to go, smiling at each other with the kind of fondness that would never fade.

Trying to calm her racing heart, she knew she had put off her conversation long enough. As she stepped out of the shadows, she heard a familiar voice ask, “May I have this dance, Emma?”

Shocked out of her anxiousness, she turned to find Graham standing behind her with his hand extended. He looked striking in his suit, she had to admit. Not fantasy dream chocolate level, of course, but not hard on the eyes. Putting her hand in his, she allowed him to lead her out to the floor. “I’m surprised to see you here, Sheriff. Didn’t you used to date the bride?”

Cringing a bit and screwing up his face, he looked at her through one eye. “There’s that adorable directness. It was one date, a rather hopeless affair I’m afraid.”

“Oh well, there are other fish in the sea,” she murmured encouragingly, a little concerned at the longing she saw in his stare when he looked at her. He shuffled her around the edge of the dance floor, his eyes searching hers for something.

“There is one fish that I have an interest in,” he admitted. “But I’m afraid I might be a little too late to catch her.”

With regret for the hurt her next words would cause him because somewhere along the way she had come to really like him, she confirmed, “Yes, I think you might be.”

Nodding with understanding, he shifted his glance to the front of the tent where the wedding party was currently enjoying dinner. With a rueful smile, he commented, “I’m guessing by the daggers that Killian is currently shooting my way that I have been bested by another Jones.”

Touching his cheek gently to bring his attention back to her, she teased, “Third time is the charm, my friend. To my knowledge, there aren’t any other brothers to contend with. Go forth with confidence and find yourself a lady worthy of you.”

Graham smiled down at her. The song ended but he held her an extra second, squeezing her waist affectionately before stepping back. Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips and swept a soft kiss near her wrist while looking at her with eyes full of laughter. “Let’s see if that brings your erstwhile suitor running.”

Shaking her head at him, she grinned at his back as he disappeared into the crowd. She started toward an empty chair a couple of tables away when she felt someone approach from behind. She knew without turning that it was Killian. The air around her electrified when he got near.

“Swan, where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to sit down and enjoy dinner, Dr. Jones. What brings you by?”

“I want to dance with you,” he stated, his gaze roaming over her like a caress. Holding out his hand, he continued, “You have the rest of your life to avoid me, love. Where’s the harm in one dance with a partner who actually knows what he’s doing?”

He really had no idea of the hold he had over her. He was still under the impression she planned to walk away. Yet there he was, reaching out to her as if her touch wouldn’t leave bruises. He may be the bravest man she ever met.

“I think I’m willing to risk it,” she whispered huskily as she eased into his arms. It was like coming home.

—

The night passed in a blur of champagne and dancing. Once Killian had her in his arms, he seemed loath to let her go, to the point of glowering at any man who approached. He did allow Liam a dance, and David and Kristoff grudgingly, but he always returned to her side as the final notes of the song played and pulled her into his arms again.

“I thought I agreed to one dance,” she teased, bracing herself one-handed on his shoulder as she tugged off her right shoe and massaged her foot. It was after midnight and the crowd had started to thin now that Liam and Elsa had run through a minefield of bubbles to the limousine that waited to take them to New York City for a mini-honeymoon. “I’m not sure my feet are going to recover.”

“Darling, if you can run down skips in stilettos a couple of dances with your many admirers shouldn’t be a problem,” he pointed out, dragging her out to the dance floor again. Willing to pay any price to continue to be this close to him, she plucked off her other shoe and tossed it gently under a nearby table. He abandoned his normal poise, wrapping his arms around her back and settling her against him in what amounted to little more than a hug. The world faded away as she rested her cheek against his chest.

The slow, romantic song continued to play in the background and he hummed the words as he swayed them gently in time to the music. She felt a tingle start at the base of her spine and work its way through her entire body. She didn’t even bother moving apart to say goodbye to Mary Margaret or Anna when they passed by to let them know they were leaving. When the band started to pack up and the caterers were tearing down tables, she observed quietly against his collar, “I think I ate too much cake.”

“You speak of the impossible,” he murmured into her hair.

“Killian,” she said in a hushed tone.

“Yes, love?”

“Will you take me home?”

Tightening his grip a bit, he answered, “Of course, Swan, but I let Kristoff and Anna borrow my truck so we’ll have to take your car. Where are your keys?”

“No,” she replied with a smile up at him. “To the cottage.”

Eyes widening in understanding, he asked, “Are you sure? There will be no coming back from this. No more running away, no more secrets. There’ll be no getting rid of me.” He waited patiently, his face inches from hers. She thought she detected the hint of a smile forming.

“I’m ready if you are,” she promised as she went up on tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

With a predatory grin, he deepened the kiss and before she knew what he was about, she was upended over his shoulder with her eyes having a very nice view of his lower back and beyond. “Let’s sail away, love.”

Shrieking over his laughter, she asked, “What in the world are you doing?”

“I can’t have you trudging through the mud and muck in your bare feet, Swan,” he explained with a fond pat on her bottom. She felt him glide through the tent and buried her face in her hands when she heard him say good night to several of the staff as they passed by.

“And you couldn’t carry me like a normal person?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Too caught up in muttering promises of revenge, she didn’t realize they were at the porch until he gently lowered her to the floor. “There you are, my lady. Safe passage to the front door.”

They were eye level with each other since he was standing on the stair below her. The blue gleam of his gaze was unearthly. His mouth was curved in a playful smile but she could tell he was nervous. She thought he was probably afraid she would run again and realized that he stopped there for a reason, as if he wanted her to commit to this and move inside on her own two feet. Taking his face in her hands, she stared at him and hoped he could see everything she was feeling. “I’m sorry. For a lot of things, really. Most of all, I’m sorry if I made you doubt me, doubt this. I’ve wanted you since before we even met.”

“I never doubted you, Swan. Not for a moment. But you are an impossible woman sometimes,” he whispered, twisting his face to press his lips to her palm.

Stepping away from him, she reached out and let her hand trail slowly down his chest. With a saucy smile, she opened the door and backed into the living room. To her surprise, he didn’t trip over himself trying to get to her, rather he followed her inside and braced against the closed door, seemingly content to drink in the sight of her.

“I’ve dreamed of you every night since you left,” he admitted, hunger in his voice. “There were times I nearly got in my truck and drove to the loft.”

At this, he moved closer. His eyes never wavered from hers. She felt as though she had lost the ability to speak. He was the only person who could do this to her with nothing more than a look. He was standing so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, smell the champagne on his breath but he didn’t touch her. Instead, he leaned in and murmured, “Tell me, love, would you have let me in?”

When she did nothing but shiver, he continued, “If I had gotten down on my knees and begged, would you have opened your door?”

His lips skimmed softly over her cheeks, then forehead, then her chin. Fleeting caresses that felt like gossamer against her heated skin. “If I had promised to be your devoted subject and do your bidding always, would you have allowed me to share your bed?”

“Need I remind you what happened the last time you took your time,” she teased, her head light with desire. She had never felt like this before, this swirling, chaotic emotion that caused her to tremble. “Please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Seal the deal,” she joked weakly, biting her bottom lip as she fought against the force of the passion that rocked her.

“You do have a way with words,” he teased. “I’m afraid the deal was sealed the minute we laid eyes on each other. Perhaps even before then. Fate hasn’t always been kind to me, love, but I’ll pay whatever price is needed a thousand times over to ensure that for the rest of our lives you continue to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”

With a whimper, she gave in to temptation and closed the distance between them. The magic he weaved with his honeyed tone and bewitching words was nothing compared to how it felt when he reached down to pick her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Without breaking their kiss, he carried her to the bedroom where he proceeded to show her how much he meant every single thing he said.

—

They didn’t leave the cottage for two days and she was certain there was not a surface that wasn’t put to good use during that time. It was as if the outside world no longer existed and Emma was happily ensconced in some odd alternative universe where she was content and loved.

Eventually she emerged long enough to let Mary Margaret know she was still alive, to chat with Henry, to check in on August, and to cancel search plans with Graham. She knew sooner or later she would have to go back to the loft to collect her things if nothing else. Luckily, her slovenly ways and hasty exit from the cottage after their fight had proved useful in one regard. She had left enough of her belongings behind that she wasn’t walking around in her wedding outfit the whole time. It had done strange things to her heart to realize that he had collected all the clothes she left after their argument and neatly folded them, placing them in the top drawer of his bureau.

She noticed other signs of him making room for her in his life and, beyond that, making her feel welcome. Her preferred coffee cup was always clean and ready for her each morning. He had stocked her favorite shampoo in the shower, although how he knew it was her favorite when she never mentioned it she was still trying to figure out. He had added a couple of books to his shelves for her after a late night conversation about classics she had never had the chance to read.

Even when she had left, even when she had pushed him away, he hadn’t retreated. Not entirely. He had merely given her space to figure out what he had probably know all along...that they were good together and that needing someone wasn’t something to be feared.

So it was with some chagrin that she awoke Tuesday morning to find the bed empty. The quiet of the cottage was like a slap in the face after several blissful days of being adored. Even knowing he had to drop Anna and Kristoff off at the airport before meeting a client that morning at the marina, she was still surprised at how lonely it was. She, the woman who prided herself on her independence and self-reliance, was pining for a man after a mere five hours apart.

The wizardry of Killian Jones was limitless.

Looking over at the clock, she realized that yearning was all well and good but breakfast would be better. Taking her time to get showered and dressed, she walked out to the kitchen island to find a vase full of yellow flowers, a package of strawberry poptarts, and a note from her—whatever Killian was to her now—inviting her to join him at the marina when she woke up.

Grabbing a cup of cold coffee to go and the breakfast he left her, she ventured outside for the first time in days to find the sun shining brightly and the temperature pleasantly warm. She hastily ate her breakfast one-handed while driving to the marina with the windows rolled down. There was absolutely no traffic on the road and she pulled into the parking lot convinced that she was the only living soul in the area. Locking her car, she made her way to the last dock where the pirate ship was moored passing only one person on the way, a strikingly familiar redhead that caused her to do a double take.

Staring after the woman, she heard Killian shout. “Swan! I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”

Dragging her eyes away from the retreating figure, she faced the man who was responsible for the increasingly frequent smile to be found on her lips. “Never, Dr. Jones.” Climbing aboard, she gave him a quick kiss that he seemed to take as a challenge to extend. “Was that—“

“Ariel?” Killian continued to pepper her face with sweet kisses as if supremely unconcerned that there was a Hollywood starlet wandering around the docks. “Yes, she was the client I was meeting with this morning. The studio sent her to be briefed on pirate lore. I had intended to introduce you but my little Sleeping Beauty couldn’t be bothered to roll out of bed at a decent hour.”

Snickering because they both knew why she needed the extra sleep, she allowed him to pull her into the Captain’s Quarters and promptly make her forget her own name.

