#slightly freezer-burnt

[theartingace]

so I had a revelation about the subconcious shape language I was using for my SI5 gang designs based on how I viewed them in S3..

[murdrdocs]

go about things the wrong way

description. LOGAN HOWLETT proves himself to be a bit of a hypocrite

includes. SMUT 18+, age gap (reader is implied to be mid20s, logan assumed to be mid30s), protected piv, denial is a river in egypt logan fucks them younger, logan calls reader "kid", insomnia trope, slightly brat reader, remnants of angst, set during early x-men

wc. 5k

a/n: photo creds unknown. title from how soon is now? by the smiths

You should be in your own bedroom. 

It’s a nice room, decorated better than your childhood room in your parent’s house, likely because you’ve grown since your mint green and chevron phase. It’s silent in your room, no other inhabitants except you and your pet fish that was somehow still hanging on. There’s no reason for you to leave your room, it has everything you need. But it’s not right. 

The loneliness is uncomfortable amidst your inability to sleep. It hovers over your bed, staring down at your shuffling frame as you try multiple positions, each one leaving you as restless as the last. You know that’s why you venture off to the kitchen, the search for companionship outweighing the desire for a treat. You just need to talk to someone, remind yourself that you aren’t all alone. There are other people like you, and you live with them. You’re safe. 

You ended up finding what you desired—a non-freezer burnt ice cream bar buried beneath frozen waffles, and a warm body to stand opposite of as you steadily made your way through it. 

You wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, maybe not even yourself, but you had hoped to run into Logan the entire time. Ever since his return you had been itching to get a glimpse of him, but between shadowing Storm, Scott, and Jean, and tending to whatever menial chore Professor Xavier tasked you with, you didn’t have any time for run-ins. Nothing but quick passing in the hallway where you were too shy to do much other than meet his eye for a second, wave, and then scurry along towards the end of the hallway. 

But you had gotten what you wanted when you heard the soft thud of feet followed by the sound of Logan speaking. 

“Is there another one of those?” 

You face him with your mouth stuffed with ice cream. It takes you a second to chew enough to speak around the food without making a complete fool of yourself in front of Logan. 

“This is the last one …” you swallow, ignoring the sting of the cold at the back of your throat. “Sorry.”

Logan shrugs like it’s no big deal and he steps to the fridge. You move out of the way, even though you weren’t really in the way at all, and try to be casual as you chew the remains of your bar, ignoring the sudden warmth in your body now that he’s here. 

Logan doesn’t say anything. You watch the top half of his body disappear as he reaches into the fridge for something, coming out after a minute and some soft shuffling later with a beer bottle in his hand. You don’t know when it got there, and you’re amazed that it was still there and not stolen by some eager teenager. You try not to stare as he takes his first sip, but you sneak a few glances. 

You finish your sandwich, throwing the wrapper out in the drawer trash can and trying your best to ignore Logan’s eyes on you the entire time. He gets halfway through his beer before he says something. 

Leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle and one arm tucked across his chest, he asks, “Can’t sleep, right?”

You nod, not shocked at all that he has you pegged. It’s not unsurprising for a mutant in this place to be unable to sleep. 

Logan nods as if he understands and you know he does, you remember the incident with Rogue just a year or so ago, that and the stories you hear about him wandering the halls at night. It’s why you’d always been so eager to slip down here during restless nights, constantly hoping that this would happen to you. 

And now that it has happened, you don’t know what to do. There’s not much for you to discuss with Logan, the two of you don’t have all that much in common. He’s far older than you, for starters, at least a decade and a half on you from what you’ve gathered. He’s been gone for a while, but you think the others have caught him up on everything that he’s missed already. 

So you just build onto what you have. 

“I just can’t fall asleep. Every time I start, I shake myself awake.” 

Logan takes a swig from his beer and pulls his lips tight, a face of sympathy sliding over his features—eyebrows pinched, lips downturned, eyes a little narrowed. 

“Yeah?” You nod your head. “Sounds horrible, kid.”

Kid. You know you’re younger than him, it’s obvious, but you’re not a kid. You don’t see why he thinks of you that way. Rogue and Bobby are kids and you’re older than them. More mature, no longer a student but now practically a teacher. 

You don’t want Logan to see you as a kid. You know what you want him to see you as, but it seems to become more and more impossible by the day. 

You don’t say anything, lifting your foot enough to press the toe of your slippers into the cleaned grout between the tiles at your feet. 

“Tell you what,” he begins, promoting your head to lift, “next time that happens to you, you come find me, alright? I know how much it sucks to be alone like that so if you need me, come find me.”

That’s what you did. 

After you left the kitchen, finally letting your grin break free since no one was around to see it during the trek back to your room, you told yourself you would only go to Logan if you needed him. 

You tried to sleep, snuggling yourself in a cocoon of blankets and pillows around your head. You lit a candle, counted sheep, made up scenarios to doze off (ones that definitely didn’t involve Logan tenderly holding your hand and stroking your cheek and—), but nothing seemed to work. 

So you found yourself standing in the doorway of Logan’s bedroom, one hand still on the doorknob and the other toying with a loose thread at the bottom of your tee shirt. The bedroom is dark, save for the moonlight peeking through his opened curtains, but from the hallway light behind your back you can see Logan’s frame under the sheets. 

His back faces you until you harshly whisper his name, which at the call of he lifts his head, looking at you, and then rolls over completely to click the lamp on his nightstand on. 

“What’s wrong, kid?”

You feel so meek when you explain, like you are a kid, crawling to your parents after a nightmare. 

“You told me to come find you.”

His squint relaxes. His entire frame relaxes actually. He sits up, jerking his head in a beckon. You click the door shut behind you as softly as you can, approaching the bed timidly until you stand on the other side. 

And then you just hover. You stand there hesitantly, staring down at the slightly unmade side of the bed. Logan doesn’t say anything for a minute, but once the silence and hesitance stretches to an uncomfortable end, he speaks up, his voice groggier and raspier than it was before. 

“You gonna sleep from there? Is that some mutant power that I didn’t know about?” He says it like he’s teasing you, and when you look at him you can see the small smile on his lips. It’s similar to the one he sports when he’s messing with Scott but with more softness in his eyes. 

You scoff, trying to play it cool when Logan lifts the sheets for you and you climb under them. This side of the bed is cold and unused and you wonder if you’re the first person to use it. 

You get as comfortable as you possibly can. You fluff the pillow and create the perfect indent for your head, you pull the sheets up to your shoulders, you lay on your side and face the window, and then when Logan clicks the light off, you close your eyes and try to sleep. 

You don’t know how you thought this would be any better than struggling to sleep in your own bed, because it’s so much worse. 

In your own bed, you were left with the out-of-reach fantasies of Logan. You laid in bed, giggling to yourself as you imagined what it would be like to lay next to Logan. You filled your head with blurry images of Logan’s frame, what he would look like with his eyes closed and his face completely relaxed. You tried to imagine the heat of his body in the cold of your room, trying to change your body temperature just with a thought. 

But now it’s all right beside you, left there for you to catalogue so you could never forget this moment. 

The feeling of his body so close yet so far from yours. The sound of his breathing. The smell of his body wash and the way it lingered on his sheets. You’re finally in Logan’s bedroom, but you’re not getting what you want. You truly don’t think you ever will. 

It’s impossible for you to sleep now. You try to keep your tossing and turning to a minimum, only moving when absolutely necessary and doing so with tentativeness. You’re trying to be meticulous with your movements, all with a goal to disturb Logan as little as possible. You’re a guest here, after all. 

But even if he wasn’t an attentive mutant you knew he would’ve eventually gotten fed up. 

He calls your name, soft yet sounding like a warning, and you’re quick to apologize. 

He doesn’t say anything else for a second, then, “Whatever’s on your mind, squash it. Jus’ let it go.”

You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do when you say, “Easier said than done.”

Logan shifts and turns around until he’s facing you. You stay facing the window. 

“What usually turns your mind off?” he asks. “A glass of warm milk?” 

When you laugh it’s halfhearted and maybe this is the final indicator that something about you is off. 

“Look at me.” You obey embarrassingly quickly. 

You can’t really see him in the dark, but the white light from outside illuminates the slope of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. You can sort of see his eyes too, the usually light green darker because of the environment, but the shadowy fan of his eyelashes is as distinct as usual. 

“Seriously, tell me what’s going on. Anything I can help you with?” He lets the question linger in the air for a second before adding on. “You need me to rough a few kids up? You being bullied?” He says it like a joke.

“No,” you say. 

Logan makes an ‘ah’ sound. “Yeah I’m sure you could handle yourself.” The sheets lift again. “Come ‘ere.”

Shit, shit, shit. 

You listen to him, scooting closer until you’re wrapped in Logan’s arms, enveloped in his warmth. It’s nice and comfortable, the sound of Logan’s heart right next to your ear, the security of his arms wrapped around your frame. 

“Does this help you?”

You hum affirmatively, already starting to feel more comfortable than you had before. Your heart beats painfully hard in your chest and you start to get self-conscious, knowing that Logan can definitely hear it.

Right on cue, he laughs a bit against your head. 

“Nervous?”

“No.” God, you’re so obvious. 

Logan’s laugh grows until he’s snickering, doing a terrible job of stifling his laughter. “‘s alright,” he eventually says. “Nothing wrong with that.”

You make yourself as comfortable as possible, pressing your back to Logan’s chest, trying to ignore the hard feeling of his body behind you. You can basically feel everything, the plane of his chest pushing through his tee, the ridge of his sweatpants against your lower back, his legs against yours—tempting you to intertwine them together, his feet hanging right under yours. You’re not exactly dressed for this and your shirt has ridden up, bunched at the top of your ass and exposing your panties. You wonder if he knows. You wonder if he cares. 

This is helping you a lot, but there’s still something on your mind. Something you need to solve before you can go off to sleep. 

You don’t know what it is that makes you confident, that makes you want to ruin a good moment. Maybe it’s the dark providing you comfort, but you lay it all out. 

“You treat me like a kid.”

Logan takes a second. You can just barely make out the hitch in his voice. “...Yeah?”

You’re glad he can’t see you when you pout. It wouldn’t have done much to help your case. “I’m not a kid, Logan. You don’t treat Rogue like a kid.”

“Rogue is different.”

“How? I’m older than her.”

“Just … can we not argue?”

“We’re not arguing.”

“Yeah? Then whaddya call this?”

“A conversation between two adults.”

He hums as if he’s unconvinced. 

You won’t let it go. “How is Rogue different?”

“Go to sleep,” he admonishes.

“Can’t. Not until you answer my question.”

Logan sighs. “‘cause I’m not attracted to her, alright?”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Wait … what?

You’re sure your silence is enough to express your confusion because Logan adds on. 

“I’m trying to set boundaries between us, kid—”

“Don’t call me that.”

He corrects himself with the use of your name instead, but it comes out the same way. “We need boundaries between the two of us. You think I don’t see how you look at me? ‘s not good.”

“If you’re setting boundaries why did you invite me in here.”

“Because I wanted to help you.”

Why is he making you feel crazy? He just told you he’s attracted to you, but he wants to set boundaries? There are barely any boundaries here. You’re alone with him, in his bedroom, tucked away at the end of the hall surrounded by mostly empty bedrooms instead of bedrooms of asleep mutants, curled up against his chest. This is the most opportune time, yet he didn’t want to make a move.

Maybe you were reading too much into it. 

You go to pull away from Logan’s embrace but he keeps you pulled tight to his chest. 

“Don’t do that,” he says it like a command and just to piss him off you consider pulling away. But you’re really comfortable and this is a comfort you aren’t sure you’re ever going to find again. 

“Just go to sleep, alright,” he says your name again, much softer this time. He says it like he’s coaxing you like your name is the final tune in a lullaby. 

Maybe Logan has other powers you aren’t aware of because just that one sentence is enough for you to let it go and submit to the sudden exhaustion that settles over your body like a weighted blanket. 

You don’t know if Logan’s been avoiding you. Mostly because you’ve been avoiding him.

It’s not often that the two of you would have to run into each other, but there were a few times when Professor Xavier extended the invitation to observe an upcoming class, and you declined upon learning that Logan would be subbing. 

You kept your distance as much as you could, even keeping yourself locked up in your bedroom throughout the night, no matter how restless you got. You were miserable, not only because you wanted to be near Logan, but because you were fucking exhausted. 

You could barely stay awake throughout the day, always sneaking off for power naps, taking whatever you could get even if it was only five minutes. 

But you finally have the rest of the afternoon to yourself and you intend to use it to sleep. Uncaring of how much it threw off your sleep schedule, you just needed a solid half hour curled up at the foot of your made bed like a dog, sleeping to your heart's content. 

Of course, it’s on your way up to your room that you run into Logan. You try to ignore him, continuing your path up the stairs, praying that Logan will continue on his path downstairs. 

You don’t know what it is about you that says come talk to me! but Logan stops in his journey, turning to face you. He calls your name, continuing even when you don’t respond. He follows your trek up the stairs and down the hallway, always right on your heels and within arm's reach. 

By the time your hand reaches for your bedroom door, Logan is practically breathing down your neck. 

You know there’s no avoiding him now, but you also don’t want to. 

You stand still, hand wrapped around the doorknob, waiting for Logan to say his piece. 

“Why’d you lead me to your bedroom?” The way he says it, with such arrogance and assurance woven into that same joking manner as if he wasn’t the one who turned you down just a few nights ago. 

“Fuck off, Logan. I just wanna get some sleep.”

You twist the knob and this is what wakes Logan up. “Okay, wait.” His hand reaches out and rests on your elbow. Just this one touch strikes you still. “Will you look at me?”

You turn around, trying to keep your gaze hard even as you take in his appearance for the first time in days. 

The bags under his eyes, the relaxed smile that’s constantly on his face when he’s around you, the thickness of his eyebrows, the points in his hair. You’re staring at his hair, wondering if it’s naturally like that or if he does it himself, and when you look at his eyes again there isn’t a connection. He’s staring at your lips instead. 

You lift your eyebrows impatiently, already imagining the sleep you’ll get after you ruminate until you can’t form a coherent thought. 

Logan opens his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry if you got a little hurt from the other night. Is just this age gap and your little crush is not gonna wor—”

You’re already turning around, deciding whatever else he’s going to say isn’t important at all, but Logan stops you. His movements are fluid, they flow naturally from his body and straight into yours, causing you to move with a coordination you didn’t expect. He spins you back around and pulls you straight to his chest, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, while his hands rest on your hips and your cheek. 

The movement is quick, it happens within a couple of seconds, and it makes the moment after feel so much longer. Nothing but shared blinks as Logan looks at your lips and you look at his. You’re so close to him, even closer than you were the other night, but neither of you makes a move. 

You’re considering making the first move, opening your mouth as if to ask him a question that was still unknown to you, but then Logan’s grip on your cheek tightens as if he’s holding you still and he moves in closer, and closer, and closer until his lips ghost over yours. 

In the end, it’s you who crosses the bridge. 

Your lips touch, sandwiched together, but neither of you do anything. Not until you take a tiny step closer, really nothing but an adjustment of your feet, is Logan pulling you into him. He digs his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, that one hand possessing all of the aggression that doesn’t exist in the hand holding your cheek. 

It’s like the touch of two different men—one who wants to devour you whole and the other who wants to treasure you. You hope that they’re able to coexist as you desperately want both. 

You let Logan kiss you feverishly, an intensity unlike anything you’ve ever seen him display settling in his lips. The Logan you knew was always relaxed, walking around the mansion with a carefree, practically laissez-faire, attitude. He didn’t meddle, he kept his hands to himself, always wrapped around a cigar or a beer. 

But now those hands were wrapped around you for the second time this week. 

You press your hands into the shoulder of his white tee shirt, starting to slide them up towards his hair before you resist. You want to get comfortable kissing him, but you’re still out in the hallway. 

Having the same thought, Logan pulls away from your lips with enough time to open the door, latch his hands onto your hips, and blindly steer you backward until you’re in the room. He stares down at you the entire time, that same smirk on his lips as he kicks the door closed behind him with a single boot. 

And then he has you pressed against the wood, sandwiched between a rock and a hard place. 

He looks at you for a second, his gaze lingering, and then he gets back to it. 

If even possible, Logan has more passion this time around. He sinks his hands to your thighs, pulling one up by his hip. He slots his legs into the opening until your center is hovering over his thigh. You don’t know what to expect, but when he flexes the muscle and presses his limb right up against you, you’re already trying to get more. 

Logan smiles as he kisses you, clearly entertained by your anguished need to get off. He doesn’t verbally reassure you, he doesn’t help you grind yourself down, he doesn’t do anything but continue kissing you. 

When you need to come up for air, knocking your head back into mahogany as you intake large gulps, Logan dips his head down and explores as much skin as he can. He creates a path of kisses from your jaw, down your neck, to the exposed parts of your chest. 

