#so this just popped up in my head this morning and y’know what? okay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katsu28 · 1 year ago

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i want you here

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you finally gather the courage to ask your boyfriend if he'll move in with you (3k)

a/n: steve girlies i have returned!!! been straying away from my roots lately but i’ll always come back to my favorite guy <3

Steve was on the couch when you came home, only looking up from the cooking show he was watching when he heard the key jingling in the door.

He’d been camped out at your place for hours now, having taken the morning shift at Family Video today which meant he got off work early. He’d beelined right here, using the key you’d given him to let himself in and wait until you got home.

He found himself doing that more often than not these days, preferring to spend his time at your apartment over his own place so he could see you right when you got home. Sometimes it was just what he needed to make his day a little brighter than normal.

Sure, it was just a ten minute drive from his to yours, but those ten minutes always seemed like forever.

“Hey sweetheart!” He chirped, muting the program in favor of twisting around in his seat to face you, his arm hooked over the back of the sofa. When you only let out a vague noise in response, his smile turned sympathetic.

He patted the cushion next to him, prompting you to come over and collapse face-first onto the sofa, stretching out your sore muscles with a tired groan.

Steve’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck immediately, fingers rubbing along your shoulder blades like it was second nature. “Bad day?”

“Understatement of the century.”

“Ouch.”

“Hold me?”

“Surprised you even had to ask.” He patted his lap a few times and you sat up, curling up with your head on his thigh comfortably. When you were satisfied with your position, you gave a content sigh. “All better now?”

You nodded, shifting your focus back to his amused smile. “How was your shift? How’s Robin?”

“Oh y’know, the usual. Scanning, restocking, same thing different day,” He shrugged, hand waving in the air vaguely before coming to settle just above your heart, fingers rounding out absentminded circles against the material of your shirt. His touch radiated warmth through your entire body, making you more at ease than you’d been the entire day since you’d kissed him goodbye this morning.

Steve always had that kind of effect on you.

“Robin’s doing good, her and Nance are planning a trip to New York sometime in the summer, asked if we wanna join them. I said I’d ask you tonight, but we can talk about it another day. They’ll understand.”

“No, it’s okay. Sounds fun, we should go,” You insisted, smiling softly up at him just to see the pink bloom on his cheeks.

“Yeah?”

“I’d be completely okay with a vacation.” You must’ve sounded more tired than you meant to, because Steve frowned.

“They’re really working you hard these days, huh?”

You shrugged, letting your head loll to the side until your cheek was pressed to the soft blanket covering his lower half. Steve was concerned, you could hear it in his voice clear as day. “S’fine. Means they know I’m reliable, so if a higher position ever opens up maybe they’ll think of me.”

“As long as you’re not overworking yourself.”

“I’m okay, Stevie.”

He didn’t look like he believed you one bit, but he nodded warily, sensing that you just wanted to change the subject. So he did. “Hey, you remember my neighbor, Mrs. Anderson?”

“The one who power walks around the neighborhood every morning?”

“Yeah, her! She popped into Family Video today, and it turns out that she divorced her son of a bitch husband because he was fooling around with some floozy from his fencing class—had been for months!” He exclaimed, looking like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. You played along, raising a surprised brow at the news, more interested in the way he was telling his story rather than the story itself.

Call it creepy, but sometimes you just liked to watch your boyfriend talk.

“And he had the nerve to ask for more than his share of their money because ‘he had to start from scratch’. I mean honestly, if you’re gonna fuck up your marriage, at least have the decency to just walk the fuck away.” He continued, shaking his head with a disgusted grimace. You fought the urge to laugh at his reaction. “Anyways, she’s doing good, she’s got a date tonight with some guy she dated for a bit in high school who reconnected recently and wanted to get a good movie, so I gave her Doctor Zhivago. Seemed kinda fitting—y’know, reuniting lovers and all that.”

You snorted. “Did you seriously just use the word floozy?”

“Really? That’s all you got from my story?”

“I just didn’t know that word still existed.”

“Were you not listening to me? I might’ve just kickstarted a new relationship! I should see if Keith would let me start up a new service at the store.”

“Service? Like, you recommending movies to customers?”

“Yeah!”

“Isn’t that already technically part of your job description?”

“I mean technically, but who knows, maybe I could get a raise. A few cents, a buck or two, I dunno.” Steve was mumbling now, more so to himself than to you, rubbing a large palm against his cheek in contemplation.

You inhaled a deep breath through your nose, gearing up to ask Steve if it was okay if you took a quick nap, but one whiff of fresh laundry distracted you. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you squinted up at your boyfriend.

“What?” He asked, looking simultaneously confused and like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Did you—did you do laundry?”

Steve let out a huff of air, shoulders sagging in relief. All traces of annoyance from the former Mr. Anderson and his fencing floozy were long gone. “Yeah, I did. I figured I’d make myself useful for once, get some stuff done around here so you wouldn’t have to when you got home. I hope that’s okay.”

It was more than okay. Beyond okay, if you were being honest with yourself.

Steve had been doing that a lot recently, taking care of little things around your apartment while you were away at work. Putting clean dishes away, changing that pesky flickering light in the bathroom that you couldn’t reach, fixing a wobbly table leg. Things that, among others, you’d been too tired to take care of when you got home.

“Do you wanna move in with me?” You heard yourself asking, shifting yourself into a sitting position, knees pressing against his.

Steve’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “You want me to—you want me here?” He sounded taken by complete surprise, honey eyes wide as he blinked at you slowly.

Sure, was your name on the lease, but there were already traces of Steve everywhere in your apartment.

A collection of his hair products mixed in with your skincare on the bathroom counter, a few mugs with cheesy puns littering your collection in the cabinet. A handful of sweaters of his in the drawers of your dresser that you’d stolen and he’d never taken back.

His work schedule tacked onto the fridge with a magnet one of the kids had made for him, almost lost within the various notes he’d written you over the years. Chicken scratch and awful doodles on Post-It notes, receipts, Family Video notepads, anything he could get his hands on, then tucked into your pocket, stuck onto the bathroom mirror. Anywhere and everywhere he could, just so you’d smile and think of him.

You look really pretty today.

Do you have a bandaid? I think I scraped my knee falling for you.

Someone call the cops because I think you’ve stolen my heart.

You wanted more of him. You wanted all of him.

“Of course I want you here, Steve,” You murmured, rubbing your thumb along the ridges of his knuckles soothingly. “I wanna come home to you at the end of every day and have dinner with you every single night, breakfast every single morning. I want your toothbrush in the cup next to mine, your clothes in the closet, your weird stolen DVDs from Family Video under the TV.”

Steve’s lips parted like he was about to say something, then closed again before any words could come out.

Maybe you’d overstepped by asking him to move in. Maybe you’d been entirely misinterpreting where you were in your relationship, and he wasn’t on the same page as you, and that’s why he wasn’t saying anything.

“D’you think—is that…something you would want?” You asked hopefully, feeling a bit shy now.

“Yes.” He replied immediately, nodding so quickly his hair flopped over his forehead. “God, yes. Please.”

Your smile grew unbelievably wide at his enthusiasm. “Really?”

“Yeah. Yes, really,” He insisted, nodding again. “I’d love nothing more.”

“Well, it’s settled then. We’re gonna live together.”

He beamed, and you swore it was like pure sunshine injected straight into your veins. You’d get to see that smile whenever you wanted now. “Holy shit, sweetheart! We’re gonna live together!”

Steve moved in very soon after that, only weeks between the day you had the conversation and the moment the last box was shoved into the backseat of his car.

He dusted his hands off on his jeans, slamming the door shut with a sense of finality before making his way over to come stand next to you.

“You gonna miss this place?” You asked, tilting your head at the looming house in front of you. You’d never tell Steve, but his house always gave you the shivers. It was nice, of course, but it was too nice. Too staged, like everything was just for show, and not the place that made your Steve into the person he was now.

“Not a chance.” He replied. His arm snaked around your waist, fingers coming to twine through yours in your jacket pocket. “Not when I have you to look forward to everyday for the rest of my life.”

“That’s so fucking cheesy.”

Steve leaned more into you, bumping his hip against yours. “What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”

“Are you excited?”

“Do you want me to jump for joy and run around the yard to show you how excited I am? ‘Cause I will.”

“Please don’t.”

Steve stuck his tongue out at you childishly. “Party pooper.”

-------

“Dude, I thought you lived here already. You’re over here all the time anyways.” Dustin scoffed, popping a grape into his mouth. The younger boy had agreed to lend a hand in your unpacking endeavors today, though you suspected he was more here for the promise of dinner after everything was said and done. The same could be said for Eddie, who hadn’t shown up yet.

“You literally came to my house last week to use my pool?”

“Yeah, but I thought Y/N had just, like, kicked you out for the day. Like you were in the doghouse or something!” Dustin explained, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Steve squinted at him, brow furrowed. “But yeah, congratulations on the new home, welcome, whatever!”

“Babe, we should change the locks. Gotta keep the local riffraff out.” He whispered loudly, to which Dustin flipped him a playful bird. “Speaking of riffraff, where’s Eddie? I thought he’d be here by now.”

“Probably still sleeping.” Dustin shrugged, taking a seat on the couch.

“It’s the middle of the day!”

“You know him, he’s like a fucking bat. Sleeps all day, stays up all night.”

“Henderson! Language!” Steve chided, flinging a grape at the boy. It bounced off Dustin’s arm and rolled across the floor, disappearing under the coffee table. You turned your gaze on Steve, raising an expectant eyebrow at him in an expression that he recognized immediately. The grin on his face disappeared and he nodded once. “Sorry. Getting it now.”

“You’ve got him on a tight leash, I like it.”

“How do you think I lured him here in the first place?” You hummed, shooting Dustin a cheeky wink.

Steve made some sort of noise of protest from under the table, quick to insert himself back into the conversation. “Hey, I have my own free will! Lemme tell you, I—ow, shit!”

“Better watch your language there, Harrington,” Dustin snickered.

“This is my home now too, I can kick you out anytime I want!”

“No you can’t! Y/N would never let you, she loves me.”

Steve reemerged with the offending grape clutched between his fingers, glaring at Dustin. “Fifty bucks says she loves me more.”

“I’ll take that action!” Both boys turned their attention on you, waiting for you to settle the score.

You shook your head, lips pressing into an unassuming line as you raised your hands in surrender. “I’m not getting involved.”

-------

Dustin proved little help on the unpacking front of things, as did Eddie when he finally made it over, both of them too enamored with rifling through the boxes looking at everything rather than actually taking them out like they were supposed to. Steve wanted to scold them, but you’d convinced him not to with a simple kiss. He was always easy to persuade like that.

Most of the boxes had been emptied and littered around the main rooms by the time the sun set, so despite your helpers’ very unhelpful demeanor, things had gotten done anyways.

You’d ordered a few pizzas as a thanks, but Eddie had shuffled Dustin right out the door with the excuse of an emergency Hellfire meeting (which he not-so-quietly whispered was a lie, and that he wanted to give “the two lovebirds some alone time”), much to the dismay of the curly headed boy.

Missing out on free pizza was a top ten betrayal scenario for him. Maybe even a top five, but Eddie had let the door slam behind him before Dustin was able to finish that thought.

“Meals til we go to the store, I guess?” Steve offered, picking a green pepper off his slice to discard onto your plate. You were sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter, Steve leaning on it across from you with his elbows propped up as he passed you every single one of his peppers and claiming your pepperoni in return.

“I have food in the fridge, y’know.”

“Oh, right, right. No yeah, I’ve seen it. Leftover takeout and a bag of shredded cheese?” He raised an amused brow, cocking his head. You scowled. “Very self sufficient, babe.”

“I’ve been meaning to go shopping!”

“And tomorrow we can. Together. Because we live together now.”

“Is that something you’re gonna be saying all the time from now on?”

“Until the end of time, sweetheart.” Fondness dripped from his tone like syrup, nearly giving you a cavity from how sweet he was being towards you.

He met you in the middle, kissing you happily in the middle of your kitchen like he’d done so many times before. Only this time it felt different, because it was now Steve’s kitchen too. His home.

-------

You were the first one awake the next morning. That was usually how weekends went when Steve was there—you’d wake up before he did, but you wouldn’t rouse him from his deep slumber. You usually just watched him sleep for a bit, in the least creepy way possible.

It was just…Steve was so pretty in the mornings, and today was no exception. Sunlight poured through the curtains, washing over his sleeping form in a golden glow that made him look goddamn heaven-sent.

Sometimes you couldn’t even believe how lucky you were to have the privilege of loving him.

Steve’s arms were tucked under his pillow, face smushed into it and hair a fluffed up mess, and there might’ve even been a little bit of drool gathered at the corner of his mouth. You thought he was pretty nonetheless.

You must’ve been staring a little harder than you meant, because Steve inhaled a deep breath, sniffling a few times before blinking awake slowly. He yawned big and loud, flipping over onto his back with a sigh.

“Well good morning, roomie,” He hummed, voice heavy with sleep. He smiled lazily at you, reaching out to trace a line along your arm, past your elbow, your wrist, all the way down to your hand until his fingers were laced tight with yours. “Y’know, it’s not nice to stare.”

“That’s your fault for being so easy on the eyes.”

“Oh yeah? I could say the same for you.” Steve’s grin only grew bigger, even though he probably couldn’t really see you clearly without his glasses on. “Okay, wait. Hold on, hold on, I can’t see you properly. Where’s my—'' He felt around the bedside table blindly for the aforementioned glasses, nearly knocking them to the floor before grabbing them and shoving them onto his face.

He shook his head, blinked a few more times to get used to the change, then focused back on you. “There you are. Hi, my beautiful roommate.”

You swiped the pillow out from under Steve’s head, swinging it at him so it thumped against his chest. “Call me your roommate again and I’ll kick you out of my bed.”

“Jesus, ow—did you not hear the part where I called you beautiful?!” Steve yelped, snatching it out of your hands and jamming it back under himself. “Plus, I think you mean our bed now.”

“You’ve already slept in it enough times to call it yours too, even if you hadn’t moved in.” You pointed out. Steve sighed loudly. “What?”

“You’re supposed to say yes, I love you, my favorite person in the world.”

“I love you, my favorite person in the world.”

“Well, now it feels like you’re just mocking me.”

“Maybe I am.”

“That’s rude. Anyways, breakfast? I’ll make one of those fancy egg scramble thingies you like.” Steve was already swinging his legs out of bed before you responded, because he knew you’d say yes. He lifted his arms high over his head, stretching out his stiff muscles with the loudest of groans before letting his hands slap back down into his lap.

When you didn’t reply, he turned around. “There you go again with the staring! Honestly, if I’d known you’d shamelessly ogle me this much, I would’ve thought twice about moving in, you creeper.”

“You know you love it,” You sing-songed, aiming a teasing smile over at him. “Now go make me breakfast, roomie!”

“God, you were right. That does not have a nice ring to it.”

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot

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amgk22 · 1 month ago

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Lukas Reichel x reader please?

Maybe you always crush on these Pinterest hockey couple pictures and he mocks you all the time until he invites you to one of his hockey games and asks the social media girl to take a cute picture as a surprise?

photogenic. lukas reichel

synopsis: you always get jealous of how pretty other girls look with their hockey couples- and lukas always teases you for it. however, at a special game on your birthday, lukas brings your pinterest board ideas to life.

warnings: none!! just FLUFF.

“Why can’t we take cute photos like that?” You ask, trying to get the attention of your cute boyfriend. “Lukas?”

“What?” He mumbles; turning around from the toaster. “Getting jealous over the pinterest photos?”

You nod. “They just look so perfect! And I can even find you in them.”

“Really?” Lukas asks, stepping over. “Show me. God; it better not be embarrassing..”

You scroll up, pressing on a photo of Lukas on the ice, which to be honest looks pretty cute. “I like it,” shrugs Lukas. “You gonna save that one?”

You press the download image button. “You bet I am,” you chuckle, looking back at him as a pop sound echoes through the living room. “Uh, you better get that toast out.”

“Oh yeah, shit,” Lukas laughs, running back over. “But seriously; don’t compare yourself to people on Pinterest,” he suggests, grabbing the toast and placing it on a plate. “You’re way prettier than them.”

“It’s not about being prettier!” You exclaim jokingly. “I just like the aesthetic of the photos..and I think we’d look pretty cute.”

“Might get my fangirls jealous, y’know,” Lukas reminds you. “Imagine how some of the guys in Jersey be feeling. They’ve got an entire city of 12 year old fan girls!”

“Glad that’s not you,” You smile. “I like keeping you all to myself.”

You see the smallest hint of a blush come through his face, as he spreads the butter over the toast. “Tomorrow’s your birthday, why are you so worried about others?” Lukas asks. “You should be thinking about what I’m gonna get you.”

“It better be good,” You say, letting out a quick yawn. “Y’know, I’m kind of tired..I’m gonna go to bed now.”

“Sounds good,” Lukas nods. “Sweet dreams, sunshine.”

That morning, from the second you wake up, you feel great. You were 22 years old- finally he couldn’t use the excuse that he was older than you. The bed felt comfier than usual. And Lukas was right there when you woke up.

“Happy birthday, sunshine,” Lukas says, leaning closer. “Want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” you say, resisting a faint blush. “I can’t believe it, I’m 22…”

“It’s gonna be great today,” Lukas grins. “I’ve got a couple tricks up my sleeve..come over here, I’ve got a surprise.”

“Here?” You ask, pulling off your blanket and stepping onto the floor. Your legs are a bit wobbly, as they always are, but you regain balance as soon as you feel Lukas’ warm arm on your shoulder.

“Yup, here,” Lukas says proudly. “But I’ve got somethin else outside. That’s for later.”

“Should I close my eyes?” You chuckle, closing them anyway.

“Keep em shut,” Lukas insists, holding on you tighter. He leads you through the house; then to where you guess is the living room. “Okay, open your eyes.”

You open your eyes; and look around to see streamers everywhere. Balloons. And they’re all in your colour. “Wow!” You exclaim. “It’s amazing!”

“Luckily I got a buddy who just had a birthday,” Lukas says. “He could lend these to me, so I can save up for the real surprise.”

“You’re a hockey player,” You chuckle. “Don’t you have the money?”

Lukas rolls his eyes. “Well, yes, I do..but that’s for other things.”

You nod playfully. “Sure, sure..now what is this other surprise?”

“It’s at the arena, since practice starts early today. I got you a coffee to keep your energy up,” Lukas tells you. “Wanna go now? Or should I reschedule it?”

You shake your head. “No need to reschedule. I’ll take the coffee,” You say, grabbing the coffee and sighing in pleasure as the caffeine reaches your tongue.

“You and your coffee,” Lukas smiles, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Come on, sunshine,” he says.