[lucas-koh]

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XVI

Choices: Open Heart; Part 1-15 in bio.

Rating: M, implied sex, swearing

Song: My Own - Whitaker

Word Count: 3380

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @choicesficwriterscreations @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @bubblelaureno @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa @kingkassam || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Sixteen: Scarred

Suki didn’t need to hear any more. There was no explaining away this one. She’d asked the question and his answer was simple. So I am just a body to you? Yes.

Her gaze fell to the floor and her feet felt cemented there even though all she wanted to do was run away. She kept trying and trying but they wouldn’t budge. Noise was all one big long beep fizzling around her ears and her vision was a big blurry mess, despite the tears clinging on for dear life at the bottom of her lashes.

But she didn’t need to move. Bryce already had. She saw as the blurred shapes of his legs removed themselves from her peripheral and she could picture each step in her mind, each one another stab to her chest.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, swaying in the growing dark, the tears still gripping on obstinately to her lash line.

And it seemed she made it home on autopilot, because the next thing she knew she was unlocking her front door and gliding through to her bedroom. If anyone was around in the communal areas, she wouldn’t have been able to tell because nothing was registering.

She also seemed to manage to undress and slide into pyjamas in smooth movements, eyes barely blinking and mouth set slightly parted. She hadn’t bothered to turn the light on, just a small window of grey sky illuminating the room ever so slightly.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth, trying not to think too much about the time Bryce had done this for her. She didn’t even look in the mirror as she did so.

It wasn’t until Suki cradled herself into bed and laid to one side, the space Bryce often occupied empty in front of her, that she finally began to cry.

She felt out to the space, the smooth cotton kind of stinging beneath her still-cold hands, like that would somehow let him know she was thinking of him. That she was sorry. Sorry that she went and fucked up and caught feelings. Sorry that she acted on impulse. The empty space never usually felt like a problem, probably because she knew it would be occupied at some point or another. And now it wouldn’t be. She slowly turned her hand over, looking at her scars in the dim light. And she just cried more. Because it was a reminder of Bryce seared into her skin forever. The puckered skin a neat example of Bryce’s careful and thoughtful stitches. The red disappearing scabs a beacon of how she’d messed it all up.

His stitches hadn’t scarred just her hand, but her heart, too.

She wasn’t even meant to feel anything for him, but mistakes were made. She wasn’t even sure she ever felt like it was a good idea, even from the start, just that she wanted him. She had been helpless to stop the unforgiving want.

But as she grew to want him in the other way, he’d stayed the same.

This was nothing like the time Bryce had been funny about the surgery, or when she’d been worried about what she’d heard him say to Ben. This was different. This was real and definite and final. No chance of miscommunication. She’d worried—knew to some extent—that how she felt was one sided, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

She was embarrassed. Because even if she’d been right about him not feeling the same, she’d still believed he at least cared for her as a friend. Just like the rest of the group. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

There was definitely a sense of frustration that he’d been pissed at her for lying, but in admitting that she was only a fuck to him and not a friend, he’d revealed he’d been lying since she asked him about it.

Her throat hurt as she tried to cry silently. She couldn’t believe how badly everything had got fucked up. She found herself wishing that the space next to her was occupied. She didn’t even want the sex. She wanted the intimacy. Just Bryce next to her. His stupid fucking grin and his eyes like chasms she’d trip and fall down with just a word—just the thought of hearing her name on his lips triggered a chorus of ‘Why, Suki?’ and she was in even more desperate tears. No ‘Sukes’, no ‘Santa Fe’, and her full name normally sounded like heaven—but.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there wallowing. She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep until she woke up with the sore, crusty eyes and a wet pillow. Pathetic. He wasn’t even anything to me. I hate that I made myself feel this way.

—-

The next few days were a big blend of work, coming home to stare at a wall, and eventually needing to eat.

This shouldn’t have fucked her up as much as it was, but it had. She’d lost a friend above anything else. Or, who she thought was a friend.

And she wished that maybe this had happened sooner, before she got too sucked in. But then she realised. She’d always been screwed. The entire time.

She hadn’t even considered previously that they’d had an emotional bond before they even had a good chance at being only fuck buddies. When they’d kissed in the supply closet all those months ago, it was sealed. Her tears had been drying on her cheeks as he’d kissed her desperately, tasting them and consuming her misery. For her, anyway. She should’ve read the signs, let herself stay away from the inevitable heartbreak.

And yes, Suki got sick. So she was sick and heartbroken all at once. She had to take a couple of days off, and all she did was hole up in her room and pop out occasionally to cook up a meal from the freezer. Thank god she was always prepared.

One day she was unfortunate enough to enter the kitchen while Jackie was already there, eating a sandwich at the table.

“Hey,” she smiled, she knew Suki was sick so Suki assumed that was what the sympathetic look on her face was about.

“Hi,” Suki replied meekly, before pulling out some cold pizza from the fridge and digging in to a slice.

“Aren’t those sweatpants a bit big for you?” Jackie asked. Suki forgot she’d been living in Bryce’s hoodie and sweatpants she’d stolen at Christmas. She was currently in an old t shirt of her own and said sweatpants which definitely were a tad big.

“No,” Suki groaned through her mouthful of pizza.

“Okay, what is up? Any time you’re at the apartment you’ve been moping and barely taking care of yourself, you haven’t even noticed me when I’ve said hi to you at the hospital. I know you’re sick but... I don’t know. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Jackie. I guess I just hate February.”

“No… there’s something wrong. Is this a bad time of year for you?”

She looked at Jackie properly for the first time in the conversation, concern laced in her typically brusque face. It was a bit of an impasse. Telling Jackie would probably screw things up further, especially given how close she was with Bryce. If she was being honest, Suki had no idea if Bryce had confronted Jackie about the whole thing. If she was being honest, she didn’t want to know. If Bryce hadn’t chastised Jackie, then Suki knew the whole thing had been about her, and he really had meant that the fact they were sleeping together changed things. Of course if he had, that would mean that Suki wasn’t special at all. She couldn’t win.

Was indifference worse than resentment?

“Something like that,” she gave a small sad smile. Jackie nodded understandingly, and Suki knew she wouldn’t press.

“Here,” Jackie patted the chair beside her, clearing off the last of her sandwich in the other hand. Suki didn’t really want to sit down and chat—she’d been hoping to hole up in her room all day again—but at this point that would be rude. So she reluctantly slid into the chair. “So, I need to ask you a question.”

Suddenly Suki’s head whirred with all the possible things Jackie could be curious about, but all they landed on was Bryce. Had she somehow found out they’d been sleeping together? Or, did she know those sweatpants were his? What if Bryce had confronted her about the whole thing and that was this? All questions lead to him. And that made her seriously nervous. She didn’t want to talk about him, she didn’t want to think about him. Even though that seemed all she could do these days.

“Okay…”

“So after the whole I-stopped-you-from-hitting-a-surgical-intern thing, did you maybe… go back and do it?”

Suki balked, she wasn’t expecting this. “No? What do you mean?”

“I saw the two of them sporting matching black eyes, I wondered if—”

“No.” Suki was surprised by the revelation, because it certainly hadn’t been her.

“Oh. Alright. I suppose he’s probably just a dick generally, then. I’m glad, I’m still shocked they didn’t report us.”

Although Jackie might’ve been right—he might’ve just been an ass in some other situation—Suki couldn’t help but feel there was some connection. Maybe Landry was pissed they’d given him away? No, he didn’t seem the type. She didn’t really feel like asking the guy, but the situation was curious to her. Hopefully there’d be enough gossip once she was back at work to figure it out.

“Fred’s nose is fine, by the way. I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this,” Jackie said as she looked at the table; affection was something she was still getting her head around.

Suki nodded, she was glad she hadn’t broken anyone. Because she had been feeling a little guilty, even if he had deserved it. That feeling paled in comparison to how it had affected things with Bryce, though.

—-

The following days, months, indeterminate amount of time were hell for Bryce too.

He’d taken it too far. He could’ve let her down more gently. But she was too forgiving, too loyal, and she would’ve still been there for him—he couldn’t have that. Fucking hell, she would’ve probably bought him soup about the fact he’d rejected her if he’d been soft about it. And shit, he adored her for it.

He felt so incredibly guilty because he could see he’d hurt her. Those words cut like a knife for so many reasons. First, he looked like he only cared about getting in her pants and it hurt him that that meant every meaningful moment they shared became just another way to fuck her. Second, it had been a direct contradiction to what he’d told her before when she’d asked him the same question—and he’d insisted they were friends. Third, he was sure he’d done it at the worst possible time. Just when he was starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone in this. Like the way she looked at him meant what he wanted it to mean. And yes, that was why it had to happen, but it also meant he’d probably hurt her even more.

Shit, he wished he didn’t hurt her at all. Ever. He wished she could always be okay, he wished she could brush it off. But he knew she couldn’t. Even if he meant nothing to her—something he didn’t know the answer to—the way Suki was as a person would mean she’d be upset no matter what. She was thoughtful, loving, and empathetic. He’d seen that time and time again. Even if she didn’t like him the way he liked her, the fact of losing a friend was enough for her. And he was beating himself up nonstop for letting things get to the point where he would hurt her. Had hurt her.

Part of Bryce had wanted those idiots to report him for hitting Ben, some sort of sadistic payback for what he’d done to Suki. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t, but at least he still had work to pour himself into. That was his only solace. The thing he loved the most. Or, historically had.

Although he truly fell for Suki at Halloween, he was also of the belief that there’d been some odd emotional bond from the very start. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen it before. All the flirting, the desire to be near her, the way she made him feel. It was clinging to the familiar, the concentrated girl from college who he’d shared a moment with, whom he’d felt compelled to comfort that day. They were fucked before they even tried.

—-

If Suki had any hope of things fixing themselves after some time, that was gone when the months dragged on by with no word. It was easier than she expected to avoid friend outings:

I’m so tired.

I’m working really early tomorrow.

I’m actually working.

I’m trying to drink less.

And that seemed enough for the moment. She had picked up enough extra shifts that most of the time she really was working her ass off. Aurora knew what had happened, being Suki’s one confidant, and helped along with the excuses and avoiding. Aurora was… less than happy with Bryce but never said anything at Suki’s request. She did, however, disapprove of the way Suki was handling things.

“You can’t let this mean you avoid all your friends,” she’d said one day after trying to drag Suki out of her bedroom to Donahue’s. Suki had been grateful that Aurora hadn’t said ‘I told you so’. Even if she had been right.

“I live with you guys. It’s only him who’s extra, anyway.”

“Don’t you think it might be nice to clear the air, though? Yeah, he was a dick, but you shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable around him for the rest of the time we’re all at Edenbrook.”

“I’m just not ready yet.”