You tilt your head down, locking your hand into his hair and trying to redirect his lips back to yours, but he stops you with a hand pinching your cheeks. 

His eyes flick back and forth between yours, nothing but mischief and arrogance in the green. You wrap a hand around his wrist with the initial want to tug him away, but you like the hold he has you in. You like the look in his eyes. 

“Good?” His voice is softer than his grip. 

You nod, trying to grin as best as you can when your lips are forcibly puckered. 

Logan smiles right back at you. “You got a rubber?”

You nod again, scurrying to your nightstand once Logan lets you go. He tells you to get on the bed and you take the liberty of throwing your shirt off and bra as you go. You have enough sense to step out of your shoes, unclasp your jeans, and tug the zipper down in the path. 

By the time you’re sitting on your bed, you can feel the anxiety thrumming through your body. It’s a good kind, the kind you’ve been seeing less and less of lately. You’re still a little tired and still desiring a solid nap, but it can definitely wait. This is your main priority. 

Logan speaks to you as he undresses. 

“You still doing okay?” he asks as he’s pulling his tee over his head. When you nod, he moves to his belt, thick but deft fingers undoing it and leaving it hanging open and hooked into his belt loops. 

“You tell me if you wanna stop,” he says as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them right after he steps out of his boots. You give him a look and he clocks it immediately. 

“You think you can take it, bub?” He laughs. “Yeah? Don’t you think you’re talkin’ a big game?”

Petulantly, you roll your eyes. “Logan, I’m not a fucking kid, I’ll be fine.”

Wrong. So, so, so stupidly wrong. 

You are fine, but the sight of Logan’s dick sends nerves down your spine. You’ve talked yourself up, you can’t go back, so you do what you can. You let him peel your jeans and panties off, hoping you look as seductive as he does. You keep your eyes on his abdomen, tracing the vein that runs from the right of his navel down to his cock, breathing as well as you can while Logan lines himself up. The first push burns, just like you expect it to, but you adjust quicker than you thought. Eventually, all you can feel is pleasure. You’re so full when he’s only halfway in you. You feel stuffed as soon as he bottoms out, his heavy ball sack resting flush against you, a thick forest of pubes pressed against your cunt. 

Logan is so much, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. Hovering and staring down at you as his hips rock into yours, slowly and experimentally at first. It’s not until you draw a leg up over his hips that he increases the strength of his rocks. 

He has one hand keeping himself steady and the other holding your waist. It’s so intimate, and not only because he’s fucking you, but because he’s staring down at you the entire time, his teeth bared as he watches you for every single reaction. His eyes rake down your body, watching the way your tits jiggle before dipping lower to watch the way he’s entering you. You can’t see his gaze, but you can feel it, the weight of it comparable to the weight of his cock in you. 

There’s an inhuman nature to it, hidden deep below the surface as if he’s trying to hold back, but it’s there. You’re made aware of it when you clench around him and he growls. It comes from the back of his throat but it’s a sound you’ve never heard before. It’s so Logan, you don’t think anyone other than him could make a sound like that as erotic as it is. You want to hear him more, you want your moans to blend together amongst the four walls of your bedroom, but he keeps his sounds to himself. It’s like there’s a disconnect between the both of you, like Logan’s still holding back even though he’s balls deep in you. 

“Logan,” you whine, getting his attention. He looks at you with concern in his eyes, his hips slowing down. You shake your head, pushing more towards him. “Please,” you beg, praying he knows exactly what you want. 

“What? What d’you want?”

“More.”

Logan gets rougher. He’s grinding up into you like his life depends on it, blunt nails delving into your skin as if he wants to break it. You wish he would. You aren’t regenerative like he is, but you still desire the broken skin, the beads of blood, the marks left behind. 

You’re thinking about it, eyes lidded and falling closed when Logan knocks his forehead into yours once. He moans, closed-mouthed as his head lolls to the side, a shiver shaking him from the bottom of the spine up. 

“Jesus, baby,” he says. It’s all he says, but it’s more than enough. He keeps going, digging his tip into you deeper and deeper until it feels like he’s swimming in your guts. 

He drags his head down until he can wrap his lips around one of your nipples, licking and sucking before moving on to give the other one the same treatment. You desperately want him to mark you up, you want a reminder that this—the thing you’ve been wanting since Storm and Scott came back with two new mutants in tow—actually happened. Bravely, you reach out and tangle your hand in his hair, surprisingly softer than you thought it would be. You don’t hold him down much, just enough to communicate what you want nonverbally. And then after a few tortuous seconds of hesitation, his lips wrap around the skin atop your left breast and he sucks. The strength in it stings, it reminds you just how strong Logan is, but it feels so good. 

Unexpectedly, you feel your muscles seize. It starts in your tummy, deep down near where Logan’s been massaging, and then it just doesn’t stop, likely because he doesn’t stop. 

It’s like he’s spurred on by the feeling of you cumming, motivated by the way your back arches and you reach for the heavens as you clench around his cock. 

He gets a burst of energy, fucking you like he has something to prove when really it’s you with something to prove. 

You’re overstimulated, struggling to keep up with Logan, but you don’t want to tap out. You talked a big game, you can’t back down now. So you remain silent while Logan pulls another orgasm out of you, hoping he won’t notice the way your eyes brew tears without your consent and the way your lips quirk with the impending request to slow down. 

Of course, he notices. 

He’s grinning with sympathy—you don’t know if it’s sincere or faux—when he takes a hand and strokes your cheekbone. 

“I see ya, kid. Feels good, yeah?”

For some reason, when he calls you kid like this, you don’t completely hate it. 

There’s no point in lying, so you nod. 

“So tight,” he winces, eyebrows pinched together as he flashes his teeth, a dimple in his right cheek appearing with it. 

Just as you didn’t warn him before, he doesn’t warn you when he cums. You feel it though, the way his thrusts get sloppier and faster just before he gives you one punctual one, and then you feel the confined warmth of his cum shooting into the condom. 

You wish you weren’t as exhausted as you were, because the next time you’re conscious, it’s dark out and the bedsheet is covering your body. You’re hot, hotter than you usually want to be when you’re sleeping, but you’re bare naked. That and you only have a thin sheet covering your body. 

It doesn’t take much investigation to figure out what’s making you so hot, not when it’s attached to your back with one meaty bicep slung around your neck and keeping you pulled against him. It takes you a bit to fall asleep, but once you do, you’re out for the rest of the night. 

[groovy-rat-man]

I have no fucking clue what I did to cause this but I am currently shiting myself to death rn

[hoe4hotchner]

I totally just burnt my ring finger lighting up a candle ;-;. Would you be writing a little something about Hotch taking care of the reader when she does likewise? <3

(Hope you feel better soon!)

In Gentle Hands | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader CW: Fluff, you burned your finger WC: 0.8k

           The sharp sting hit before you even realized what had happened. You dropped the match - thankful that it extinguished before hitting the counter - sucking in a quick breath as the flame caught the tip of your ring finger. "Ow!" you muttered under your breath, shaking your hand instinctively.

           You quickly blew out the candle, but the damage was done. The skin on your ring finger was already turning an angry red. You groaned, holding your hand up to inspect the small burn. The pain throbbed, a sharp reminder of your carelessness. You hadn’t meant to get distracted, but in your attempt to light the candle and tidy the coffee table at the same time, you had lost focus for just a second.

           "Everything okay?" Aaron’s voice floated from the other room, the usual warmth and concern evident even though he couldn’t see you.

           You winced. "Uh, yeah… kind of."

           Aaron appeared in the doorway almost immediately, his brow furrowed. His dark eyes scanned you for a moment, taking in the situation quickly. "What happened?"

           You sighed, showing him your finger. "I, uh… burnt my finger lighting a candle. Not my finest moment." You grinned a little awkwardly at the situation.

           Aaron stepped closer, his expression softening as he took your hand gently in his. He carefully examined the burn, his thumb brushing lightly against your uninjured fingers. "You should have been more careful," he said, though his tone was more affectionate than scolding.

           "I know, I know," you mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed. "It was just a little mistake."

           Aaron smiled faintly and tugged you toward the kitchen. "Come on, we need to take care of that before it gets worse."

           You followed him, watching as he opened the freezer and grabbed a small ice pack. He wrapped it in a soft dish towel and handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours as he did. "Here, put this on it. It'll help with the pain."

           You did as he said, wincing slightly as the cool pack touched the burn. The relief was immediate, though, and you let out a quiet sigh of gratitude. "Thanks," you murmured, looking up at him.

           Aaron wasn’t done yet, though. He was already rifling through the first-aid kit he kept in one of the kitchen drawers. You watched as he grabbed some ointment and bandages, his movements quick and efficient. There was something so calming about the way Aaron handled things - always so steady, so sure, never overreacting. It made you feel safe, even in a moment as small as this one.

           Once he had everything, he sat down beside you, gently taking your hand again. "Let me see," he said softly, unwrapping the ice pack from your finger. He studied the burn for a moment before applying the ointment with careful precision, his fingers warm and steady against your skin.

           You couldn’t help but smile at the tenderness in his touch. "You know, for a big, tough FBI agent, you’re pretty good at this."

           He glanced up at you, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. "Comes with the job. I’ve had to patch up more than a few injuries over the years." You knew he was referring to Jack, but still smiled at his comment.

           "Right, because lighting candles is so dangerous."

           Aaron chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "You’d be surprised how often I see minor injuries like this," he teased, though his eyes were full of affection. He gently pressed a bandage over your finger, securing it in place. "There. All better."

           You flexed your hand carefully, feeling a bit ridiculous for needing this much attention over such a small burn. But at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. Aaron always knew how to make you feel taken care of, no matter how minor the issue was. "Thank you," you said softly, leaning in to press a light kiss to his cheek.

           Aaron's hand moved to rest on your lower back, pulling you closer. "You don’t have to thank me," he murmured. "Just promise me you’ll be more careful next time."

           You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. "Promise."

           For a few moments, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the warmth of his body against yours making you feel more at ease. The pain in your finger was already fading, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the soft hum of the kitchen around you.

           "You know," you said after a while, glancing up at him, "if this is the kind of treatment I get every time I get a little hurt, I might start lighting more candles."           

           Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. "Let’s not test that theory."

           You laughed too, the sound light and happy, as you snuggled closer into his side.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@rosekillermicrofic may 4 — hopeless — 1233words — cw: mildly pervy and sexual thoughts, nothing explicit though

no thoughts, just line cook! barty

A miracle.

The gods have heard Barty’s wishes and granted him this blessing.

Evan usually gets set up for dealing with the bar or counter but on rare occasions his lovely name gets jotted down in the column of servers/busboys. Today is one of those fateful occurrences which means Barty has at least 30% longer time windows of flirting his jolly ass off and burning food he’s not paying attention to curtsy of Evan’s slutty narrow hips in those damn aprons. Obscene things, those are.

Barty is currently staring at them as he blindly flips the burger patties one after the other, the stove sizzling animatedly. Barty is pretty sure he hasn’t blinked once since Evan has entered the kitchen again a minute ago to help sort dishes.

“So how’s your day been so far, Evan darling?”

“No,” comes back immediately. Not even a look thrown over his shoulder.

Barty’s grin widens. He puts more meat on the stove.

“Aw, c’mon. People been scant with tips already or what?”

Evan doesn’t reply, instead ripping off the notes from his pad and wordlessly striding over to Barty’s station, pinning them up.

Two of today’s specials, one cheesesteak and one portion of chicken for a caesar salad. And a little dick scribbled in the bottom corner.

“More people coming in than usual. Get a move on,” Evan says before briskly walking off again. Barty just so manages to get a whiff of spicy deodorant and whatever shea butter coconut extract beauty shit Evan uses for his curls before he’s gone again.

Barty sighs, looking after his pert little ass and long legs all the way until he’s around the corner. Then he readjusts his grip on the spatula and finally picks the patties off the grill, calling for Lily to collect them and assemble.

“They’re burnt,” she hisses, punching him in the arm with vigor. It hurts but Barty is too busy thinking about what type of underwear Evan might be wearing today. “Stop getting distracted by Rosier and do your damn job, chef.”

Barty hums, “What you think it’ll take to trick Evan into following me into the freezer room?”

Another hit. The same exact spot and Barty can’t help but hiss in pain this time.

Lily simply shakes her head, muttering Hopeless as she leaves.

Rush hour comes and goes.

Barty doesn’t let himself be bothered by the frenzy of it, bobbing his head to his playlist jamming over the old, staticy speakers while servers bustle around him like worker bees.

It’s meditative to him in a way and usually he sort of snaps out of it once it all calms down.

It’s when Evan asks him for leftover containers that Barty is brought back down to earth today.

The other boy is flushed in the face, slightly sweaty and hair messy with what can only be described as the final quarter of an eight hour shift look. It looks unfairly sexy on him.

The take out containers are in the cupboard over Barty’s head to his left side which he made sure to push all the way back during his break earlier.

“Yeah, they’re right here,” Barty says, nodding to the shelf.

“Grab two for me?”

Barty turns back to his meat again, teeth digging into his lower lip, grin straining his cheeks. “Nope.”

There’s nothing for a few seconds, only the background noise of the restaurant, the sizzling oil and Barty’s music.

When he turns again Evan is standing in the middle of the kitchen, rooted to the spot, blinking at Barty once. “‘No’?”

Barty hums, “Yeah, ’m pretty busy right now in case you can’t tell.” He shuffles a strip of bacon around as if to prove his point.

Evan’s eyes narrow, lips twisting into an obscene little pout, “You just have to lift your arm!”

“Sorry, no can do, Rosie baby.”

“You-” Evan huffs, “Hand me the fucking boxes, Crouch.”

“Can’t,” he replies airily, shrugging. “They’re pretty high up, too,” a hum, “I might not even be tall enough. I think you’ll have to walk your devilishly tall ass over here and grab them yourself.”

“Branleur,” Evan spits before reluctantly closing the distance between them.

His amber eyes glower dangerously at Barty and he has to suppress a deeply satisfactory hum, gut tightening and blood thrumming.

Evan yanks at the handle, opening it up to the ceiling before stretching up on his tiptoes to peer into it. He lets out a grumble, presumably at finding the containers to, in fact, be there but pushed all the way to the wall.

He’s only taller than Barty by a bit, an inch or two, maybe three, which means he’s struggling to reach the boxes too.

And it’s glorious and heavenly and so very tempting because Evan’s shirt is riding up in the back and, oh god, he has dimples there. Fuck, Evan has back dimples and they’re approximately half an armslength from Barty’s twitching fingers and it really requires visceral effort not to reach out and dig the pads of his thumbs into them. Push and maybe fold Evan right in half over the counter all together. Lick along his spine and bite into his hip bones, the smooth skin of his stomach, nibble at that one little mole right next to his navel that Barty was once fortunate enough to make acquaintance with and has since rubbed one out to more times than he could count.

When the other boy lifts back down he catches him staring, their eyes snapping to each other instantly.

“Don’t be a perv,” Evan comments, giving Barty a derogative once over and christ, no, don’t do that.

Barty laves his tongue along the corner of his own mouth, collecting spit that was threatening to drool, and uses a quick hand to adjust himself in his jeans.

Evan’s eyes follow his movement, arms crossing in front of his chest and a heavy breath punches out of Barty. He can’t help it, his mind is a powerpoint of all the different things he wants to do to Evan to make him lose this put-on condescending demeanor. Glimpses of the prettiest pair of eyes rolling back, eyebrows scrunching pitifully as Barty sinks into deliciously tight heat.

He desperately needs to get Evan alone with him. “Wanna smoke a blunt with me after closing?” he blurts.

And then Evan suddenly smiles. A downright cute little thing, all coy and syrupy sweet, poisonously candid. So viscous saccharine Barty feels it immobilize him like a glue trap and he groans in anticipation of the fatal blow Evan is about to deliver.

“Sorry, B,” he murmurs innocently, clicking his head, “no can do.”

It glides over Evan’s lips all strained and faux and with the most erotic little pitch Barty’s ears have ever heard.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his semi straining so heavily against the denim it would surely be visible without his own apron.

From one moment to the next Evan’s smile falls, having fulfilled its purpose, and he gives one last snootily look before he whirls on his heels and marches away, takeout containers in hand.

Just over to the other end of the kitchen where he bends down to grab some cutlery with which he will scrape the leftovers from the plate into the aluminum containers.

Doing so, Evan’s shirt rides up again, his ass jutting out and Barty vaguely registers the smell of burnt pork as he commits the muscle shift of Evan’s thighs and back into his memory for later.

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 18]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.3K

"Hwa hwa, you know I love you the most, right?" You threw your arms around the male, hugging him with a sweetest grin that you could muster. Seonghwa raised an eyebrow as he stared at you, more like glared at you.