A couple sips later, you zone back in and realize you’re at the door. “Ladies first,” Lukas says, bowing as if he’s a prince.

“Why thank you,” You curtsy, almost spilling your coffee as you leave the house.

“You sure you wanna go down the stairs?” Lukas asks.

“Elevators could break,” You shrug. “Remember last time?”

Lukas laughs. “Don’t remind me, love. I’ll carry you down.”

Before you can resist, you feel yourself picked up by Lukas, being held like a princess. You grip onto your coffee for dear life, while also snuggling up to his warm body.

He makes sure to not jolt you as he steps down the stairs through your apartment complex. His arms tighten, before letting you go at the bottom.

“I got us a taxi,” Lukas says. “Well, not really a taxi. Just Landon.”

You peek inside the taxi, to see one of Lukas’ teammates, Landon Slaggert. “To the arena,” Lukas says, leading you into the back seat with him.

“Sounds good.” As the car starts, Lukas looks at you, putting his hands on your waist.

“You look perfect,” He whispers in your ear. “You know that, right?”

You nod. “I know,” You mumble. “You tell me every day.” He leans in for a kiss, his hands rubbing your back tightly.

“Beautiful,” He says in between kisses. “Just beautiful.”

You snuggle up to him, your lips connecting with his once more before you sit in his lap. “Now, what’s the surprise?” You ask.

“Well,” Lukas chuckles. “I want it to be a surprise, sunshine. We’re almost there, you need to be patient.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine,” You pout; looking out the window. The sky is clear, the snow is melting, it’s a good day in Chicago.

The taxi parks in the lot, you and Lukas holding hands as you exit the vehicle.

“Just tell me,” You complain. “Please?!”

“I know what it is,” Landon adds.

“Then tell me!” You exclaim, almost begging.

“You’ll love it,” Lukas smiles. “It’s just in here, sunshine…”

As you reach the door, Lukas opens it for you, and you walk in..to see a brunette girl. Tall, a bit chubby, with a camera in her hand. You know her.. “Hi, I’m the social media girl,” The lady says. “I’m here to take the photo. We don’t have much time- they want a whole scrapbook of Bedards.”

“Come again?” You ask, looking back at Lukas. “A photo? Since when? Don’t you have practice?”

“That was a lie,” Lukas says proudly, his hands on his hips. “The game isn’t until 7:00 tonight. You know how jealous you are of those Pinterest photos? I-“

“You brought them to life!” You exclaim. “This is amazing!”

“Before you ask; there’s bigger gifts,” Lukas chuckles. “I just thought you’d like this as a little treat.”

Your smile widens, looking between the social media girl and Lukas. “So,” The lady says. “Shall we begin?”

You nod eagerly. “Yes!”

the photo::

#nhl rpf #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl players #nhl #nhl hockey #lukas reichel

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jujutsukgojo · 3 months ago

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The Baby Project Chapter Nine

Izuku Midoriya x reader, slight Hitoshi Shinsou x reader

The Baby Project Masterlist

Summary: What a great day. tw: Light angst, a lot of fluff, a special guest star

After you held him, the two of you talked about what to put in his room so Noa can spend some nights with him.

Izuku sniffles and moves a wrinkled tissue away from him. On your floor with bent knees, he pulls up Noa’s new All Might t-shirt. He chuckles with a stuffy nose. “I guess I’ll have to take this, won’t I?”

You nod and laugh. “Maybe you can convince him? You know all about heroes. I’ve seen you with your notebooks.”

Izuku looks down. “Yeah, yeah, I do.” You know you are asking the impossible from him. These people are his friends, comrades, fellow survivors of wars. However, it is the same for your class.

You lick your lips. “I know this is hard-”

“It’s going to be okay. I know it will.” He sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself rather than you. Nodding, you point to the window. “It’s dark.”

“Way past curfew.”

“I’m sure Noa’d like to see you, y’know. Maybe, you could…spend the night again?” God, you hope you don’t sound desperate. It’s not like you’re going to do anything.

Izuku gives a small, closed smile. He finishes putting everything into a borrowed sack. “I’ll come back for the bigger things-”

“Let’s go to bed, bub.” He doesn’t have a toothbrush or a change of clothes. Izuku takes his shoes off and lays flat on the floor. “In my bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it wouldn’t be the first time.” He stands up and gestures to the bed for you to get in first. You follow and settle under the covers. Izuku lays on his bed and stares at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars glow against the plaster. Side by side, the two of you lay together, looking at the stickers, both thinking about the same thing.

“Are you okay?” You ask with a whisper. He nods and answers just as quietly. “I’m just trying to brace myself,” He sucks his bottom lip and releases it when it is plump and red. “I don’t want them to get hurt.”

“What about us-”

“And I don’t want you to get hurt, either! Or anyone for that matter.”

“This isn’t going to kill them. It’s a correction. I’m teaching them.” Again, he nods and sucks on his lips. You hold his hand, entwining your fingers.

-------

You stretch and yawn in your bed. Your freshly washed covers along with Izuku’s arm are warm. Noa is asleep in his bed and leaves you two in your own. Reluctantly, you awake from your sleep and come face to face with him. Months ago, you had a heart attack when it first happened. Now here you are in the same position with no thumping heart or fear. It feels natural and domestic; it’s soothing and smooth as you trail your finger along his strong, scarred arm. Why does this feel normal? Not average or boring, not exciting at the prospect that a boy is in your room, but natural and comfortable?

You prop yourself up and peer over his shoulder. What you see is deplorable, more despicable than Gru: you have lost five minutes of sleep.

Sighing, you close your eyes and try to get that special five minute nap before your alarm or worse, Noa, startles you. “Good morning.”

Your eyes pop open. “Good morning, Izuku.”

His curly lashes flutter open to let his large green eyes appear. What do you do now? There’s a boy in your bed again. Last time, he barely made it out without the teachers knowing.

Izuku doesn’t make a move. Is he thinking the same as you?

“How’d you sleep?” His voice is groggy and slightly raspy. You want to reach out and touch him but refrain from doing so. Rather than go into detail how it feels nice to sleep next to him, you answer vaguely. “Good. You?”

“Good.”

“We haven’t done this in a minute, huh?”

“No, we haven’t. Almost forgot how it felt.” You get little goosebumps when he says it. His cheek is smooshed against the pillow, making him look younger. The green curls are all over his head and flattened. There are red lines on his face, too. You wonder how you look.

“Do you want to go to the restaurant with me? Get some breakfast?”

He sighs and settles deeper into the bed. “Want to but can’t. It’s a school day.”

Both of your eyes get wide. “Shit!” The clock rings and wakes Noa up. “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Noa-! You grew!” Izuku stumbles out of the bed and to Noa’s side. Izuku shows Noa’s tummy and it reads the number four. “Good job buddy!”

“Stay still, you two!” You scramble to get the camera and take a picture of the two. On this day, Noa turned four years old. Months into the project has let you raise an infant all the way up to a preschooler.

To your horror, you see freckles on Noa’s cheeks. Izuku turns to look at you with a smug smile you’re going to wipe off. “Congrats, Noa.” You say through gritted teeth. This is horrible, awful!

You look at the time and point to it. “You have to get ready, Izuku.”

“Ah! I’ll see you two in a minute!” Noa waves bye to his papa.

Izuku jumps down and lands on the ground. Right as he looks up at you and Noa, the dog hero comes up and howls, growling incoherently and snarling. Izuku repeatedly apologizes.

“You perverts!” The hero and school counselor scolds. Noa points at him. “No, you!”

“Them!”

“You!”

“Them!”

“I said you!”

“That’s enough, that’s enough! Whatever your name is, it isn’t what it looks like. So, please, stop arguing with our child.”

He snarls and balls up his fists. This is the guy that is the school’s counselor? This is the dude Riko has been going to for months? It’s probably best that the dog hero is from a school and not independent or he’d be demanded a refund from everyone.

Izuku is increasingly flustered the more he’s grilled or growled, by the dog hero. You stay and watch the whole thing, reminiscing how he used to be before he learned what you are going to do.

--------

“Hey!” Noa pokes you repeatedly. You gently grab his hand. “Baby, mama’s in class right now, remember?” Even though he nods, that gleam in his eyes tells an entirely different story.

“(Y/n), control your child.” Snipe is going over the recent test results and is discussing the next course of action with the class. As expected, Noa gets up from your grasp. Riko and Ema reach for him to help you. It’s embarrassing how he’s acting but the blessing is that none of your classmates are judging you.

“I’m trying-”

“Try harder.” He grips the edge of the podium.

“I am-” Noa is trying to run around the classroom. Normally he’s disruptive but not like this.

“Try harder!” You smack the top of your desk and point at Snipe. “Listen here, you scallywag dope fiend, you promised us a caregiver! So, stop complaining and cough it up!”

“There she is.” Benio smirks at the sight of your outburst. He too tries to get Noa while still having a hold of Kobeni.

“Snipe, hold your end of the deal-Noa, stop that!-and give us a caregiver!”

You pick Noa up, not to comfort him, but to hold him still. Snipe groans as Noa sings his heart out. Snipe groans and rubs his temple. “(Y/n), I am working on that. For now, take him out.”

You mutter curses under your breath which Noa repeats. He wiggles down to the floor. Much to your amazement and horror, Mira, in all of her three year old glory, looking like Kacchan, says, “Fucking asshole.”

Sakura gasps and glares at you. “Mira, don’t say that!”

Noa jumps and is about to continue before you turn him to face you. “Listen here boy,” You point your index finger right at his nose. “I know it’s hard to sit still and Snipe is obviously a coward and a liar. Clearly don’t know me so I’m being patient. Boy, keep this up and I will-”

Snipe yells your name and demands you to leave. You smack Noa on the head with your notepad and pick him up. You look at Snipe. “You mother-”

“(Y/n)! Seriously, Mira is already saying ‘bitch’, I can’t have her saying all this! Bakugou will kill me!”

“Kacchan ain’t gonna do shit. He’s the one that taught her ‘bitch’.” At least you think so. Him and Shouto are known to have bad mouths and Sakura is trifling bitch, so it could have been either of these fuckers that taught the poor child what Sakura’s name really is.

“Bitch!” Noa smiles brightly. You swat him on the head again. “That’s it. C’mon, we’re leaving.” Sakura tries to handle Mira who is doing God knows what. You pause mid step and turn around. “Actually, everyone, come with me.”

“Where we going?” Noa gently tugs on your ear. “I’m taking you to your father.”

You hear a sneeze from the girl, Shouto’s baby mama, whose name you believe is Sara. Unfortunately, you aren't sure.

Snipe tells her to go to the nurse. “I can’t afford to miss class-” She comforts her toddler who looks like her and surprisingly is developing features of Shouto. “Please, honey, please calm down.”

She looks so worn out. She isn’t really a part of your sessions, but she knows about them and helps from time to time with small stuff. The two of you are friendly but not close. Now, you’re kicking yourself. You should’ve checked on her or at least learned her name. Here she is clearly sick and worrying about her grades while her toddler looks at her with concern. Frowning, you walk to her and pick her kid up.

“Go to the nurse. We’ll handle her and your notes, okay?” Her eyes are glossy, and her button nose is red from her illness. She looks at her daughter who gives a small and kind look. If only Noa were like this. Instead, he’s curious, hyper, goofy, and adventurous. You don't mind helping her out. She never asks for anything, and she really does look awful. Just by looking at her you can see that she's not faking this. Sara nods and stands up sniffling. She gathers her things and heads out. “Do you want me to take you?” Ema asks.

“No, I got it.”

Ema frowns and holds her hand up to the girl's head. “You’re burning up! I’ll meet you there, guys.”

Like the sweetheart she is, Ema walks Sara, who stumbles, to the nurse. Unfortunately, it is that time of year so getting sick is expected. However, with this project it’s an even bigger pain. It’s realistic and tiring. Not only do you have school and extracurriculars, but you also have a child, homework, and God knows what else. Plus, that child can get sick, and Mei’s medicine is at an asshole’s price.

Her little girl rests on your hip. You put Noa down while one of your classmates argues with Snipe. Etsuko wiggles to be put down. Her pink hair is thick and hangs to the middle of her waist. You bend down and tilt your head to the side. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Is mommy okay?”

“Y’see that Noa? See how she said ‘mommy’?” You tap his butt. “Learn from her.”

You sigh. “Yeah, she’s just a bit sick, is all. There’s no reason to worry. Right now, we’re going to take you to daddy, eh?”

She hums and twirls her hair. “Would you like me to braid it?” Since they’re still arguing, there’s time to braid a child’s hair. “Noa, go to Aunt Riko and ask for a ponytail holder, please.”

Surprisingly, he does as he’s told. You run your fingers through her soft hair and begin to braid it. Crossing her thick tresses under then over until a visible braid is formed from the base of her head on down. You finish it off with the tie. Her small hand glides over it, gently feeling the work.

Shyly, she asks, “Is it pretty?”

“Yeah.” Noa answers. Your eyes get wide then settle to a glare at your son. “How come when I braid my hair you don’t say that to me?”

“Mm!”

“Didn’t I tell you to learn from her? Little boy, you don’t listen.” You straighten up and look around. “Y’all ready?”

-----------

Hand in hand with two toddlers with the rest of your classmates, you make your way to the hero department with a shouting Snipe behind you. You feel your muscles tense with each step as his anger increases. Despite everything, you never wanted to jeopardize your education.

You push open the doors to Class A’s training room after thinking of where they could be. With Izuku’s “distractions”, he’s been lagging behind. With him being who he is, they can’t afford that. Not with him being an influential figure and someone who still possesses something of One For All despite being officially Quirkless. It’s confusing but you ignore it since you don’t care.

Lo and behold, Izuku is in the air beating the hell out of somebody. Rather than the green electric bolts and red lines that surround his body, there’s nothing shown. Only sheer power and experience.

Noa gasps. “Papa!” He points and jumps around, mimicking his movements. In the corner of your eye, you spot Kacchan releasing sweat from his body and setting them ablaze. The kids immediately cover their ears. Right when Izuku lands and cracks the ground underneath him. Noa runs to him shouting. “Noa, get back here!”

Izuku’s eyes find his son. He jumps from the platform and grabs Noa’s little body. Aizawa’s usually quiet voice rings louder. “Hold it, hold it. What is going on here?”

This mother fucker again.

“Snipe thought it’d be best.”

Aizwa turns to Snipe. You continue, “Since I can’t get Noa quiet, Izuku, his dad, will have to do it. Papa, here he is. He has been running around, being loud, not listening, and teaching other kids bad words.”

“Mm! You did!”

“I did no such thing, now hush.”

“Yes, you did!” A little girl's voice follows. You point to Mira who has her hand on her hip. “No, I didn’t little girl, shush! Go to your daddy.”

Aizawa rubs his face. “It’s nice to see you again, (L/n) but I insist that you take the children and go to class. This isn’t a safe spot for them.”

“It’s also not a safe spot for them or Snipe with us if they keep annoying me. Izuku, your turn.”

Izuku gets on his knees and Noa jumps onto him. “Mm is lying!”

Some sweat drops from Izuku as he awkwardly chuckles. He knows but doesn’t want to say anything. You glare at the boys who are still holding each other like one of them just returned from war. On your hip is Etsuko, who looks around for her dad. Immediately, she spots him and is about to say something until she stops. Rather than continuing what she was going to say, she shut her rosy lips and settled back into your chest.

“What’s wrong, little one?” You bounce a little as you question her behavior. She shyly looks over at Shouto who has turned his body to face you. He tilts his head to see his daughter trying to hide herself. You point your head to her, silently telling him to do something.

Shouto is now standing before you, reaching for his daughter. Their relationship is awkward and distant. He clearly hasn’t been a part of her life for long. You bet you’ve seen her more than he has.

To get them talking, or at least calm down, you touch her braid. “Daddy, isn’t her hair pretty?”

Shouto smiles and bends to her level. “Beautiful. Do you like it too, Etsuko?”

She nods and caresses her hair repeatedly. You rub your arms. “I think you should learn how to start braiding. She seems to like it.”

“You’re right. Shouldn’t I, Etsuko?” Her face lights up as she continues to touch her hair. He pinches her cheek softly. It’s a sweet scene but one that can be cooed over later. Right now, you have to snitch on your son some more, harass Hitoshi, defend yourself against Kacchan, and embarrass the teachers. You’re completely swamped.

“Izuku, obliterate him. He's been acting up all day!" You point to the boy who shakes his head no. Your classmates behind you stand awkwardly and look around in awe at the equipment. With your hands on your hips, you demand that they scatter and unload their kids.

“(L/n)!” Aizawa stalks toward you but you dodge him in the nick of time. “Where’s Hitoshi?”

“Princess?” He slides down from his rope. “What’re you doing?”

“Where's Little Ken?”

“With the caregiver. Why?”

Before you can demand that he goes with you to get Little Ken, Aizawa steps in front of you. “That’s enough, (L/n). All of you, back to class.”

“We’ll leave under one condition: if they get a caregiver, then so can we.”

“We’re working on that-”

“If we don’t have one, they can’t either. It’s only fair! Hitoshi, get Little Ken.” You finger jabs at Aizawa’s chest. “Think of it as an exercise. A practice for when they deal with children on the field. It's only logical.”

The sound of heavy boots heads your way. They stop right next to you. Mira is on Kacchan’s hip sporting the same expression as her father. “Kacchan,” You sigh. “Sakura is the one that taught her dirty words.” Sakura screams your name in protest.

Whispering to yourself, you count on your fingers. “Snitch, check. Harass Hitoshi, check. Defend yourself against Kacchan, also check. Run the teachers over, check. I’m done!”

You clap your hands. “Alright, everyone ready? Hitoshi, get Little Kenji right now. You told me that you’d be the best single dad ever and now is the time to prove it. I don’t know who your partner is in my class, but show them that they ain’t shit.”

Hitoshi gives a shrug. And scratches his ear. “Okay, I’ll go get him. Wanna come with?”

“She has class-”

“Sure, I’ll go. I’ll meet you guys back in class.”

Your friends wave excitedly at the kids. The hero students look bewildered and worried as they try to come up with a plan on how to handle doing all this at once. Multi-tasking is something they brushed up on during their license exam and should’ve remembered. Now, you are gracious enough to give them that opportunity.

“Shinsou, don’t encourage-”

“Let’s go, Hitoshi!” You cross your arms and tap your foot. “I’ll be right back, Eraser. Brat has a point. We should take this as a lesson.” Brat? You may be a lot of things, but a brat isn’t one of them.

The man in a white robot looking costume appears. His hands chop the air as he happily welcomes his child, who mimics their dad. Oh my God. That’s where they get it from.