Was Suki putting off the inevitable? Almost definitely.

—-

Around Easter, Suki had a couple of days off and was still feeling totally awful. It didn’t help this gave her a chance to think about it. She’d just been so engrossed in work and then so exhausted she’d fall straight asleep. There wasn’t as much time to focus on it properly, even if it did come into her mind at every opportunity. Every time she had to schedule a surgery she dreaded it would be Bryce walking through those doors—but by a stroke of luck it never was. Fate striking again. She did have Ben once, which was as awkward as it could’ve been.

That day around Easter the group had made a big meal and spent some nice quality time together. So in the next instalment of a long line of mistakes, Suki drank too much wine and found herself on Bryce’s doorstep. Which kind of made her cry all over again remembering the last time she was drunk and how Bryce cared for her. How he’d held her and kept her hair back and brushed her teeth and put her in his pyjamas. How he’d cuddled her as she fell asleep. And how apparently that was just a courtesy, not because he really gave a shit.

She thought about what he’d said: if only you knew what a screw up I was, and how ominous that felt now. I’m not sure what you meant, but I feel like the screw up now. No—I am the screw up.

She stared at his door from a distance, before nearing it. Then backing away. Then pacing back and forth. It probably should’ve been a warning that even in her drunk state she couldn’t make up her mind, but clearly it wasn’t.

She neared it, and knocked. Footsteps began to sound out and then when she felt the knob begin to twist she blockaded it on her side.

“Don’t open the door,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear, lolling her forehead onto it. “I can’t do this properly if I have to look at you.” Because even just imagining his face was painful right now. He probably looked so pretty. Unaltered. Just the thought was making her sobs hitch in her throat; but she didn’t want him to hear her crying.

There was a pause from the other side. “Suki…” the tone of his voice was indecipherable.

“I just need to say it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Unawares to Suki, Bryce was directly on the other side of the door, his ear pressed up against it and his eyes shut. It was her voice—he hadn’t heard it in what felt like way too long. He just wanted to rip open the door and see her face. Hug her. Kiss her. Say sorry. But she was right, that wouldn’t be a good idea. So he clambered his hands against the wood beside his head, reaching for the unreachable.

Bryce wasn’t sure how to respond, either.

“I fucked up. Bad. I-” she swallowed down the lump in her throat, “I fell for you,” she tried to control her voice but the tears were relentless, her hand shaking on the wooden door. This wasn’t the ideal situation to be confessing her feelings but it honestly just sort of came out. And there was no taking it back now.

It wasn’t something she was particularly used to… wearing her heart on her sleeve like this. Usually she’d sort of just… fallen into a relationship and that was that. But here she was admitting to Bryce—who’d told her in no uncertain terms he didn’t feel the same—that she’d fallen for him.

Drunk, no less.

“You…” Bryce started, but Suki cut him off.

“And I don’t… wanna see you again. I can’t ever see you again. It hurts too damn much. I know I don’t mean that to you, but I just...”

“But Suki you—”

“Please don’t. I’m going to move on. I’m giving up Bryce for lent,” Suki, drunk, didn’t care that Easter was the end of lent. “I just had to say it first.”

Before she broke too much she rushed away from the apartment and didn’t look back.

Didn’t hear Bryce’s whisper from the other side of the door: “I fell for you too. Long ago.”

—-

All the way home she questioned whether she’d made the right decision. Whether she should’ve just left it.

If admitting her feelings was perhaps entirely idiotic. Sober Suki would probably think so. But there was a slight sense of pressure lifted. She didn’t have to pretend anymore. He knew.

She’d feel embarrassed tomorrow, but that was a problem for sober Suki.

When she got home to see everyone still sitting around the table laughing with their wine glasses she wasn’t entirely sure she was in the mood for it (the whole heartbreak thing probably had something to do with that), but couldn’t object when she was beckoned over.

“Did you get more wine?”

Oh yeah. Her excuse. Oops.

“They were out…”

Jackie shot her an uncertain glance, but everyone was too drunk and jolly to care.

Eventually Suki was able to retreat to bed and follow her usual pattern. But she found herself staring at her phone. Specifically Bryce’s contact.

She’d meant it. She was giving him up. That meant taking certain measures.

She deliberated for what felt like hours, but eventually sent the text.

Suki Moore: Bryce & Suki’s Fuck Buddy Agreement: TERMINATED

Almost immediately her heart was in her throat and again knew sober Suki would regret this. It hurt. Knowing she’d put the final nail in the coffin.

Bryce’s dots popped up. Then down again. Then up, down. Then they never returned. The word read looking more and more like dread. He was probably glad to be free of her.

She found herself wondering how things had changed so drastically. Bryce had gone from being a stranger at a frat party to a colleague with undeniable chemistry to a fuck to… so much more. And now he was worse than a stranger. Her relationship with him was well and truly terminated.

What’s a break-up when the two were never really together?

[redhoodedwolf]

A Week-ish of Sterek Fics

Hello all! So I recently accidentally fell back into my AO3 bookmarks and have fallen down a rabbit (fox? eh?) hole that leaves me entirely unproductive and sleep deprived but full of feels, so I thought I’d share all of the fics that I’ve rerereread thus far in the last week (it’s over 75 guys) (since friday 😬). Each has the fic name and description, length, and year pub/finished because it makes me feel old. Also all of these are complete because I am weak and cannot handle WIPs. 

Note: I’m not adding any tags to the descriptions, so make sure to read the tags and ratings on each fic first before reading!!!

Teaching Derek How to Text (and Other Shenanigans) by neilwrites | 9K  | 2018

yo derek Who’s dying

---

I see your 'Derek doesn't have a phone' line and raise you 'Derek has a phone, he and Stiles text all the fucking time.'

The Hoodie by ladiekatie | 1.7K | 2017

“You shouldn’t be able to see me. What are you?” The guy in the hoodie says, the ball of energy grows hotter under Derek’s chin.

or the one where Derek is just trying to talk to the guy at the back of the subway.

Nothing You Could Say by SylvieW | 13K | 2016

Stiles’ second year of college is not working out as he planned. He rarely sees Scott, his job is exhausting, and to get home after his shift, he has to walk at three in the morning. Nearly getting mugged is the icing on the cake, but luckily a gruff stranger is there to rescue him. But now Stiles can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s not alone in the dark.

Old Traditions, Werewolf Edition by Footloose | 3.6K | 2014

Stiles does not work his Omega ass off to attract frat boy Alphas. Absolutely not. He's at college to get his degree. If he's crushing on an Alpha who never crosses the lines of propriety, well, no one needs to know, right?

Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MereLoup | 14K | 2016

“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Stiles?”

“I, uh, I need some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?”

Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.”

“Stiles...what are you doing right now?”

***

Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work.

Partly because their visit was a complete surprise.

But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend.

Or even know who Derek was.

But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!

third time's the charm by stilinski | 4.9K | 2016

 Sure, Stiles has a mark on his chest that belies the depth of his feelings, but it's not something anyone can see unless he decides to show it, or unless werewolves suddenly have x-ray vision.

 Which—worrying. And probably-definitely-likely a possibility – if it was to manifest anywhere, Beacon Hills would be top of the list.

 Stiles almost turns around there and then to ask Scott how his visual acuity is but is stopped by the teenager at the register finally looking up long enough to spot Derek. Stiles watches her mouth fall open and her expression—studiously blank but with a faint flush rising in her cheeks—is one Stiles knows far too well, particularly when faced with Derek in all his snug-fitting-jeans, v-neck-wearing, canvas-jacketed glory.

 Stiles is pretty sure he invented that expression.

Ukochany by VincentMeoblinn| 34K | 2016

Derek comes home to find a mail order husband and two amused betas waiting for him. When he realizes their prank was far from harmless he ends up saddled with a husband who barely speaks English but insists Derek is the love of his life. He's also determined to win him over.

only if for a night by stilinskisparkles | 3.2K | 2016

“I’m Stiles,” he says breathlessly.

“Derek.”

“Derek, hi, do you—”

Derek doesn’t let him finish, kisses the words right out of his mouth.

Hypothetically by alisvolatpropiis | 6.6K | 2015

Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning as the sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to who he’s looking at.

Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.

sincerely, derek by stilinskisparkles | 8.1K | 2016

September, 2009

Hi Stiles, it’s Derek. Derek Hale, from space camp. I’m writing this in English because my teacher Ms Grady said I had to write about my summer, but I spent my summer with you, so I decided to write to you, instead.

Please write back. Love from Derek.

Pancakes and Murder by Amethyst Shard (AmethystShard) | 14K | 2012

Stiles' life has been a roller-coaster filled with awesome highs and terrifying drops ever since his best friend Scott got bit by a werewolf. The ride hits a bump when a dead body turns up at the Hale house (again) and Derek's only alibi is Stiles. Which would be fine, except that Stiles' dad is the sheriff and has no idea his son has been hanging out with the former fugitive. Awkward.

The Witching Hour by MellytheHun | 8.2K | 2016

The radio host AU no one ever asked for but I have written anyway because sometimes when DJ’s play several sad songs in a row, I worry about their mental health and then this AU was born

Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs (Series) by MellytheHun | 11K | 4 Works | 2016

This series started with this Tumblr prompt, "it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

Stiles is walking home when he's stalked by a dangerous stranger and an even more dangerous stranger comes to his rescue.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill | 32K | 2013

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

You are the Moon by skoosiepants | 10K | 2012

Stuff Stiles doesn’t like to deal with first thing: hot, moist dog breath in his face, a cuddly werewolf creepifying his perfectly normal morning wood with shades of bestiality, and his dad holding his service revolver up against the skull of his bedmate, never mind the fact that his bedmate could possibly be a vicious unhinged rogue omega.

Baby, you should stick around by ElisAttack | 9.5K | 2016

Derek's driving along a stretch of highway when an unusual sight makes him slow down, the engine of his old pickup rattling in protest.

There's a kid standing by the side of the road.

It's the middle of nowhere, the goddamn apocalypse, and this kid is standing by the side of the road with his thumb pointed skyward. Like he's playing at being a hitchhiker.

Or the one where Stiles thinks he's all alone in a post-apocalyptic world, until he meets Derek.

Don’t Be Anything But Okay by skoosiepants | 4.8K | 2016

“Oh my god.”

Ben pops open the car door and says, “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad.”

Stiles flaps a hand, still staring at the magnificent sight before him. There are glistening arm muscles and a sweaty tank top and then the vision bends over and holy god. He has to look away; it’s too much to take in all at once, he might swoon.

OR-

Stiles has a teenager and Derek has a plant nursery.

covalent bonds (Series) by HalfFizzbin | 9.2K | 3 Works | 2015

Derek's a hot nerd. Stiles is a nerdy jock. A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES.