"Yeah right. The only time (y/n) tells Seonghwa hyung she loves him is to get out of trouble." Jongho snorted.

"Shut up, Jongho." You hissed.

"Be nice." Seonghwa hit the back of your head, making you sulk. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity, Wooyoung wrapped his arms around your waist to back hug you.

"Woo~" You squirmed. Seonghwa sighed, stroking your head. He knew that you already knew what he was going to say.

"Are you tired?" He asked.

"Not at all. It was nice and relaxing. I needed this, to keep myelf busy." You looked up at him. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho knew what you meant.

"Plus, Yunho is good company." You added. All 3 boys looked up at Yunho, who was just standing there, trying to eavesdrop and watch what was happening without being noticed. He blinked when he realised that all the stared were at him. Embarrassed that they knew he was there, he cleared his throat.

"He made sure I sat down to rest after. And you! You're interfering with my coffee drinking! Even made sweet innocent Yunho turn against me." You raised a hand to hit Seonghwa.

"I-I made her a h-hot chocolate." Yunho confirmed, a little flustered to hear you call him 'sweet' and 'innocent'.

"Good. Now let's get to work." Seonghwa said, patting your head and completely ignoring you.

"I only need to fill my pasta. I'm letting my galbi and broth simmer for as long as I can let it. My garnishes and toppings are prepared." You told them.

"I'll start on apps with you?" Jongho offered. You nodded, about to walk when you noticed Wooyoung still latched to your waist.

"Wooyoung! Let me go." You patted his back. He puckered his lips in a pout before he unwillingly let you go.

You wore your apron again and went to wash your knife. This night was slightly different. With everyone working on their own dish, there wasn't a clear sous, prep or head chef. All of you just split the shared tasks while working on your own.

"Oh, wait. Let me check on the ice cream." You put your knife down and went to churners to check the consistency of the ice cream. Once they were done, you put them in the freezer.

"What's for dessert?" Yunho asked.

"That was smoked milk and vanilla ice cream. We're serving that with red bean jelly cubes, pieces of injeolmi rice cake and an almond tuile."

"Like flavours of patbingsoo but elevated." Seonghwa informed. You nodded in confirmation.

"For Western dessert, we're doing a burnt white chocolate panna cotta with raspberry swirl meringues, a passionfruit coolis and fresh mango cubes over." Jongho added.

"That sounds really nice. But burnt white chocolate?" Yunho leaned forward on his hands.

"Well, not burnt. More caramelised. White chocolate on its own is very sweet. But cook it until it becomes brown and caramelised, the flavour is a lot better and easier to balance." Wooyoung explained. Yunho nodded in interest. You continued working on the appetisers with Jongho.

"Hweh crudo. Take the marinated fish slices and roll it up with pea shoots, scallions and shredded perilla leaf. Minari (Water dropwort) jeon." You listed.

"We need to prep gujeolpan (plate with small wraps and 9 delicacy toppings)." Jongho reminded.

"Right. Then the confit tomatoes with pickles." You checked.

"I'll do the roasted eggplant with black olive doenjang and ponzu. Almost done here." Wooyoung voiced out as he worked on his dish at his bench. The door opened, the others entering.

"We're here early to help!" San declared loudly with his arms raised. Hongjoong and Yeosang shushed him.

"You can help us with the appetisers. Get aprons and wash your hands." You said.

The 4 main kitchen crew took turns. After Seonghwa and Wooyoung stepped in to guide those that didn't know their way around the kitchen, you and Jongho could work on your mains.

"Yunho, want to help me with my pasta?" You asked. Yunho's head shot up, looking for where you were in the kitchen before leaving Mingi and his task to go to you. He smiled excitedly as he bounded over like a puppy.

"So we need to shred the meat for the pasta. This is the galbi. Take two forks and pull them apart." You demonstrated.

"I can do that! And that smells so good." He pointed to the galbi. Grabbing a tasting spoon, you let him indulge in a bite. But soon, you had others around.

"Hey!" Yunho protested as you fed San, Mingi, Yeosang and Hongjoong too.

"Alright, get back to work." He scolded them. You stayed beside Yunho, rolling out the pasta dough.

"You don't need to shred every single piece entirely. You can leave them in different size pieces." You told Yunho. He nodded with a hum, sneaking a bite before continuing.

"Stop stealing the food." You scolded him with a laugh. Yunho grinned cheekily.

"I want to do Yunho's job too." Hongjoong whined.

"No! It's my job." Yunho barked back. He liked working with you, like your personal sous chef. Yunho watched you measured the dough with a ruler and cut it. You took bites of meat that Yunho had already shredded and placed it in the middle before closing it, joining the ends together.

"Ooh, can I try?" Yunho asked with sparkling eyes. You nodded and Yunho put the forks down temporarily for you to slowly demonstrate how to fold the pasta dough.

"Not too much filling or it'll burst." You advised.

"Yeah, just like that. Press the two ends." You leaned over to see Yunho's one.

"I'll finish up here and continue that." He smiled proudly, putting it aside before finishing his previous job of shredding the meat. Once he was done, he helped you fold the pasta.

"I'm not as fast as you." He pouted.

"You just started. I would already say you're already doing a great job." You smiled.

"Thank you." Yunho blushed from your compliment. He continued to make the pasta with you. You momentarily stepped away to check the seolleongtang broth that was bubbling away on the stove, giving it a taste to make sure it was getting there.

"How is it?" Yunho asked when you stepped back into your original spot. You looked up at him and nodded, telling him how the progress of the stock has been.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, there were a few sets of eyes staring at the two of you chat in your little corner. It was like you were in your own bubble, smiling as you chatted and made the pasta together.

"That's cute." Wooyoung noted. Yeosang nodded in agreement. Hongjoong let out an affectionate chuckle.

"They're in their own world over there." San chuckled.

"They're just talking, how is that cute?" Mingi blinked, completely missing what everyone was talking about. Hongjoong patted Mingi's shoulder sympathetically.

"It's okay not to get it, Mingi ah." Hongjoong chuckled. Seonghwa stared for a second, unknowingly clenching his jaw.

"Seonghwa hyung?" Jongho called out, breaking his brain fog. The look Jongho cast him, Seonghwa knew he had been caught spiralling in his brain. He was reminding the elder that he wasn't alone in the room. Clearing his throat, Seonghwa focussed on the cutting baord in the front of him.

"We're done here. Anyone need help on anything?" You came back to the center of the kitchen where everyone was still working.

"Appetisers are almost done. Do you want to start the dessert components with me?" Seonghwa asked you in a gentle voice. You nodded your head.

"Let's get the panna cottas in the fridge to set." You both went to get the ingredients from the walk in and pantry.

"Thanks for all the help, guys. But if you need to go prepare the front for tonight. Just go ahead, we've got it handled." You said to the 5.

"We should bring in the washed plates for tonight." Yeosang said. He and San went out to bring the plates in for the kitchen crew to use to plate the food on.

"Who is working the pass tonight?" You asked.

"I can be the main. But we'll have to rotate from time to time." Wooyoung volunteered.

"Sure. Just tap out when you need someone to take over." Seonghwa and Jongho agreed. With a small crew, this was how you had to make things work. You couldn't afford to have one person just at one station the whole night.

Soon, the crew that works the front of the restaurant all were busy trying to set up for the night, leaving only a few in the ktichen to work with your kitchen crew.

"Actually, Mingi. I would love to speak with your mother about cooking eels, preparing and procuring them." You said.

"I'm sure she'll be happy to share that knowledge with you, (y/n). She loves talking about food." He chuckled.

"Maybe she can give me her eel supplier. I would love to explore it as an ingredient more. Surprisingly, I have not been that exposed to working with it." You sighed.

"My mum's the right person to go to then. I should bring you to the restaurant one day." He replied.

"I'd love that." You had a small smile on your face.

"Let's cook the staff meal first. I have feeling we might end later than we usually do and we'll be too tired to cook for ourselves then." Seonghwa suggested. You checked the clock, about to decide what to whip up quickly for everyone but San and Mingi came over, volunteering to cook.

"You guys are busy enough. We'll take over and cook something up." San smiled.

"Thanks, guys." You, Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho were very grateful that they stepped up and volunteered. San and Mingi were the best cooks out of the 5 so you weren't too worried.

"Shall we make curry rice?" Mingi suggested, holding the cubes of Korean curry up.

"I know how to make that." San laughed. The two began chopping vegetables, adding whatever meat they could find.

"Is anyone using these?" San came out of the walk in with a few packs of chicken thighs and sliced pork belly in his hands. You all shook your heads.

"I'll cook the rice. You start slicing the meat." Mingi instructed and went to get the rice cooker. The 4 of you made sure to be around them in case the two needed help. But San and Mingi were confident, they didn't want to ask for help.

"Mingi, sorry. Just a few minutes. Yunho needs another tall person to help." Hongjoong poked his head into the kitchen.

"Coming." Mingi went out.

"Hi, (y/n)ie." San smiled when you moved opposite him to check on the pasta that you made with Yunho earlier. You chuckled at the casual way he called you.

"Hi, Sannie." You returned the greeting. San looked up in surprise but smiled nonetheless, his dimple popping through.

"So are you excited for your parents to come tonight?" You asked him. He nodded.

"My parents live rather far in the countryside but when they visit, it is always a treat. I hope my older sister comes too. I miss all of them." San said.

"They must be really nice."

"They are. They treat everyone like their family." He laughed. You wondered what it must be like to have such a warm, welcoming family. Maybe your family would have been like that if your mother was still around. But even then, your father was someone that never liked you and your mother to be too friendly to others.

"(y/n)." Seonghwa called you. You looked up to see Seonghwa nodding over to where he was. Shooting San a small smile, you went over to him.

"Okay?" He whispered as you stood beside him. You let out a small hum, helping him with the dessert.

-

After a quick dinner, the kitchen was bustling for dinner service. You knew the parents came when the boys were all greeting them loudly and excitedly in the dining room.

"Hey." Yunho came in with all the parents behind him. You all stood up, bowing respectfully. He introduced whose parents were whose and the family members. Yunho's younger brother looked like him.

"Please, don't let us bother you. Or interrupt your flow." Mrs Song chuckled, waving a hand. She knew what it was like working in the kitchen, owning her own restaurant. You all returend to your food prep tasks.

"I'm Wooyoung. That's Seonghwa hyung, Jongho and (y/n)." Wooyoung, who was the closest, introduced all of you.

"(y/n). The head." Even if you were not looking at them, you felt all eyes fall on you. Jongho nodded at you, assuring that he could handle it. You straightened up and walked over.

"Nice to meet you." You bowed to them.

"Omo. You're so pretty." All the mothers flocked to you, cooing at you affectionately. You grew flustered, unsure of what to do or how to react.

"Okay, ommas. Let's give her some space." Yunho cut in, separating them from you. The fathers merely chuckled, shaking their heads while the mothers scolded Yunho.

"How talented you are. I heard you've been in many reputable kitchens at your age." Mrs Jeong said sweetly, holding your hand.

"Ah, no... It's all just for experience. I'm thankful for all the opportunities given to me." You gave an awkward smile. Yunho cleared his throat and his mother pulled away, shooting her son a look. You bowed your head and went back to help, not wanting to leave the others on their own for long.

"Alright, we shall let them get back to work. Let's go back out." Yunho ushered all of them out of the kitchen. He let a sigh, hoping his mother didn't scare you too much.

"What happened?" Mingi asked.

"Our mothers were smothering (y/n)." Yunho rolled his eyes as the parents took their seats.

"Hyung, (y/n) and those guys are so talented. Why would they want to work for you?" Gunho asked. Yunho shot his younger brother a flat look while Mr Jeong nudged his youngest son.

"Because I am an amazing boss, okay?" Yunho scoffed.

"Mmm, sure." Yeosang coughed. Hongjoong handed out the menus to the parents for them to see what they would like to order.

"Omma, order (y/n)'s dish. I helped make it." Yunho leaned over, pointing to which dish you made on the menu. Mrs Jeong nodded with a hum.

"Hyung helped make it? I'm so not going to order it." Gunho shook his head. Mingi snickered, reaching over to hi-five him. Yunho threatened to hit them. But in the presence of other customers, he wasn't going to.

"Order coming in for the VIP tables." Wooyoung warned as he started to read off the order slips that were coming through.

"Let's go." You all began to work on the appetisers together that would be served first. Wooyoung, at the pass, would finish up with sauces and garnishes before sending the plate out to be served.

"Service." Wooyoung put the plates out for the other boys to bring out to the table.

"Let's start getting ready for mains so we can fire once they are done with apps. In case we need to float." You said to everyone.

"How is it going in here?" Yunho came into the kitchen. You were straining your seolleongtang stock, getting it ready to plate the mains later.

"How are the appetisers?" Seonghwa asked, setting up his oven smoker with the tea leaves for his duck.

"Oh, they love it. Every single dish, I had to stop them from ordering seconds before the mains. But at least they're all excited for the mains now." Yunho grinned proudly. When you were done, you helped Jongho with setting up his binchotan grill for the cod fillets. Yunho came over to you.

"Need help?"

"No, we're good here. You should go out and be with your parents. In case they need anything." You put a hand on his arm. Yunho pouted but nodded, obediently leaving the kitchen.

"We can start firing the mains." Wooyoung said, having observed the dining room from his position at the pass.

"Gunho looks like Yunho. A younger version." You chuckled as you took the pasta out of the boiling water. You missed the odd look that your friends shot you.

"Cuter?" Jongho asked, wanting to add fuel to the fire.

"Maybe." You shrugged.

"What?!" The door burst open and Yunho yelled in disbelief, making you all jump in shock. Hongjoong, who was outside, bowed in apology to the surprised customers before hurriedly pushing Yunho in the kitchen.

"Geez, Yunho! There are customers! You can't just suddenly yell like that." He scolded in a hiss before exiting to return to the dining room.

"Yunho, don't do that. You're disrupting customers and it's not safe where we're working with knives here." You frowned.

"Wait, do you seriously think Gunho is cuter than me?" Yunho planted his hand on the counter, blocking your way with his body. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho snickered.

"Does it matter? Now, I need to plate my dish." You said, walking around him to go to the plates.

"Yes, it matters to me!" Yunho threw a tantrum, stomping his food as he whined.

"(y/n)~" He whined when he realised that you were ignoring him. You plated each pasta on each plate, making sure the positions of each pasta was accurate and similar. He leaned down in front of you.

"(y/n), tell me I'm cuter than Gunho." He said. You rolled your eyes, patting his head to pacify him then walking to get the seolleongtang into a jug so you could pour it over the pasta. Yunho sulked, following you around like a puppy with separation anxiety. You poured the broth over, garnishing with two oils.

"Pass me the egg garnish." You instructed. Yunho sighed but handed the containers for you to put the garnishes over.

"Bring these out for service, will you?" You told him and went to prepare the other portions. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho called the others for service too.

"Yah. Don't just stand there. Keep moving." Mingi clicked his tongue as he carried the dishes in his hands.

"We might have a little lull time before dessets." Wooyoung said.

"(y/n). Tell me I'm better than Gunho." Yunho came in again, still pushing his agenda. You raised an eyebrow at him. He was seriously a pouty puppy.

"I don't know Gunho well enough to know if you're truly better than him. That's biased." You pointed out.

"True." San, who overheard, voiced in agreement. Yunho whipped around, glaring at San.

"Get out." He pointed at the door. San scoffed and rolled his eyes before going out. Turning back around, Yunho saw that you had slipped away. You were still doing the few orders for mains and appetisers that came in.

"Service." You handed the plates to Wooyoung. Yeosang came in to take them out to the dining room. Seonghwa and Jongho also served what they finished working on. Yunho brought them out.

"Let's take 5." Seonghwa suggested. You stepped out the back door for a breather. Yunho came back to find you missing.

"I'm just taking a breather, Yunho." You said when he stepped out of the back door.

"I know." He said, taking a seat beside you on the stoop. With his body practically brushing against yours, you didn't move away uncomfortably. You sat there in silence.

"Why were you so adament on me thinking you're better than Gunho? It doesn't matter what I think." You asked with a chuckle.

"No, it matters to me." Yunho said firmly.

"Why?"

"Because you can't like Gunho. I want to be the only one that you like." He frowned.

~

Series masterlist

[queer-irritator]

Drive Max Disaster | Wade Wilson x Fem!GN! Reader

Content warnings: Language, misgendering, alcohol, fluff <3 <3 Word count: 3,479

Synopsis: Reader is weighed down by the cost of living and needs to find a second job. Luckily, the Drive Max has an opening for an assistant! 

a/n: Hello lovelies! I have so many ideas for Wade/Deadpool swirling around in my head, so here is one of said ideas. Of course I did not proofread. This is also my first time writing Wade so let me know your thoughts!!