Aizawa calls for Snipe who is trying to handle your classmates. Hitoshi walks out with you, earning some looks from your peers. Benio’s face is smug, Ema’s eyes are wide, Riko is confused, and Sakura is still mad as hell. Behind Hitoshi is Eraserhead who looks done with life but is also pissed. If you go back without a human shield, you may die.

“You just like making waves, huh?”

“A little bit.”

“Well, I admire that about you, I’ll give you that.” He holds the door to the support course open for you. You wave down Mei.

“Ah, I’d like Little Ken.” So, he calls him that with everyone, not just you?

Little Kenji is now about a year or two old judging by size. Your eyebrows raise when the tot goes right to Hitoshi. Now that his features are setting in, he’s looking healthy and like his daddy, except for there being something off. You can’t point it out, but he isn’t identical to Hitoshi.

Hitoshi has his junior’s bag on his shoulder. His son grabs at his dad’s scarf and mask but never takes his purple eyes off of you. Damn, there’s something off about his features that you can’t point out. “How are you, little one?”

“Good.” He cuddles to his dad. His hair is as fluffy and wild as Hitoshi’s. Honestly, he’s adorable. Hitoshi stares at you from the corner of his eye. “Here.”

Little Ken’s arms wrap around your neck the second he's handed to you. He's not as chunky or heavy like Noa was at his age. “Hm. Don’t wanna carry Kenny, eh?”

“No, I know you want to see him.” Hitoshi scratches his face. “He’s missed you. It’s been a while since you saw him, y’know.”

“That’s true. Ain’t it, Little?” You bounce him a little.

“Mhm.” He nods.

“We’ll just have to change that, huh? Hitoshi,” His perfect straight teeth come through his smile. You smile just the same. “I don’t mind him and Noa having play dates.”

He points to his son. "Noa’s a bit too big for Little Ken.”

“I think he’s grown a lot. Being around other kiddies will be good for him.” Kenji nods again and happily agrees. “Yeah!” You can’t help yourself but give Kenji a nibble on his plump cheek. Hitoshi licks his pink lips and says below his breath, “That’s a good idea, Kit.”

“Okay, how about next week then?” You push the door open which Hitoshi catches, letting you through first. “I’d like that. I can meet you in your dorm and let the kids play while you can make me another cake-”

“In your dreams, sleepy.” You bounce Kenji who is sucking on his thumb. You pull his finger out. “No, baby don’t do that. You’ll get crooked teeth if you do.”

“Who told you that?” Hitoshi puts the kid's bag on one of the benches attached to the wall. “It is a known fact, Hitoshi.”

“Hi Shinsou!” Izuku’s cheery voice calls. Noa bounces up and down then mimics how his papa walks. The chubby cheeked one-Uraraka?-coos over your kid while hers runs around. “Deku, he’s like your shadow!”

You’re gone for two seconds and people are praising him and shit. Acting like he’s the sole parent. You huff and lower yourself to Noa’s height. “This is Kenji-”

“I know, Mm! I met Kenji years ago!”

Ah, he doesn’t know about himself. What is weeks, months, for you, are years to him. To Noa, he’s known these kids for years. Who can blame him? This project feels like a lifetime. So much has happened that time is blurring together. For all you know, it really has been years.

“Well, the two of you are gonna have a playdate some time-”

Uraraka claps her hands. “That’s adorable! Our kids can-”

“Not yours, bubblegum. Mine and Hitoshi’s. You stay over there.” Hitoshi chuckles under his breath then sucks his teeth. “Retract the claws, pretty kitty.”

You turn to Hitoshi with Kenji still on your hip. “I’m just saying. It’s bad enough I have to deal with one bad kid-”

Noa stomps his feet. “I’m not bad!”

“Who said I was talking about you? I could’ve been talking about Little Ken! Now, you just admitted it.” Izuku hugs Noa. “Stop it, dear.”

Izuku pauses when he looks at you. His eyes focus on you and Ken, then look down. He stands up to full height. Uraraka calls her Deku over. Her Deku holds your hand and rubs his thumb along your knuckle.

“Bye-bye, Mm!” Noa kisses the same hand Deku was rubbing. He runs over to Etsuko who is still touching her silky hair. By the way she's acting with her braid, she must not get her hair done very often.

Little Kenji with his small voice joins, “Bye Mm.” He isn’t as vocal as Noa was back when he was about two years old. Hitoshi is either not teaching him correctly or Ken has his dad’s more stoic and reticent personality. Hopefully, he doesn’t gain his derisive and teasing humor. That would suck eggs if there were two Hitoshis.

You put him down and bid them goodbye. Aizawa, of course, is seething. Although you should leave with your head high, you can't help but think you crossed a line. Still, you wave goodbye to the heroes and the kids. Mira, right as you take one step out the door, yells, “Fucking asshole!”

Immediately you whip your head back and see her poking her finger at Kacchan. You run as his face shows his inner demon.

Right after you close the door, steam is coming out of Snipe's ears. Through gritted teeth, he growls, "Detention."

Your body tenses as the air gets cold from Snipe's anger. You shrink away as your life flashes before your eyes. Snipe lowers his mask. His nostrils are flared, and steam is coming out of his ears. If you look down, he might have his hands on his gun. You tested him too much. The courage was nice while it lasted.

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

The phone rings twice before Deku’s voice is on the phone. “Sweets?”

“Hey. I was just calling to see if everything’s okay. Uh, you’re not here.” It’s lunchtime and none of the heroes are present. It was a relief to spend time away from the kids and focus on school, but it was still hard. You felt an emptiness in the classroom and within yourself. It was nice to hear Snipe and the rest of your teachers. For the first time in months, it was normal.

“Everyone’s out to get some pizza. Oh, here’s Noa-say hi mama!”

“Hi Mm!” His mouth is full. Still, you can hear how happy he is. Why does this sting? There’s no reason for it to.

Noa removes himself from the phone and asks if he can go play with the others. “Don’t go too far, okay?”

“Sounds like you’re having fun.”

“Ah, there are some things I want to talk to you about. Hold on, let me go somewhere private.” The hallway is empty as you stand in the corner in front of the cafeteria doors. “(Y/n), the kids are getting their quirks.”

“What? How is that even possible?” You never heard of this. It was never mentioned!

“Mei made it so. According to Aizawa, they should pop up when they turn four. Honey, Noa’s four right now. Some of the others are catching up. Mira's got Kacchan's quirk. It's at a lesser degree, but she just blew up a slice of pizza.”

You shrug. “Okay, he must be Quirkless. It's crazy that this is happening, but oh well.”

“(Y/n)...” You hear him sniffle. Oh no. “Izuku, baby, there’s nothing wrong with being Quirkless, do you understand?”

“It’s easy for you to say since you’ve never cared about Quirks. What if he-” You interrupt him before he loses it. “Finds out how cool he is? Izuku, we’ll talk to him and explain what’s going on. Does he even care?”

In a small voice, he answers, “I don’t think he realizes it.” You nod your head. “Then we’ll be fine. No one is making it a big deal because it’s not one. Quirk or no Quirk, he’s still Noa. He can still do everything everyone else can. Just like you.” The bell rings. You missed lunch.

“I gotta go. We’ll handle this, okay? It’ll be fine. We’ll take it on as a team.”

Never did you think this would have been an obstacle.

After the loudmouth teacher's English class, you walk with Ema who is talking about anything and everything. She goes so fast it is hard to keep up.

“Ema, has Hana shown her quirk yet?” You interrupt. It's been on your mind since the call.

“Yeah! I haven’t seen it, but Eijrou has. It appeared when they all went out for pizza.” As well as some of the others. Why now? Did everyone's kid age up so suddenly?

“What is it?”

“Something with lights. It’s almost like mine? I don’t know, she wants to show me when she gets back.” She looks at you expectantly. “What’s Noa’s?”

“He’s Quirkless.”

She’s taken back for a second. “Oh. Well, it’s just the same. I think Sara’s daughter is also Quirkless. Apparently, her and Todoroki both had their quirks a little early and Etsuko isn’t showing any signs. So, he's not alone.”

Neither did Noa. You didn’t know about their quirks until Izuku called you. This project is so unpredictable. If the teachers or Mei are choosing which kid should have one, why does Mira have one given to what Kacchan was like?

Ema continues to talk until you ask, “Is being Quirkless a bad thing?” You never thought so. Izuku has seen and been through things you didn't even imagine. Personally, there's not point of caring. There's no reason for heroes' superiority, either. Hence why you agree with Shigaraki with a lot of things.

Her smile is soft. “Not at all. Others may think so, but I’ve never met anyone who had any prejudice against it. At least they didn’t voice it.” She gives you a side hug. “Everything will be fine. Not only does he have Deku, a famed hero as his dad, but he also has you. He’ll be just fine.”

For some strange reason, that doesn’t sound too encouraging.

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

After school, you paid your dues with detention. Because of an emergency, Snipe cut your sentence short for today. However, you can't help but feel that's a lie since he was incredibly pissed off. Snipe was angry at first, but he hasn't scolded you for it otherwise. So, you were able to high tail it out of there and go to work. Izuku, bless his heart, tagged along.

You place a dish on the table of hungry customers. Izuku and Noa sit at their usual spot coloring or Izuku teaching him Kanji. Neither of you have talked about the quirk situation yet. No one at the school has said anything negative either. Is it really a problem then? What exactly is the point of this?

Yona comes around and ruffles Noa’s hair. He immediately tries to smooth it out. “Ah! You never minded before.”

“That’s because of his friend, Etsuko!” You tease.

“Mm!” His jolts in his seat. His crayon snaps in two.

“Who’s Etsuko?” Yona raises a brow and looks down at Noa. Izuku answers the question, saving his son from a nosy Yona. “Shouto’s daughter. Since (Y/n) encouraged the hero course to take action during classes, she and Noa get to play together more.”

Yona smiles brightly. “That’s amazing! What a difference from before. It was like pulling teeth to get your class to participate. Very lazy people.”

Izuku nods and says nothing. Noa blows a raspberry. “Grandma, that’s not nice!”

All three of you go to Noa. Where did he learn that? You never talked about grandparents to him. “Who?”

“Grandma! Grannies aren’t supposed to talk like that.” Yona scoffs. “First of all, who says grannies can’t-”

“Where did you learn that?” As much as Yona wants to defend herself, there’s something else that needs to be addressed. “My friends. They talk about granny’s a lot.”

It would make sense that he thinks of Yona as his grandma. He has known her all his life and she is an older woman. He’s growing up so fast and is still a sponge, absorbing and learning the littlest things. The longer this project goes on, the more you trip.

“Papa, where’s your grandma?”

“Um, mine, uh, left for a while. My mom is still around though. So, your grandma is at my house.”

Noa perks up then frowns. “And why haven’t I seen her? Does…does she not want to play with me?”

A customer calls for you. You look at Izuku to handle this. There isn’t much you can say about his mother other than she raised him alone. Whenever he talks about her, it's with adoration and love. Even if his father was present, he'd be a mama's boy. It's cute to see, so it'd be interesting to witness their interaction in person.

"It's not that Noa! Everyone's so busy, but...I think you should meet her. You and Mm." Yona clears her throat. "Ooh! (Y/n) meeting the parents?" Her wings flap in joy.

---------

“Are you ready?” Izuku straightens up Noa’s jacket. Your heart is beating out of your chest. The bag on your shoulder feels like a thousand pounds as the seconds pass. With Noa’s shoes tied and jacket on, Izuku holds the door open for you.

You’re going to meet Izuku’s mom. His mom! Instantly, you caught on to what Yona was implying and it’s just now hitting you. Yes, you two are partners in this assignment, but for some reason it feels different. It doesn’t feel like you’re going to your partner’s house to study. This is more intimate than that.

How many people have met his mom? Are there others who had this kind of ‘rite of passage’? Your eyes narrow at the green haired man who grabs onto Noa’s hand and places his own on your back. You take a deep breath.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)?”

“Why you call Mm (Y/n)?”

“Because that’s her name.”

“No, it’s not! It’s Dear.” You try to stop the grin and laugh. Noa thinking that ‘Dear’ is your name is only natural. Izuku never really calls you by your first name. In the beginning he was formal then it just went to pet names. For Noa, that is all he knows.

“Ha, you’re right Noa. My mistake, Dear.” You see Izuku from the corner of your eye as he shyly looks down with a subtle smile. You put your hand on his back and rub it, feeling every muscle along the broad plane.

It doesn’t take long to get to his apartment after the three of you get off of the bus. Noa skips along happily, jumping over the lines of the sidewalk. “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet, bud.”

Not even three seconds later, Noa asks, “Are we there yet?”

You groan. “Noa! Papa said not yet. Be patient!” He pouts. His bottom lip sticks out as he does so. He blinks rapidly when the sun hits his eyes. Before he can purse his lips and ask that stupid question again, you say, “Don’t say it, little boy. We will get there when we get there.”

“We’re here!” Izuku cheers. Noa looks at you smugly. “Ha!”

“Hush! You and them bad words. Did you take care of that, Izuku? Because Noa acts up-”

“I took care of it, dear.” He sighs and leads you and Noa into his apartment building. Not long after, Izuku gets his key out and opens the door. You and Noa both freeze. “I’m scared.”

Izuku kneels. “Why?”

Noa shrugs. His papa pinches his cheek. “There’s nothing to be scared of. Grandma’s going to love you.”

What about you?

“Mom, I’m home!” From around the corner is a short woman with her hair half up and down. She wipes her hands on her apron. “Izuku? Izuku!” She opens her arms and he runs to them. There is a height difference which would be comical if the scene wasn’t so heartwarming. They are acting like they haven’t seen each other in ages. Then again, with Izuku’s schedule, that could very well be the case.

Noa slowly goes towards them. His hands rub together as he shyly looks down at the ground. Inko separates from her son to look at Noa. “Oh!” She looks taken back. “Um, hello Noa. It’s nice to meet you.” She bends down to his level. Izuku does the same thing when he’s talking to kids. The longer she looks at Noa, the more you see her soften towards him. Her eyes are shiny, threatening tears if gone on too long. She blinks repeatedly and reaches her hand to his. Noa studies her face then decides to shake her hand.

He’s never been nervous before. Usually, he’s an outgoing kid who doesn’t know a stranger. Apparently, that has limits and that limit is Inko Midoriya. She reads the situation like a pro and backs up. Izuku, following his mother, eases it into a smooth turn. “Noa, this is my mom.” You touch Noa’s back. His round eyes match Inko’s other than the color. “Hi.”

You give her a closed mouth smile and shake her hand. “(Y/n), nice to meet you.”

“I guessed you were (Y/n) based on Izuku’s description of you. But really Izuku, you don’t give her justice!”

“M-mom!”

“He raves-”

“About your cooking!”

“That too! I was talking about how she is-”

“A great mom to Noa! You’re amazing!” Izuku squeezes his mother, who has the biggest smile on her face. “He keeps saying that,” She cups his face that rests perfectly in her soft hand. “He says you’re pretty-”

“Special! You’re pretty special, dear.” Izuku then whispers to his mother who is giggling to herself. “Mom, please! You have to stop!”

“I hope I can live up to his hype.” You clasp your hands in front of you. Izuku waves his hands around. “Don’t worry about that! I was telling her of the assignment and our partnership-”

“Psst! He didn’t say partnership.”

Izuku’s heart is threatening to stop as seconds pass. His mother has her hand over her mouth to contain the giggles. Since you are merciful, you interrupt. “Would you like a hand with dinner, Miss Inko? Maybe I can show you what Izuku’s been talking about.”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like for Noa to help.” She bends down. “I hear you like to cook, Noa. Can you help me? I need your expertise!”

Noa glances back at you. Of course, you nod so he can have this time with her. She guides him to their modest kitchen. You slip your shoes off and place yours right next to Izuku’s bulky red ones. It’s funny to see those since he’s been sporting them or ones like them since the beginning.

There are a few doors in the hallway. Most are closed except for one. Inside are All Might’s colors with a rug on the floor that has his symbol on it. Along the shelves are figurines and posters on the wall. The door even has Izuku’s name on it with an All Might board. So much has happened throughout the years, you forgot how much of a fan he is. You bite your lip and wander inside to investigate. There are bookshelves with tons of notebooks and books. Zombie DVDs and a few games are on the floor and the bookshelf. It screams Izuku.

You run your hand along his bed. Can he even fit it now? “Honey, what’re you doing?” You smile and see Izuku in the doorway. “This is a cute room, Izuku.”

“Thank you. Not as good as yours though!” The decorative things in your room are largely because of Noa. Whether it is furniture or drawings, it’s all Noa. You look around and spot something that isn’t of All Might. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Sir Nighteye. He was one of my mentors. He, um, passed away a few years ago.”

“I’ve never heard of him. The fact that he’s in your room and disrupting the All Might shrine, he must’ve been special.”

Izuku looks down with a small closed lipped smile. “He was funny. He was mainly Lemillion’s mentor, though. I only knew him for a short while.”

“Still, he must’ve made quite the impression on you.”

“He did. He was a good man and a good hero.” The room gets a little tenser. Not from anger, but from the sadness that is radiating off of Izuku. In a desperate attempt to salvage something light, you look around again.

“I see you have no shame.”

“What do you mean?”

You point to the floor. “Your fetish. Your gory porn! Does Miss Inko know what kind of a pervert you are?”

His mouth drops open. “Will you stop that?!”

You raise your voice. “Ooh! Miss, Inko! Izuku likes gory porn-”

“Hush!” He covers your mouth. “You’re going to get me in trouble.” He groans when he sees your mischievous face. “(Y/n), I mean it.”

“Okay, okay,” You whisper, “Mama’s pervy boy.”

He stutters. “I-I-I am not!”

You blow a raspberry and throw yourself back on his bed. You cock your head to the side as you study Izuku's face. His chest rises and falls. His pupils dilate as he stares. Izuku may not even be aware of his hungry expression. What is he thinking?

Suddenly, Inko calls for the two of you. Quickly, you stand up. Izuku rushes out to his mother’s call. You leave the room and head to the source of glorious food. All four of you sit at the table and eat. Noa and Inko must be miracle workers because these excellent dishes were cooked in record time. Each are flavorful and have the perfect texture.

Izuku eats happily. “So, you do eat things other than katsudon.”

“What do you mean?” Inko tilts her head to the side. You decide now is a good time to mess with him some more. “That’s all he eats! I have to force him to eat other things. His bad habit of not eating veggie-tables rubbed off on Noa.”

Izuku chokes. “That’s a lie! I eat my veggie-tables!”

“What’s a veggie-table?” She asks as her eyes dart between you. “It’s Noa’s word for vegetables.”