Disappear Here by AgnesBlue | 28K | 2016

Stiles was quiet. “What?” Derek said again. “My first heat is coming up soon,” Stiles said at last. Derek closed his eyes, disinterested. He knew where Stiles was going with this. “I was thinking…hoping, really,” Stiles said. “Maybe you could stay with me during that time.”

AU in which wounded in a fire that killed off his entire family, Derek wants nothing more than to be left alone as he finishes off his senior year in high school. That all changes when omega Stiles Stilinski asks him to help him through his first heat.

Money Isn't Everything by TroubleIWant | 6.3K | 2015

Stiles slurps at the dregs of his iced hazelnut latté, pretending he doesn’t need a refill just yet. Supporting your local business is great and all, but Isaac charging $5 for a coffee with syrup is highway robbery. He’s already cut his expenses down to the bare minimum, and splurging for foofy drinks is not in the budget. Except that he can’t really help himself: black coffee is plain gross. Maybe I should plan on marrying rich, he thinks darkly.

Or,

Stiles has a huge crush on the super-hot guy he always sees at Isaac's coffee shop, but when he finds out that they guy's an unemployed orphan he has to decide if the difference in their financial situations is a deal-breaker, or just a bump on the path to true love.

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock | 21K | 2014

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

you and me (and my best friend) by trilliastra | 1.5K | 2016

“Come on, I shouldn’t be the only one having orgasms. Let me help you out.”

“Uh –” someone clears their throat and Derek jumps, startled, hits his elbow on the wall and curses, “am I interrupting something?” Stiles asks, cheeks red.

Derek looks up, sighing. Of all the people working in this damn school, Stiles had to be the one to catch him and Erica talking about sex. It’s just Derek’s luck. He spills juice on his pants? Stiles walks into the classroom; Laura starts yelling at him about something that happened when they were kids? Stiles is right behind them, waiting for his coffee; Boyd accidentally throws a ball at his face? Stiles is at the E.R. when Derek gets there with a swollen face and a broken nose.

The universe hates him.

Easy Alpha by interropunct | 4.6K | 2012

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

Body Language by LadyMerlin | 2.3K | 2016

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates' name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn't have that kind of patience.

chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons) | 13K | 2013

Stiles Stilinski has been at Hogwarts since his first year, okay. That's six years of experience. He knows how Hogwarts works, how it operates. He's not quite an expert or anything, but he's pretty damn sure he knows this school.

So why the hell have they waited like a million years to start taking transfer students?

And why is he the only one who can't get a French date?

C’était Salement Romantique by Swing Set in December (swing_set13) | 2.2K | 2015

The Triwizard tournament is really about fostering wizarding relations. Ask anyone. Just not Stiles, he’s busy French kissing Derek.

Hogwarts really should teach some linguistic classes.

The Long Way Home by MyChemicalRachel | 19K | 2016

Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…

All that once was, remains. by countrygirlsfun | 8.8K | 2016

Life is only a long list of constants.

Being a part of a royal family, being a prince, has been a constant in Derek Hale’s life since he was born and swaddled in silk cloths.

Wherein Derek finds himself in love with a stable boy who is more than he seems.

Driver's Education by arrowofcarnations | 9.2K | 2014

This is the moment he realizes he can never have Derek Hale – that he was stupid to ever think he could. Maybe their moms made them hang out when they were little and maybe they’ve managed to get along these past few weeks, but they’re too different. Derek’s cool, he plays a million sports, he drives a Camaro, he’s friends with Jackson. Stiles doesn’t fit into the equation and he never will.

Letters by ericaismeg | 8.9K | 2014

“Stiles, this is getting ridiculous. Can you please do something about it?” Lydia demands. “Do anything. I don’t care. Go up and kiss him, ask him to prom this year, write him secret admirer love letters, whatever. Just do something.”

***

OR: The one where Lydia sets up an email account for Stiles to "confess his love" for Derek. And as fate would have it, they also end up becoming friends in person at the same time.

We're One of a Kind (Like Dip Da Dip Da Dip Do Whap De Dobby Do) by orphan_account | 3.5K | 2012

Derek is your classic greaser—with a leather jacket, a hot rod, a hot bike, and a duck butt. Genim “Stiles” Stilinski a total fream—he’s too cool to be a poindexter but he’s so far from a cat that Derek almost feels bad for him. All that’s missing in this love story is some oddly perfectly timed musical numbers.

do it for our country  by HalfFizzbin | 936 | 2012

In which Derek tries to play it cool but Stiles is totally hep to his jive.

Fast Times At Clairemont High by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel) | 6.9K | 2016

Stiles is stoked when he's chosen for an undercover operation to take down a drug ring. He's less stoked when he discovers that he'll be posing as a seventeen year old student at the High School where Derek teaches.

It's Too Early For This by thepsychicclam | 4.9K | 2016

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

A Tentative Truce by Inell | 8.5K | 2016

Stiles and Derek have a long standing rivalry that has extended beyond the Beacon Hills High School theater department to every other area of their high school lives. With the announcement of the winter production, their competitiveness has to be set to the side so the musical can be successful. With a tentative truce in place, Stiles unable to ignore his growing infatuation for his co-star.

we keep living anyway by bistiles (alis) | 10K | 2015

“Oh, damn, my manners. What an example I’m setting, am I right? I’m Stiles Stilinski, but call me Stiles, please,” Stilinski extended his hand for Derek to shake, and Derek took it, feeling the solid grip and the long fingers around his own hand. For some reason, he blushed on the spot.

“Derek. Derek Hale. Call me just Derek,” He answered, still holding Stiles’ hand in his.

By the look on Stiles’ face, he felt much the same as what Derek was feeling, whatever that unnamed reaction was.

“And this little barnacle attached to me,” Stiles continued, letting go of Derek and flushing pink, “is Leigh.”

--

Stiles is struggling to raise his only child all alone, while dealing with financial problems, a new job, and Adrian Harris, the worst boss in the world.

But then he meets Derek Hale, a dreamy co-workers, and what is a terrible situation becomes considerably less grim, when he has Derek by his side.

Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite (augopher) | 4.5K | 2015

Stiles doesn't care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School's resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one's judgment.

However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).

But you know what they say...never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

sometimes fate is like a small snowstorm by thepsychicclam | 8.1K | 2014

In a coffee shop two days before Christmas, Derek meets Stiles. Despite neither of them being interested in relationships, they spend an unforgettable evening together, but then part ways. During the following years, Stiles competes in the Olympics, Derek tours the world - and neither of them forget. Then twelve years later, two days before Christmas, Derek finds Stiles in that same coffee shop.

aka a kinda sorta serendipity au

should the pillars of memory topple out of my reach by bleep0bleep | 4.3K | 2015

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say that look in Derek's eyes is adoring, but he does know better, and also amnesiac Derek thinks they’re married. Which is the only fact he hasn’t questioned so far, which is the weirdest thing.

Just High School by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 4.5K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been dating for some time.

The only thing is, nobody else really knows.

Tis The Season Baristas Fear The Most by stilinskisparkles | 5.4K | 2012

Scott is hands down the worst barista Derek has ever hired. But it's Christmas and apparently that means something to some people.

Mind Reading Can Be Such a Pain in the A** (Series) by Fanhag102 | 21K | 2 Works | 2015

Derek Hale can read minds. If he could have chosen a mutant power for himself instead of being given one by random, genetic happenstance it's safe to say mind-reading would not have been his 1st, 2nd, or even 96th choice.

Maybe if he'd gotten the power of invisibility he wouldn't be sitting in a senior Economics class next to a hyperactive kid with a buzz cut who won’t stop thinking about dicks.

A Criminal and His Lucky Charm by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 5.9K | 2015

Please forgive yourself.

For what?

For allowing yourself to let someone in. For letting me love you. I didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t your fault. Derek, please, just do it. Please— please don’t drag this out.

Derek Hale valued Stiles above everyone—everything. And Stiles betrayed that. In the end, he figured if he had to die, dying in Derek’s arms wasn’t so bad. He could at least have that.

the things you said when we were the happiest we’ve ever been by foxerica (ericaismeg) | 4.8K | 2015

Derek and Stiles meet again at their high school reunion.

From Dirty Paws by Surreal | 9.9K | 2014

Stiles finds a wolf in the woods. Well, it's more like the wolf finds him. Either way, he's happy to have a new friend in his otherwise boring social circle.

flawless by bibliosexual | 4.9K | 2015

“I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person . . . All bets are off, is all I'm saying."

It's not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if," he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

Those Hidden Places by Mimiminaj | 18K | 2015

He doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulders him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.

Or

Stiles is the new inmate at Derek's prison. He really didn't expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.

Baseball Pants by thatfamoushappyending (betsytheoven) | 2.8K | 2015

Scott shows Stiles a picture of the new pitcher for the Dodgers, and Stiles is suddenly an avid Dodgers fan.

While You Were(n't Quite) Sleeping by mikkimouse | 13K | 2015

Scott’s mom, Melissa, had given Stiles the basics on Derek’s condition when he’d first come over here a month ago. Derek had been here six years, the only survivor of a horrific house fire that had killed the rest of his family. It had left him burned, half his face puckered with scars, and he’d been in a catatonic state the entire time. Stiles couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful that would be, being trapped in your own body for years on end, all alone.

Stiles had an inkling of how much being alone sucked, anyway.

(An AU in which Derek is the one who was trapped in the fire, and then in the hospital, based on a set of pictures from littlecofiegirl.)

dhale25 by ericaismeg | 8.1K | 2014

Derek Hale is an actor in Los Angeles, Stiles is a fanboy in Toronto. When Derek posts his Snap Chat username on Twitter, inviting people to add him, Stiles gets brave and adds him.

They develop a snapping relationship, and it gets intense.

I Settle for Long Distance Calls by iamursforevrmre | 4.3K | 2014

Derek is the guy who Stiles met on some random band page on MySpace because Derek made a ridiculously hilarious comment and with a spurt of confidence, Stiles had messaged him to tell him just how hilarious it was and they got to talking. Derek is the guy that made a FaceBook account just to talk to Stiles on the messenger so they could talk more when MySpace was slowly dying out. Derek is the guy that changed his text message plan to unlimited when he finally sent Stiles his cell phone number. Derek is the guy that has been on the phone with Stiles at any and all hours through the day.

And Derek is the guy that Stiles is in love with.

You look like my next mistake by Vendelin | 15K | 2015

“So, are you dating someone new? Someone who doesn’t mind that you’re frigid?” Kate cocks her head to the side, smiling as though she just asked him about where he bought his shoes.

His entire body sighs in defeat as his shoulders grow square. Just as he opens his mouth, someone comes up to stand beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. When he glances to his side, expecting to see Isaac, his brain seems to malfunction. Because it isn’t Isaac. It’s Stiles Stilinski, the lacrosse talent of the year, a senior who Derek has seen multiple times from far away, but never ever talked to.