You sighed in frustration, looking helplessly at your overdue bills on your laptop. Despite working 50 hour weeks, it’s somehow not enough to satisfy the greedy hands of capitalism. You needed a second job. To spare your pride from any more damage, you close the tab where your debt stares into your soul and start looking for some easy-going jobs. 

To your disappointment, there were not very many options for part-time jobs. You applied to a few assistant and receptionist positions and decided to treat yourself to a freezer burnt fudge popsicle for all your hard work. 

The next morning you were awoken by your phone’s ringtone. You groaned, of course someone would be calling you on your one day off. Without checking the caller ID, you answered groggily. 

Your eyes shot open when you heard a man on the other line mention your application for an assistant at the local used car dealership. You sat up and put on your best professional voice and secured an interview the same day. 

It wasn’t long until you were stepping out of a taxi in front of the dealership, wearing your nicest business-casual clothes and confidently walking into the building. 

An older man who was balding, and what hair was left around his head was pure white, with a matching white mustache approached you.

“Welcome to Drive Max! My name is Cameron, can I get you some refreshments?” 

You put on your sweetest smile, “Hi, Cameron. I’m actually here for an interview for the assistant position.” 

“Oh, of course! Silly me. I’m going to fetch Peter, our manager and he’ll be conducting your interview.” The man concluded your conversation while showing you to a small office to wait in. 

You waited for about 15 minutes before a man, presumably Peter, entered the room looking slightly flustered. 

“Hi, sorry about the wait.” The man rambled on about how business was booming and some other bullshit to make his establishment seem like the perfect place to work. 

The interview was nothing different than any other than the management seeming more flustered and desperate for help than usual. You did some negotiation with Peter and came to an agreement which included a $3,000 sign-on bonus if you did your paperwork today. 

So, there you were. Sat alone in the office Peter was with you moments ago, filling out the most repetitive paperwork you’ve ever read. 

A commotion from the front room tore your concentration from the papers before you. You lifted your head and could see a few figures moving around through the blinds.There was also muffled talking, but you couldn’t make out any words. 

Suddenly the talking stopped and one of the figures was coming towards the room you were in. Quickly, you sat back down and acted as if you had been minding your own business the entire time. The door to the office swung open and a man with scarred skin and a very obvious toupee made direct eye contact with you. 

“You’re the new assistant?” He questioned you.

“... Yes.” You cautiously answered his question.

The man moaned dramatically in relief, “Thank GOD. We have to go get burritos right now.” 

You couldn’t hold back the puzzled look on your face, “Oh, uhm… I don’t think… I haven’t started working here yet.” 

The man chuckled, “For 3k you do.” 

You couldn’t help your jaw dropping slightly. How did this man know all of the details of your employment? Maybe he was the owner…

“Yes, sir.” You put your pen down and followed the man through to lobby. 

He attempted to whisper to Peter, but he didn’t lower the volume of his voice at all, “I like this one.” 

You couldn’t begin to comprehend what you had gotten yourself into. 

The man, who had finally introduced himself as Wade Wilson, led you to a car and tossed some keys at you.

“I call shotgun!” he yelled, diving into the passenger seat. 

You narrowly caught the keys and entered the car, starting it. 

“So, where are we going?” You asked as you adjusted the mirrors and the seat to be more comfortable. 

The man shrugged, “I usually just drive around until I find somewhere that sells food.”

“Okay… how about we use Google?” You proposed, taking out your phone and looking up some Mexican restaurants nearby. 

While you glanced over some reviews, Wade began messing with the car radio. Eventually he landed on “Angel of the Morning” and cranked the volume as high as it could go as he began to sing along. 

You looked to Wade, dumbfounded. This really must be some big wig’s son or ridiculously rich for this man to have a job, anywhere. You sighed and put the directions up on your phone and started the drive. 

The blaring music was beginning to give you a headache and you’d only been driving for 2 minutes. You decided rolling down the windows would, hopefully, make the rest of the drive slightly more bearable. But you were very wrong. The moment you rolled down the passenger side window, Wade began to climb out and sit in the window, still belting out to the next song that was playing. 

“Oh my fucking god.” You mumbled to yourself, flicking your eyes between the road and the man half out the window. You turned down the music and tugged on his pants, “Get back in here! You’re going to kill yourself!”

“Oh, calm down.” He said, plopping himself back in his seat, “You never heard of mutants before?” 

You glanced at him, your heart racing slightly less now that he had all limbs inside the car. 

“Of course I have. I just didn’t know that you were one. Besides, mutants can still die.” You felt a sense of ease as you spotted the restaurant down the road. 

“Not me, baby.” He put his feet up on the dash, “100% invincible.” He had a smirk on his face and you could tell he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye to see your reaction. 

“Congratulations. Unfortunately I am not immortal, and when you act like a jackass you put other people’s lives in danger.” You snapped just as you pulled into a parking spot. “Go get your fucking tacos.” “Sheesh lady… and it’s burritos, not tacos.” Wade explained as he got out of the car. 

You rolled your eyes and called out to him as he walked toward the entrance, “And I’m not a lady!” 

He stopped and turned around, “I’ll have you know I’m gender blind! I’m VERY inclusive.” He disappeared into the building before you could think of something to say back. 

You sighed loudly and ran your hands down your face. You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips as you reflected on the entire situation. This was going to be quite the part-time job. 

You tried to pass the time by scrolling on your phone, but as the minutes ticked by, you were becoming slightly impatient. And you also wanted some food for yourself. You stepped out of the car, making sure to lock it, and entered the restaurant Wade went into 20 minutes ago now. 

You were greeted by the sight of Wade hunched over at a bar stool, wrappers all over the counter, three empty beer bottles, one half full, and a half eaten burrito in his hand. 

“Wade!” You sighed and walked up to him, “I thought you were just doing a pick up order or something.” 

He looked at you as he took another swig of beer, “Pick up?? Nah, this is my lunch break.” 

“Your lunch break? It’s not for work?” You asked, confused. 

He shook his head, “Nope.”

You looked more closely examined the man before you and spotted a nametag that read: Wade, beginner salesman. 

You sighed and rubbed your forehead. It was your first day and you disappeared with a beginner salesman for an hour… How were you going to get out of this?? “Okay, we need to go back. Before we get in more trouble.” You demanded.

“I’m not done eating yet!” he whined, arguing back like a little kid. 

“Dude, I really don’t care. Either come back with me or I’m leaving you here.” You said before walking back outside and getting in the car.

Wade groaned and chugged the last of his beer and stuffed the rest of his burrito in his face and made it back to the car just as you were going to pull away. You gave him a quick glare before driving back to the dealership. 

Apparently the man had some sort of conscious and spoke up just as you put the car in park and took off your seatbelt.

“I’ll let Peter know it was all my fault. We’re best buds so he can cover for me.” Wade explained and literally skipped back into work. 

You sighed and began the walk of shame to the door. You decided you were just going to finish your paperwork and apologize profusely and hope you get a second chance. 

But, you couldn’t help overhear Wade and Peter’s conversation on your way to the office.

“C’mon man, you know I’ve been having a hard time… With Vanessa, the Avengers.” 

“I know, Wade, I know. But you can’t keep doing stuff like this. This has to be the last time, I can’t cover you if it happens again.”

“Thanks, peanut.” 

You’re also pretty sure you witnessed Wade grip Peter’s ass when he hugged him after the conversation. 

You kept your head down the rest of the day, working on getting all types of paperwork and files organized. It was now 6:30pm and you were gathering your things you left in the office.

“Knock knock.” Wade’s voice sounded off behind you. 

You turned around and met his eyes. You had felt bad for him after overhearing that he was going through a hard time, so you gave him a smile. “Heading home?” He questioned you casually, though inside his mind he was cursing himself for being such an idiot to ask if you were heading home. Of course you were going home. 

“Yup. Home sweet home.” You chuckled nervously.

“Mmh, yeah. The sweet, sweet home I share with an old blind lady.” He joked, or at least you think it was a joke.

You laughed, “At least you got someone to go home to. Some of us aren’t so lucky to have a blind lady waiting for you.” 

“Well, in that case… How about I take you out for a drink?” He was still stoic-ly leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed lazily.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you turned your head to hide your face from him. 

“I dunno, I got another job to get to in the morning.” You rummaged around for an imaginary lost object.

“How about just to apologize? For being an asshole… if I’m not your type, I mean.” His eyes were glued to your ass as you stalled, bent over looking for something even Wade knew wasn’t there. 

You felt your face heat up even more. You weren’t sure what it was, but there was something magnetizing about Wade. He was an annoying asshole, but you could also sense there was something deeper to him. You found a random pen under a desk and picked it up to cover for your stalling. You took a breath to compose yourself before turning around to face Wade.

You noticed his gaze had to travel from your waist up to your eyes when you turned to face him, but you decided to ignore that for now, “Okay. But just for a little. I really do have work in the morning.” 

“I won’t keep you up too late.” He winked at you and then whipped out his phone to send a text. “Our ride will be here soon.” 

You nodded and followed Wade outside. It was just beginning to turn from Summer to Autumn, so the nights started to get a little chilly and the sun was setting sooner. 

Within a few minutes, a taxi pulled up. Wade opened the back door for you. His gesture surprised you, but you thanked him and sat down in the back of the car. Wade got in the front seat and quickly introduced you to Dophinder, a friend of his apparently. 

“Headed back home tonight Mr. Pool, sir?” The taxi driver questioned.

“Oh, not tonight, Dophinder. Tonight is the night I get my groove back. We’re going to Putt Putt Palace.” Wade said confidently.

“Ohh, very nice choice, Mr. Pool!” Dophinder admired Wade’s choice of establishment and started to drive. 

Once you had arrived at the mini-golf course and Dophinder had driven away after gladly taking a high-five as payment, you spoke up, “I thought this was just going to be drinks?”

“Yeah, well ‘Do you want to get drinks’ tends to go over better than ‘I’m going to dominate you at Putt Putt Palace.’”

“Ohhh, so you’re getting cocky now, huh?” You chuckled slightly.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe.” He smirked and led the way to pay for a full round of golf and picked out the red putter and ball. 

“Damn, red is my favorite color. I’ll do black then.” You said, grabbing the supplies in the color you chose. 

Wade gasped softly, “Red and black…” 

You looked over at him, “Red and black… it’s a good color combo.” 

“It is, indeed.” He smiled and also ordered two extra large margaritas that came on a necklace in one of those comically large, colorful souvenir cups. 

“Oh my god.” You chuckled when Wade handed you the drink, “You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?” “I would never! I’m going to win this game fair and square!” He defended himself and put the cup around his neck and walked up to the first hole and lined up his shot. 

You watched Wade as he carefully calculated his swing. You gave in and also put your drink around your neck and took some sips, it was awfully convenient. 

Wade hit his ball and watched it go around the course and fall perfectly into the hole. 

“Fuck yeah!” He cheered and performed a small victory dance.

You rolled your eyes and playfully pushed him out of the way, “It was a lucky shot, Mr. Pool.” 

You glanced at him when you used the name the taxi driver addressed him as. 

Wade gave you a bit of side eye while he sipped his drink. 

You pressed him further, “Why’d he call you that, anyway?” You took your first swing, making it a good amount across the course. 

“It’s an old nickname. I don’t go by it anymore though.” he explained, taking glances at your ass and different parts of your body each time you were getting lined up to hit your ball, finally sinking the hole in 3 strokes. 

The night went on, the sky growing darker and the conversation between the two of you growing deeper. The fact that you had skipped lunch and hadn’t had dinner yet was definitely weighing on you as the alcohol in your system took effect more quickly than usual. You made it to hole 10 out of 18 before you really started struggling. 

You were swaying slightly on your feet, trying to focus and stay still long enough to make a good shot. You went to swing and missed the ball, causing you to break out into a fit of giggles. 

“Oops!” You chuckled and began to line yourself up again. 

Wade was very amused watching you struggle and become more undone at each hole. But he didn’t want you to fully make a fool of yourself, so he approached behind you and gently placed his hands on your shoulders to help steady you. 

“Ooh, thanks.” You smiled and successfully hit your ball this time. 

“Hey, how come you’re not drunk?” You looked up at him while his hands were still on your shoulder.

“‘Cause my healing factor won’t let me, beautiful. But believe me, I’ve tried.” He explained and walked over to your ball with you.

You blushed at the name he called you. He’d been doing it all night. Throwing in a “babe” or “beautiful” every so often, and it always seemed so natural, it caught you off guard every time. 

He continued to help and also tease you for the next 6 holes. As the game was coming to an end, most other people had left the area by now. As usual, Wade was in his position behind you as you took your swing. As you followed your ball with your eyes, it almost felt surreal seeing it sink a hole in one. 

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed. “I did it!! I fucking did it!” You cheered and turned around to shove it in Wade’s face. You were blind to the fact that there was no way you could even catch up to Wade, let alone win the whole game. 

Wade was rolling his eyes at your taunts, “Whatever! You’re still not gonna win!”

You chuckled and moved on to the last hole, “Show me what you got.” 

You watched Wade’s face fill with concentration as he carefully calculated his next move. Your eyes couldn’t help but wonder down his body. You hadn’t noticed how muscular he was before now. His work uniform hid most of his body, but you could see his biceps flexing as he hit his golf ball. 

He hadn’t hit the ball hard enough, because once it got to the middle of a metal loop in the center of the course, it lost momentum and fell out. 

“Fuck!” Wade cursed at himself as he stepped aside to let you take your swing. 

“It’s okay,” You moved into position at the start of the course and set your ball down, “This way I can watch you when you hit the ball again.” Your inhibited state of mind had you speaking your thoughts before you had any chance to think it through. 

Wade’s nonexistent eyebrows raised slightly. Sure, he had been flirting with you and asked you on this date, but he never thought you would actually like him or find anything about him remotely attractive. Up until that moment he had convinced himself you were just trying to be nice to the painfully obviously insane burn victim at your new job. 

You lifted your head from your ball to Wade, “You gonna help me or just stand there?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” He had been lost in his own thoughts and for once, left speechless. He moved behind you again and placed his hands on your shoulders. 

You had missed the warmth of his body heat, it was almost addicting to have him so close to you. You didn’t realize you had just been mindlessly staring down at your golf ball while relishing in Wade’s presence. 

Wade leaned down to lower his head next to your ear and whispered, “Don’t fuck it up, peanut.” 

The feeling of his breath against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, there was no way you would be able to focus on the last round of mini golf now. You dropped your club and turned around to face Wade. The most adorable look of confusion was adamant on his face, bringing a slight smile to your lips. 

Wade opened his mouth, no doubt to say something idiotic, but before he could you placed a hand on the back of his neck and helped him lean down and captured his lips in a kiss. 

You were thankful for the extra courage your drink had given you. There’s no way you would be able to make a move on someone so confident and outgoing as Wade sober. Your kiss was brief, almost innocent. Just a soft meshing of two timid people. 

Wade was the one to pull away from you, “What was that for?” 

You shrugged, “Dunno.” 

Which was true, you didn’t know why you were compelled to kiss the man who almost got you fired on your first day of work, who acted so careless and as if he only thought about himself and his own wants. 

You started to lean up to kiss him again, but he stopped you. 

“You don’t wanna get into this, peanut. I’m a fucking mess.” Wade looked down at you, a glimmer of hurt in his eyes. 

You frowned slightly, “Well, that makes two of us.”

You waited for his response. He was glancing to his left and right every so often, like he was having an internal battle. After a few moments his eyes settled back on yours. 

“Fuck it.” he mumbled just before he closed the distance between you and gave you a proper kiss. 

[quest-for-pluto]

Sparkles

Ao’nung x Human!Female!Reader

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Summary: You work as maintenance at base 36, a testing facility used for unethical experiments on captured local Na’vi. One day when the base’s power supply melts down and explodes, you’re caught in the flaming crossfire. In a split second decision, you also decide to free the panicking Na’vi in his glass cell.

Aged up!Aonung to 21 and reader is 20

Chapter 2: the giant blue alien in the room

You woke up to the pleasant feeling of burning agony, like you'd just skinny dipped in molten hot lava.

"G-guhhhh—" you choked out, fingers twitching and trembling against the floor as you struggled to gain some semblance of motor control. Tears burned your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You writhed violently on your side as wave after wave of excruciating, searing pain washed over you.

Breathe, you told yourself. Just breathe through it, Y/n.

That was a lot more difficult than it sounded, especially when all you could hear was a continuous, tortured scream in your head. Your nails scraped at the cold concrete that did nothing to cool you down, trying to grasp onto something for support but only finding air between your fingers.

Never had you experienced anything so intense and all-consuming in your life. On a scale of 'Oh shit, that was a spicy cheeto' to 'Fuck I think my face is melting off', you were probably at a respectable 'I want to amputate all of my limbs and live in a freezer for the rest of my life'. Your vision dimmed and blurred as you fought to stay awake.