“Oh! Noa, you’re adorable! It reminds me of Izuku when he was young! He loved that spaghetti that came in a can. Well, he only liked the ones that were shaped like All Might and called them Mighty O’s!”

Izuku covers his face and groans. “Really?”

“Now that I met him, I can see the resemblance. He's so much like him!"

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

There is a ding that comes from Noa. Both you and Izuku look over at him. You can’t explain it, but the heaviness that rests in your gut travels to tighten your chest.

“Are you mad at me?” With his left hand, he flicks his vegetables and puts his chopsticks down. His fluffy head is lowered making the curls covering his eyes. Inko cocks her head as Noa looks at her then down to his lap.

“What? Why do you think that?” Her delicate voice asks. Then, with a sorrowful expression, Noa asks in a hushed tone, “‘Cause I don't have a quirk?”

The air is practically sucked out of the room. It was bound to come up, but you didn’t think he’d ask if Inko was angry or ashamed. This most likely was going to happen whether Inko was here or not. However, it’s dirty that this is brought up to her. Maybe they didn’t mean it on purpose, but the timing is terrible.

“Noa, baby, no one is mad at you.” You hope your words are encouraging enough to ease the situation. However, Noa doesn’t edge away from the topic. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her. “Then why didn’t you see me, grandma?”

Inko’s eyes water. Izuku’s fists are clenched at the sight. Clearly, this is bringing up memories for her. Something she considered a mistake and has regretted for years. She shakes her head no. “I’m not mad at all. I didn’t meet you because everyone was so busy. I’m sorry Noa!”

“I’m broken.” When those two words come out, Izuku looks as if he’s been struck. How many feelings are bubbling to the surface right now? He is quick to cry but slow show what he really feels inside. His hero complex is his Achilles. Is this another one?

You see Inko’s tears slide down her cheeks and steel her resolve. “You’re not broken, I swear.”

“Everyone else has one!”

“Papa doesn’t. Neither do some of the most important people in the world. Things that we still use to this day were made by Quirkless people. Noa,” She stands. Her eyes are determined despite the tears. Her voice is firm, fighting her near sob. “There is nothing wrong with you. They may be able to do something you can’t, like shoot lasers out of their eyes, but just like them, you are unique and one of a kind. You can do anything you set your mind to and be whatever you want to be!”

Izuku’s eyes are wide and has a wobbly smile. From what you understand, these are words he needed to hear years ago and seeing Inko trying to rectify that is touching. It is a mistake she is determined to never repeat even if Noa is a doll.

Noa points to Izuku. “You said Papa’s-”

“I’m saying that you are unique because you’re you. There is only one Noa Midoriya in this world. A unique, wonderful, caring, smart-be whoever you want to be! Nothing can stop you.”

Noa balled up his fists. “I want to walk with them!”

Your instincts flare up. “You can. I promise, you can. Don’t stay down just because some loser put a limit on you. Stand taller, smile brighter, hold your head up high because you are you.”

Izuku kisses his temple. “I swear Noa, you can walk alongside them. You can be whoever and whatever you want to be. Besides, what’s so different about them? You go to sleep the same, wake up the same, you bleed the same, too.”

Noa bites his lip then whispers, “I want to be like you.”

Izuku starts to cry. “You're going to be better than me. Aim higher-”

“To get to my level.” You nod. Everyone turns to look at you. Noa bursts out laughing. His cheeks are still wet but his fists are loosening. Izuku brightens when he sees Noa start to breathe.

“Noa,” Inko smiles. “I’m proud to have you as my grandson. I’m proud of you. There is not a thing wrong with you. Noa Midoriya, you are a wonderful person who is going to do great things. Quirkless or not.”

The sleepy jingle sounds into the air. Noa’s eyes get droopy, and his smile hasn’t left his face. This is a test you weren't prepared for. Hopefully, something that was said here encourages him. However long this project takes, this subject may come up again; and when it does, you cross your fingers that you and Izuku handle it better.

“Is it okay if I put him in your room?” You ask. Izuku answers, “Do you want help? You know how he can be.”

“I’ll be fine.” You whisper and pick Noa up. Down the hall is Izuku’s very youthful room. You enter it and lay Noa down on his papa’s bed. He squirms a little. Quickly, you lay next to him and put your hand on his chest. Noa settles again with a sigh. Before you exit the room, you hear hushed tones from mother to son.

“I hope that worked. If it didn’t, I’m so sorry.”

“It did, mom.” You hear a sniffle. “I’m sorry I didn’t say that to you! I should’ve been-”

“You already apologized, remember? Even though I was Quirkless, you still made me feel like a hero. You still played with me and loved me. Mom, don’t worry.” You hear a deep inhale. “I wasn’t expecting that, Izuku. This test is…a lot.”

Someone clears their throat. “Definitely. It’s wearing everyone down.”

“I bet! Juggling school, hero work-” Izuku interrupts his mom. “Not exactly.” Inko hums. You back away from the door when Noa turns. You settle him under his dad’s covers. After, you head to the door again.

“I don’t know what to think.”

“Izuku, you have punished yourself for years. Even for things that were out of your control and had nothing to do with you,” You hear a sigh. “That’s something All Might taught you and I regret that.”

“Mom-”

“No. From what you’ve told me, you feel guilty for everything. You and Todoroki, especially. It’s time to let all of that go and see the picture.”

Izuku doesn’t say anything. He sniffles instead. Inko takes a deep breath. “Your friends are lovely and will save the day when they’re heroes. However, their behavior is appalling, and you know it. When you would tell me things, I almost didn’t believe you because of how horrible it is! Never would I have thought that the people who have been through hell and back to learn compassion by the hands of the League would do this. But, Honey, they’re doing this willingly. What’s right is right and what’s wrong is wrong.”

“Mom,” Izuku whimpers. “It’s not like them at all. Most of them are participating but-”

"By doing the bare minimum. This project is about responsibility and compassion. Tell me, what is so responsible and compassionate about this? You get to see what happens to (Y/n) first hand and you held her as she broke down. You’ve taken on the responsibility and blame for this project and her heart. Baby, this is a price neither of you should pay. Your friends made their beds, now they have to lie in it.”

You hear shuffling and a moving chair. Without looking, you guess that Inko got out of her seat. “I know this is hard and you want to protect your friends. Izuku, that’s so sweet of you. It’s heroic and shows that no matter what, you’re loyal. Despite this,” Inko’s voice is wobbly. “You can’t let the rest of the students suffer for your friends’ actions. Your teachers should know better. In fact, they probably do! Darling, you have to understand before it’s too late. There is only so much a person can take.” The hidden message is clear. She’s talking about the League. Shigaraki himself broke down because of the abuse and failure of society. Deku, Izuku, knows this. Just like Shouto knows Touya.

God rests their fine asses.

“How were you able to take it?” Izuku asks. There is another sniffle. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t as young as (Y/n) and I was provided for, so I didn’t have to worry about finances. General studies don’t have that luxury.”

You suck your lips in and blink. “Izuku, you know the difference between right and wrong. This movement will teach them a lesson before it’s too late. Be a true hero and help her. The General Studies are human beings, not dolls heroes can break.”

There is the sound of a kiss. “I need to apologize.” You take this time to walk out of his room. Izuku and Inko wipe their eyes and smile. They look so much alike. If the rules of the robot dolls applied to people in real life, what would this say about his father?

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

You put the dishes in the sink. Inko stands next to you and periodically looks at you. “I know you heard us.”

“I did.” Might as well tell the truth. Though it’s spooky how she knew.

“I want you to know that I support you.” Your shoulders loosen from their tension. From what you heard, you know this. It’s still great to hear it though. “Thank you, Miss Inko.”

Inko grins. “When he told me about you, I didn’t need to know anything else. It was his face that said a thousand words.” The flutter in your chest tells you an answer to what she means. You push it away since you doubt it’s genuinely true.

Izuku comes in and puts the plates away. “Y’know what? Why don’t I finish up and you two hang out?”

“What?” You and Izuku say in unison. She takes the plate from you. “I mean it! I’ll stay and watch over Noa while the two of you go out.”

“Mom, we-”

“Go, go, go!” She takes the rag from your hand and whips it at you. “Put your shoes on and go!”

“Miss Inko, please!”

“Let me spend time with my grandson if he wakes up.” She smiles sweetly with a mischievous look in her eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s trying to send you on a date.

You look at Izuku who has stopped breathing. His eyes are bugged out and mouth is hung open. “M-m-m-mom!”

To stop him from having a heart attack, you agree. “I could go for a walk.”

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to say since he covers his face with his arms. What was once red flush is now turning purple. “I-Izuku!” Inko shouts.

You wave your hands around. “No, no, no! Izuku, we don’t have to go out. So please breathe!”

His hand that’s around his head tugs on his hair. His green eyes study you. Finally, his normal color comes back to his face. “I want to go out with you.”

Inko smiles and shoos the two of you out again. There is a mist in her eyes as Izuku hands you your shoes. He slowly puts his own on then looks at his mother. You pretend not to follow him to see Inko clasp her hands together with a proud look at her kid.

The two of you walk aimlessly outside. There’s something awkward in the air even though you’re both familiar with each other. Has there been a time when you were alone? Is this how it will feel when Noa is gone?

“H-hey, there’s a festival going on right now.” He twiddles his thumbs. The pain in your heart eases as you decide to enjoy the moment. “Sure! Where is it?”

“Straight ahead, I think?” You hold his hand and run. He trails behind you and gasps. You shake your head and remember that this will only last until Noa is gone.

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

“Here, try this one.” You put your fork in Izuku’s mouth. The flavor of the crepe bursts on his tongue making him hum and spread a cheesy grin on his face. “That’s pretty good!”

The vendor is tapping his fingers on the pink counter. “Are you two buying anything?” He growls when he sees you two try another flavor. The next one is decent, but nothing like the one you just shared. “Ah! Uh, this one, please!”

“Two crepes-”

“No, just one. I’d like to share it.” Izuku says in an even tone. He must not be hungry, which is understandable since Miss Inko and the famed Chef Noa worked hard in the kitchen.

He trades with Izuku and bids you goodbye. Your um, date, practically skips when he holds your hand. “Here, you can have the strawberry!” He flicks it with his fork. “Ah!” You open your mouth, waiting for the juicy fruit. Izuku shyly puts it in your mouth. You clap. “Mm!”

In no time, the two of you finish the crepe and toss the trash away. “Let’s go on a ride!”

“We have to let it settle first.”

“Why are you so square?” There’s nothing wrong with going on a couple rides.

“No, dear. In the meantime, let's get our faces painted!” Around the duck game stand are a couple of artists who sit at a white table. They clean their brushes and talk to each other loosely. He guides you over with your hand firmly and softly in his. “Hi, can we get our faces painted?”

He sounds so awkward and shy. Izuku pulls his arm so you can go first. “You can sit here.” She has fluffy bright auburn hair and animal ears. Behind her is a flicking tail after you tell her to give you a skull. In the corner of your eye is Izuku whose artist glides her brush smoothly across his freckled face. Your own expert makes small talk with you. She’s nice and purrs when paints.

“Here you go!” She brings out a blue lined mirror. “Perfect!” You clap your hands and smile. How long has it been since you’ve done this? The smell of sugary foods, popcorn and paint, are such a lovely fragrance to those who haven’t enjoyed this in a long, long, time. In the distance is the large ferris wheel, a classic ride that everyone has rode at least once, a roller coaster that twists and turns with screaming people on it. The amusement rides that can’t be beat and they all have joyous faces, and not ones of everyday contentment, but genuine joy.

What a time to be alive.

However, before you can do any of that, there is something you have to do. “Izuku,” He turns to look at you. On his face is a tiger on the right side of his face, covering the scar and on his left is All Might’s symbol. You laugh. “It’s cute!”

Hero fanboy forever, Izuku gushes, “It’s All Might’s symbol in the Silver Age!” So, he’s not going to comment on the tiger. With a big grin, he adds, “Yours is scary!”

“Good. It’s perfect for the haunted house.”

“What.”

“Yes! C’mon, don’t be a scaredy cat.” Your face painter huffs at your expression. “Sorry.” You mumble.

“I-I’ve only been in one haunted house and that was the School Festival years ago.”

You know. Since the wars, the school has dimmed the festivities afterward. In your time at school, there has only been one and apparently, it didn’t hold a candle to that previous year. So, the general studies hold their own parties throughout the year. For instance, Halloween is coming up and it coincidentally is Benio’s birthday. So, the whole course is throwing a party. Although you have your own parties, it stings that you don’t have big shindigs like they had before.

Izuku waves his hands around. “D-don’t be sad! I’ll go!” Your eyebrows raise. You touch your face and realize that you were frowning. The mistreatment really puts a damper on your first date.

He holds your hand again to lead you to the haunted house. “Please don’t be sad. Please.” His thumb rubs your hand. You didn’t mean to make him feel bad. In fact, you didn’t know you were letting your hurt show. It’s not necessarily his fault.

The dark, wooden building stands with two people on either side of the door. People enter in duos, holding each other tight. The front door creaks open, letting nothing but darkness show. You wave and enter first. “Izuku, what’re you doing?”

“I-I’m coming.” Your eyes bug out. “Are you scared?!”

“No!”

“Oh my God, you are!”

“No, I’m not!” He charges into the house with you close behind. The door slams shut, causing Izuku to make a startled yelp. “Ha!”

“I’m not scared!”

“You will be.” There is a deep, raspy, voice that interrupts a light hearted moment. Both you and Izuku stare at each other for a moment. He slowly turns around to see what looks like a killer clown. You jump rattled by the sudden appearance. Unlike your jolt, Izuku Midoriya, a hero, decides to scream and lift his leg. Before he can make an impact, you notice what’s about to happen.

He’s about to kick the clown.

You yank him back so his leg just barely misses. Whoever is behind the clown’s mask, lets out a shriek and runs. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You squeeze his hand. “You cannot do that here!”

Deku stutters an apology. His green eyes dilate as something creeps around the corner. His hair raises straight up and eyes turn white.

Finally, after you sprint through the house screaming, you and Izuku launch yourselves outside the back door. You wheeze in laughter. Izuku lays on his back whimpering. Although it would’ve been great to actually experience the jumpscares, you’ll settle for seeing the great Deku being so scared, he ran through it.

“I-I don’t think I can go on a roller coaster, dear.”

You lay on your side, trying not to laugh. “Can we at least go on the ferris wheel?”

He nods and twitches. The dirt underneath your hands that no doubt stains your clothes doesn’t bother you. Right now, you’re looking at the man who is acting like this is the most stressful situation in his life.

You recover first and sit up. “Come on, get up.”

You drag him up by his hand. He groans and grunts like he’s done something. He scoffs when he notices your hands on your hips. “What? I have back pain.”

“Oh, hush. Come on before there’s a line!”

By grace, the line is small. Izuku lets you into the cart first. After you’re securely inside the large cart, facing each other rather than the traditional seat, the ferris wheel takes off.

The ride goes as smoothly as it can. The sun is about to set beautifully and the air is filled with the scent of October. It’s a good day with candied apples and fried dough, the flavor of the crepe still on your tongue, and the sound of laughter is enough to make anyone happy. No, not just a good day, but a great date.

Izuku stares at you from across the cart. His hand grips the metal edge. “You afraid of heights?” You tease.

“No, not at all. I used to be!” He’s been so nervous this whole time. “The famous Deku was afraid of heights? I’m gonna write that down.”

He chuckles then bites his bottom lip. “(Y/n), I’ve been meaning to talk to you and I think now is as good of a time as any.”

You urge him to continue. “I…I’m sorry for not being very supportive. I talked to my mom and she helped me see clearly. I shouldn’t have even needed to be talked to. I’m so sorry.”

“Okay.”

“There’s just so much I messed up on. I haven’t been the best dad or partner. You mean so much to me! How could I have not told you that?” He continues to ramble and mutter. You sit still and listen to him intently. Months ago, you said you didn’t mind it and you still don’t. It’s interesting to see.

“Izuku, I forgive you as long as you don’t make the same mistakes.”

He stops immediately. His round green eyes sparkle in the sun. Izuku’s tense face eases up to something soft and comfortable. He grabs your hands as if they’re delicate. Compared to his, they are.

“You mean a lot to me. You…you’re special,” His voice trails off at the end. “(Y/n), you’re my special person. I don’t think I’ll have another.”

Before you can say his name, he kisses your knuckles. Your face becomes warm. In your heart, you know it’s time. You grasp his hands and lean in. Even though it’s sudden, you know he’ll follow through; this is the time to, the moment you’ve waited for ever since that dream.

For the first time, someone’s lips are on yours. Not in a dream, but in reality; a wonderful reality that makes you tingly and warm all over. He lets your hands go for them to touch you. One cradles the back of your neck and the other trails along your side. You slowly peek at him through your lashes. He looks so content, so blissful. The hand that was on your neck travels to the front to cup your cheek. Not once does Izuku separate himself from you.

You can’t help but compare this kiss to the dream. Not when the breeze created from the slow move from the ride that tries to cool your warmth and tingles. In the book you read almost every night, there are a couple of kisses that are considered legendary. This could just be you being mushy, but maybe this is one of them. What a wonderful place to have it; on a ferris wheel, stopped at the top, with the setting sun in the distance.

You’re worried that this connection with him is temporary. There is so much to learn about him and vice versa. But this kiss erases the doubt in your heart and lets you believe this could be love.

tag list: let me know if i forgot anyone please!

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#midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #bnha #bnha fanfic #mha #mha fanfic #deku x reader #deku #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfic #my hero academia fanfic #The Baby Project

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ilovehugslikealotalot · 1 year ago

Text

She Was Only Ever Mine

(not my gif)

WARNING: MINORS DNI, smut suggestive ending, jealous!emily, angst, mean!emily, flirty!emily/r, possessive!emily, alcohol consumption, brief mention of firearms, blood, one bed trope

req: So it’s Emily Prentiss x fem!reader and this is one of my first asks so idk if I’ll get picked or wtv but I appreciate your time anyway! :) So, maybe there’s a one bed trope somehow in this? But maybe during a case r and Em have to be roomies :) the team has just finished the case and is out for drinks, r suspiciously keeps getting alerts on her phone which the team is obviously curious about. Basically Emily hates r’s guts and r never figures out why despite her attempts at trying to befriend the woman. Bar after the case and Tara flirts with r because she knows Emily will get jealous and most likely confess

Long fic! Buckle up! (Not my best fic and was rushed pls forgive me)

Emily grumbled as she board the plane. This was absolute nonsense, of course she had to share a one bed hotel room with y/n. The woman was insufferable, smiling and prancing everywhere she went.

No words could describe the dread she felt everyday walking into work and seeing the prissy Princess, thank the Lord JJ would leave a coffee on her desk every morning, though, it’s strange she only started doing it after y/n came on the team..