In which Derek is a nerd jock, and Stiles is a frat guy, and Derek falls for him even though he knows he shouldn't.

Coaches Cupcake Coffee House by ChildOfTheRevolution | 4.8K | 2013

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, ‘It means he wants to ride the dick Stiles.’ He said slowly, as if talking to the mentally insane.

‘Ride the dick, my dick?’ Stiles asked weakly.

‘Figuratively speaking of course, Derek looks more like a topper to me. And you, my friend, are a twink of the most twinkiest standards, but I’m not one to judge.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stiles admitted, finding himself in a weird crouch-like stance that he apparently now adopts when he’s overwhelmed about finding out Derek Hotcakes wants to bone him three ways to Sunday.

Gladiator AU ( Series) by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) | 9.9K | 2 Works | 2013

He looks up at the door and waits. He hopes that whoever it is, they will be go easy on him. Werewolf he might be, with superhuman healing, but that does not mean that he will not be sore the next day. And he is scheduled for a fight.

Let it be someone easy to please, Derek hopes. Someone who will be quick to take their pleasure and even quicker to leave. He keeps hoping this as the door is pushed open. A voice murmurs a quick set of instructions to whoever has hired him for this session. It is cut off half way through by a familiar, impatient voice that makes Derek strain against his bonds. -- Rome based, Gladiator AU

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain | 35K | 2013

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly. 

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding: 

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Theory of Overprotective Canines by rosepetals42 | 11K | 2015

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Hot for Teacher('s Aide) by linksofmemories_archive | 8K | 2013

“He invited you to his apartment.”

“To do a lesson plan.”

“Yeah and to probably lesson your plan while you’re there,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows.

“That made no sense, but you still managed to make it sound dirty,” Stiles said. “I’m impressed.”

The healing touch by devilscut | 96K | 2015

Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can't use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek's selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.

Quit Dragon Me Around (Seies) by WonderWolf | 17K | 3 Works | 2015

Stiles makes the mistake of taking Derek’s sword and now the grumpy werewolf seems determined to stop him from stealing and landing himself in jail.

Stiles is not pleased. He’s also starving.

(Or the one in which Derek has good intentions, but little understanding of how Dragon biology works. He just wants the cute mole-speckled kid to be safe). -----

“Five meals, Scott. Derek Hale has stopped me from eating five meals. I can’t believe he’s really trying to kill me over stealing his sword. That’s so petty of him. It isn’t like I meant to steal it,” Stiles complains.

“You kind of did mean to, dude,” Scott adds unhelpfully.

“But you don’t understand, Scott. It-”

“Just smelled so good? I know, you’ve said that like fifty times over the past two weeks,” Scott says.

“This is the equivalent of him stealing my lunch money, right? Thanks to him, I didn’t have a meal this week. Or last week! He’s a bully, is what he is. A nice smelling, douchebag of a bully.”

You'll See Me Again by matildajones | 10K | 2015

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

--

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

Thousand by ericaismeg | 4.2K | 2014

“Seriously, Erica, I could tell him a thousand times in a thousand ways and he's never going to understand what I mean.”

“I thought I told you to spell it out to him,” Erica says. “Derek's has trust issues. I told you this would be difficult.”

Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf | 11K | 2015

“There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!”

“We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

The Wolf that whispered into Stiles' Heart by ElStark | 9.9K | 2015

Basically the Union of the prompts:

Mute!Stiles + Wolf!Derek + Soulmates/Mates AU

~

“Don’t you have a pack?” Stiles asks him –by then he had discovered that the wolf was in fact a male wolf –“I mean, wolves move in packs, right? Lone wolves don’t make it on their own. I read it yesterday.” He says while they’re both sprawled on the fallen leaves in Stiles’ secret-thinking spot in the woods. Derek licks his face, and Stiles laughs. “Is that your way to tell me that I’m your pack?” Derek licks him again on the nose, making the boy’s face scrunch up, “Ugh. Gross, dude!” he wipes his drool covered face with his sleeve and then gives the wolf a pointed look, “I’m not a wolf, you should have noticed, you know, I don’t exactly have fur and I don’t growl and I don’t have glowing eyes…” He says leaning in to look them closer, “Are you even supposed to have those kind of eyes? I couldn’t find anything about wolves and glowing eyes on the internet..” The wolf snorts.

Aftermath by GhostwithShotgun | 11K | 2015

Stiles suffers from PTSD and insomnia after the events with the nogitsune. He has nightmares, gets at most one hour of sleep every night and has daily panic attacks. He tries his best to hide it because they all have their own troubles and he doesn't want to burden his friends further.

Meanwhile, Derek has made a habit out of checking all pack members every night to make sure they're alright.

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit | 18K | 2015

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

--

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

It's a Schlong Story by floatingstark | 33K | 2015

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I do, he’s great!"

"Then what is the fucking problem?"

"My dick!"

-or-

Ex-Porn Star Derek Hale has a lot of issues but Ice Cream Parlor Owner Stiles Stilinski is not one of them.

Bad Dog Bakery and Café by Boom | 27K | 2015

Stiles saves an Omega from wolfsbane poisoning. Said Omega now won't leave Stiles alone. Stiles doesn't really have a problem with this.

Beat The Blues by lilpeas | 2.9K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been childhood friends since the sandpit. When Talia realises Stiles is in love with Derek, she knows Derek has to stop seeing him: Derek’s a werewolf and Stiles is human. It can’t be.

But things never go according to plan.

Red Light's Already Off by orphan_account | 3.3K | 2015

Stiles isn't a hooker. He just plays one on TV.

Noteworthy Observations by LadyDrace | 3.7K | 2015

In which Derek recieves complimentary notes in his locker from a secret admirer, and though it turns out they weren't actually for him, things turn out pretty well in the end.

One Hale of a Sandwich by whatthehale | 10K | 2014

Stiles in bed isn’t really something Derek should be thinking about.

Ever.

Because the person who normally picks Lily up from school? Is Scott.

Lily’s other parent. And Stiles’s partner.

Not to mention the entire source of Derek’s current misery.

--

AKA, the one in which Derek thinks Scott and Stiles are in a relationship and that they want to threesome with Derek. Spoiler Alert? They aren't and they don't.

Choice by Omni | 8.6K | 2015

Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it's like to be manipulated. He'd never take away someone's right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings.

Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can't.

(Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | 13K | 2012

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

gave your smile to me by Sarageek16 | 4.7K | 2013

In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

[bottleofspilledink]

God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter IX

“So…” Eve began, staring at the various stands and stalls and tables with all sorts of different agendas, occasionally shifting her gaze to the people who would weave between it all.

In every sense of the word, today was, for lack of a better word, eventful.

This was most likely why, when they were gathered in the gymnasium for club sign-ups, the pair simply stood amidst the somewhat organized chaos, clueless.

“What now?” Eve pulled out the club sign-up form from her skirt pocket, thankful she hadn’t lost it in all the ruckus. “My offer still stands, I really don’t mind letting you pick the club we join.”

“I mean. I already told you earlier that I don’t really care what club we go to either way.” Lilith shrugged. She wasn’t trying to sound apathetic, but she couldn’t really remember the last time she enjoyed club time solely for it’s activities and not the friends she would do them with. “You pick.”

“Alright, we’re not gonna get anywhere with this, so how about a compromise?”

“I’m listening,” Lilith chuckled. Of course Eve would be the type to suggest something like that.

The girl in question blushed at the sound, but fought to gather her thoughts and continue.

“You can tell me the clubs you don’t like and I’ll do the same. After we narrow down the list, we can settle on a club that we both like, or at least a club that on of us can tolerate.”

“Okay, but let me tell you now, there are a lot of clubs I don’t like.”

It was Eve’s turn to laugh, her hand automatically coming to cover her mouth as she grinned and giggled.

“Tell me anyway.”

“No music club,” Lilith said, right off the bat. “I’m a mediocre singer and I don’t want to spend two or three hours a week singing hymns.”

“Reasonable enough.” Eve recalled being given a small flier when they entered, the colourful paper listing all available clubs and emptied her pockets once more in search of it before crossing out the words “music club” with a pen she had found while looking for the paper. “Anything else?”

“No home economics. You know why.”

Eve just nodded an drew a line across it.

She was doing this to make up for what she did, not draw attention to it.

“And lastly,” Lilith said, voice tinted with humor as she tried to lighten the mood, somewhat guilty when she saw Eve’s face fall when she mentioned home economics, “no math club. ‘Cause I’m not a nerd.”

The girl succeeded, getting a tiny, genuine laugh from Eve that made her heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wing whenever it graced her ears.

“It’s fine, I’m bad at math too.”

Lilith visibly perked up at the words, the teasing grin Eve had so missed making a comeback at long last, “I never said I was bad at math. I’m pretty good at it, actually. I just don’t like doing it more than I have to.”

“Really?” Eve joked, displaying a mock-disbelief. Lilith was no idiot, though judging by her work ethic when it came to CLE, Eve couldn’t help but make a few assumptions. “What score did you get on the practice test a few days ago then?”

“Ninety-four percent.”

At that Eve’s eyes grew wide as saucers. That was better than she had gotten, and, more surprisingly, it was better than what Mary had gotten, ninety percent, an A minus that paled in comparison to Lilith’s A.

“Oh. That’s neat.” What could she say in response to that?

Fortunately, she didn’t have to struggle to say more, as Lilith returned the question to her.

“What did you get on the test.” Lilith wasn’t the type to gloat, at least not to a person she liked, but the thought of Eve thinking her a fool or a failure wasn’t the kind of image she wanted to project either.

“Eighty-seven…” She stared at the floor in shame, suddenly enamored in the scuff marks a muddy sneaker had left on the floor, shame flooding her face in the form of blood, her cheeks taking on a soft pink for different reasons now. Who could have left this here? A student who had forgotten to clean the soles of her shoes? A janitor, maybe?

Lilith couldn’t help but melt at the sight, immediately speaking to comfort the girl.

“Hey, come on. There’s no need to be embarrassed, that’s a pretty good grade, especially coming from someone who says they’re bad at math!” She clasped Eve’s shoulder and gave a gentle, encouraging squeeze, trying to get her to look up from the floor. “That’s like, what, a solid B? A B plus even?”

When that didn’t work, she slid her hand down to Eve’s and ran the pad of her thumb over the soft skin before giving another, more tender squeeze. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you when I asked that. If you want, I can help you review for the next test?” She put on a smile and tried to sound optimistic, mind running a mile a minute as she tried to figure out what to say next.

“There’s always room for improvement!” Lilith said, stealing one of Paula’s lines in the rare occasion that Joan flubbed a test or lost a game. She’d have to thank her for that later.