It was a strangled choking sound that broke you slightly out of your delirium. Your head turned slowly to see a giant blue body not too far from you, the skin on his right arm and leg raised in a pattern of angry looking blisters, but that wasn't what caught your attention. It was the frantic wheezing sounds he was making, grabbing desperately at his throat.

Somewhere in your foggy mind it occurred to you that oh yeah, that's right, his kind were not meant to breathe in your air.

Get up, Y/n, you chided yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. You need to do something.

With all of the strength you could muster, you rolled over, your vision nearly going white from the blinding pain. Slowly you staggered to your feet, pausing as a wave of nausea washed over you.

You blinked through your titling vision, eyes scanning the room for a possible solution. The only thing you could see were the supplies you had originally found, although some of them were admittedly pretty burnt now. Rebreather masks would be useless to him as well. Shit.

That left only one option. You had to figure out how to bring the native air from outside into the room.

Your eyes rose to the two, tiny windows in the room, located way higher than you could reach. You knew that every single window in base 36 was mandated to be bulletproof, so the chances of you being able to break it were thin, but—you had to try.

Staggering to your pile of supplies, you dropped to your knees, hands frantically combing through the items until they closed around the handle of the rifle you had discovered earlier. You quickly snatched a rebreather mask from the floor and secured it on your face. With a shuddering breath, you aimed the barrel at the right window, flicking off the safety and hastily pulling the trigger.

Bang.

The bullet ricocheted off of the surface, imbedding itself into the wall just over your shoulder. You inhaled sharply, turning to blink at it in shock. That was...way too close.

By now, the Na'vi had given up clawing at his throat. He laid sprawled across the floor, eyes wide and terror-filled as his chest rose and fell rapidly in short, convulsing breaths.

Damn, damn, damn. He couldn't take much more of this.

"Don't worry," you articulated the best you could, which was probably a barely understandable slur. "I won't—I won't let you die."

With renewed determination, you lifted the barrel to aim at the window again. You pulled the trigger.

Bang.

"Ah, fuck!" You cried, stumbling backwards. The bullet had grazed your burnt arm. Damn that stung like a motherfucker.

You grabbed the wound, clenching your jaw as you put pressure on it. Warm, thick blood escaped from between your fingers, trickling down your skin in rivulets.

"Okay," you breathed to yourself, supporting your injured arm with your other hand. Your whole body trembled from the pulsing pain. "You can do this, come on."

You pulled the trigger.

With a cry, you dropped the gun, clutching onto your arm in pain from the recoil.

The bullet imbedded itself in the window. You panted, watching with wide eyes as cracks began to quickly spread from the point of impact.

It shattered, pieces of glass exploding outwards and clattering onto the floor. You lowered your gaze, sighing in relief.

Your eyes flickered to the trembling form to your left. He was in terrible shape, but he hadn't passed out yet. He would survive.

You sunk carelessly to your knees, hands pressing into the floor as you struggled to catch your breath. Was it you, or was it getting suffocatingly humid in here?

Wait.

You took a deep, experimental breath, horrified to find that it didn't quite fill your lungs. Your hands quickly shot up to your mask, grasping blindly until you froze, cold realization washing over you as your thumb ran over a noticeable crack.

No, no, no. You couldn't possible be this much of an idiot.

Except you were.

You'd forgotten to properly check your own oxygen supply in your haste to make sure that the potentially homicidal alien didn't suffocate next to you. Now you were about to suffocate instead. Fantastic.

You dove back into the scattered pile of junk with desperation, your heart sinking as one by one, the rebreather masks turned up cracked or burnt. Completely unusable.

This can't be happening, you thought hysterically, a sob threatening to burst from your throat.

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, your eyelids fluttering with the effort of staying open. It was at that moment when you finally spotted it lying on the floor, maybe a dozen or so steps away.

A completely intact mask.

Your eyes widened as you staggered forward, hand reaching out desperately. You took about two steps before your vision swam dangerously, your gaze titling quickly towards the ground.

You landed harshly on the concrete, you could tell by the way your teeth clacked and the hard jolt in your wrists, but you barely felt any pain. The only thing you could feel was the burning in your lungs and the thrumming wooziness in your head that was making everything spin.

Come on, you gritted your teeth, using the last of your strength to shimmy yourself forward, your mouth gaping open in rapid, heavy pants.

Come on....

Your vision darkened at the edges as your head collapsed against the floor, your body finally giving in to violent convulsions. You panted shallowly, your fingers twitching out to reach for something—someone.

The last thing you remembered was the feeling of your body floating steadily in the air, before relief quenched the unbearable burning in your lungs. You blinked blearily, the last of your energy drained as your eyes finally slid shut.

You dreamt of the ocean. Sea mist in your hair and salt water on your lips.

****

Sunlight shone through your lids, making you groan.

Your eyelids fluttered in irritation, before finally blinking open in defeat, giving up on the hope of getting any more sleep.

You were...not in your your room. Your eyes widened as you jolted upright in shock—or, well at least you tried to. An overwhelming throbbing pain across your chest, knees, right forearm and head knocked you flat on your back again, wheezing for air.

The second thing you noticed was the mask on your face, your breath fogging up the clear surface in small puffs. Why were you wearing a mask inside the base? What was going on?

The base collapsing in the fire. Saving the blue alien. Getting knocked unconscious by the explosion. Struggling to breathe—

Your breath shuddered as you brought your left hand up to grasp at your neck at the phantom feelings of suffocation, your fingers drifting upwards to skim the tender bruise at the back of your skull. Your heart hammered frantically in your chest.

Then, if you were here, that meant...

Your head slowly craned over to the other side of the room, a gasp leaving your throat at the sight of your new roommate slumped against the wall.

Now that you were no longer in survival mode, you could truly take in his incredible stature. It was exactly like the stories you'd been told, he had to be at least ten feet tall, if not a little more. Lucky for him though, the ceilings in the storage room were just barely high enough to accommodate him at his full height.

His skin was not the same shade of blue everywhere. You noticed that it was a lighter, sky blue color nearing the center of his body like his torso and his face, and a darker, marine blue color at the extremities. There also seemed to be a distinct stripe like pattern that you were pretty sure was natural for his species. The dark, tattoo-like markings all over his body were a different story of course. The swirling shapes and symbols extended down his biceps and climbed delicately up his neck, but seemed to be the most intricate around his left temple.

Large blue eyes suddenly snapped open, catching your stare with startling intensity. You almost scrambled backwards in a jolt of fear, but caught yourself at the last second, holding carefully still.

You didn't even dare to breathe as he narrowed his eyes at you, making no move to come closer. His right arm hung limply at his side, the blistered skin probably making it very painful to move it at all. Not that you were much better off.

If you were to take a guess, you probably had second degree burns scattered in patches across the front of your body. The only thing keeping the bile in your throat from rising any further was your immobility.

After a few tense moments his gaze flickered away, growing disinterested in your little staring competition. You felt the air escape from your lungs, your tense shoulders loosening in a discreet sigh of relief. Right, you probably didn't register as much of a threat when you were sprawled across the floor like a rag doll.

You turned your gaze back towards the ceiling, staring thoughtfully at the condensation on your mask as you contemplated your situation. The rations you'd found earlier were probably salvageable, being packed safely inside thick bags meant to withstand the elements of Pandora. As for water...well, you were just happy it rained often here. You'd have to find a way to capture the water from the tiny windows much too high for you to reach, but that was a problem for later you. As for now...

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to push up to a sitting position. Your eyes watered immediately at the intense burning pain. Okay, no, your pain tolerance wasn't that high. Gritting your teeth, you tried rolling over instead, the stretch of your skin making your jaw clench so hard you were surprised a tooth didn't crack under the pressure.

You were so concentrated on the movement that you didn't feel your stomach roiling tumultuously, or the warm bile climbing up your throat until it was too late. As you pushed yourself up on a shaky arm, your eyes widened as you felt your body violently expel your last meal. You shoved off your mask in the nick of time, turning your head to the side as gunk splattered on the floor next to you in an acrid, chunky pile.

You wiped your face with your good arm, spitting out the residue in your mouth with a grimace. Gross.

The Na'vi was eyeing you in disgust, and you were pretty sure that he would've moved away if he wasn't already sitting as far as he possibly could from you. You returned your own glare. Well, if it weren't for you, he'd currently be an extra crispy dino-sized potato chip, so he shouldn't be complaining about vomit.

Readjusting your mask, you glanced carefully around the room, your gaze sharpening on a first aid kit poking out of a ration bag. Well, patching yourself up was priority number one. You were not looking to deal with an infection on top of second degree burns.

You hissed a breath through your teeth, pushing yourself up on your elbows. Your arms shook from the strain, tears welling up in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks.

Twenty feet felt like two miles, and by the time you'd managed to drag yourself across the floor, you were pretty sure forty-five minutes had passed. The whole time, you felt a piercing stare burning into your back. You ignored it, not having the energy for another useless stare down.

Coughing wetly, you grabbed the duffel bag with trembling fingers, pulling it closer to you. It took you a few tries to pull the zipper open, but you finally managed the motion on the fourth try, freeing the white box of medical supplies from its confines.

You undid the clasps, flipping it open carefully. Bandaids, gauze, plasters, soap, alcohol wipes, sterile gloves, tweezers, antibiotic ointment, scissors, needle and thread. Perfect.

Carefully scooting yourself to a seated position and wincing at every tiny agonizing motion, you pulled on the latex gloves with a snap. A muted snarl broke you out of your concentration, making you pause.

Your alien roommate was not a happy camper, judging by his curled upper lip that exposed his giant, bat-like fangs. Okay, that was definitely not good. Those things could probably bite your leg clean off if you weren't careful.

The rumors you heard about his species still very much freaked you out, if you were being honest.

"Hey," you said lowly, raising your gloved hands. You flinched as his snarl grew more intense, eyeing the unnatural blue color on your skin in evident distrust.

Jesus Christ, you'd really done it now, hadn't you? Why couldn't you have just acted like a normal human being with self preservation instincts and only saved yourself? Now you had to deal with...whatever the hell this headache was.

"They're gloves," you emphasized helplessly, knowing that he couldn't understand you but still trying to convey meaning through your tone. "They're harmless, see?" You brought your hands down to pat your shoulders, hiding a wince at the movement. You put on your most convincing (although slightly strained), harmless smile for extra effect. A rogue muscle jumped under your eye.

His glare didn't relent but the hard line of his scowl relaxed a little. Okay rude, what did he even think you were capable of doing in this sorry ass state? Plus, if you wanted him dead you would have just let him be.

Struggling not to roll your eyes, you pointed at one of the nastier burns on your chest, where your shirt was torn to shreds and practically fusing with the reddened, bloody skin. "I'm hurt," you exaggerated the word, widening your eyes meaningfully and frowning. "This will help me heal." You pointed at the contents of the first aid kit, before pointing back at your wound with a raised brow.

The Na'vi snorted at your slowed tone, rolling his shoulder in dismissal before occupying himself with something on a distant wall.

Annoyance surged through you, but it was brief and you let it go quickly with a sigh. Whatever, it was a good thing his suffocating attention was off of you now.

He never turned his back to you though, you noticed. Even now, you could tell he was still keeping tabs on you by the tension in his shoulders.

Well, maybe it was better that he still saw you as somewhat of a threat.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you grabbed a water bottle, soap solution and some gauze, bracing yourself for how much this was going to make you want to shit yourself. And you were pretty sure that the Na'vi would muster up the last of his strength and kill you himself if that actually happened, judging by his utter disgust and displeasure at your vomit.

Wetting a piece of gauze with water and soap, you brought it gingerly to the skin over your collarbone. Striking pain erupted at the point of contact, your jaw flexing to keep in any sounds.

Patting the gauze lower, you couldn't help but screech at the utter agony of it connecting with your open wound. Fuckity fuck fuck, that hurt like bitch on steroids.

When you blinked away the confetti in your vision, you caught the Na'vi's alarmed gaze, the space where his eyebrows should have been now furrowed and pointed ears pricked up and facing you.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you muttered under your breath, before gritting your teeth as you forced your trembling hands to press the gauze pad over the rest of your wound. It took awhile and several rolls, but now every wound was cleaned, dressed, and if needed—stitched. Your head still throbbed uncontrollably in what was most definitely a nasty concussion, but you couldn't really ice it like you wanted to. By the time you were done, the sun had already started to set in the sky.

Your stomach rumbled in protest, and you grimaced. The intense pain had made you forget that you unfortunately needed sustenance to survive.

Time to take stock of your supply.

You dug through the duffle bag on your side, pulling out MRE kits and other field rations. You also found some plastic utensils and more water bottles and filters. Some of them were weirdly misshaped though, probably warped from the heat of the explosion.

You discarded those ones to the side with a frown. What a waste.

Ripping open an MRE pack, you mourned your microwave as you took a bite of room temperature tortellini. You just hoped that those in charge of the outer ring of base 36 came to your rescue sooner rather than later.

The rapidly familiarizing feeling of a piercing stare on you caused you to look up, your gaze locking onto narrowed baby blues. But they looked more curious than distrustful, this time.

You held up your meal pack, gesturing at him. "You want some?" You shook it in his direction meaningfully. "It's good." Lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Like most other living creatures, you were 99% sure he needed to eat to stay alive. And as far as you knew, he'd eaten nothing since you were both trapped. As long as he didn't try to eat you, you didn't mind sharing your rations. There was still quite a lot left, and you were pretty hopeful sure your fellow humans would have paid you a visit before you inevitably ran out.

His eyes widened minutely at the package, and you could see the barest predatory flash in his widening pupils, before he huffed, shooting you a disgusted look.

Your raised hand lowered as you gave him a deadpanned look. What a brat. Whatever, you shrugged, taking a quick breath as you lifted your mask. More for you then.

It was not even thirty minutes later that you realized your second dilemma.

That being, you had to tinkle. Real bad.

Goddamnit, this was embarrassing. You chanced a grimacing look at your companion, who was once again busy staring at a wall, but one ear was still turned towards you. No matter how weird this situation was, you had no desire to contribute to that factor by getting naked in front of a volatile, giant blue alien.

But you were nothing if not resourceful.

Goodbye, dignity, you sighed as you began hoisting yourself behind the pile of supplies and duffel bags you'd both stacked to take cover from the fire. You felt the Na'vi's wary gaze on you as you moved, but he hadn't felt the need to come and investigate, which you counted as a blessing.

Grabbing one of the warped water bottles, you poured out the toxic liquid on the concrete, before getting into position. Closing your eyes, you tried your hardest to pretend that you weren't trapped in a room with a strange alien man less than twenty feet away from you. You pictured your small, but warm toned bathroom, your toiletries lined neatly on the counter and a painting hanging over the towel rack.

Pretty soon you felt sweet relief as your aching bladder finally emptied its contents into the bottle. Your eyes blinked open, and you quickly cleaned yourself up, grimacing in embarrassment and disgust as you screwed back on the lid to the bottle and shoved it away from sight.

Well, that was over with.

By now, the room was bathed only in moon and starlight, the walls almost taking up a luminescence you would never be privy to on earth.

Your expression soured at the thought of your home planet. You didn't typically enjoy revisiting those memories, mostly because they were tainted with constant misery. The ashy smoke in the air, the dirt on your skin, the pangs of hunger deep into the night—you didn't want to think about it. You were far, far away from that life.

Although, you weren't quite sure if your current situation was much better.

With a wince, you scooted forward, peeking curiously around your makeshift wall of privacy. The Na'vi was curled on his side, still facing you, but now—surprisingly, his eyes had drifted shut, his expression finally peaceful in slumber. You held your breath, taking a moment to admire him.

Now that you weren't actively fearing for your life, you could really appreciate the wild beauty of this planet's native humanoid species. He looked like a mythical creature from a fantasy story, aqua blue skin shining like the glimmering shallow waters on a beach under the sunlight. You blinked a couple of times in shock, resisting the urge to rub them. No—wait, he was actually glowing.

At first you had thought it was the moonlight shining on his skin, but he seemed to be generating his own variation of bioluminescence instead. A beacon of otherworldly beauty, just like the rest of Pandora.

Incredible, you thought to yourself in awe, unable to look away. Your fingers itched with the sudden urge to start sketching him.

Suddenly, a pale, opalescent eye snapped open, glaring at you furiously. You yelped, almost falling backwards on your elbows.

His lip curled to reveal a snarl, his ears pinning down flat against his head in warning and his thick tail whipping restlessly in the air. The message was clear: mind your own business before I come over there and gouge your tiny eyes out. I'll do it—

"Okay, okay," you sighed, raising your hands in surrender. "I get it, I'm leaving."