Emily shook the thought off and continued her last page of paperwork. Signing off on it and pushing it aside. Checking the time she place a few more extra things in her go bag.

Knock. Knock.

“Come in!” The Unit Chief exclaimed, never lifting her eyes from her bag, a certain ‘prissy princess’ popped her head in with a bright smile. “Care for coffee?” she quipped, hoping for a yes, although, deep down, she knew she’d be rejected.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with you in public, princess�� She had assigned her that nickname the minute she walked through the doors of the BAU. Her demeanor had screamed Disney Princess. Y/n frowned but slapped inside holding two coffee cups, “Thought so, I got you coffee anyways, Wicked Witch of the West” The younger woman smirked, when Emily’s mouth dropped open, “I’ll let you take that one, but I will get you back for that.” She warned, taking a sip of the warm liquid, she hummed in approval, “you know my order…do you stalk me, Princess?” Emily teased, y/n rolled her eyes as she sat down on the chair infront of the chief’s desk. “I wouldn’t dream of it”

—————

“Ugh, why are you so annoying?” The unit chief complained, the Young woman behind her bit her lip to hold back from saying something that could land her at a desk job, “why are you so mean?” Y/n retorted, crossing her arms as she stormed past the woman for what seemed like the 40th time that day. Not even the slightest moment of peace lasted, not when these two were in the same room. JJ and Tara looked at each other and sighed, “y’know, Em, you’ve gotta be nice to her some day” JJ lectured, her motherly tone popping out, Tara followed y/n into the jet.

Lord knows what’ll happen now that Emily and Y/n have to room together.

”Hey, y/n, you okay?” Tara cooed, noticing y/n’s angry gaze and sniffles, “I’m here if you need to talk.” Sitting down she gave the woman a sincere look, Tara had always been kind to her since her arrival at the BAU, even showed her the ropes and policies. “It’s just..I dunno, I’m so frustrated!” she exclaimed, picking at the skin around her nails, “I haven’t done anything to her! At least nothing that I know of”

JJ and Emily entered the jet last and Emily sat quietly next to y/n with an angry look, they both tensed, refusing to look at each other in any way. Clearly both JJ and Tara were weirded out with the tension and moved to the seats next to them, just to give them a little room. The guys were upfront talks about who knows what, while the back was as silent as a mouse. Emily glanced over to seeing y/n looking out the window and picking around the skin around her fingers. The older woman hated to admit it but she felt bad, she always did, but being the stubborn woman she was, never apologized, at least verbally.

Placing a soft hand on y/n thigh, she gave it a little squeeze as an ‘I’m sorry.’ Looking at the hand, y/n only scoffed, “Y/n..” Emily pleaded softly, looking at her with sincere regret in her eyes, “What, Emily?” Y/n turned, her eyes filled with annoyance, “Look, I’m-“ Emily looked down to see a red substance start to seep out of y/n’s finger, “Hey! Don’t pick at it, here, I’ll get you a band aid, she hurriedly dug in her bag for one and unwrapped it carefully, “I told you to stop, you’ll hurt yourself!” She tsked, trying to get the medical wrap to stick, “there, that’s better,” she smiled softly trying to not show too much tenderness, looking at the woman infront of her who held a curious expression, “Thank you, Emily.” The gray haired woman simply nodded, not saying another word.

Time passed quickly and upon landing, the team was debriefed by local police men, “and you’ve confirmed that this is him?” Emily stated, pointing to their Unsub who’s face on the paper, which was very clearly out in the open, “Yes Ma’am, we have agents stationed outside of his living area within a 100 acre radius.” The investigator replied, handing her the file, the team all sighed, they all could rest tonight, after weeks of intel gathering and tracking down some of the most evasive killers they’ve got their Unsub bagged. Tommorow was the night of a gala were several owners of various big name companies would attend. It was there where they would make an arrest.

It just so happend that their Unsub was Damian Frazier, a very charming man who killed his way to the top of the food chain. He had some connection which is how he evader for so long, but now they had to only wait one more day.

———

“Alright, I think I’ve about finished my report, I’m gonna call it a night” JJ groaned, Spencer following swiftly behind, Rossi sneaking with him. Tara stood up and straightened her shirt, “Yeah! I think I’m gonna hit the hay too, Luke, Matt” she said through gritted teeth, they looked at the woman confused before mouthing ‘ohhhhh’s. Sometimes, the two shared the same brain cell and it took for them to look at each other before realizing. The last three quickly excused themselves, getting the Assignment.

The team had took it upon themselves to start Project Cupid, amazing name, right?

Well, Garcia thought so, she made it up with an excited expression on her face. The plan was to do everything possible to get Emily and Y/n to realize their feelings for each other. That meant booking hotel rooms so the two had to room together.

“Ugh, why am I always stuck with you?” Emily sneered, writing a little more aggressively on her paper, y/n stayed silent, tired of the woman’s antics. She only tried distracting herself, in this case, it was by texting someone to keep her occupied.

Isobel Castille had been a good friend of hers for a while, they dared for precisely 3 months before moving on with their lives, realizing that they weren’t meant to be. That didn’t stop them from being close, no, it encouraged them to confide in each other. Y/n laughed at a joke her friend sent, Emily lifted her head and her jaw clearly tensed, “Holding out on me, Princess?” She commented, seemingly not caring about who was making her smile brightly. “Huh? Oh, it’s no one. You done?”