Meanwhile, Eve hoped that Lilith wouldn’t be able to feel her pulse through her wrist, the pink hue her face took on having faded, only to return with a vengeance when Lilith opted to hold her hand, the way the girl soothed her thumb over her knuckles nearly sending her into cardiac arrest, the momentary squeeze stealing the air from her lungs and running for the hills, if only for an instant before she mustered up enough breath to speak.

“You’d really do that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Are you kidding me?” Lilith grinned, incredulous. “Of course I’d help! With a score like that, there isn’t even all that much to do.”

The way Eve looked at her when she said those words, amber eyes adoring and brimming with marvel as it were, Lilith couldn’t bring herself to look away, it was like she was lost and slowly, willingly sinking into the entrancing, honeyed hue that was Eve’s eyes.

She could hardly handle being the subject of the girl’s gratitude-filled gaze, her heart clenching tenderly when Eve smiled at her, because of her, soft and sweet, dimples appearing on her rosy cheeks, unaware of the near-painful longing that welled up in Lilith’s chest.

In the split second silence, Lilith wondered whether it was for better or worse that Eve didn’t know how her heart ached whenever she made her smile, knowing that Eve, kind person she was, would never want to hurt her, even in the most gentle way, the soft tightening of her chest Lilith herself would sometimes even long for.

“Anyway,” Eve said, breaking the quiet that had settled over them, “I really can’t join the art club, so that’s out of the question. My drawing skills are literally non-existent.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! The best I can do are stick figures, bee doodles, and really loopy flowers.”

They scratched that off the list and began roaming around, Eve unsure of what clubs were a hard no for her but wanting to narrow down the list further.

“Oh, definitely no debate club.” She said out the moment she saw their stand, stopwatch, hardwood podium and all.

“Okay, but why?” Lilith took the list from her and crossed it out, skimming over it in search of clubs the both of them could enjoy.

“They’re sca-“

“Lilith!”

A girl with shoulder-length black hair swishing slightly with every step came up from behind them and hugged Lilith with a fierce grip, nearly making the both of them fall to the ground in the process, her long-suffering partner, local gossip girl, Margaret, merely trailing a few paces behind her, not wanting to be associated with the girl who managed to make at least eleven heads turn towards them.

“Joan told me everything this morning. Where is she?” The girl let go, swinging her head around frantically and craning her neck in an exaggerated search. “I’m gonna beat this chick’s ass if it’s the last thing I do!”

Finally, Margaret came closer and tried to put a stop to whatever was unfolding. “Swearing is against the rules, Julia. I can report you for that.”

The girl, Julia, apparently, turned to look at her partner, joyful demeanor fading in an instant.

“So is make-up and cheating, but you don’t see me yapping about it, do you?”

That shut Margaret up effectively, cheeks probably red with indignance under her foundation.

“Anyway, where is the bitch? I’ll-“

“Okay, before you finish that sentence, I think you should know that the girl you’re calling a bitch is right beside me. Right now.” Lilith said, grabbing her by the shoulders and making her face Eve.

Julia looked at her.

She looked at Julia.

“Hi.”

“Oh shit. Hey…” They stared at each other, a split second of tension filled silence passing between them. “I’m not taking back what I said though, you’re a bitch. I mean seriously, I get not being gay but did you have to- OW!”

Lilith’s elbow met Julia’s rib, harshly.

“When did Joan say all this?” She sighed. The last thing she needed right now was someone making Eve feel worse after everything that happened today, especially now that they were just starting to patch things up and talk free of any awkwardness.

“I already told you, she said all that this morning. We sat next to each other in CLE and passed notes while Sister Jane wasn’t looking.”

“Julia, you’re fucking nuts and I love you for that,” Lilith sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “but now is really not the time. Go ask Joan or Paula to catch you up on things, they should be around here somewhere. We’re busy looking for a club. Until they tell you what happened earlier, you can not call Eve anything except Eve.”

“Oh wow, okay. I must have missed something big if you’re defending the girl who made you sob so hard, you almost-”

“The details aren’t important! Besides, you weren’t there, so you don’t know what happened.”

Julia raised a brow at the girl, shutting up to help her save face, but going in for one last tease before she went looking for Paula to see the whole picture, “I literally just said that Joan told me everything, but okay.” She put her hands up in a sort of surrender. “Say what you want, babe! I’ll get the truth out of you the next time we get wasted anyways, so yeah!” And with that she turned to leave before, rather impulsively, Eve called out to her.

“What club did you join?”

“You’re really gonna look at me and not immediately assume I’m in the softball club? You offend me, Eve. I mean really! You know what they say about softball. It’s the sport of my people!”

The blonde merely stood in silence, absolutely dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing like a fish yet not a syllable leaving her lips.

Julia cackled, tossing her head back and ruffling her soft curls. “Oh God, she doesn’t know?” She asked Lilith, her eyebrows raised so far up that no one watching would be surprised if they receded even further back to join the hair on her head. “You really know how to pick ‘em, sweetheart!”

She walked away, giggling and giving them – well, more Lilith than Eve – finger guns all the while.

“Okay, I’m just going to ask. What was that whole thing about softball about?”

At this, Lilith herself couldn’t help but laugh. “Basically, it’s kinda a stereotype that, and this isn’t a thing we made up, lesbians play softball.”

Eve’s look of confusion turned to bafflement turned to a somewhat exasperated and incredulous amusement. “That makes no sense, but I’m going with it anyway. How did that even start?”

“I actually don’t know, but we went along with it too, cause why the fuck not? You know?” Lilith shrugged and they continued walking again. “There’s probably a bit of truth in there somewhere. It’s how Joan and Paula got together, so there’s that! And Julia has an ex that used to be a member.”

Eve took the list back from her while she was distracted, eyes quickly scanning over it to see if Lilith had crossed anything out while it was in her possession. “I’m assuming there’s a story behind that?”

“Yup!” She snatched the flier away from Eve once more, holding it high above her head when the girl tried to get it again. “But not one you get to hear. Not yet.”

She huffed at that. Eve, despite already standing on her toes, the four inch height difference between them made it so she couldn’t get the list back from Lilith.

“Okay then. But one last question.”

“Yeah?”

“Sweetheart? Babe?” Eve asked, a twinge of jealousy in her. Granted, she had no right to be, at least in her own mind she didn’t. She wasn’t even supposed to be feeling anything for Lilith other than disdain, but what could she do? Her only consolation was the fact she’d yet to act on said emotions.

Technically.

Eve tried to justify what she could, mind jumping from hoop to hoop, connecting loose strings, drawing lines between dots that were barely there. Earlier wasn’t anything akin to love. It was just a friend taking care of a friend.

Yes.

“Oh, that? Yeah, Julia calls everyone that, really. It’s nothing personal.” Lilith felt delusional. Were her feeling for Eve so strong as to warp her mind and affect her hearing, going so far as to imagine Eve’s voice with a pang of envy. “If you get on her good side, she’ll probably call you something too. Not what she called you earlier, though.”

A wave of relief washed over the blonde… followed immediately by guilt for feeling said relief.

It was nothing another round of mental gymnastics couldn’t fix.

The only reason she was relieved was because Lilith not being in a relationship meant that she wasn’t beyond saving.

Of course.

“I hope so, too.” Eve said. They turned to walk down a different aisle, about forty-five minutes left for them to find and join a club.

The pair strolled between stalls leisurely, narrowing down the list bit by bit, encircling the ones they had taken a particular liking to, chatting about clubs.

“The gardening club seems cool.” Lilith suggested, looking at their small stall decorated with small, origami flowers, the girls who ran it not having the heart to pluck what they had grown just yet. “It’s outside so I get some fresh air and it’s no sport, so you won’t have to strain yourself like you did in gym. Whaddya think of it?”

She looked over at Eve, only to see her frowning, a mix of disappointment and contempt in her eyes.

“I’d love to join, but I’m not allowed. My mom doesn’t like me gardening.” Her frown turned into a pout, eyes growing glassy with frustrated tears that had been building up for nearly a decade now. “She made me stop when I was eight because my hands were getting rough…”

“Use me.”

“What?”

“Use me as an excuse. Tell her I made you join it.”

Her words were temptation, the apple offered to Eve by the serpent.

Lilith held the sign-up slip and the red pen out to her, the folded paper an open invitation to rebellion. She wouldn’t force Eve, however, wanting this decision, this sin, to be hers and hers alone, the girl refusing to even write her own name on the paper.

Eve could feel the fifth commandment ringing in her ears, as the Eve before her knew she was defying god.

“Honour thy father and thy mother.”

And yet, Eve could also feel the dirt between her fingers and under her nails, the weight of a trowel in her hands, the sun beating on her back through the gaps in the leaves of their oak tree, the scent of the earth and the flowers carried by the breeze.

The nagging voice in her ears faded and morphed to the gentle buzzing of the bees and the high-pitched chirping of the birds.

Eve took the form and filled it up.

Eve took the apple and ate of it.

______________________________

Taglist: @anon-nom-nom95 @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @i-wanna-be-a-rock @extrabitterbrain @gaypeaches @phillyinthebathroom @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @pirateofblood

[zims-left-shoe]

Ackkk I love all your works so much I can’t even they're all so goooooood. Uh, I don’t know if this would be dumb but could you do a Zim x an anorexic reader? Like, the reader has it, and zim just kinda thinks it’s normal at first cause he’s adorably clueless sometimes? Sorry for bothering you haha

You’re not bothering me at all! Thank you for the kind words, it really means a lot. I also apologize for any inaccuracies, I did some baseline research, but we all know that pales in comparison to experience. I hope you enjoy this regardless. :)

Zim. He was an interesting one, to be sure. You could barely recall the circumstances under which you two had met, as life with him tended to move at a thousand miles per minute. You wouldn't complain, at times less opportunity to think made things a little bit easier. What you could remember is being new in town, not hoping for much. Your new home defied all of your expectations in the first five minutes as you had the pleasure of witnessing some guy duke it out with a green kid in the school parking lot before school. That night you had discovered them to live in your neighborhood, by happy accident, of course, as the two were fighting, coincidentally, outside your window. You couldn't help but take a peek. In that moment, you had figured out Zim's greatest secret, that he wasn't human. In hindsight, you thought it was obvious from the start, that you shouldn't have needed to see him without his poorly made disguise to realize. Oh well. From that moment forward, you had set out to become his friend. How cool would that be? Friends with a being from beyond the stars. Eventually, he had become tired of trying to shoo you away, and at some point or another, he even asked to be your boyfriend. Something about studying human courtship. You had agreed, because although it was rather embarrassing to admit, you had developed somewhat of a crush on the Irken. 