You scooted away, back into your little alcove of duffel bags and random burnt junk. Lowering yourself onto the fluffiest looking one, you sighed, squirming uncomfortably as you stared at the scorched ceiling.

It didn't take long before your blinks became heavier and more frequent, your eyelids lowering more with each one. It seemed you were more exhausted that you thought.

When your breathing finally evened out, it was to the distinct feeling of a strong, steady heartbeat thrumming beneath you.

************

Y'all, I had way too much fun writing Ao'nung's pissy attitude XD. I can't picture his aggressive side eye without cracking up. Don't worry though, he'll eventually come around ;)

MRE: Meals ready to eat. Packaged meals meant for quick, convenient consumption. Used in the military.

If you’re not in the taglist already and you’d like to be, just let me know in the comments and I’ll tag you in the next part :)

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[lycheedr3ams]

Okay, imagine this, getting frisky with Butcher!Konig after hours, when night crew is who knows where but they don't go near the spooky deli area. MAYBE on his butcher bench or even in the freezer?

God, you don't know what this man does to me. Have a good day 😊

*heavy breathing*

NSFW below the cut, MDNI

part of the butcher!konig mini-series

TW: predator/prey dynamics, allusions to sex, clothed grinding, slight mandhandling, dominant!konig, buildup but no smut (feeling a bit lazy rn lol)

it was the end of a long shift, just a few days before christmas. the entire store had been in a frenzy from all the last-minute shoppers, making your managers run around like crazy and all the employees getting more burnt out with each passing minute. without butcher!konig's little jokes here and there, and the way he helped you whenever he could, your day would have been a lot worse.

but you were sluggish as you cleaned up the deli. even with butcher!konig to help you through the day, it had been a tough one. all your other coworkers had left for the day, and most employees were gone as well. all lights in the store were off, except for the lights in the deli and meat department. some street lights shone in through the glass windows, but that was on the other end of the store. butcher!konig was stuck there too. he was busy cleaning his work station, which was filthy with all the christmas meat he'd been chopping throughout the day.

you walked through the meat department to replace a tool you had borrowed, and found butcher!konig wiping dry his cold metal work station. he looked up when you entered. "hello, Maus," he said tiredly.

"hey," you offered him a tired smile. "i think this has been the worst shift ever." you sighed and leaned a little against his work station, looking at his arm muscles as he wiped it dry.

"ja, i might have to agree with you on that one," he said with a little dry laugh and tossed the rag he was using in a nearby bucket. you watched his every move - as you usually did - but something just felt different right now. there had been unspoken sexual tension between you two since the time he groped your breasts in the freezer and pressed his hard cock against your ass. you were much too shy and frightened at the time to do something. but butcher!konig's move that day confirmed it for you: he was attracted to you, and he wanted you.

you looked up at him as he stood next to you like a lion sizing up a mouse. his voice was slightly raspy with tiredness from the long shift, and his eyes had that bedroom look from the exhaustion.

"you have any plans after this?" he asked as his voice dropped an octave slightly. your heart fluttered in your chest for a moment before you shook your head. "nope. nothing much to do a few days before christmas, i guess."

butcher!konig chuckled softly. "ja, you're right about that." he looked at your body up and down for a moment, and you noticed the way his chest breathed a bit deeper. butcher!konig had tried to be smooth about this. he wanted to cleverly seduce you somehow. but he was inexperienced - no experience, in fact - and he just wanted you so damn badly. there probably wasn't even any need for him to seduce you with words, since the hungry look in his eyes said it all.

you blushed and looked away for a moment, very flustered with this mountain of a man undressing you with his eyes. you couldn't help but remember all the times you went home after a shift and masturbated to the thought of him just bending you over somewhere secret in the back, taking out his stress on you on the clock.

"something on your mind?" butcher!konig asked with a smirk hidden behind that leather mask of his. you snapped out of your thoughts and looked at him like a deer in the headlights. "yeah. no, i mean, just tired," you sighed to try to calm your heart rate.

butcher!konig stepped closer to you, so close that you could feel his body heat. you looked up at him, eyes wide, and he whispered as he slightly bent over you, "you're bad at lying, kleine maus."

you nearly could've died on the spot. you couldn't help the tiny noise that arose from somewhere inside you when he said that, your arousal taking the better of you. butcher!konig's eyes suddenly turned predatory when he heard your sound. it was like a lamb sticking its neck out for the wolf to sink its teeth into. butcher!konig's large hand gently made its way up to your jaw. he gently grabbed your jaw with his thumb and index finger, curling his other fingers under your chin. he lifted your face up to look at him. he leaned down closer to you.

"tell me what you need. i'll give it to you," he growled lowly. your heat throbbed immediately. no words came out, but the look in your eyes gave it away.

butcher!konig exhaled a small laugh and brushed his mask against your lips. "such a shy little thing, you are." his eyes looked so sharp and focused, like a hawk watching its prey from above. and he had you right in his grip. "i take it you've got no time to waste, right? your family is waiting for you, since it's so close to the holiday," he whispered in your ear. "if you want me, bend over on the table. if not, walk out the door and go home, and we'll never speak of this."

your heart raced in your chest at butcher!konig's offer. how could you refuse? you're sure your phone was buzzing somewhere, your family calling you to see if you were done your shift yet. but it wouldn't be unreasonable to say that you had gotten held up on your shift right before the holiday. you gulped and turned around, your ass brushing his hard length, and bent over the cold, shiny metal table. the sting of the coldness pierced your forearms and palms as you pressed them into the table, so excited yet nervous for what was to come.

you felt butcher!konig's large hands palm your ass as he grinded up against you. "i'll make this worth your while."

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 9

Notes: Shadow is but a simple boy. He needs a nap and coffee, and he’s an angel. Which frankly? Relatable. Longest chapter so far! And finally a smidge of fluff. :3

Summary: Shadow helps Sonic with a small burn, and in return, he wants answers.

Chapter Select!

Link to my AO3!

Start:

Groggy eyes slowly open, heavy still from slumber but awake nonetheless.

Ruby orbs meet the ceiling, staring at it thoughtlessly a moment before a long yawn soon interrupts that. Black and red arms stretch high above his head, reaching to ease his aching muscles.

He feels much better than before. Well-rested and not so fatigued.

Moving to sit up, Shadow takes a moment to gather himself. Rubbing his eyes with his gloved fist, he sighs heavy and processes his current situation.

Right.

Different dimension.

Impending doom.

All good things, all good things.

He drops his hands on the couch with a sigh and looks around the room. No one is there, but he isn’t naive enough to believe he’s been left alone.

And as if on cue, his ear flickers at the sound of a quiet beep from the kitchen followed by some movement and soft clanking.

He debates on simply laying back down to be unbothered, but the smell that wafts into the living room and makes his nose twitch gets his attention.

Coffee.

His stomach growls.

He could use some food, too..

After a moment of hesitance, he gives in and pushes himself up off the couch and walks towards the doorway of the kitchen..

This world’s Sonic is there, sure as hell, pouring coffee into a mug and mixing some sugar with it along with some caramel sand milk and whipped cream— ruining it, in Shadow’s opinion.

Though, it would seem this world’s Shadow must feel differently seeing as his coffee bar is littered with all sorts of add-ins and sweeteners.

Sonic hasn’t noticed Shadow’s presence quite yet, moving about the kitchen as if it’s his own. As if he’s so comfortable invading Shadow’s home.

He supposes he can’t be mad at him for it. This isn’t technically his home, so he loses nothing from this anyway.

Stirring his “coffee”, Sonic lifts it to blow on the top and then sip at it. He shivers a bit and then hums pleased to himself before turning to grab another mug and—

“Shadow!”

Sonic flinches, not having expected Shadow to be standing there watching, and managing to spill a good little portion of piping hot coffee on his gloved hand.

Sonic immediately hisses, moving fast to set the mug down on the counter and turn around to face the sink.

Shadow’s eyes watch the blue hedgehog as he quickly works his glove off, blushing ever so slightly at the sight of seeing Sonic gloveless on one hand and averting his gaze appropriately to give him some privacy.

Turning the sink on, Sonic lets his burnt hand sit under the cold water with a small wince of pain followed by a slow sigh of relief..

Shadow frowns, keeping his gaze down at Sonic’s feet before he eventually speaks, “Are.. you alright?”

“Huh?? Oh- yeah, I’m fine. Just got boiled a bit,” Sonic chuckles a bit awkwardly, sparing Shadow a glance over his shoulder and taking notice in how Shadow is looking away.

Interesting.

Sonic purses his lips a bit, a slight smile on his muzzle as he speaks, “It’s alright, Shads, you ain’t gotta look away.”

“You aren’t wearing your glove,” Shadow responds simply, “It’s Mobian tradition to wear them as a form of privacy—“

“Yes, I know that,” Sonic chuckles with a quirk of his brow at Shadow, “I don’t know if you knew this, but I am Mobian.”

Shadow blushes a bit at the way Sonic makes him feel stupid, huffing at the hedgehog’s attitude and tightening his fists at his sides, “I am choosing to look away for your sake, Hedgehog.”

Sonic turns the cold water off, moving to the refrigerator and opening the freezer door to pull out a bag of-… is that pizza rolls?? What the hell sort of junk is this Shadow putting in his body??

Placing the frozen bag on his hand, Sonic bumps it shut with his hip and turns to Shadow with a smile,

“And I appreciate that, but it ain’t necessary. I’m fine showing my hand in front of you, Shadow.”

Shadow is a bit thrown off by that, but he doesn’t comment. He never understood the reasoning behind the gloves anyway. Being raised with humans on the ARK didn’t exactly provide him with a lot of knowledge on Mobian customs. And the people on the ARK certainly weren’t walking around with gloves on all hours of the day.

Still, he adapted to the Mobian custom rather easily once on earth, growing use to putting his gloves on every morning and taking them off before bed. Use to looking away if someone’s slipped off.

Never once has the Sonic in his world seemed even remotely comfortable showing his paws to anyone, least of all Shadow.

“I see..,” Shadow responds quietly, eyes watching Sonic move back to the coffee machine and pull out a second mug.

“I made you coffee,” Sonic says with a small hum, pouring a second cup with his free hand while balancing the pizza rolls on his burnt one.

“I don’t like anything in my coffee,” Shadow mutters, shaking his head to reject Sonic’s frufru coffee.

Sonic just snorts, “Yeah, I know.” He turns to hold out the mug for Shadow, “That’s why it’s just black.”

Shadow eyes the coffee. Then Sonic a moment. Then he slowly reaches out to take the coffee in hand, “Thank you..”

Sonic just winks, “Sure thing.”

Moving to grab his own mug again, Sonic walks around Shadow to the kitchen island, taking a seat on one of the stools there and leaning against the countertop.

Shadow ponders him a moment but eventually moves to sit next to the hero.

Or— he assumes Sonic is a hero in this world. It’s hard to imagine any world where Sonic doesn’t butt his heroic antics into every situation possible.

Sitting next to Sonic now, Shadow takes a slow sip of his coffee and immediately sighs in relief. He swears he feels whatever is left of his headache immediately dissipate. His ears twitch when he hears Sonic chuckle next to him, peeking his eyes open— he hadn’t even realized he shut them— to glance at him out of his peripheral and finding an amused blue hedgehog smiling into his mug at him.

“…What?” the black hedgehog the coffee from around his mouth.

“Nothin’,” Sonic shrugs with a tilt of his head, “Just.. nice to see some Shadow things are a constant.”

Shadow hums at this, not quite smiling but his eyes seem a bit amused at this as well.

“If another version of me yet again shows up on your doorstep one day and doesn’t like coffee, murder him for me.”

Sonic snorts at that, rolling his eyes with a chuckle as he sips his own coffee, “No promises.”

Shadow smirks slightly to himself. This isn’t intolerable. Which is odd. Usually any moment with this ridiculous idiot is insufferably obnoxious. Sonic rarely holds a decent conversation without pissing Shadow off or insulting him or just being plain stupid.

This Sonic seems… calm.

If only they could trade.

They sit in a long moment of silence sipping their drinks, comfortable with the quiet and enjoying the warm beverages in their palms..

Eventually the hero breaks the silence, though.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Shadow nods.

“Less grouchy?” Sonic teases, but it’s gentle and harmless, so Shadow doesn’t take too much offense.

“Mm,” he nods a bit sheepishly, “…I apologize for the way I acted before. I could’ve chose my words better. And my tone..”

Sonic shrugs in response, rubbing his gloved finger around the rim of his mug in a fidgeting sort of way, “It’s cool. You’re kinda in a pretty stressful situation right now, so a dramatic and angry reaction here and there is sort of understandable.”

Shadow looks at the blue hedgehog a moment, a small quirk of his brow at how collected this Sonic seems in contrast to his own. How quick to forgive Shadow’s misjudgments rather than rub them in his face.

“..How’s your hand??”

Sonic rolls his eyes at that, chuckling quietly, “Hurting. But it’ll go away. I’ll put some aloe on it in a bit.”

“…May I see?”

Sonic blinks at that, looking at Shadow again with a curious little expression. Like he’s searching for something..

Whether he finds it or not is beyond the anti-hero, but Sonic eventually nods regardless and moves the thawing bag of pizza rolls off his hand.

It’s.. odd. Seeing Sonic’s bare paw in such plain sight. He doesn’t have as sharp of claws as Shadow does, he notices. They look filed and well kept. Shadow’s own are sharp and clean, ready to rip into anything that may defy him if need be. The flesh on his palm looks soft and fuzzy, while Shadow’s own are rough and scratchy like the pads of an animal.

He’s seen minimal Mobians’ bare hands before. It’s typically because they’re in need of medical attention after some sort of disaster. He’s seen Rouge’s hands a few times when her gloves were too dirty to wear any longer. Sometimes she’d stay with him on nights where he couldn’t be alone, and he’d see her bare hands holding a towel around her form after a shower or when she was sipping coffee early in the morning before getting ready.

He’s never touched one, though. He’s read books on Mobian customs, specifically ones on Hedgehogs. It’s thought to be special. Intimate..

Sonic’s hand is resting on the counter between them, Sonic’s eyes watching Shadow and Shadow’s gaze locked on Sonic’s hand.

Shadow moves his own hand now, fingertips grazing Sonic’s palm before pausing. Red orbs lock with green.

“Is that—?”

“It’s fine,” Sonic assures with an ever so patient smile, his eyes softening considerably at Shadow asking permission.

Shadow looks at him another moment to make sure he doesn’t change his mind before he nods and looks back to Sonic’s hand.

His own glove acts as a barrier between their skin, but Shadow can still feel the heat from Sonic’s flesh when he grazes fingertips along the burn. Sonic breathes through his teeth at the sting and Shadow pauses and lightens his touch some.

“Sorry.”

“S’okay. I’m tough.”

Shadow smirks a bit at that, glancing up to Sonic then back to his hand, “Can’t deny that..”

Sonic smiles wider at that, seeming proud of the non-insult from this grumpy Shadow.

Shadow examines the burn a few more moments before he moves his other hand and gently holds Sonic’s wrist in his. He isn’t exactly sure he should be doing this with a fake emerald in pocket considering his current situation, but he does regardless. Keeping Sonic’s hand still, he turns it to have a better look at the injury before letting his palm rest over the burn. His eyes shut, Sonic watching as a soft, golden glow emits between their hands before it dims again..

Shadow removes his hands from Sonic’s, no burn in sight.

“There,” Shadow mutters, eyes returning to Sonic’s, “better?”

“Much,” Sonic hums with a tilt of his head, lifting his hand to examine it as he turns it in the air between them. His eyes look to Shadow’s then, dropping his healed hand into his lap with a grateful gaze, “Thank you..”

Shadow simply hums in response, looking back to his coffee before lifting it to sip the last of it.

Sonic watches. Shadow can practically hear the gears in his head turning. He must have so many questions, so many concerns..

“..You keep thinking that hard, you might hurt yourself,” the agent mutters with a raised brow in Sonic’s direction.

“Har-har,” Sonic sarcastically remarks before resting his elbow on the counter and his cheek in his palm, leaning into it as he eyes Shadow, “I just-… there’s so much I want to know.. and I worry about my own Shadow—“

“Your Shadow,“ Shadow acknowledges as his head turns back to Sonic again.

“Well— my world’s Shadow—“

“That’s not what you said,” the agent pushes, not letting him talk his way out of it, “You’ve done that multiple times, actually. ’My Shadow’.”

Sonic’s hand his cheek is resting in slides around to rub the back of his neck a bit awkwardly, like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“What’s so bad about that??”

“It’s just odd. Paired with the way you’ve interacted with me. How you approached me when I initially woke up here. How you look at me. How you speak of your own Shadow. How you move around this home as though it’s yours..”

Sonic looks away with a slight knit in his brow, unsure what to say to any of this or how Shadow would even take it for that matter.