———

It was obvious now that the two had a…special relationship, they argue but it never got too heated. Prentiss had known when she crossed a line and apologized, non-verbally most of the time. But over this, said time, Emily developed a few feeling that she might’ve shoved down. It had just been 2 days after their last case, and Emily began to freak out about The events that unraveled at the hotel.

~~~ “You sure you don’t want me sleeping on the floor?” Y/n asked, making sure that she wouldn’t be making the gray haired woman anymore grump in the morning, “Yeah, Princess, just sleep so I don’t have to hear you squeaking.”

Y/n shrugged, pulling the covers over her as Emily silently read her book her glasses resting on the brdge of her nose. Before they knew it, both were fast asleep, the issue was, in the morning they had awoken tangled in each other’s arms, both also afraid to admit that it was the best night’s sleep they’d gotten in a while.

They very quickly pulled away, Emily being the first to zoom out of the comforting bed. Y/n laid motionless for a few minutes, replaying the memory of Emily’s warm and soft skin on hers. She knew this was messed up, Emily hated her, why should she be so attracted to someone who wouldn’t want her in a million years?

Before she started to spiral she brought up the courage to get out of bed and dress. It wasn’t flashy but she wore a tight fit long-sleeve and boot cut jeans that fit her well. She finished it off with a necklace that Tara had gifted her for her birthday and earrings.

Emily came out of the bathroom and tried to stop her lingering gaze, but she couldn’t hold back the way her eyes took in the sight before her. “What? Is it that bad?” Y/n questioned, crossing her arms in discomfort, clearly concious of the way Emily thinks of her.

The profiler immediately sense a change in tone and posture, “No, you look, good.” The corner’s of her lips turned up slightly in a almost invisible smile, not waiting for her response but swiftly moving across the room to retrieve her phone and badge.

———

The day went by quickly with the arrest going smoothly actually, not wanting to embarass himself further than he already had. Damian took the cuffs willingly but not without cursing the government, of course.

“Drinks on me?” Rossi asked, smiling as the team cheered, the weeks had been long but all became worth it in the end. It was safe to say that, good work was done and a reward was certainly due.

“Hey, y/n can I talk to you before we leave for the bar?” Tara asked, gently placing her hand on the woman’s bicep. “Uhm, Yeah, sure!” She smiled, walking with Tara away from the group, JJ smirked as she elbowed Garcia signalling that their plan was in motion.

The bubbly blonde spoke up, “Oh, aren’t Tara and Y/n just so cute?” Penelope felt excitement rush through her veins as Emily looked over with a blank expression. It was clear she was trying to stay composed, but her tensed jaw betrayed her. “I guess so, but y/n could do better” she said through gritted teeth, JJ cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eye, “Like who, Em?”

“Erm-“

“Em! You ready?” Y/n seemed a bit more joyful which made Emily worry about what they talked about. “Uh, Yeah, Princess, let’s go” this time, Prentiss said it with a softness in her tone, which of course made y/n’s heart race. Tara had pulled y/n aside to tell her the plan, Emily did like her, you couldn’t hide anything from a team of profilers. Now, y/n just had to play along like she didn’t know anything.

Emily shockingly accompanied y/n home since she knew she had left some clothes at her place. “You still have this shirt? No wonder why I couldn’t find it” Emily laughed as she brought the shirt up to her body and made a duck face. Y/n snorted as she put on some flare leggings and Emily’s old sweat shirt. “Okay, this is nice!” She said in the mirror coming into the bathroom where Emily was fixing her hair.

“Uhm, excuse me, miss, that’s my sweatshirt” she teased, pulling at it, slowly bit her lip as she took the woman in front her in. She ran a hand down her arms and gave a cocky smirk. “well, you look good in it” she assured, y/n couldn’t help but bask in the section cheif’s affection. Something that felt so foreign, yet, meant to be.

——

“There they are!” Luke beamed, everyone turning their heads immediately to the two. “Hey, y/n” Tara friendly greeted, but her stance suggested she wanted something more. With a deep breath y/n ripped herself from Emily’s hands and gravitated toward the doctor. “Tara, I’m practically peeing myself right now, what if if doesn’t work!” Y/n exclaimed, though her tone was hushed careful not to let Emily hear.

Speaking of the woman, she was conversing with Rossi and Simmons while she almost always had her eyes on you and Tara. It angered her the way that Tara could make her seem so comfortable and free so quickly. Perhaps it was a consequence for not dealing with her feelings sooner.

“Emily, if you keep staring I think you’ll actually burn a hole through her.” Rossi chuckled, giving the woman a nudge, she only chuckled half-heartedly, Simmons spoke up with a hand to her shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“I think I like y/n, it’s just that I know she doesn’t like me, I mean look at her and Tara” she admited, looking down at her drink swirling it around her cup. Rossi and Simmons looked at each other like they just got a coldblooded killer to confess to their crimes.

“Well, maybe if you just talk to her. It’ll help, before Tara makes a real move” Matt said, slowly pushing her over, Tara noticed a certain woman coming over and placed a hand on y/n’s waist and pulled her closer, “play along” she whispered, y/n nodded slightly and let out a laugh.

Emily scoffed, it should be her holding you like that not Tara.

“Oi, Princess, over here!” She stood with her arms crossed, y/n giddily walked over, but of course conceal if her excitement.

“Yeah? You okay, Emily? We can leave-“

“I want you, Y/n. I need you! I know I was so rude to you and I never told you why, but I just didn’t know how to handle my feelings. I love you, I mean it and I get it if you like Tara because she’s just amazing and I’m an asshole, I hope you can-“ as Emily rambled, not meeting y/n’s loving gaze, she kissed her first to shut her up. “You’re good, I like Tara, really. But, I love you”

Emily couldn’t stop the heat growing in her cheeks, or the way her lips bended into a wide smile.

Maybe this could work.

#emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #david rossi #penelope garcia #tara lewis #luke alvez #matt simmons #maggie bell #I don’t know how to feel about this #she’s my wife

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 2 years ago

Text

Spilled Ink

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it

A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3

Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.

Masterlist

It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.

A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.

No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.

Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.

All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.

“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.

“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested.

“Why?”

“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.

“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”

“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights.

She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly.

“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”

And here you are. Checking it out.

The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort.

The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.

He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.

Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.

“Um.”

While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.

“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly.

“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”

“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”

“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”

The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”

Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.

You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.

“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”

There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it.

“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”

You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”

Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”

“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”

Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty.

A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.

“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”

“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.

“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”

“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”

Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”

“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.

“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”

“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”

“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”

“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”

You nod eagerly.

“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”

“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside.

You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.

“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”

“I trust you.”

His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.

“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”

Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him.

“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.

And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant.

“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.

Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.

“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.

“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?”

You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm.

“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin.

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”

At your nod, the camera clicks one last time.

“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”

You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.

“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”

Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.

“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.

Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.

Subject: Initial Sketch

Hello,

Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.

It’s beautiful.

Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet.

At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.

Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.

Subject: Re: Initial Sketch

Marcus,

I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.

Thanks again!

Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch

I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.

Marcus :)

You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email.

Subject: Final Design

Hey there!

Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection.

Subject: Re: Final Design

Marcus,

If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.

Thank you so much.

After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out.

You can’t wait.

As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.

You’re really doing this.

Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely.

“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner.

“I’m okay for now.”

“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”

“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table.

“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair.

“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.

You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you.

“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”

At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve.

“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.

Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.

You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up.

Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”

“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”

“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction.

Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.

“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning.

“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”

Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”

“What made you leave?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.

“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”

And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk.

Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.

“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully.

“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”

Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily.

“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where.

“Okay.”

The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.

Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”

You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”

His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”

His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.

“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly.

“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”

“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly.

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”

You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.

In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.

After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.

“You like art, huh?”

It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious.

Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”

“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.

“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”

“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”

Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root.

“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”

“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.

“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”

“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”

Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”

“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.

“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you.

“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.

Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”

You shrug.

The gun switches off.

“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.

“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”

You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”

You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.

No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine.

"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."

"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it.

"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing.

"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement.

"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"

"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.

"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"

You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.

"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you.

“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.”

The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.

You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you.

Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.

Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh.

“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.

“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.

His fingers brush yours.

If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…

You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’

Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.

“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”

Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.

“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”

“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.

“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”

“So you just… quit?”

“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.

“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”

“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.

An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna keep going?”

Breathlessly, you nod.

In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.

“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”

It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.

“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest.

“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.

“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”

You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.

“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”

You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”

“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.

Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response.

“Yes.”

As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.

“Break time?” you ask.

Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”

“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right.

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”

It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.”

He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.

After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.

“You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”

“Don’t pick the scabs.”

“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.

“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.

“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”

“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly.

Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”

“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”

“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”

Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.

“Marcus…”

“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.

“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”

“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.

It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.

All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him.

When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–

He can’t seem to stop kissing you.

You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.

“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”

To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”

“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.

“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”

“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”

Another kiss.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”

“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.

Another.

“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 2 months ago

Text

Headcanon - Backstory AU

Contains mentions of chaotic cannibal nonsense and child harm

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

Against all odds, Alastor is good with small children.

Rosie has brought one of her nieces to the hotel with her, and is passing her around. She’s Aunty Rosie to all her citizens, so when one of the hellborns inevitably ends up with an infant, she always gets a chance to love on the little thing. She has eviscerated people for looking at her niblings wrong before.

Vaggie and Charlie are delighted at the little thing, even though it has a Lot and I mean a Lot of teeth. This little darling was a surprise for the cannibal couple that had her, but Lucifer drops in the idea that perhaps it was all the angelic meat they’d consumed. Angel blood, even low tier like the exorcists, did carry the spark of Life and Creation… much the same as Sinners were made of Death and Destruction.

“Would explain the poor dear’s terrible morning sickness. And afternoon sickness.” Rosie muses.

The King is concerned, Sinners should not be popping out children like that. It could put those little things in danger… knowing what vile creatures some of his citizens were. Didn’t stop him from cooing over something small and sweet and demonic, like his little Charlie once was and, let’s be real, he still saw her as. What a squishy little thing!

He used his feathers to tickle her, not bothered in the least when the baby yanked a few out. He jokes to Charlie that she nearly took a wing right off when she got her strength in!

Vaggie seems hesitant, likely the exorcists didn't spend much time around the children in heaven. She holds the infant like a bomb about to go off. Charlie isn’t much better.

“Hmm, we can try that again in a moment, dears, I will need to feed her now.” Rosie interjects, and pauses, “Actually Al, could you do it? My wrist is still scabbed over from this morning’s feed… but her parents need a break, so who am I to complain?” she laughs.

Vaggie stiffens as the baby goes to Al.

“Oh relax Vagatha, little Mira here will be just fine.” He hums, shoving up a sleeve and using a claw to create a rather alarming cut. Charlie goes green.

“Okay, hold on, you can’t give a baby blo-...” she launches forwards as the infant latches her sharp little teeth onto Alastor’s wrist, thoroughly supported by the Overlord’s other arm, even the head postured correctly. Lucifer himself, though sceptical, puts a stop to that action with a hand on Charlie’s arm.

“Honey, the little ball of violent joy is a cannibal… even if we could find infant formula in this Ring, it wouldn’t do much good. At least this way anyone in the town can feed her. Still… I get it’s freaky to watch.”

Angel chose that moment to walk in, and freeze. “Okay, is this a congratulations thing or one’a those situations where we’re hand-rearing our dinner, cause I have no idea what is happening here?”

Two Overlords glared at Angel, and he cowered back.

“Okay, okay, congrats on the weird vampire baby that… actually, rewind, where did we get a baby in this place? Thought no one could y’know, Make Life in this Pit.”

“Well, his Lowness has an idea that this and several other concerning developments around Cannibal town, are likely due to the angelic meat from the extermination. Other than that, we’re rather as surprised as you are… but do come over and meet little Miranda-Claire at your leisure.”

“That’s a weird-ass name, but she’s sorta cute.” Angel responds, getting closer. He hasn’t been in the room with a baby since he was alive, there was always one at a family gathering, it was a big Familia.

“I’m given to understand that is the compromise reached with the parents, when they were initially adamant about calling her ‘Miracle’. Although,” Alastor paused, thinking it over, “I do believe they got one over on you Rosie. Mira-Claire is close enough, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh those foolish cannibals of mine…” sighed Rosie, recognising the play. “I just thought being called Miracle in a place like this wouldn’t be too great at keeping her safe, but… well, my darlings have their own minds at the end of the day, and they make their choices.”

“Wait, back up, did you say there are others expecting in your town?” Lucifer clarifies, his fingers tapping out a panicked message to Belphegor in the group text, seeking medical opinions on this whole shitshow. Ozzie was sending a number of emojis back that implied the sin was intrigued about how the cannibals had made the children, but not… in the way Lucifer was academically curious.

“Indeed, quite a few! Several are rather confused about it, as they have no idea how it happened, like dear Stabitha who only courts other cannibettes, and dear young Goreson, whose wife is understandably confused.” Rosie pauses, her whole body suddenly trembling with malicious glee as she turns to Alastor. His ears twitch in horrified anticipation as her grin went nearly as wide as his own. “And you’d never believe it but… guess who’s expecting?!”

“...NO!”

“YES! And she’s insufferably smug about it too!”

“Ah, perhaps dear Charlotte has been let off the hook, because whatever Susan is carrying MUST be the antichrist… there’s no other explanation.”

“Exactly!” Rosie dissolves into cackles, and Alastor joins in.

“BUT SHE’S ANCIENT?!” Charlie shouts, eyes wide and unfocused as she tried to picture an expecting Susan. She can’t bring herself to think the word ‘pregnant’ in the same general vicinity of the woman… even if Susan had been the lynchpin for the whole Extermination support situation.

“Age is such an oddly fickle thing here, Charlotte, you know that. Why, anyone would assume you were in your twenties to look at you, but chronologically… I expect that you are older than everyone here, save the little majesty over there.”

“Oh yeah. Fair!”

Mira begins to fuss and pulls away to make a frustrated gurgling sound.

Rosie expertly takes her and flips her about to pat firmly on her small back until the little creature burped. Niffty appearing with a bundle of clothing to change the child into and bouncing up and down in frantic excitement.

“Can I make her clean? Can I? Can I? Can I?”

“Well, darling, if you do it over here where we can help you if you need it. I understand you haven’t spent much time with little ones…”

“And freaky-face has? Hah!” Angel laughs, flippantly as he follows Niffty to the conjured blanket on the floor to clean up the child. “Betcha the last time you saw an infant it was sauteed or some shit.”

Vaggie can’t help but laugh, trying to turn it into a cough at the last moment.

Charlie looks aghast at the statement, but with a hint of suspicion there just long enough that Rosie’s expression fell. First hurt, then a snarl.

“Because all cannibals like to eat infants, is that right my poorly mannered fellow?”

“Oh, er… well, I mean…”

“He didn’t mean it like that, Sovereign Rosie.” Vaggie added, not looking Rosie in the eyes. “It’s just that Alastor does freaky shit all the time, and he teases us, so…”

“Yeah, it ain’t that serious! Just joking, like the time I offered to suck his d-...” Angel interjects, and is cut off by the baby beginning to wail. “Oh, yeah, kid-friendly language. When I offered to-...”

“Enough.” Her voice was everywhere as the room went dark, and people’s bodies locked up. Without looking, Rosie felt her friend shift away into shadows, she could taste the hurt in the tang of his blood. Her powers holding everyone not of royal descent in a momentary pause. She sighs, upset at this breach of etiquette, and released them. “Do forgive me that slip of decorum, my dears, but perhaps watch your tongues before I find a reason to use them for seasoning. Hmmm?”

“Okay, okay promise not to make baby rib jokes at Smiles or the other cannibals. Got it.” Angel placates. He’s already handled one pissed off overlord today, didn’t want to make it three. “Say, where’s he gone?”

“Ran off like a startled deer, I bet.” Lucifer preens, and feels the hair on the back of his neck rise as Overlord Rosie levels her eyeless gaze at him. She couldn’t hurt him… right? Asking for a friend.

Husk rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t go poking that bear, if I were you, your Majesty. Boss is a nightmare made flesh when he wants to be and all but he’s weirdly good with kids… specially small ones like her. Happens when you’re the oldest, I guess, you get used to it. I sure had to… not like you can return the little buggers when they’re out.”

Rosie burst into laughter. “Not with that attitude, you can’t!”