And here you were. You weren't exactly sure when, but the feelings had become less one sided as the relationship shifted to less of an experiment, and more of a commitment. Zim was actually quite expressive if you knew how to read him, and you had caught on to his attachment. How long had it been, a month? Two? Three? Again, your concept of time had ebbed away while you lived life in the fast lane, always jumping from one scheme to the next, going on a date one minute and setting a trap for Dib another. You didn't mind. It was a nice distraction from yourself. 

"Welcome home, son!" The Roboparents' cheery and, well, robotic voices broke you from your thoughts as they greeted you and your space boyfriend. The parental decoys stepped aside and retreated to their hangars, allowing you to follow Zim inside his home and alien base. You sprawled out across the couch, kicking your feet up on the armrests. You had been to his place so many times that you sometimes thought of it as your home away from home. Pulling out his contact lenses and discarding his wig, Zim joined you on the couch, pushing you out of the way so he could have a place to sit. 

"Hey, I was comfortable." You whined, elbowing him in the side. He doubled over, his strange yet fascinating alien tongue slipping out of his mouth as pain flashed on his face.

"Humans are so bony." He hissed out, clutching his side. You didn't think you had hit him that hard, and figured he was probably just being dramatic. He was the ultimate drama king, after all. 

"Maybe Irken organs are just too soft." A snicker escaped you, and you watched as his antennae flattened against his head, his eyes narrowing.

"Are you insulting my SUPERIOR Irken organs?!" His voice may have been raised, but it wasn't in anger. He was just trying to mess with you, in fact the pain hadn't been severe and had vanished as quickly as it presented itself. 

"Tell me, what would you do if I was?" This type of banter would occur quite often. You were convinced it was how Zim showed affection. After all, it happened between him and Dib frequently as well, and over time, and those two had morphed into frenemies rather than true rivals. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He muttered, crossing his arms and pushing out his bottom lip in a pout. This pulled a chuckle from you, he was such a baby all of the time. 

"Yes, I would. That's why I asked." You pressed him, knowing full well it would result in nothing. Your small talk tended to be teases that went round and round, never resolved, the threats always empty. 

"Well, too bad! Instead I will tell you what ingenious plan I have in store for the Dib-stink!" Just like you thought. He wouldn't even consider some sort of consequence for you, he didn't want to. 

"Oh, do tell." You had heard these plans a billion times, but you never got tired of listening to the endless list of plans to thwart Dib and conquer the human race. You knew they would all go unfulfilled, all of them did. There was a time when his 'mission' was still a priority for him, when he was serious about destroying Dib. But the longer you were in the picture, the less he cared about that. He couldn't feel himself gravitating away from the whole conquering the Earth business, but you sure could.

"As you know, I've been working on this substance in my lab that will-"

"GUESS WHO MADE WAFFLESSSS!!!" The door to the kitchen slammed open, revealing Zim's faithful robot companion, gripping a mixing bowl and stirring it furiously, batter splashing up the sides of the bowl. It was indecipherable if Zim was more irritated about being interrupted or waffle batter spilling all over the carpet. Before he could reprimand GIR for either, the robot began to scream again. "Come eat!" He stood there in his neon green doggy costume, the hood down to expose his robot head. He looked happy enough, his tongue (why he had one you would never know) peeking out from the corner of his mouth.

"No!" Zim waved him off, hoping he would go eat them himself. Unfortunately, that was not what happened. GIR burst into tears, screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs. Clutching your ears, you felt your face instinctively scrunch up. Who knew one robot could be so loud? It was a miracle blood wasn't dripping from your ears. Luckily, Zim put an end to your misery. "FINE!! We will eat your waffles! Just, please be quiet!" He spoke through gritted teeth, his own hands grasping desperately at his antennae. 

"Yaaaayy!" As if nothing happened, GIR skipped away, humming to himself as he resumed mixing whatever contents remained in the bowl. A sigh slipped out as you rose from the couch to follow Zim into the kitchen. He was grumbling under his breath the whole time, of course. Taking a seat across from him at the small table, you wondered how often he was forced into doing this. His chin rested in his hand as he stared out through half-lidded eyes. The only way to describe him would be extremely bored. GIR set two plates down, one in front of each of you. He then brought over a tray of waffles, forking a generous stack onto Zim's plate and then moving over to you.

"Oh, uh, no thank you-" You tried to shove his hand away, the smell of the waffles making you sick. Not because they were poorly cooked. In fact, they smelled delicious. GIR paid no mind to your attempts to prevent him from laying several waffles onto your plate, returning to his position at the stove. No words passed between anyone as Zim forked bites of the sweet sustenance into his mouth in an almost monotonous manner. Clenching your lip between your teeth, your eyes became fixed on your own plate as you poked the stack with your fork. Syrup oozed from every place possible, creating an intoxicating and sickly sweet aroma that made your nose twitch. The longer you stared, the tighter your chest became, your toes curling in your shoes. It wasn't that you weren't hungry. Oh, you so were. Despite your body screaming that you were starving, you couldn't bring yourself to eat. Over time, you had managed to tune out your stomach's endless protests, eating as little as possible. 

"They aren't that bad, you know." Zim spoke through bites of waffle, eyeing you. He had been observing your staring contest with the food in front of you for a few moments, under the impression he understood your worries.

"I'm...sure they aren't." You mumbled, grip on your lip tightening as you felt your stomach growl. Shaking your head, you pushed your plate forward and towards the middle of the table. "I'm just not hungry." He nodded, not sensing anything off. He had no reason not to believe you. After all, he had seen you do this many times before. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he had ever seen you eat in front of him.

"Y/n, try some waffles!!" GIR scrambled over to where you sat, taking your fork and some waffle from the plate and moving it towards your face as a parent would do to a baby. You stood up abruptly, pushing GIR back in the process. You had absolutely no desire to be force fed waffles by an alien robot. 

"I forgot! I have some family stuff! I will see you tomorrow." You rushed out of the room, hurriedly grabbing your backpack from the living room and heading out the door, leaving an untouched plate of waffles in the middle of the table. Zim shrugged. Humans were weird.

(More under the cut)

-

Lunch. The worst part of the school day. Apparently humans enjoyed it. The only person who made it enjoyable for me just happened to be stuck in class for lunch, putting some finishing touches on a project or something. 

"Tch." My mouth was fixed in a frown as I approached Dib's table. Ever since spending my lunches with Y/n, it didn't feel right to sit alone. Everything was too quiet. I absolutely do not appreciate how admittedly lonely it feels. I dropped my tray, the sound of it clattering causing Dib to jump. 

"What do you want?" He stared through me, trying to be intimidating. I took a seat, and despite his attitude, he didn't stop me.

"To sit here."

"But why?" I stayed silent, bringing out my real lunch: the Irken lick stick things, which are apparently very similar to a certain human candy. I only took school lunches to look normal. "Oh, I see. Your lover not here?" He cooed, his tone teasing. 

"Shut it." I felt a growl rise in my throat. There was a time when I would refute that phrase; lover. I didn't have the energy for that anymore. "Where's the girl?" I asked, putting one of the sticks in my mouth.

"You mean my sister? Home sick. She's not actually sick, she just didn't want to come to school."

"Hm, fascinating." My words were dismissive, bored of this small talk already. Humans didn't like it either, so why did they partake in it? A silence settled between us as Dib picked up his spoon. I watched as he took a spoonful of the black liquid that passed as lunch and put it in his mouth, swallowing it. I couldn't lie, it intrigued me. Dib and Y/n's habits differed greatly. My current hypothesis was that humans were similar to Irkens, in the fact that they had no real need to eat, they only did it because they wanted to, just like my Tallest. Not eating being normal made the most sense to me, but the more I looked around the cafeteria, a minute amount of doubt settled in. Everyone was eating. Looking back to Dib as he continued to eat, he raised an eyebrow as he caught me staring.

"What?" There was a hint of self-consciousness. Clearly he was not liking how intently I was observing him.

"Why do you eat?" I asked, legitimately curious. He looked to be incredulously, as if he couldn't comprehend my words.

"Because we're not aliens, stupid. We need to in order to survive." He spoke between bites of toxic sludge.

"You do?" The words left my mouth almost immediately, feeling the curiosity only continue to bubble to the surface. Dib only stared at me as if I was utterly clueless. 

After a moment, he had decided that I was completely serious, and not just messing with him like I usually would. "How did you not know this, you've been on earth for how long now?" Folding my hands in front of my face, my eyes narrowed in thought. Things were not adding up. There were so many things about human culture that I clearly did not have a grasp on. To Dib, my lapse in understanding was worse than he thought.

"I just thought you were like Irkens, that you don't need to eat but you choose to."

"Why would you think that?" His words were broken by disbelieving laughter. There still seemed to be a part of him that couldn't believe this. I could tell he thought I was incompetent and horrible at my job. "It is unbelievable that you are an Irken elite." He shook his head, his stupid glasses slipping down his nose. He pushed them up with his fingers, a grin spreading across his face.

"Silence, Dib-thing!" If there weren't more pressing things on my mind, I would have made him suffer for that comment. Instead, I settled for a threatening hiss. "It's just, I've never seen Y/n eat before. They don't eat lunch, and anytime GIR offers them food they refuse."

"Yeah, well, I don't blame them for not wanting to eat this shit. I'm surprised my organs haven't melted yet." A chuckle fell from his stupid mouth. He shoveled in another spoonful, regardless of his words. "And I wouldn't trust GIR's cooking either." Even if all that is true, there was something that was still nagging at me. I couldn't let it go, there was something that just wasn't right with the situation.

"But even on dates...they won't eat. Are you sure this isn't normal?" I was surprised at how concern had crept into my voice. I was no longer confident in my theory, rather asking for confirmation that something was off. I thought it was normal. I know of several thousand races that don't require food, that get it from other things. Us Irkens are supplied them by our PAKs, we only eat for the taste. And there are some, very few, but still some, that don't like the taste of snacks, so they won't eat. They survive just fine, lasting as long as any Irken, hundreds and hundreds of years passing by no problem. Dib's cheeky attitude completely dissipated. The air felt heavy, my skin felt prickly, like bugs were crawling all over my arms and legs. 

"No, Zim. It's not." His voice was soft and quiet, a stark contrast to how he usually spoke to me. Fine. I'll admit it, I can be just a bit clueless when it comes to humans and their customs. But I am not stupid. I understand basic biological principals, I was a military scientist for years. If a living organism doesn't get sufficient nutrients, the only thing to come will be harmful consequences. 

"Oh." After a moment of sitting in silence, my entire body froze. I couldn't believe what I was even feeling. The stupid, filthy human that was only supposed to be a tool, a research-plaything, had turned out to be so much more. 

Irkens aren't supposed to care about anyone... I thought, clenching my fist so hard the joints audibly popped. We were always told in the academy that caring made us weak. That wasn't even the worst part. The scariest thing was that I found myself not wanting to stop caring.