“…You and your Shadow.. there’s more to you than I know, isn’t there..”

The blue hedgehog takes a deep breath before sighing it out long and slow. He chuckles a bit. Shakes his head and shrugs in resignment.

“Yeah.. you could say that.”

[atimeofyourlife]

Breakfast in bed

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: free space/ domestic fluff | rated: g | wc: 615 | tags: established relationship, fluff Eddie attempts to make breakfast in bed for Steve after a long week.

Eddie didn't know what had possessed him to try and make Steve breakfast in bed. Well, he did. Steve had been working so hard over the previous week, having to pull multiple doubles because Keith had screwed up the scheduling and allowed too many people to take vacation at the same time, and then Robin had called out sick for the entire week because she'd come down with pneumonia. It was Steve's first day off in over a week, and he deserved to sleep in, and then do as little as possible. So Eddie was making breakfast.

The problem was that he wasn't a great cook. He wasn't a disaster in the kitchen, he was generally safe with everything and wasn't so bad that he could burn water. But the extent of his culinary expertise was mostly stuff that was boxed or canned. Anything that took minimal preparation and came with clear instructions on the packet. Which had meant that they'd been surviving off tv dinners, and box mac and cheese, and other easy packet meals, for the week, because Eddie wasn't going to let Steve cook after the long days he was having at work. It just wouldn't have been fair.

But he wanted to give Steve something better on his day off. Making breakfast was an adventure. The eggs were fairly easy, he'd decided on making scrambled eggs as he could never get fried eggs the way Steve liked them. He somehow always managed to overcook them to the point he was almost certain they would bounce if he dropped one, either that or they were practically raw. He just found scrambled eggs easier. He even made sure to add the handful of shredded cheese and the dash of hot sauce to get them right. The bacon didn't go quite right, coming out slightly burnt, but luckily Steve liked his bacon so crispy it was almost cremated, so it wasn't unsalvageable. He wasn't even going to attempt to make anything like waffles or pancakes or french toast, but there were frozen pancakes that he could toast. He also found some hash browns when he was looking in the freezer, so he threw some into a pan to add them to Steve's breakfast as well. While he was making coffee, those did overcook, leaving about half too burnt to serve. But once everything was plated, he felt it was a half decent breakfast.

When Eddie got upstairs with the breakfast, he realized there was one thing he hadn't quite thought through. How to open the bedroom door with his hands full. He was looking for somewhere to put the tray down, when Steve opened the door and started to walk out.

"Eds? What's going on?" Steve asked, looking Eddie over.

"I. I made you breakfast? I was bringing it up to you so you could have breakfast in bed." Eddie replied, shuffling a little on the spot, unsure what to do now as he couldn't surprise Steve in bed with it.

"I thought I could smell something burning." Steve replied with a grin.

"Hey!" Eddie couldn't be offended, because he knew Steve was right. "Now, mister, you are going to get back in bed and enjoy this breakfast that I painstakingly made for you. And for the rest of the day, all you have to worry about is relaxing."

"Thank you." Steve went and climbed back into bed, Eddie following him and handed him the tray once he was settled. "This looks good, Eddie. I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart. You deserve the best." Eddie sat on his side of the bed, leaning over to kiss Steve before he could start eating.

[lou-struck]

A Not-So-Scary Movie Night

 Barbatos x reader

Flufftober Day 2: ‘Scary’ Movie Night

WC:1.4k

~  You are about to have a quiet movie night to yourself until you are joined by Barbatos, who isn't the biggest fan of the Movie you chose.

The Devildom moon glows a soft orange through the kitchen window as you pull your tray of cookies from the oven. The sweet smell of sugary nostalgia wrapping you in the warm embrace of home. 

For weeks now, your little package of cookie dough has been tucked away in the freezer, successfully hidden from the sweet-yet-always-hungry Beel. Just waiting for the right moment to be baked. But waiting can make one feel a bit peckish, so your once-full package of slightly misshapen dough balls has been whittled down to half its size over the course of its short stay. 

With the brothers all out running errands, partying, or out doing Diavolo knows what. You knew that the time had come to bake your cookies, put on the fuzziest of socks, and watch some of the Comfort DVDs you brought from the human world. You had just finished ‘The Princess Bride’, and now Ratatouille is next on the chopping block. With the opening credits playing in the next room over, you know you have to hurry so you do not miss any more of the movie.

You carry your still steaming plate of Pillsbury pumpkin-printed cookies over to the couch, where your little cocoon of blankets awaits you. And although your sweets are nowhere near cool enough to start munching on, you can’t wait.

 As soon as you bite into the warm dough, the still slightly center hits your tongue with a sizzle. “A-ah, that’s hot.” you gasp, flinching violently at the sensation of your taste buds getting burnt off; the piece of cookie you, unfortunately, swallowed burns from the inside of your chest as you stick your tongue out and pant like a dog to cool yourself down. All the while uttering a string of unintelligible curse words that would make even Satan blush. 

“Oh my, Mc. Are you alright?” a light voice says from the doorway. Your shoulders jolt, and head snaps around in an instant to see Barbatos standing in the doorway, a stack of manga in his gloved hands as he regards you with concern. 

“Barbatos! What are you doing here?” you try to say, but with your tongue still out, it came across far less dignified than you would’ve liked. 

Butler’s eyes crinkle in amusement as a genuine laugh slips past his pale lips. “My apologies mc, I was just dropping off the manga Leviathan lent the young master and heard your little yelp,” he replies, setting down the bundle on the armoire and giving you his full attention. “Are you in pain?”

“Not anymore; my cookies were too hot.” You giggle, holding out the plate of sweets towards him. “Since you’re here, would you like to join me for a movie night?” He takes one of the cookies and takes a clean bite, somehow not spilling any crumbs over the carpet.

His lips turn upward in a grateful smile as he removes his jacket, folding it up perfectly and placing it on the edge of the coffee table. “I’d be delighted; I can’t remember the last time I was free to just sit back and watch a film. Especially if It means getting some alone time with you.” 

His words send butterflies into your stomach as you grip the edge of your blanket cocoon and flip it open to let him in. The festive scent of Asmodeus’s fabric spray wafts pleasantly under your nose as you do so.

“That looks cozy,” he chuckles, sliding in next to you. You waste no time leaning up against his sturdy frame and breathing in his naturally clean scent. 

“Feels cozy.” you sigh in contentment.

“So what movie are we watching,” he hums, resting his head against your own.

You are so comfortable with him you forgot that there is a movie playing on the screen. “Oh, it’s Ratatouille,” you answer absentmindedly, reaching for another cookie. 

“Oh, like the dish?” he hums. “How intriguing; I have been wanting to attempt to make more dishes from the human world; perhaps I shall make an attempt at cooking it next time you come to the palace.”

“Kinda,” it’s more about this Ra…” your voice trails off as you realize this movie may not be the best choice for a cozy night in with Barbatos. The Butler’s dislike of rats surely will taint his movie-watching experience. “Maybe we should watch something else.”

“Nonsense, you must like this movie if you chose to bring it back with you from the Human realm,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “I promise, no matter what appears on the screen, I will endure it.”

“Are you sure?” you ask. 

“Anything for you, my dear.” He has a comforting expression on his face as he turns his whole attention to the screen. Between the Baking of the cookies, the burning of your tongue, and Barbatos’ welcome intrusion, you realize that quite a bit of the movie has passed you by. 

As Remy the Rat scampers about Gusteau’s kitchen, you notice out of the corner of your eye that Barbatos’ natural smile is slowly disappearing.

” Is this too much for you, Barbatos?” you ask, noticing the rigidness in the Butler’s poster as he looks on at the scene in front of him in what can only be described as disgusted horror.

“N-no,” he stutters, clearly lying. “But this must be one of those Horror movies the Young Master was talking about the other day. This filmmaker certainly is gifted at making such a bone-chilling plot.”

You try to stifle your laugh by popping a sugar cookie into your mouth. A mistake that leads to you coughing ungracefully as tears prick in the corners of your eyes. “Sorry,” you wheeze, “I forgot to chew.”

He laughs and gently rubs circles into your back. His sharp nails your skin through the fabric of your sweater. “Careful now; you are far too important to lose to a cookie. No matter how tasty they are.”

“Aren’t they amazing?” you giggle, “I’ve been saving them for a special occasion.”

He nods and starts to reach for another cookie but stops himself as he looks at the screen once more. Remy the Rat is making soup. His face loses all color, and he grimaces, the sensation sending shivers through his body. “I believe I have lost my appetite. Why in the three realms is that rodent preparing food?”

“Because anyone can cook.” you tease playfully elbowing him. 

“Yes, anyone, not anything. That creature should stay underground.”

“You’re missing the whole point of this movie.” you tease, grabbing his hand. “If it makes you feel better, he will wash his paws before cooking.”

“So much that can do,” he gives your hand another squeeze. “He is still a rat.”

“That wants to be a human,” you add, hoping to make him feel a bit more comfortable with this whole ordeal. He is far too polite to ask for you to turn off a movie you are clearly enjoying, and If you were to try and turn it off yourself, he would insist that you finish it.

 “You humans really know how to make a scary movie.” he compliments, his green eyes more focused on finding comfort in your features than the screen. 

“Right, a scary movie,” you repeat, playing along with the Butler. You don’t have the heart to tell him that this is a beloved children’s movie back in the human world, complete with a successful theme park ride and an off-Broadway musical.  

“I heard that it is common for Humans to watch these kinds of movies with the person they are interested in in order to get them to cling to them for comfort. If you wanted my attention so badly, Mc, you could’ve just asked.” 

“It seems you have figured out my whole plan,” you tease, leaning up and planting a rather distracting kiss on his lips. He’ll need it for later on in the movie. 

Barbatos’ embrace is thankful as he returns the gesture, His lips hungrily tasting your own as he fills his senses with you and not the Rat-filled atrocity playing on the screen behind him. 

Because according to him, nothing is scarier than one Rat in the kitchen…

Diavolo help him…

Tagging: @eussstasss @enchantedforest-network

[venacoeurva]

Time for the slightly freezer-burnt girlboss and her bigass ears

[birgittesilverbae]

Shannon + Beatrice - sisterhood

Please??

Beatrice limps forward, presses her hand to the glass. "Shannon?" she whispers, almost whimpers. 

Ava lays a gentle hand at the small of her back. "It's her. Well, we think it's her. Well, Lilith thinks it's her. And Mother Superion."

"Mary?"

Ava shakes her head. "Mary refuses to acknowledge her existence."

Beatrice looks back through the glass, tries to peel the filter of emotion back from her gaze. It's Shannon's posture, that coiled ease, a predator's lounge. It's Shannon's face, eyebrows pinched together as she works through a crossword. It's Shannon's habits, even, the way she absentmindedly presses the nib of her pen to her cheek, the way she balances one booted foot atop the other. "What does she see that Lilith doesn't?"

"She won't say."

Beatrice hums. "Fine. Alright." She shifts towards the door, but Ava catches at her wrist. 

"Are you sure?"

"She's my sister, Ava. Of course I'm certain." But Beatrice's hand shakes as she flips open the three locks stacked one on top of another in the door, as she turns the knob and slips into the room. 

"Hey, Aves," Shannon begins, and closer now Beatrice can see the glint of divinium-laced scar tissue on her bare forearm. "Did you–" But then she lifts her gaze, and her pen falls from her hand, clatters across the floor tiles as she shoves herself to her feet. "Bea…" Fond, aching, taking a step closer but hesitant to close the distance.

"Broke my collarbone again," Bea says, voice rough with tears. "Guess you were right about needing to look after myself better."

Shannon crosses the room in three quick steps, slows to look her over, shifts to account for the injuries. Pulls Beatrice into a loose hold, careful of her ribs, but her hand grips tight at the back of Beatrice's neck as she kisses the stubble of Beatrice's hair.

"Shan," Beatrice breathes, lungs full of the scent of cedarwood and something faintly freezer burnt. She fists her left hand in the back of Shannon's sweater, presses her face into Shannon's shoulder. She's a bit taller now, the angles shifted ever so slightly, puzzle pieces that no longer quite fit together. Beatrice sobs.

There's a pain in her chest, and it takes her a moment to realise that it's her pendant, crushed between their bodies, digging into the tenderness of her sternum. It's ice cold against her skin.

"Breathe, Beatrice, breathe." Shannon rubs circles into her back. "I'm here, Bea. I've got you. It's gonna be okay."

Beatrice draws back. There's a faint memory, tugging at the back of her head. She hooks her thumb in the collar of Shannon's shirt, tugs it to the side to reveal the slope of her trapezius. 

Paired arcs of divinium glint back at her. Tooth marks. She drags the pads of her fingers across them, finds them freezing to the touch. 

"It was real," she breathes. Her legs buckle. 

Shannon catches her about the waist. "It was real," she confirms, quiet and solid as she's always been. As she's ever been.

"You're real," Beatrice breathes anew. She tugs the pendant from the neck of her shirt. It hums as she raises it between them. The light is dimmer now, as though on the other side of the window Ava has retreated to give them space, but Beatrice is almost certain the shard vibrates in her hand. "I felt you. For months. I felt you and I dreamed of you and I thought– I thought I was losing my mind, Shan. I thought I was–" She gestures with the pendant, anger in it now, rage with nowhere to direct it but at the woman in front of her. "You were dead!"

"I was dead," Shannon confirms. She closes her fingers around the pendant, around Beatrice's hand, and forces it back towards Beatrice. She presses their curled hands hard against the notch at the top of Beatrice's sternum. "Now I'm not. Heard you've had some experience with that." Her grin is brittle, lake ice cracking around a misplaced footstep.

[kitwalker02]

Red Looks Good on You

Austin Sommers x fem! Reader

Warnings: Blood, sexual content, noncon??, drugging, cannibalism; (I might be missing a few things)

The Muse's warmly lit, cozy ambiance had quickly become something of a comfort to you as you have spent nearly every evening into the early morning here for a few weeks now. 

You hadn't purposefully stumbled into here until a late work night and a forgotten lunch box had you desperately searching for a quick meal, knowing your procrastinated shopping trip left you with some bananas that had indeed gone bad by now and, if you were lucky, some freezer burnt eggo waffles and chocolate ice cream. 

Although you initially rolled your eyes when the Muse seemed to be the only place still open, between the drunks stumbling out and the night not getting any younger, it wasn't your scene. Still, you merely pulled your coat tighter around yourself and made your way inside, and boy, were you glad you did. You weren't there long before he caught your attention. Austin Sommers. The tall, dark, and handsome playwright apparently vacationed here every winter. Not that you would know, as this was your first winter in Provincetown, but that just made him all the more intriguing to you.

Every night after that, there became an almost unspoken rule for you to be there, twiddling your thumbs at the bar with a coke, barely sipped, sitting in front of you until Austin and his lady friend, Bell Noir, showed up like clockwork. 

Tonight was no exception.

"Red looks good on you." A familiar, deep voice complemented from over your shoulder. You spun around on your seat to meet Austin's gaze, him leaning forward slightly to rest his elbow on the bar table and lessen the space between the two of you. "Austin! Hi..." You responded softly; Austin's eyes shut briefly as your warm breath hit his face. Your legs instinctively crossed at his reaction, biting your lower lip as you looked over his perfect features. "Oh, get a room, you two." You smiled at Bell's joking comment, laughing bashfully as you put some space between you and Austin, running your hands nervously down the front of the red-laced dress. 

Rolling his eyes fondly, Austin sat beside you, his shoulder bumping into yours slightly as he pulled his stool too close to your own. "How are you tonight?" Night after night, the question never changed; night after night, neither did your flirtatious response. "I'm good...now that you're here."

As the night turned to early morning, the Muse became quiet, emptying gradually as time ticked on. "Y/N, come on, I want you to sing with me!" Austin exclaimed, grabbing your wrist as he suddenly stood up and pulled you with him. "No, Austin, please, I don't want to!" You giggled, not trying to pull your hand away from his as he dragged you toward the stage. "C'mon babe, I've never heard you sing. I gotta hear you sing." You laughed again, grabbing onto his suit jacket to stop him. "Austin, no. Come on, it's getting late, and I got work in the morning." Austin pouted at you, loosening his grip on your wrist slightly but still tugging you towards him a bit more. "Let's not think about work, m'kay?" Furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to protest before getting cut off by Belle. "No, I'm afraid she's right, Austin. I'm getting pretty tired, and you know I need my beauty sleep." 

You shot the older woman a grateful smile, reflecting the playful twinkle in her eye as she made her way over to the two of you; Austin's fingers refused to lose contact with the lacey material of your dress even as Belle placed a nimble hand on his shoulder, leaning in close to his ear. "She's all yours."