“Oh, er, and would any of those hypothetical evil not-deer siblings be down here…?” Lucifer’s thousand yard stare spoke of his internal horror at the idea of multiple Alastors running amuck in his domain. One was enough, thanks.

“Nah, well, not sure. They make a big fuss on earth about how unbaptised babies are sinners and would go to hell and all. Is that bit true or just some fucked up shit someone decided to put into doctrine?” Husk asks, accidentally allowing his gaze to soften as it fell on Angel trying to placate the sobbing Mira with four hands full of dancing toys. Niffty was wriggling a new set of clothes on the child as he did so.

“They said WHAT?!” Lucifer shouted, hellfire bursting from his tongue in disgust. “What possible crime could an infant even commit?”

“Something about being born evil from the original sin or whatever, but you know, the crazies who follow that line of thinking often also believe that the menstrual cycle was some sort of Heavenly judgement and not just… biology. Church near my town back on earth used to dance with snakes and claim to be the enactors of the lord’s will; liked to wear bleached hoods at night if you get me. And you just know that people like them wrote the literal book they all believe in… so I didn’t put much stock in it.” Husk shrugs, then takes a stern look at Lucifer, before starting to make the man a stiff drink.

“...where would I even PUT that many children?” Lucifer murmurs, as Charlie walks him to the bar, patting his back.

“Where indeed, little king?” Alastor rematerialised, any trace of the earlier feeding removed and his clothing immaculate once more. He leans against the bar, watching Angel now dual-wielding one sobbing infant and the equally-distraught Niffty, who wasn’t sure why the baby disliked her attempts to keep her tidy.

Rosie moved to intervene, smoothly. “Here, here, little miss… such a fuss for no reason!” she chides, picking up Niffty and holding her tightly, stroking soft red locks.

Angel brings the baby to the bar, looking uncertain. “I used to be okay with babies, not sure what part of me is setting her off. Is it the fur?”

Alastor tilts his head and a tendril delivers a firm strike to the baby’s back. Another little bubbled burp escapes, and the distress ceases instantly.

“I suspect that all the movement simply unsettled her recent feed, and she needed further burping. Nothing against your personal ability to manage an infant. For someone allegedly full of himself, you certainly can be quite self-conscious can’t you, Angel?”

“Thank fuc-...dge! Heh, she’s kinda cute when she’s all happy an’ shi-...zz.” Angel dodges the swear words as best he can, after decades of casual use. He bounces Mira delightedly, and she clacks her sharp teeth at him in delight. “Okay, that’s a bit freaky but like… she’s full, right? Cause I think it’d be a bad idea for her to get a taste of me, with all the weird stuff Val was pumping into the air today at the studio.”

“Oh she’s fine, darling, don’t worry. You’ll know if she’s hungry again, but I think between Al and I we can get her unlatch her jaw before anything too vital is lost.”

“Could I hold her again?” Charlie asks, looking wistfully at the little creature. Behind her, Vaggie’s fingers twitch, eager to have another chance as well.

“I don’t see why not, Charlie dear, but I will need to get back to my silly people within the next hour or so. They can start doing the strangest things when I’m away too long… and with Susan so unexpectedly... blessed, I doubt she is paying close attention to any antics happening in my absence.”

“On the bright side, the lack of screams of the eviscerated do indicate no one has gone on a feeding frenzy yet!” Alastor laughed back. “Though there is still time, if some enterprising young hunter wanted to try their hand at testing the boundaries…”

Lucifer looked between the overlords sandwiching him at the counter, and then over to Charlie, Vaggie and Mira. He frowns, a faint nostalgic smile on his face, recalling Lillith with baby Charlie.

“Were there any other side effects you’ve noticed from the… post-extermination feast? Aside from the apparently miraculous string of pregnancies? There weren’t say, 66 of them, were there?” He half-jokes, panicking internally.

“Why, just a general heightened cheerfulness amongst the populace. And rest assured the number is well below twenty in total, I promise. Unless you need it to be more… I have some of the meat and products left in the deep freezers we can haul out. Anything for King and country, eh, Alastor?”

“...well, it wouldn’t do to allow Susan to hog the spotlight, would it?” He grinned back at Rosie. “Thy will be done and all, little majesty.”

“What-... no-... please whatever you do, no more angel meat until I’ve asked Belphegor about it. We don’t want to do anything that might set off a seal.” The desperation in his tone was aimed more at the idea of having to compete for Charlie’s attention with two theoretically pregnant overlords at once, and knowing he’d never win that little contest. Not now Charlie knew how adorable babies were.

The overlords threw back their heads and laughed, dissipating the tension as Lucifer realised neither had been serious. Damn, he needed to get better at reading people… all that time cooped up in the palace had atrophied his bullshit detecting skills.

Husk reached across the bartop to stroke the child’s cheek, tail swishing in excitement as she grabbed his claw. “Okay, that’s pretty cute, kid. You think maybe her parents would mind us spending more time with her as she grows? Nowhere safer than here, if you think about it.”

“Why husker, are you volunteering to babysit? I could add it to your roster, if that’s what you prefer.”

“Ah, can it Al, you want the little miss here as much as I do. Could be fun to have a bunch of little cannibals and cannibettes bobbing about the place, might be the only time it ever happens down here.”

“...how bold of you, Husker. Though, true, it could be fun… as long as dear Rosie agrees?”

“Boys, I promise that these poor sinners of mine will be bursting through your wall at all hours to drop off the children for a moment’s peace very soon. As delighted as they are this has been quite the surprise, and rather distressing for more than a few people.”

“Splendid!” Alastor claps his hands, leaning over Lucifer toward Rosie as if to share a secret, and not simply to piss off the King trapped between respective chests. “Now I hear that you-...”

The side wall blasts inwards explosively, electricity sparking in all directions.

For one horrifying split second, everyone is hurled across the room and baby Mira seems flies free of Charlotte’s hands as the Princess is dazed by a chunk of foundational concrete.

Vaggie reaches out to grab the child, but it is Alastor's shade who moves fastest, snatching the child out of harm’s way before anyone can blink.

With a spine-chilling cervine shriek, the area floods with shadow as a very ticked-off Overlord expands to fit the confines of the room, looming over the no-longer-triumphant looking Vox he is pinned to the floor with a massive hand. A ludicrously small looking infant cradled carefully in the other.

“H33y you fuckee33r, fi111ght fair!” Vox growls, screen fritzing around the cracked screen. Building a charge to blast the other through the pinning appendage. “T111me3 to pay fff-4444our that little stunt with mmmm-my show!”

“V̶̪̠̩́̌͌̊͂̕O̶̢̯̯̹̮̮̰̟̠̭̦̔̋͊͑͋̆̋͒̅͘Ẍ̵̲̲̹̜͕̫̫͖̠͍́̇̒́̿́̎̅̌̊”

“Oh fuckkkkk o0000ff with thaaatttt…”

Charlie, stunned but regaining her sense of stability, is helped upright by Vaggie.

Her father hovers frantically about her, and notices the smear of blood down her temple, the dazed look in her eyes, and he sees red.

“☠ S̶̠̣̲͂I̷̜͝N̸̳̰̰̱̾̋N̸͉̽̈́Ẻ̵̖̯̊R̸͇̪̈́̊̅͝,̴͓͍̲̦͍́̆ ̶̹̮̘̲̤̅̉̔Y̶͈͑͆́̊̚o̸̭̽̀u̸͉̯͕̯̘͊̈́̂̓͊ ̷̫̫̳͗͆̇ͅD̸͈̲͒̂̍́͘͜À̸̡̡̜͚̪R̴̺̻̈́͛ͅË̶̡̦̯̼͎́̆͂͊D̸̛̠̱̖̻̘̏͑͋̐ ̶͉̗́t̶͉̲͍̠̄̈̊͝ȯ̷͖̎͑ ̵̘̞̫̤̏͋̔a̴̼̩̋t̴̨̼̻͖̑̐̀t̷̝͈̩̝̀̋͊ͅa̸̯̳̋̔͜ͅc̸̹̖̔̍̂k̶̟̓ ̷̺͆̑̎͝a̸͔̩̪̐ ̷̟͍͈͍́p̵̟̖̘̄̓̅͘l̴̨̨̛͕̰̆͌͐͜ã̴̻͇̲̱̺c̴̬͚͉͓̉͋̀̄̊ȩ̷̹́ ̸͔̒̈́ü̷̳̻̤͆̑ṇ̷͍͔͈̈́͝d̶͖͕̮́ẻ̸̖͓̥̠r̷̢͇̰̩̈́͐̈́́͜ ̴̨̩͈̟͈̽t̴̢̨̫̀͌͘ͅẖ̶̰͙̙̗͊͌ē̴̦̪̼̘͒̉̃̕ ̵̹̗̣̠͇̀̿͑͝r̶̛̲̝̒̒̕u̴̯̤̒̓̍̇l̸̻͓̓̐̕͝ȅ̵̝̌ͅ ̸͇̭̗̞͎̇ō̵̧̟͍̻̉͝f̷͓͎̍̽͊̈ ̸̟͙̮̋̈m̷̘̑̅͐͗̕y̶̠͚̙̾̓́ ̸̨̼̖͖͙̾̈́ḍ̷̛̠͐̈́å̸̭̱̠͔̮͗͠͝ǘ̸̙̤́͝g̴̢̘̗̝̐h̶̗͎̗͋́̋͂́t̶͖̝͍̃́e̶̦̟̫̱̿́͐̎r̴̯͕̟͂̆̄?̴͎͊̃̀͆͜ ̷̬̪͚͖̽̎U̶̬̒̃̎n̶̘̙̣̂̃͐ͅd̷͈̠̽ȩ̵̘͎̲̭̋̌ṛ̸͓͎͈͕͑̑̄ ̷̛̹̻͛͘ͅm̶̡̯̺̻̭͌y̷̜̌̈́͂̀̚ͅ ̷̮͝ṕ̸͎͍̭͕̍͒̓r̶̟̱̖̋ô̷̗̓̐̾t̸̩̣͊͐͗̑͜͝ẹ̸̦͇͚̞̿͂c̷̜͠t̸̼͖̋͐̃î̴̢̙͕͇͕̔̀͆́ö̸̻́͛n̷̨̧̺̣̤͝?̸̧͕̆!̵̰̿̽͗̆ ☠”

Vox realises he fucked up and tried to escape. He’d come to fight Alastor, for knocking out his towers earlier that day… not face down the Devil himself.

“Y000our Maje33s555ty, I can expla- pla-plain…” he glitches harder, casting about for any spark he could use to leave the situation.

“You disappoint me, Vox. I always thought you better than this, lowering yourself to some petty attack in the middle of the day… and I assure you, it would not do to test my patience for you, dear. I am starting to grow… H̵̳̞͚̥͈̬̦̳̹̤̳̃̈́̉͂̈̔̍͂̓́̚͜ͅͅǘ̸̞̆͑̒̔͐̕n̶̡̳͇̹̟̤͕̬͍̻͚̝̬͛͜ḡ̸̡̨̗͍̭̺̠̞͇̻̺̃̄̽̈́̑̏̈́̏̐̚r̶̬̖͌͐̊̍͗͘ͅy̸̗̞̖̠̝̯̫̍́͛͐.” Rosie intones, and Vox looks about three seconds from Blue Screening… or ruining his pants.

Alastor makes a disgusted sound, his static filling the air with warning klaxxons as baby Mira shifts in his hand and expresses her disgruntlement at the noise. He pulls back the hand holding Vox to the floor as it is clear the TV was enjoying this near death situation far more than anyone involved preferred.

“Leave, Vox. Or I shall enjoy feasting on what remains when his Majesty and Alastor are finished with you.” She orders, standing tall over him now. She claps at him, “SHOO.”

He hurls himself at a sparking wire from the busted wall, disappearing down the line as hellfire singes where he was.

Lucifer is seething, but he’s marked down that sinner’s name and face. He had all of eternity to ensure that such a creature didn’t get away with harming his Charlotte… speaking of, he hastens to her side.

Rosie, meanwhile, is taking little Mira and handing her off to Husk. Angel has Niffty in several arms and is stroking her hair. It’s a little more for him, at this point, anxiety about retribution from Val high in his worries right now.

“Now deerling, you need to settle down as well because she’s fine… and Charlie’s fine too. See, Husk has her… she didn’t get hurt, your shadow saw to that.” Rosie soothes, as Alastor began to shrink down again. “See? Totally fine!”

“...ah, excellent. Do excuse me.” He murmured, and disappeared into shadow.

“Blast, now I have to trek through his bayou in my nice boots. Husker, can you handle Mira for a moment longer? Excellent, good chap.” Rosie orders, sidestepping some shadow poppets that arrived for the wall. She pauses, glaring menacingly at the wing obstructing the way as if she was tallying the risks of biting his Majesty for the sheer pique of him holding up her egress.

“Hey, hang on… firstly are you okay?” Lucifer asks, and at once you can see the angel he was glowing behind the years of torment and self-hatred. “I retained a small vestige of my healing, I can help if you need me to. The child is fine, she didn’t even get dust on her.”

“Sire, I’m fine, but I do need to go and visit my deer friend before he goes on a rampage. Vox really crossed the line today, and over one of their little spats, honestly I have no idea why I don’t just eat the pair of them.” She grumbles, storming up the stairs with the King hovering behind. He’s not really doing this altruistically, its more curiosity at this point, but she’ll take it.

“So… what’s eating the bellhop?”

“I’d prefer, Majesty, if you refrained from antagonising him for the moment. This whole situation has stirred up something that I will mention, but ask for your discretion about, as I would have to eat you should you try and use it against him in this whole dick measuring contest you two have going.”

He nearly falls out of the air hearing Rosie swear like that. It just… caught him off guard, is all.

“I-... er, yeah, okay. I mean, I was ready to end Box for hurting Charlie, but she’s my daughter and I’d burn down Heaven for her if I had to. What’s up with spooky in the swamp?”

“It’s a sad little story, but the gist of it was that he was never an only child… just the only one that grew up. Some never took their first breaths, their bodies already bruised from their father’s fists and their mother too frail to give them what was needed… and just the one little girl made it beyond that fragile measure. A little sister that brought joy into a place of torment and violence, who was doted on and cared for primarily by a brother barely older than her.”

Alastor will never tell you more than that, and it is not my place to share the parts around the cruelty of his father, the suffering of his mother, and all of the townsfolk who let it happen because it was easier than interfering. What I can say, is that despite the best efforts of my fawn-dest friend, babies cry… and violent men dislike things out of their control.”

Lucifer thought about his little Charlie, and his stomach dropped.

“The little girl was dashed into the wall, you see. Have you ever seen a baby strike something solid like that? They have no chance… no way to defend against it. She didn’t even cry out, and that silence was so profound I am certain it had something to do with the manifestation of Alastor’s static ambiance. He hates when it’s too quiet.”

“...fuck.” Lucifer choked out, gorge rising. “I-... I would have killed someone for less.”

“Oh, never you mind, Majesty, he definitely murdered that man. Twice. You can hear his screams in the background of any broadcast if you know who to listen for.” Rosie grins, pushing open the door and shooing off the shadow as it leapt at Lucifer. “Come now, we’re here to help. In anycase, sire, the damage was already done… I think that perhaps today was a step too far for anyone to handle. Babies in Hell of all things, and then the one he’s even tangentially attached to is launched at a wall… I thought he was going to break the hotel in half with his panicked response.”

“...I… I didn’t even think about the baby, I was looking at Charlie.”

“Understandable, of course, she is very much Your Baby and a delightful young lady at that. She was safe, you saw him put a tendril between the Princess and Vox, I’m certain. And I would have stepped in if needed.”

“So, there’s a swamp in here… where do we look?”

“Oh, I know the place, it’s just a shame the place is so realistic.” Rosie laments her boots’ fate and storms in looking for her friend. “You’d better be decent, I’m coming in!” she yells, startling a laugh from somewhere nearby.

“Not a day in my life, Rosie…” echoes around them in the mist.

Rounding a clump of mangroves, they find a mossy alcove under a large, sprawling tree that seems to be both a seat and a large bowl style bed. One might fit at least four Angel Dusts in there if they curled up a little.

Alastor was sitting there with his face in his hands, bloody gouges trailing from under his eyes down his cheeks. Reopening as they tried to close.

Rosie smacks his hands away. “Enough of that!”

Heart 2 Heart style talk about how everyone is okay.

Lucifer is awkward about it.

Rosie offers to use her power to settle Alastor to sleep, but he refuses, stating he wanted to check on the child one more time. Lucifer mentions that a drop of his blood could do the same, if he imbues it right, and Alastor makes a quip about the king clearly trying to get him pregnant at the exact moment Niffty races past. Ensuring the rest of the hotel gets a messy version of it.

Checks on little Mira, she’s FINE.

Banter. Insistence that Susan is carrying the true antichrist and they need to let Heaven know to avoid hostilities. Rosie collects the child and heads back to Cannibal Town.

Husk asks if things are fine? Subtly.

Yes. The wall is almost completed.

Once Rosie is out of sight, Angel receives an aggressive call from Valentino, calling ‘his whore back to work’ and telling him to give up any plans on walking for the next week because Vox came back pissed. He needed someone to play with… etc.

“Oh, let him know you’re coming, Angel. I’m sure we could escort you there.”

“Please don’t get me in trouble with Val…”

“My good man, he can’t hurt you if he’s DEAD, can he?”

Epilogue of Lucifer and Alastor having a conversation where it is slowly revealed that they are standing in the decimated ruins of V tower, twitching masses of viscera are left of their adversaries.

Shell shocked Angel standing there, half horrified and half aroused.

“Okay, I know the answer was no the first time I said it, but can I PLEASE suck ya-...”

“NO” unified response.

“Hey, your loss.” He shrugs, texting Cherri the good news. “Well, if ya change ya mind ‘Boss’, just know I can probably get ya pregnant with more accuracy than Short King there…”

The sinner howls with laughter as he dashes off, at the truly scandalised expression on Alastor’s face. The temptation to yank him back by the soulchain was… strong.

“Oh come on… I could too get you pregnant,” Lucifer whines. Getting him a glare. “I mean theoretically. Had this whole argument with Lillith before Charlie, but she insisted… and well, let me tell you the whole process is No Joke. I love Charlie, but never again.”

“...that explains a lot about both of you.”

“I spill the best kept secret in hell and you backhand it at me. You’re infuriating!”

“I aim to tease, your majesty.” Alastor grins. He glances up at the pentagram in the sky. “So, it appears that things are changing once more, and of all the plagues to cast upon us… Hell is full of cannibal infants. Is there anything in that little book about that?”

“Er, I didn’t like how fictionalised it was, so I never finished it. No one said begat by the way, except maybe Uriel once when he made a joke about how he be-getting tired of hearing self-serving prayers.” Lucifer glanced up, then bac at the sinner. “Not the worst thing that could happen, I suppose… and hey, if Charlie’s program works, maybe we can get them upstairs and eating angels soon too.”

There’s a pause. “You know, I’m sure your sister is up there, with your mother… never had anyone under thirteen fall here, and that was a very specific circumstance. Msot teens get a pass because they’re all naturally little monsters… er, I’m bad at sympathising, but I hope you get what I mean.”

“Oh, I do… but watching you fumble was fun.”

“Fuck you.”

“I thought we’d moved past the impregnation discussion sire, I’m starting to suspect you have ulterior motives here…” Alastor quips back, stepping atop what was left of Vox’s severed screen as they began to walk back to the hotel.

“Oh you fucker-...”

“Alas, again I must decline, my short-statured sovereign. Many thanks for your consideration, but I dont believe I own a step-stool of the right height to facilitate anything salacious betwixt us. Ah, a pity…”

“...I can’t think of anything you won’t twist into something fucked up…” Lucifer admits, cringing slightly as a hunk of what may have been Valentino once slipped off a nearby neon sign and landed at his feet. “Heh, guess that moth guy had guts after all… they’re on my shoes.”

Alastor can’t help but snort in response.

“Why little majesty, I do believe I could come to like you if you continue to amuse like this.”

“Excellent, you’re falling for my fantastic sense of humour already. So when I do decide to end you, you won’t see me coming!”

“Sire, given the lack of a step stool, I wouldn’t be seeing you coming in any circumstance…” Alastor deadpans, and flits up the street in his shade to stand next to a stunned-looking Angel Dust. Cherri Bomb is rolling on the pavement beside him, howling with laughter.

Lucifer sputters, grinning and furious that the red haired bellhop had somehow outmanoeuvred him in their little game of wordplay. He’s trying to slap something together on the fly, and finding nothing.

“Come along, your Lowness, I believe Charlie is cooking dinner tonight. At least one person capable of putting out an industrial fire should be present, for the sanctity of the hotel.”

“Hey, I taught Char-Char to cook. She’s fine at it!”

“...nah I’m with Smiles. That girl is amazing as long as you can force down charcoal flavoured whatever it was supposed to be at every meal. No idea how Vaggie manages it. There’s love, and then there’s that codependent mess…” Angel adds.

“

[Find way to end]

#hazbin hotel #alastor #rosie #cannibal babies for chaotic reasons #child death mentioned #lucifer #charlie #angel dust #husk #niffty #vaggie #vox #SUSAN #phoenixwrites

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gxldenlush · 11 months ago

Text

Love you love you | m.s

pairing: bestfriend!matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: you woke up in your best friends bed after a party with total memory loss. Matt helps you fill in the gaps

warnings: hangover, love confession (?), use of y/n, nickname (sweetheart), mentions of being sick/vomiting

A/N: this is my first fic, so I apologise if it’s terrible 😖 bold & italics = flashback/memory

blue - matt

pink - y/n

☙༻✽༺❧

A pounding headache. That’s the first, last, and only thing I think I’ve gained from last night’s party. I roll over to check my phone, that’s when I realise I’m not in my own bed. Shit. I recognise the room, but my head is banging so painfully that I can’t even concentrate on how. The sound of the door opening causes me to shoot up in the bed, I immediately regret the sudden movement when my hand flies to my throbbing head in agony.

“G’mornin party animal” I know that teasing voice. I look up and my face pales and my heart drops to my ass.

Matt.

My silence paired with my half-confused, half-mortified expression makes matt laugh.

“You don’t even remember last night do you?”

“Oh god” I cover my face embarrassed. “How bad was I? Did I puke?”

“No, no puking involved…” he chuckles as approaches the bed with a glass of water and some Advil, he passes them to me and I take them like they’re my lifeline. They felt like it in that moment.

I take a minute to look at my surroundings, I then realise I’m no longer wearing my dress, but instead I’m wearing Matt’s favourite hoodie. Panic floods through my body. “We didn’t-… did we?”

Matt’s eyes widen when he realises what I was asking him. “Oh my god, no! You were way too drunk and, you know I’d never… y’know…”

“Right…” something is on his mind though. “Then why are you looking at me like that? What horrifyingly embarrassing thing did I do last night?”

“Do you remember talking to me while I put you to bed?” I try my hardest to remember but to no avail, I shake my head, scared of what I said t him. “Oh god, what did I say?”

Matt takes a seat on the edge of the bed with a nervous expression. “You… told me that you love me”

“Oh, that isn’t so bad, I tell you that I love you all the time, you’re my best friend-”

“No, it was different this time, you said that you love me love me…”

My eyes pop into saucers as last night starts to flood back to me.

“Okay, almost there, just a few more steps” Matt carries most of my weight as I stumble into his bedroom, a giggling mess.

“You’re so sweet, Matty”

“I’m glad you think that, sweetheart” he chuckles. Matt helps me to sit on his bed, pulling my foot up one at a time so he can take off my favourite heels.

“No like reeeeeally sweet” his reply is another laugh. “I love you Matt”

“I love you too, y/n. C’mon let’s get this uncomfortable dress off, you can wear my favourite hoodie” He pulls me forward to unzip my dress for me.

“Nono, I like… love you love you! Like, I wanna go on dates with you, go to parties together, wear matching costumes on Halloween and.. I wanna kiss you and-and i want you to call me your girlfriend. I love you love you…”

Matt is totally dumbfounded for a good few seconds, until he shakes his head. “Y/n, you’re drunk, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Nooo I’m serious! I know you don’t love me back, i can tell by the look on your face but.. I reeeally love you”

It’s quiet for another minute or so, Matt finally speak up. “I’m not having this conversation with you when you’re totally wasted, we’ll talk in the morning”

“Are y’mad at me for saying all that?”

“I could never be mad at you, sweetheart. Arms up” he pulls my dress over my head and replaces it with his favourite hoodie, he tucks me into bed, and climbs in next o me, holding me close as I fall asleep

I’m at a loss for words. He’s looking at me as though he’s waiting for me to speak.

Here comes the word vomit…

“I’m so sorry Matt, I don’t even know what I was talking about! I think I was just really emotional and feeling a little lonely because everyone at the party had someone and I didn’t have anybody and then you were so nice to me, like you always are and I just-”

And here comes the actual vomit…

I dive out of the bed with my hand over my mouth and run to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time, spewing my guts up. Seconds later, I feel my hair being pulled away from my face with gentle hands. Matt rubs soothing circles on my back

“you’re okay..”

He reassures me as I throw up all of the alcohol and gross party food from last night. I finally finish gagging and coughing, and sit down on the bathroom floor. I look into Matts worried eyes, he pushes a piece of hair from my face as he cups my face in his hands.

“I am so sorry”

“I love you too…”

——————

#gxldenlushꨄ #lush fics♡︎#writing #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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hummingbird24220 · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter Seventy-Three: Luffy Asks a Very Important (and Very Stupid) Question

It started with a casual walk across the deck. You, minding your business. Arms full of rope. Sweat on your brow. Normal stuff.

Luffy popped up beside you—literally popped up, like he’d sprung from below deck by sheer willpower—grinning as wide as the sky.

“Hey.” You glanced over, already suspicious. “…Hey?”

He tilted his head. “Do you have a baby?”

You blinked. Stopped walking. “…Do I—what?”

“A baby.” He pointed at your chest with all the subtlety of a cannon blast. “Y’know. ‘Cause your boobs are huge.”

You stared. Actually stared. The rope dropped from your arms.

“I—Luffy, what?!”

“They’re big!” he insisted, gesturing with both hands like he was trying to measure the moon. “And Chopper said some people get milk in them when they have a baby, so I thought—”

“LUFFY.”

“Do yours have milk in them?”

You slapped a hand over your face. Took a breath. Another. Then forced your brain to reboot.

“No, Luffy. I don’t have a baby. I don’t have milk. My boobs have been this size since before I joined the crew. They’re just—” You paused, waving vaguely at your chest. “They’re just here, okay? They exist. They've always existed. Nothing magical. No milk.”

Luffy made a thoughtful noise, then nodded. “Okay. Got it.”

You sighed. “Thank you.”

And that should have been the end.

—------

It Was Not the End

Dinner that night was going great. Everyone was relaxed, sun-tired and full, chattering between bites as Sanji served up grilled fish and warm rice.

Then, Luffy, mouth full, suddenly turned to you and asked:

“Hey (Y/N), if your boobs don’t have milk, what would it taste like if they did?”

Silence. Utter. Complete. Silence.

Chopper dropped his spoon. Usopp froze mid-bite. Zoro slowly set his drink down like he needed both hands free in case of incoming chaos. Sanji made a noise so high-pitched it nearly shattered glass.

You? You stared at Luffy. Then turned to Nami. Then Robin. Both were absolutely done.

Nami had her face in her hand, shaking slightly. Robin was sipping her tea like this was a soap opera she’d waited months for.

“LUFFY,” you said, slowly, carefully, as if speaking to a bomb. “We are. At the. Dinner table.”

He nodded. “Yeah, but I was thinking about it all day.”

“Why.”

“Well, if someone gets milk, like, from inside, does it taste like milk-milk? Or like… meat-flavored milk? Depending on what you eat?”

You dropped your fork. “I am going to walk into the sea.”