-

You laid on your room floor, hand on your stomach. You couldn't help it. Your eyes drifted to the scale you kept under your bed. You tried to tear your eyes away from it, but you just couldn't. You didn't want to be this way, you knew it was bad, dangerous even. But at the same time, you couldn't grasp that you had a problem. You couldn't stop. You saw the statistics. You didn't want to become just another number, but you couldn't reach out. How could you? Just to have someone call you an attention whore? No thank you. You would rather suffer in silence, lying to everyone including yourself. Did you eat today? Of course! A smile on your face for others always, that grin fading every time you glanced in the mirror. Your eyes were like a funhouse mirror, constantly seeing yourself different than the reality. 

The only thing that seemed to brighten your day was Zim. He was a healthy distraction, and he never made you feel bad about yourself, surprisingly. He never chided you for looking too skinny, for not eating. You needed a push in the right direction, but you needed to be encouraged to get better, not harrassed into it. You needed to feel as if you had support, rather than pressure. 

The doorbell yanked you out of your mental spiral, but it did nothing for your anxiety. You were home alone, so you continued to lay there, hoping whoever it was would go away. However, that was not the case. After a few moments of silence, the doorbell was rung repeatedly, a constant stream of annoyance that flooded your ears. Muttering curses, you marched your way to the front door, opening it to reveal Zim standing there, uncharacteristically quiet. Immediately your mind went blank. Did you have plans that day? You didn't think so. If that was the case, then why was he on your front porch?

"Hello, human. May I come in?" You would have laughed if you were in the headspace for it. The scene before you was ridiculous, after all. Zim being polite? Couldn't be possible. And yet, he stood there on the step, clawed hands folded neatly in front of him, waiting patiently for your response, a cute and dopey expression lingering on his face. Now you were very concerned. You were even a bit worried that he had done something to his brain in his lab, that some sort of experiment may have gone horribly wrong. It wasn't that you hated nice and calm Zim, it was just...not right.

"Sure, I guess..." You stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him and leading him to your room. He had been there once or twice, but mostly, you both spent time at his place or around town, usually harassing Dib. You sunk down to the floor, Zim following suit. You weren't really in the mood to see him, or anyone at the moment, but you had suspected that, despite the well-mannered act, he would have let himself in regardless. Zim glanced around your room, and you couldn't help but dig your nails into the scratchy carpet. You just felt vulnerable. Deciding to ditch the discomfort, you made an effort at small talk. "So, anything interesting happen at lunch today?" You had already guessed that he would have gone to sit with Dib, you've seen how he despises being alone. Even though he claims to be this independent invader, you've found him to be actually quite needy when it comes to attention. 

"Why don't you eat?" Zim cut right to the chase, completely brushing off your own question. His voice was sugary sweet and innocent, and you knew his intentions were pure. His usual grating and over-excitable tone was missing. Still, you couldn't help but be taken aback by his query. He sat across from you, staring expectantly, waiting for an answer. He didn't seem to understand why that question was so difficult for you to answer. You didn't think you could answer. And so you both sat in silence, uncomfortably staring. Your eyes were fixed on the carpet, his on you. 

As he stared, he began to notice something for the first time. You were much thinner than your classmates. He had never noticed before, because he was the same way, it was something that was normal to him, but that was due to him being an Irken. Most Irkens were naturally built that way. 

"Zim…" You had finally spoken, mouth feeling drier than the desert. Your gaze was still locked on your floor, studying every minute speck of dust and dirt. You absolutely refused to look at him as you toyed with your fingers, nervously debating on how to respond, if you should respond. You thought he would never catch on, because nothing about your behavior seemed to have bothered him. It was all habits he was used to back on Irk. He didn't know any better, he had always been inept at grasping human normalcy. You were embarrassed that he had to see you like this, struggling so hard, unable to call for help.

For once in his life, Zim seemed to understand the nuances of a human. He'd seen that look before, it was all over his home planet. Irkens who felt as if they were completely disgusting when compared to others. It finally clicked for him. He understood that you hated your body. It was a concept he could grasp. Irkens had something similar. For them, the insecurities lie in height. For humans, it seemed, it was their weight. He may not know much about humans, but what he did know is that it didn't sit right with him to watch you go through what you were without anyone by your side. Irkens never considered the concept of comfort. Emotions were always a confusing subject to any Irken, especially Zim, who often wasn't concerned with how his actions affected others. In spite of all that, he found himself itching to give it ago. Watching you sit there and torture yourself made him feel as if he was losing his mind.

"Human. Listen to Zim. This probably won't mean much, but..." Zim reached out to you, pulling you into a hug, his arms wrapped around you protectively, as if trying to defend you from whatever threat you were faced with. You were once again shocked. Zim never liked to be too touchy feely. And in the rare occasions he wished for it, he would never initiate it. Zim, however, knew from his observations that sometimes physical affection made humans feel safe and loved. Thus, he figured he would give it a shot. "It doesn't matter what the outside looks like. It's all flesh and bone, completely uninteresting. The real intrigue is what's in here." He lightly pressed a claw into your chest and then to your forehead, hoping you got what he was trying to say. You couldn't help but melt at his uncharacteristic softness. You felt a single tear roll down your cheek, knowing that there would more likely than not be more to follow. 

"I..." Your voice was too shaky, so you trailed off, leaning into Zim's continued embrace. 

"Zim wants to assist in anyway he can." Both of you guessed that would be tough, but you were happy nonetheless that he seemed to genuinely care for your wellbeing. You figured that if he had known this wasn't normal human behavior, he would have instigated this talk a long time ago.

After a few more moments of staying silent, you thought you were collected enough to speak. Since Zim was being the most open you had ever witnessed in your time with him, you opted to be as well. "I love you, Zim." Immediately you felt his entire body tense around you, your face buried in his shoulder, just in case you would cry again. Zim was thankful for this, or you would have seen the way warmth flooded his face.

At first, he didn't know what to say. Love was never a thing on Irk. How could it be, when everyone was encoded with programming? There had been rumors of this fatal attraction, sure. But it had been widely decided on that anyone who felt this useless emotion was a defective. Besides, love would never benefit a militarian empire. Because of the stigma, love was never a word that was tossed around lightly on Irk, if at all. Just another thing to add onto the ever growing list of everything that made Zim a 'defective'.

"I...love you too, human."

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Helping Hand (Keanu x F!Reader)

Summary: You’re horny, Keanu is away, so you take matters in your own hands.

Pairing: Keanu x F!Reader

Author’s notes: This was requested a while ago by @lussdew​ Sorry it took so long dear and I hope you like it. Feedback is appreciated and apologies for the weak title).

Wordcount: 890

Warnings: smut (masturbation; oral)

You paced the room impatiently, your skin feeling overheated. This always happened this time of the month, the days leading your period and the ones right afterward, you always felt incredibly horny, your body pumping with hormones, making you feel aroused by everything and anything.

Usually, you loved it because it meant you and Keanu wouldn’t leave the bedroom for the entire day, fucking on every surface of the house like a pair of horny teenagers.

However, you hated it when it happened when he was away. Because once you got used to his expert abilities, everything else paled in comparison. Your fingers barely made you feel anything anymore, too small, soft and slender. Your toys helped, but the orgasm a weak comparison to what Keanu could drag it out of you.

How much longer?

You texted, unable to contain yourself. He was supposed to be home already, but Gard had asked him to stop by at Arch to discuss a couple of new features in the newest motorcycle they were making.

5 min tops!

He replied and you knew he wouldn’t be home for another hour, too distracted by his machines. Sighing, you dropped your phone on the bedside table and dug through your dresser, too frustrated to wait anymore.

You laid on the bed wearing only his shirt, legs spread as you ran your fingers over your pussy, your touch soft, teasing, perking up your arousal that had been thrumming under your skin the whole damn day. It flooded your mind with images of the things you wanted Keanu to do to you when he finally got home, making you uncomfortably wet.

You brought your other hand to your covered breast, kneading and squeezing, thumb teasing your nipple until you were arching up, your lips parted in a gasp, your hips rolling against your fingers seeking more friction. Your body felt electrified and tingling with pleasure as you pressed your digits a little more firmly against your clit until it was swollen, your thighs quivering as you struggled against the urge to close them around your wrist.

Letting go of your breast, you patted the bed blindly until you found the cold and metallic toy. It was a small vibrator, shaped like a bullet and as you pushed on the button it came alive in your hands, humming quietly in the silent room.

At the first touch of it against your clit, you hissed and moaned, your hips bucking against it, desperate for more, but you wanted to drag it out, enjoy it as much as you could. You dipped it into your entrance, coating the toy with your juices, before rubbing against your clit, making slow circles that set your nerve-ends on fire. Your entire body tensed and quaked as the wave of pleasures spread through you, reducing your entire attention to your pussy and the vibrations coursing through it.

Your eyes fluttered close, your breath picked speed and you started rocking your hips steadily, chasing your high, imagining Keanu with you, his low, husky voice edging you on. You could even smell his cologne, your fantasy feeling that much real. Blinking, you gasped at the sight of him standing at foot of the bed, gaze heavy and intense as he watched your pussy hungrily.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” he asked, stripping off his clothes.

“No,” you breathed out, feeling your climax drawing near. “Thought you’d be longer.” Keanu pulled the toy away, clicking it off and tossing aside, before bringing his face between your legs, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs. “Fuck, Ke! No teasing. I need to cum. I’m so fucking close already.”

He nodded quickly, his lips wrapping around your clit for a sucking kiss that had you arching off the bed, your hand burying on his hair to bring him even closer if possible.

His tongue flicked against it, before moving lower, pushing inside you and you were writhing beneath him, your breath coming in short pants, sweat slicking your skin as you felt Keanu fucking you with his tongue, bringing his thumb to circle your clit as he licked and lapped at your juices.

“Yes! Fuck! Right there!”

You arched your hips trying to chase that sweet feeling and Keanu had to wrap his arms around your thighs to keep you still as he pressed harder against your pussy, his tongue working faster against you, his fingers digging on your flesh so hard you knew there would be bruises tomorrow, but you didn’t care. You were so fucking close, the tension and perpetual arousal building inside you the entire day finally coming to its breaking point, crashing over you.

The moan that escaped your lips sounded incredibly loud in the otherwise silent room and if you weren’t so caught up in your pleasure, you would probably feel embarrassed. However, right now all you cared for was riding your orgasm until the last second, your clit throbbing, your pussy pulsing as your body finally calmed down.

Only then Keanu pulled his mouth away, pressing a soft kiss to your pelvic bone, before crawling on top of you, a wide smile in his lips, his beard wet with your juices and you could actually smell yourself as he hovered over you with a grin before he met your lips for a kiss.

xxx

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