Austin caught Bell's eyes in a dark stare, the tension radiating off them was intense, and you shifted awkwardly on your feet, twisting your wrist in Austin's grip to catch and intertwine your fingers with his. This caught his attention, and he snapped his head towards you, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Can I give you a ride, Y/N?"

Sparing one last smile at the two of you, Bell swiftly exited the Muse. You were still deciding where she was going seeing as she usually hitched a ride with Austin to get here. "Ummm, I- I drove...here." You answered feebly, struggling to meet his dark gaze, your face heating up slightly when you realized you were still holding his hand. "That's okay. I can have you back here tomorrow morning to pick your car up. You won't even be late for work, promise." You couldn't help but smirk at this. "Are you, Austin Sommers, implying that we should spend the night together?" "Is that a yes?"

***

You couldn't look up from your lap for the entirety of the trip to Austin's house. You were grateful for the darkness of the car to hide your nervous features as you began to panic about what he might be expecting tonight, and you started to rethink your decision.

"Y/N?" You hummed a quiet response, too focused on the nail you were chewing on, a nasty habit you picked up in your early childhood. Austin gave you an amused smirk, seeming to enjoy your nervous energy.

"We're here."

"Huh?" You furrowed your brows, shifting in your seat to face him before you caught sight of the large, beautiful mansion behind him. "Holy sh-" You froze mid-word, wide eyes dropping back to Austin's face. "You live here?" Shifting the car into park, his eyes darkened. "You wanna come in?"

Your jaw didn't shut until long after you entered Austin's far from modest home, the interior somehow being even more beautiful than the exterior, and it wasn't until Austin nudged you towards his leather couch, turning to the little bar display in the main room that you were snapped back to reality. "Can I get you anything to drink?" Austin asked you confidently, placing two glasses on the tabletop. You cleared your throat, smoothing your dress down in the back before taking a seat. "I'll take a coke...please." Your cheeks heated up at Austin's weird look, and you scratched the back of your head awkwardly. "Diet. I meant diet...coke." Austin gave you a teasing smile, pulling out two glass bottles of some unknown alcoholic beverages to you. "I'll just make you one of what I'm having." There was a note of fondness in his voice as he addressed you pleasantly. "Good idea."

You watched with a smile as Austin dramatically prepared two drinks for you, shaking the drink mixer like a bartender before emptying its contents into two identical glasses.

Taking your glass from Austin, you eyed him wearily as he sat beside you on the luxurious couch. You waited for him to sip his drink before looking down at yours. You ran the tip of your finger over one of the ice cubes, a slightly grainy powder remaining on the pad of your index finger. "It's a margarita, babe." Austin's knowing voice lured you out of your slight daze. "Huh?" "It's a margarita. There's salt. It's okay."

"Okay." You responded shortly, swirling the liquid around the glass once before lifting it to your lips.

"I wouldn't have spent weeks getting to know you if I was just going to date rape you. Y/N, you know that."

You swallowed the smallest amount of liquid that you could. "Okay." You shot him a reassuring smile, bumping your shoulder into his playfully. You took another sip to prove you weren't suspicious of him. "And for the record...." You started, pulling your knees onto the couch to scoot closer to Austin. "You could totally date rape me."

Austin draped his arm heavily over your shoulders, keeping you close to him; he brought his lips close to your ear, his hot breath sending shivers up your spine. "Oh, I plan to do so much more than that." Your mouth went dry at the whispered threat, and you took a big gulp of your drink, telling yourself that it was just a joke taken too far and there wasn't any meaning behind those words.

You curled up closer to Austin, your eyes suddenly feeling heavy, and keeping your head up was hard. Austin took advantage of your exposed neck, leaving hot, wet kisses across the bared skin. He softly brushed your hair out of the way to give himself more access.

"I think we should take this upstairs...what do you think?" You nodded weakly in response, unable to manage a verbal answer. Your head felt fuzzy, all your thoughts melting, and you could barely make out Austin's features through your foggy vision. Austin gently freed the drinking glass from your now sweaty palm, setting it on the glass table before you. "Let's go." He whispered sternly into your ear. You didn't want him to tell you twice with that threatening tone, and you stood up much too quickly for your muddled brain. As soon as your knees straightened, they buckled, and you hit the floor with a thud, the toe of Austin's black boots being the last thing you saw before you fell into a restless slumber.

***

The first sense to return to you was the skull-crushing headache at the front of your head. Groaning loudly, you tried to reach a hand to massage your temple, but your arms were heavy with pins and needles and fell back to the cold floor beneath you. You panicked momentarily, not in control of your limbs and afraid of dislocating something if you moved it wrong. Your breath came out in short, panicked huffs as your eyes frantically glanced around your dark surroundings as you desperately searched for an object of familiarity.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

That wasn't the familiarity you were hoping for.

Now that you knew you weren't alone in the room, it didn't take long for your eyes to fall on the only other person. Austin Sommers was sitting against the wall not far from you. He seemed to have fallen asleep, waiting for you to wake up. Dragging his hand down the length of his face, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes before moving toward you with some effort as his body continued to wake up. Your breathing only got faster the closer Austin got to you. 

"Shh, shhh." He cooed softly, helping you maneuver into a sitting position, resting all your weight on the wall behind you that Austin leaned you against. 

"There. Much better." He said more to himself than you as he brushed some of your frazzled hair out of your face and adjusted the hem of your dress to a more modest position. Austin rubbed his thumb into the side of your knee in what you assumed he meant to be a reassuring gesture, but having him so close to you only made your heart beat faster. "W-what are you doing, A-Austin?" Your voice was shakier than you had hoped, and Austin pouted his lip at your pathetic tone, reaching his free hand toward your face. You tried to dodge his hand, the close proximity already making you as uncomfortable as it did, but Austin just pushed your head into the wall, keeping you still as he shifted his crouched form even closer to you. 

"I know you're scared, Y/N, but you are exactly where you need to be." You furrowed your brow at that, his response confusing you more in your dazed state. You shook your head at him as best you could, with his hand still pinning you to the wall. "I don't get it- What does that even mean?" Austin rolled his eyes as you asked another question. "It means I need you-" "But you didn't have to drug me!"

Austin pursed his lips; you sighed in relief as he momentarily took his hands off you. "Something tells me you wouldn't do what I need you to if I didn't."

Your heart stopped again. What did that mean? You looked at him suspiciously. "What?"

"Listen, Y/N," Austin's voice was sickly sweet as he addressed you. "You're a sweet girl, pretty one too, but I just don't really swing that way." Your expression shifted from one of fear to one of hurt at his somewhat shocking confession. "Then why- why were you leading me on like that..." He smiled at that, all toothy and bright-eyed, the smile you had fallen in love with and trusted. The same smile that now froze the blood in your veins with fear and shattered your heart into a million pieces because you were so close yet so far away. "Because, like I said, I need you." He interrupted the next question you were about to ask by reaching into his mouth and removing something that you could only compare to the annoying retainer you had to wear in your early youth, like the dentures your grandfather would wear and tease you with when he'd take them out because it scared you so much. You furrowed your brow as he took his teeth out of his head, but you weren't met with your grandfather's slobbery, pink, veiny gums like you were prepared for. Instead, you were met with a mouthful of vicious, sharp teeth. His smile looked more sharklike than anything now as he gauged your reaction to the big reveal with a predatory gaze. 

You stared at him like a moron, eyes all wide and glassy, jaw dropped, and a stupidly confused look plastering your expression. You wanted to curse him. Shout some clever remark to make him regret double-crossing you, but as you stared at him like an idiot, that's all you could do. Stare.

"I'm just asking for a little taste. I'm not trying to hurt you-" Every word he said went in one ear and out the other. Your foggy brain could not grasp the weight of his words, let alone process their true meaning. It was only when Austin began reaching for your arm, wrapping the warm, pale fingers around your wrist his touch burned you, and you flinched away, tearing your hand from him. "W-what are you doing? No, don't touch me!" Your voice raised more than you had intended as Austin reached for you again, quickly raising a finger to his lips at your loud voice to signal you to keep it down. "I'm only going to take a little bit, Y/N. I need you to trust me. Trust that I would never do anything to hurt you."

You could only stare. Your eyes were unblinking as they swept between his all-too-serious expression and the faux teeth clasped in his fist. This couldn't be real. 

"Are you a fucking vampire or something?" He stifled a laugh at your accusation, quickly regaining his composure, his expression darkening as he all but growled, "Cannibal would be a bit more realistic."

Your stomach churned at that confession, and you all but lost the cheap meal you had gotten at the Muse. The poor food quality definitely not coming in handy for this kind of news as you doubled over and retched loudly, puking up the undigested pork, or was it chicken...your stomach rolled again, almost making you go for a second round as the whole pieces of corn and beans stared back at you. You couldn't help but imagine eating your grotesque dinner for a second time. Austin patted your back gently, using his fingers to comb your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail. You cringed at thinking of what those fingers have done to so many sorry souls, at what those fingers were going to do to you.

Breathing heavily, you looked up at Austin with teary eyes. "You're lying to me." Austin started to shake his head at you, but you quickly cut him off. "You're going to kill me, aren't you." It wasn't a question, and his hand stilled against your spine. He knew that you knew.

"Y/N, I like you. Really, I do, but there wouldn't be any point for me to keep you around." 

Your ears rang with anxiety, and your breathing shallowed. You placed a hand on your racing heart, scared the organ would jump out of your chest. "B-but I could be useful." You panted, not at all above begging in a situation like this. Austin sighed through his nose, leaning back on his heels as he quirked a curious brow at you. "And how would you be useful to me, sweetheart?" You cringed at the pet name, leaning your shaking body against the damp wall behind you as you eyed him haphazardly. "Y-you need to eat, right? Just- just take a little bit at a time from me. You won't have to go hunting anymore." Scoffing, Austin shifted to crouch right before you; any of your attempts to put space between the two of you failed as he proved to have the upper hand. "Now, Y/N, you say that now..." He began, reaching towards your face to brush your hair behind your hair; you flinched when his fingers drifted down to stroke the side of your face. "But I know how it'll end." You tried to turn your head away from him, but he grabbed your chin harshly, leaving little crescent moons along your jawline as he forced you to face him. "It hurts, you know. It hurts so bad." You gulped audibly, your vision blurring with tears as he gave you a sharp tooth smile continuing to describe your fate. "You won't want it. You'll try to leave to get help. I can't have that. It's either I kill you now, or I kill you then. It'll be twice as bad if we wait for you to double-cross me. So stop trying to buy yourself time, and let's put on our big girl pants, okay?"

You could only stare back at the man before you, mouth agape in shock and heart pounding as every word he said was worse than the last. Briefly, your gaze flicked down to the straight set of teeth clutched in his pale fist, you gulped roughly, your own teeth rattling in your head with fear as your eyes jumped around the foreboding, dark room of what you presumed to be a basement, but it looked more of like a prison cell to you, desperately searching for a way to escape. Austin tilted his head to the side, trying to catch your wandering gaze; when you refused to meet him, he jerked your head sharply to bring your attention back to him. Gasping, you whined softly at the pain that shot down your neck.

"Fuck. You." You tried to sound threatening, but your voice failed you and came out as more of a whimper than the growl you were hoping for. Austin dropped his head with a condescending laugh. "Oh, Y/N, you don't listen, do you? I already told you, sweetheart, I just don't swing that way."

Tucking the fake teeth away in his pocket, Austin's hand returned with a sharp knife, the weapon made your eyes widen, and you couldn't stop the instinctive shout for help that escaped you. It happened so quickly that you didn't even realize Austin had slashed you across the throat until you were gasping desperately for air, your hand coming up to the side of your neck to stop the spurt of blood.

As you blinked furiously at Austin, your mouth opened and closed stupidly, like a fish on land. Staring up at the ceiling, you tried to focus on a singular object to clear your foggy vision. "Not that anyone would you hear you anyways, but better safe than sorry." He patted you on the head gently, your eyes fluttering shut as you turned all your attention to your labored breathing, focusing only on taking one more breath.

"I guess I never did get to hear you sing." Austin mused softly, tucking his hand behind your head as he brought his lips against your ear; the cool blade of his now dirty knife grazed softly against your jawline, your arm pressed uncomfortably between your bodies as you kept a firm hand to the side of your neck. "But those pathetic little gasps will just have to do, hmm?" He hummed thoughtfully, and you cursed him inside your head, the knife cut deep enough not to slit your throat entirely but just enough to fuck with your vocal cords.

“F-fuuuckk....y-y-you.” You breathed hoarsely, Austin pulling back just enough to meet your teary eyes, glossed over from blood loss. "We've been over this-" But he didn't get a chance to finish as you summoned all of your strength to kick his ankle out from under him, the momentarily stumble giving you just enough time to start dragging your heavy body towards the staircase on the other side of the room.

It was hard enough to drag your body, but doing so while clinging one hand to your bleeding neck was another challenge.

You could hear Austin growl from behind you; you didn't get more than a foot or so from him before he was standing over your body. His looming shadow darkened the path before you, and you tried to ignore his clear advantage over you as you focused on your goal. "I told you, it would only be worse if you double-crossed me. Bitch." He threatened before raising his boot clad  foot and bringing it down hard on your vulnerable ankle; it cracked loudly, twisting into an awkward angle from the painful blow. You slammed your forehead down on the concrete floor as the pain radiated through you; you couldn't do more than breathe harshly from the pain as Austin grabbed you by the back of your dress and flipped you onto your back, paying little attention to the way your head hit the floor again.

He straddled your chest, snatching your hands as they weakly tried to swat him away. He tucked one of your flailing limbs under his knee, his body weight making the muscles in your hand spasm. He held your other wrist up to his lips, kissing the prominent veins there softly, before looking directly into your eyes, giving you just enough time to realize what was coming next and to release a soft and desperate, gurgled "Please, don't," before he clamped his teeth down on your wrist. You threw your head back as his teeth scraped against the bone, your toes curling in pain. 

He ripped off a good chunk of flesh, blood spewing from your arm before he tossed the limb away. The initial bite was taken to show you just how serious he was before he brought his blood-stained lips to your ear. He clumsily grasped the side of your face; his motions were frantic and blind as he was desperate for more of you. "You taste so much better than I could ever imagine." You whined softly as he licked a long stripe up your neck, tangling his fingers into your hair and jerking your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him and his hot breath erupting your skin goosebumps. 

"Red really does look good on you."

[bagog]

N7 Month, 2023 - Day 6: Meal

It's just a very simple mshenko domestic fluff.

++

The butter hit the pan, foaming up immediately and liquifying around the smashed garlic clove with a sizzle. Turning the garlic over in the butter a few times, Kaidan tipped the pan almost on its edge so the garlic butter pooled against the side. He spooned the butter over the steak, basting it as it continued to sputter.

“Smells good.” Shepard walked into the kitchen, leaned against the counter. Given how open the Citadel apartment was, Kaidan could believe the smell woke him up from his nap upstairs.

“Smells like garlic,” Kaidan chuckled. “First step in getting anyone to sit up and take notice what you’re cooking.” He slipped his spoon under one steak, then the other, flipping each over and continuing to baste the two.

“Steak, huh?”

“Hope that’s okay,” Kaidan shrugged. “All I could find to thaw in the freezer.”

“It sounds wonderful.” Shepard yawned. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Nope, we’re pretty much done here.” He turned off the heat and removed the steaks onto a cutting board.  He opened the oven door, wincing slightly as he pulled out two baked potatoes with bare hands. “Damn that’s hot! Anyway, just need to let the meat rest a minute and we can chow down.” He looked up from the two plates he had set beside the cutting board, noticed Shepard regarding him with a soft look. “Everything okay?”

“I was just thinking about the first time you cooked for me,” he said softly. Kaidan guffawed.

“It was pretty much this, wasn’t it?”

“Except you burnt the garlic…” Shepard stood up, a sly smile across his face. “You said you were ‘distracted.’” Kaidan returned the smile, placing his hand on the side of Shepard’s face.

“I recall somebody was being a distraction.”

“Not me,” grinned Shepard, leaning in to Kaidan’s touch. “I was just standing around watching the show.” He leaned in and kissed Kaidan for a long moment. When they pulled away, Shepard wrapped his arms around Kaidan’s neck. “It was such a novel thing, having a partner that cooked for me.”

“Not so novel anymore, huh?” Kaidan held him close. “I cook just about every night.”

“I know. Just… thinking of how far we’ve come, is all.” As he leaned away, Kaidan chased after him with another kiss.

“Well this time I didn’t burn the garlic,” he rumbled against Shepard’s lips. “And I seem to recall we got up to other stuff besides just eating that first night, hm?”

Shepard grinned.

“So tonight’s not a night to savor my husband’s cooking? Is that what you’re saying?”

“You won’t hurt my feelings,” Kaidan hoisted Shepard up onto the counter, fitting between his legs and leaning up for another passionate kiss. “I’ve got plenty for you to savor tonight.”