Sanji was choking. Zoro had his face buried in his arms. Usopp was visibly malfunctioning. Chopper—sweet, innocent, usually-the-logical-one Chopper—was red from snout to hooves and whispering, “We never covered this in medical school.”

—-

You stood on the upper deck, eyes closed, hands gripping the railing. Sanji came up beside you and offered a drink without a word.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

He sipped his own and side-eyed you. “Y’know... you handled it well.”

You snorted. “I was seconds from saying ‘taste test’ just to shut him up.”

He turned red. “Don’t joke like that.”

You grinned. “No promises.”

From below deck, Luffy’s voice rang out again. “HEY (Y/N), DO YOU THINK YOU COULD—”

You didn’t hear the rest. You had already jumped overboard.

Zoro appeared at the railing, deadpan. “She said she’d do that.”

Sanji sighed and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ll go fish her out.”

Robin sipped her tea down the deck. “I give it three more days before someone faints.”

And honestly? That was generous.

—-----

You thought—you hoped—that the chaos from Luffy’s Dinner Table Debacle had run its course.

Sure, he’d asked about boob milk in front of everyone. Sure, you’d jumped into the sea to escape. And maybe, just maybe, that would’ve been enough to deter most people.

But Luffy wasn’t most people. And Luffy had the one trait more powerful than any Devil Fruit:

Relentless, zero-filter curiosity.

The next morning, before you could even get your coffee, Luffy walked up to you with a look of pure focus. Like he was about to ask a deeply philosophical question.

And he did.

“Do they move when you run?”

You nearly dropped your mug.

Zoro, passing behind you, choked on air and stumbled.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Luffy pointed—again. “Your boobs. They’re heavy, right? So do they bounce when you sprint? Or do they like—stay still like meatballs glued to your chest?”

You inhaled sharply. Chose violence. Flicked him in the forehead. Hard. He yelped.

“Ow!”

“They move,” you hissed, cheeks pink. “And that’s why I WEAR THINGS THAT HOLD THEM.”

“But how much do they move?”

“LUFFY.”

Later that afternoon, you were sitting on the deck, reading, finally in peace.

Chopper approached cautiously. Tail twitching. Notepad in hoof.

You raised a brow. “Yes, doctor?”

He scratched his cheek with the tip of his pencil. “Um. So. Uh. Don’t get mad, okay?”

You closed your book slowly.

“I’m not like Luffy!” Chopper blurted quickly. “I just—I heard what he said yesterday, and from a medical perspective… I’ve never studied breasts on a living subject up close. That is part of my field, technically!”

You blinked. “Chopper. Sweetie. You’re asking for boob access… in the name of science?”

“I mean—not touch! I’d never! Just… observation? Maybe… maybe a few diagnostic questions?”

You tilted your head. “Like what?”

He fumbled with his notes. “How much do they weigh? Do you get back pain? Does running hurt? Do they affect your balance when you fight? What cup size do you—”

You slapped a hand over his mouth. Affectionately. But firmly.

“Okay. Slow down, you medical menace.”

He squeaked. “Sorry.” Then added in a whisper: “But… is it like, a lot of weight?”

You snorted. “Enough to make stairs my mortal enemy, yes.”

—--

Later that day, you trained with Nami and Robin in the open sun—stretching, sparring lightly, moving freely in your usual gear.

The boys watched from a distance. Again.

Luffy whispered to Usopp, “I think they do move. But not too much.” Usopp, who didn’t want to die, nodded slowly. “Yup. Very stable design.” Franky muttered, “It’s an engineering marvel.” Zoro tried not to look at all. Sanji had walked into the mast. Again.

You caught them staring and stood still. Hands on your hips. Eyes narrowed.

“Do I need to start charging for this show?”

Nami cackled. Robin didn’t even look up. “Might be a good side hustle.”

—---

You curled up in your hammock, finally settled. Finally free from questions, stares, and very scientific observations. Until—

“Hey.” Luffy’s head poked into your room. “Final question.”

You groaned. “Luffy, please.”

He held up his hands. “Just one! I promise!”

You stared. Dead inside. “Fine.”

He leaned in, all serious. “…If you slept on your stomach, would they pop?”

You threw a pillow at his head so hard it knocked him backward.

From down the hallway, Sanji muttered, “I’ve wondered that too…”

“OUT!!”

You groaned, flopped over in your hammock, and muttered into your arm: “…This crew is going to be the death of me.”

And from the other side of the ship, Robin whispered, “Death by boob fixation. A noble end.”

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justanamesstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Didn't mean to hurt you baby - Matty Healy x f!reader

Matty is drunk and hurts her feelings with his words.

A/N: Had this in my drafts for a few weeks. I'm working on Chapter 8.5 but I needed a break from it. Hope you like it!! Reblogs, comments and all of that it's always welcomed ♥♥♥

Warnings: drunk rambles, mention of alcohol and weed, angst, hurt feelings, comments about bodies, Matty's a boob man, typos.

Word count: 1.8 K

Blog MASTERLIST

“Come on, sweets.” she said, trying to get Matty out of the car. After a night out with the rest of the band and their partners, saying that he was just drunk was very far from the truth. He was almost passed out from all he drank.

“Mmm.” Matty mumbled.

Answering to her commands, Matty leaned forward and almost meet the floor, tripping with his own feet. Y/n catch him by sneaking an arm around his waist, and passing his right arm to rest on her shoulders.

“Watch out, Matty.”

“Mm- sorry.”

She turned to look at his face, saying, “Can you walk or do you want me to help you?”

“I can…” he answered, drawing out his words. Y/n nodded, so they started the short–but long with him in that state– trip towards the bed upstairs. Matty spoked again when his girlfriend managed to open the front door while holding his body, “Y’know what I’ve been thinking?”

“No, you want to tell me?”

“Boobs.”

Y/n suppressed a laugh, “Okay?”

“Your boobs.” he clarified.

“What about them?”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, Y/n breathed loud, trying to gain enough force to push him up without him falling down the stairs.

Matty and Y/n touched the first step.

“They’re perfect.” Matty let his free hand touched the intricate patters on her shirt under her left boob.

Y/n went to thank him for the compliment, “Thank you ba-“

But Matty interrupted her, “Not perfect perfect, but perfect for me…”

She couldn’t help to feel hurt after hearing his words. Y/n thought he liked her body and usually felt like he was obsessed with her breasts. Always sneaking his hands under her shirts and hoodies to touch her skin but especially the soft skin of her boobs. ‘Don't him love me any more?’, the question popped inside her head.

“Let’s get you in bed.” she didn’t acknowledge his words out loud.

Y/n felt like the stair had more steps than she remembered.

Matty couldn’t seem to let go the topic, “They could’ve absolutely perfect if they were a tiny bit smaller….although I love them, I love you.” he talked directly to her chest.

“Are you talking to my breast, Matthew?”

“I’m just in love with her, y’know?” his words making less and less sense.

“I can see that.”

Y/n managed to drag Matty to their shared bedroom. Matty fell on the mattress with a loud sound.

“Okay, sleep. Now.” Y/n instructed him.

She took his clothes, leaving him to rest with only his boxers on. Matty closed his eyes when she tugged him in. Y/n quickly went through her night routine and joined him.

Matty felt her get under the sheets, “I love you.” he breathed out into her chest.

With his words still in her mind, Y/n hesitated to replied, “I love you, Matty.” because she mean it, although her heart was swelling.

……………………………………..

Matty woke up the next day. His head was hurting, his limbs weight more than usually, and his mouth was dry. Even though, her first realization that morning was the empty space beside him.

Y/n wasn’t in bed.

The singer huffed and groaned more than necessary, letting the world know he was in pain and craved the touch of his girlfriend. He wondered where she went, or she had mentioned having to do something that morning. He couldn’t recall anything.

Y/n was seated on the kitchen table, the sun touching her factions, while she read something on her phone. She was perfect.

“Hi, baby.” he let his hands rest on her shoulders, approaching his face to her neck, breathing her in.

“Hey.” she dryly said.

“You weren’t in bed.” Matty pointed out, hugging her from behind.

“Had to do some laundry.” Y/n moved forward, feeling nervous in his embrace. “I’m going to run some errands now. We’re out of milk…” she moved away from him. Matty felt his stomach twist.

He looked at her moved around the kitchen, leaving her mug on the sink, “Okay, do you want me to go with-“ he started to offer.

Y/n cut him, “No, it’s fine. Be right back.”

The sound of the door closing down let behind a very confused Matty. She hadn’t kissed him or even hug him. He felt hurt.

The frontman tried not to think too much into it. He walked towards the fridge. Looking for some eggs to cook, his hand found something. Milk. Matty stared at it, deeply puzzled. She lied? What’s going on?

——————

Late after lunch, Y/n made her way inside the house. The sound made Matty rushed out of his studio, startling her.

“Hi!” Matty shouted.

“Shit- Hey, you scared me!” Y/n brought a hand to her racing heart.

Matty looked down at her hand. They were empty.

“Sorry. Did you forget the milk in the car?” he wondered.

“What? Ah- Um…yeah, I’ll-“ Y/n started to turn around, avoiding his eyes.

“Y/n?” Matty asked.

“Yeah?” she reached for the handle, having him her back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, why?” Y/n quickly answered.

Matty started walking, stretching the space between them, “Baby…”

“Fuck.” she said under her breath, feeling her eyes watered. “It’s…nothing.” While inside, she debated to tell him or not.

“It’s not nothing if you hide from me, and run out when I’m around you.” Matty accused her from a few steps behind her.

“I’m not-“

“Y/n, please tell me. I’ll help.”

“I- This is stupid.” Y/n let a hand ran through her forehead. She turned around, taking him in. She went to say something but closed her mouth. Matty waited. With one more look to his eyes, Y/n sighed loud, “Do you remember anything from last night?”

He tried to think, but his mind was blank.

“Not really, babe.”

“Mhm.”

“What did I do?”

“Why you think you did something?” Y/n let her hands touched the cold door behind her.

“Because you’re running away from me, my love.” Matty’s face softened, feeling like this was indeed a big deal.

“You- It’s nothing major, you just made some comments.” She avoided his eyes.

“About?”

“Me.” Y/n choked a little.

Matty felt instantly bad, “What did I say?”

“You don’t really remember?” she almost pleaded.

“I swear to god…” Matty approached her fully, taking her chin in his hand, forcing her to look to his eyes. “Even though I’m an atheist.” He tried to joke. “George brought this weed seed…that blown my mind, and it was a mistake to mix it with alc-“

“Matty.” she interrupted, exhausted with his long speech.

“Sorry, sorry…I don’t remember, I swear!”

“Okay, I believe you. Thing was…” she looked everywhere around his face, but not his eyes. “You made some comments about my body, about my…breasts.” Y/n finally admitted.

“Y/n, just tell me.” Matty tried to found her eyes.

“Do you find me attractive? Like be the most superficial about it right now.” she dared to ask.

“Y/n? Baby…”

“Abstain yourself, answer my question.”

“I do! You’re the hottest chick out there…I- I don’t even know where to start without sounding like a total douche.”

“What about my breasts?”

“You mean my girls?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Matty…”

“I adore them, you know that. If you allowed me, I’d have my hands and…or…my mouth there all the time. I’ll do it without skipping a bit. I thought you knew that.” Matty let his hand fell to his side.

“I thought I did…”

“Tell me what I said.” he requested.

“‘They are perfect…’”

“See?” Matty smiled wide.

She continued, “‘Not perfect perfect but perfect for me’ well, you…you know.” Matty went to interrupt himself, Y/n held a finger up. “They would be perfect perfect if they were a bit smaller.”

“Y/n.”

“So now you know why I was avoiding you.” she stated, feeling her eyes stung.

“Baby.”

Her lip was quivering when she said, “You can’t comment on my body like that, Matty. I don’t care how stoned or drunk you were, are…you just can’t. Because over all morality, you hurt my feelings.”

Matty took her face in his hands, “Y/n, I'm so, so sorry, baby.” She didn’t say anything. “I’m a fucking asshole, a twat….fuck, I don’t deserve you, I really don’t. Please forgive me.” He approached his face really close to hers.

“It was horrible to hear it from your mouth.”

“I know…I understand.”

“I’d never do that to you. You’re perfect in my eyes, Matty. Even when perfection is impossible.” Y/n moved uncomfortable on her spot.

“You’re perfect perfect in my eyes, baby.” he hid his face on her neck, sneaking his arms around her waist.

“Apparently I’m not.” her words made him leaned backwards.

“Y/n…”

“I couldn’t sleep thinking about how you probably fancy another girls more than me…and you’re around models all the time-“

“Y/n, stop.” he begged. “I don’t want anyone the way I want you, I need you…body and soul. You’re my everything. I want to worship you, your body, for the rest of my fucking life. Please tell me how to fix this.” Matty dared to peck her lips softly.

“Don’t lie to me, Matty.”

“I’m not lying! I swear, I’m sorry- I just- please believe me when I tell you…”

“Matty-“

“Let me show you then.” he urged her.

“No, I’d be self-conscious.”

“I can beg.”

Y/n kept her silence. Matty stared at her eyes. She felt like he was sincere and continued fighting was a waste of time. Although she wanted to take the advantage she had at the moment.

“Can you?”

Matty instantly dropped to his knees, without breaking the eye contact.

“Please, Y/n.”

“It’s not fair that you’re so pretty.” she whined, instructing him silently to move back up.

Matty kissed her fully. He felt completed once more after one long day of not having her.

“I love you…I’m sorry for being such a shitty boyfriend.” he apologized.

“You're not shitty…there are things you have to learn, me too.” Y/n explained.

“And I want you to teach me.”

“Sure.” she smiled.

Matty took a step back, looking down at her body, “I’m sorry girls.” going to press his face on her chest. The scene made her laugh, and Matty’s insides fluttered.

“Such a weirdo.” she chuckled.

“I love you too.”

“I love you. Next time I’m dumping your ass though.” she warned him.

“Yes, ma’am! There’s not going to be next time, I promise!” Matty left a trail of kisses reaching her neck.

“Ok…although, there’s a lot of reassurance you have to do, Healy.” Y/n took her hand, leaving the entrance of their house.

“With pleasure, my beautiful, drop dead gorgeous girlfriend.” Matty said, trailing behind her.

Y/n rolled her eyes at him, “Don’t push it.”

#matty healy #matty healy fic #the 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x y/n #matty healy imagine #matty healy blurb #matty healy x f!reader #matty healy x female!reader #matty healy x you #matty x you #matty x reader #matty the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic

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ruggiethethuggie · 2 years ago

Text

R U G T O B E R

wc: 781 a/n: i'm telling you now, I may fall short on this but we will do our best lmao and idk what happened to my cute banner. forgive me.

“♪♪ Spooky Scary Skeletons, Send shivers down your spine~”

You had been cleaning around the Ramshackle dorm all day because to be honest, it just needed more TLC than what you had been able to give it lately. It was the last day of September, but this was just the beginning of your real spooky season.

Every year you’d do a deep clean and then decorate your home in festive decorations. Bright green and purple witches’ hats and cauldrons, a bucket on every table with Halloween candies, and your favorite ghosts and pumpkins placed in just the right spots.

Decorating Ramshackle felt different than when you’d do your house back home, but you were trying to make the best of it since this was your favorite holiday. So you woke up this morning and immediately got to work and turned on your spooky music playlist after breakfast.

DING DONG !

You stopped in your tracks, trying to figure out why on earth someone would be here this early- and on the weekend nonetheless. You tossed your cleaning rag onto the couch and opened the front door.

“Hi, I have some pumpkin spice drinks for-,” they acted like they were reading a nonexistent label on the two drinks in their hands. “For a Y/N? Do you know them? They’re still supposed to tip me for these~”

The hyena beastman standing in your doorway gave a fangy grin as he handed you one of the drinks. “Rug, what are you doing here? Do you realize how early it is?” You stepped aside so he could come inside the dorm.

“Mmph,” he said with a nod as he drank his drink and plopped down on the couch, scooting the dirty cleaning rag away from him with his hand. He placed his drink on the coffee table, making sure he was using the coasters sitting out.

“I mean, yeah, I know what time it is. It’s spooky time.” You rolled your eyes at him and chuckled. “Okay, sure, but why not come over later? It’s like the crack ass of dawn right now,” you said as you leaned over the back of the couch next to him. “What? You don’t want my help? Aren’t you putting up your decorations today? Sure looks like you could use me. Y’know I used to work for a Spirit Halloween one time. It was a seasonal gig, but this guy was the one in charge of putting up all the displays.”

He looked so proud of himself as he spoke; he was so happy to share his Halloween decoration accomplishments with you. “Oh, wow~” you said sarcastically. “You mean I’m here with a world renowned Halloween decorating connoisseur? And to think I go to the same school as them! Amazing…”

“Alright, butthead. I guess I’ll just leave then.” He got up from the couch and grabbed his drink. “Ahhh, guess all those… fun… fall ideas I had can go down the drain…,” he said in a sulking tone as he took a few steps towards the door before turning back to look at you.

“Don’t give me those eyes, you heathen.” You playfully glared at him, racking your brain to figure out his silly little schemes. “What kind of ‘fun fall ideas’ are you talking about?”

“Oh… it’s nothing. Nothing you wanna go do with me anyways. Guess I’ll have to find another to enjoy this Rugtober with.” He had his hand on the doorknob and a wide grin on his face as he looked at you. He knew what he was doing.

“Rugtober? What the hell is that?” you chuckled as you put your drink down and grabbed your cleaning rag once again.

“Uhh?! Only the best time of the year- and if you wanna join, you have to get a ticket from yours truly.”

You narrowed your eyes at him again and crossed your arms over your chest. “What’s the ticket gonna cost me?”

Ruggie opened the door and took another big sip of his drink. “Where’s the fun in me telling you? I’ll see you tomorrow, at the crack ass of dawn again, shyeheehee~”

“HEY?!” you shouted to him, his head popping back in before the door shut completely. “You’re just gonna leave? I thought you came to help decorate?!”

Ruggie looked around and snickered. “You look like you got it taken care of, Y/N. Seee youuu tomorrroowwwww~,” he sang as the door shut. You stood there and wondered what plans this “Rugtober” season would bring to you. At least this stupid pumpkin drink he brought you was going to fuel you through your cleaning, but you couldn’t help but wonder what he was scheming.

#~.writing #~.twst #~.rugtober #twisted wonderland #disney twst #ruggie bucchi #ruggie twst #ruggie x reader #twst x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi fluff #twst fluff #ruggie imagines #ruggie bucchi imagines #twst imagines #twst headcanons

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sharkie-writes0 · 1 year ago

Text

Messy mind

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Steve always had trouble sleeping. Even before the upside down. As a kid, he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep because the sound of his parents arguing downstairs was all he could pay attention to. When his parents left for the first time, he couldn’t sleep because he was scared.

And now with the memory of the upside down popping up in his head anytime he was close to having a good nights rest would make him jump up in a cold sweat.

So yeah, he kind of gave up trying to get good sleep.

He was always tired now. No matter where he was and how he acted he wanted nothing more than to go home and try to sleep again.

Robin noticed first, the way his eyes would get droopy whenever the video store was empty, how he would yawn while rewinding tapes. She grew worried about him.

“Hey doofus how much have you been sleeping?” She asked one afternoon. The thought of him being hurt from how tired he was at the front of her mind.

“Huh? Oh yeah not a lot. I try but every time I get close I just have to start over again. Nightmares y’know.” He replied, looking at her with dead eyes.

“You could take melatonin? Or drink some sort of tea to help?” Robin said, rubbing his back for comfort. Both for him and for her.

“No I’ve tried those” he mumbled. “They work for about 30 minutes and then I’m right back to staring at the ceiling for the rest of the night”

Robin didn’t know what to say. She had trouble sleeping sometimes too but not to this point. All she felt she could do was let him lean on her shoulder for a while.

Then Steve met Eddie.

After the world split open and Eddie’s trailer was destroyed he and Wayne had nowhere to live. Some of Wayne’s buddies had offered him a place to sleep but they only had a couch to sleep on and that wouldn’t fit both of them.

So they settled for Wayne sleeping on the couch at his friends house and Eddie sleeping at Steve’s house.

It was awkward at first. Not knowing each other very well, they didn’t know what to talk about. Steve would ask a few questions about dnd and Eddie would ask him what his favorite sport was but that was it.

And there was the fact that Eddie couldn’t ignore how he’s heard Steve wake up shouting on more than one occasion. Eddie had trouble sleeping too. Nightmares and anxiety would fill his head and he would wake up more than once in the night

Then he got to the point where he couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take not sleeping and hearing how much Steve was struggling.

“Knock knock Stevie. Can I come in” Eddie said leaning against Steve’s doorframe.

“Yeah what’s up? Are you hungry?” Steve asked rubbing his eyes.

“Nope just got a little question for you” Eddie said walking over to Steve’s bed and sitting on the soft mattress.

“Okay? What’s up?” Steve replied giving Eddie an odd look.

“I want to sleep in your bed. I hear how you wake up screaming sometimes and I’ve been getting nightmares too. So I’m thinking maybe we would sleep better with someone else to comfort us” Eddie suggested, looking down at his hands and fidgeting with his nails.

“You… my bed… us?” Steve muttered, not sure if he was joking or not.

“Yes. Me in your bed. We don’t have to if you think you’d be uncomfortable but I think it’s worth a shot” Eddie said, looking at Steve.

Steve hesitated for a moment. Looking at Eddie made him feel soft. Like a wave of calm had washed over him. “Okay. Okay yeah we can try that” he said

“Perfect! Scooch over!” Eddie said hopping up to his feet so Steve could move.

Steve moved to the side of his bed and watched as Eddie climbed in and let his head fall back on the pillow. He turned to Steve and smiled.

“Goodnight big boy” Eddie said, closing his eyes.

Steve smiled “goodnight eds”

Morning came and steve woke up to the sun streaming through his red curtains. He slept the whole night… he slept well the whole night. He looked at Eddie who was still fast asleep, his hair strewn about the pillow.

It was at this point he realized they were holding each other. He felt is face grow warm and a smile form on his face. Closing his eyes, he finally felt at peace.

They slept for most of the day, holding each other with their legs tangled and Eddie’s head on Steve’s chest.

Steve hopes that they never sleep apart again

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Okay! This took quite a bit of time. Got the idea from a tik tok i saw like an hour ago.

As always advice and constructive criticism is appreciated as I’m still new to writing! I hope you enjoyed this!

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steddie #stranger things #eddie #steve harrington #steve stranger things #stevexeddie #steve #fluff #Steve has nightmares #post season 4 #eddie lives

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idontplaytrack · 1 year ago

Note

Your fics are so good!!! I was wondering if I could request some top!Jos Cleary-Lopez smut, where reader lets Jos take out her stress and anger out on her because Jos had an awful day

✧ Stress Eating

Jos Cleary-Lopez x fem! reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut. Masturbation(Jos), oral, fingering, spanking(reader receiving). Reader gets sick from a migraine attack.

In which Jos gets pissed off after a serious of unfortunate events happening in school. Reader lets Jos let out some steam.

I couldn’t think of a title, but I guess it fits🫣 lmao

You stayed home from school due to a particularly severe migraine attack. Throughout the day, Jos’ texts to you and responding to you progressively got colder and colder. Until she practically just left you on read. As concerned as you were, with the continuous ache you were feeling in the left side of your head, you couldn’t even focus on worrying but instead in sleeping the pain away. Jos asked you were you were since the school day started this morning but you avoided her question all the way.

You were tossing and turning in bed for a good while before falling into a restless sleep. How’d you wake up? A thud did. You practically jolted awake. “Jos? What the fuck-”

“What the hell, y/n? You couldn’t answer my question? Just had to avoid me, did ya?” She snarked.

Ouch. You didn’t mean to.

“You weren’t any better. I asked you if something happened then you just ignored me?” You scoffed, rubbing the bottom of your palm on your forehead. Jos shot you a look of bewilderment which you didn’t see because your eyes were screwed shut.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, annoyed.

“God, stop.” You groaned, lying back down on your mattress. “If you’re gonna be mad at me, save it for later. I don’t know what happened because you wouldn’t tell me, all I know is my head is fucking hurting and I’m gonna throw up any second.”

Silence fell between the two of you. The only sound cutting through the tense silence was Jos’ heavy breathing which- somehow, was aggravating your migraine. You sat up, exhausted, your feet on the ground by your bed. You were crouched over as you held your head in your hands. “Don’t yell at me, not know. I really can’t-”

“y/n.” You feel her hand barely on your shoulder but you shrug it off and hobbled to the bathroom.

That did it. It snaps her out of her little mood, barely making it in time to hold back your hair to save it from getting in the puke.

“Do you think you’re done?” She asks quietly, rubbing your back.

“With what?” You sat back down. Her hand quickly retracts. “Doesn’t feel nice, does it?” You chuckled wryly.

“I’m sorry.” She apologises, “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I’ve just had a terrible day at school today.”

“Okay, we talked about this- you gotta talk about it otherwise it’s just gonna build up and up.” You took her hand in your own.

“The lock on my locker? Kept acting up. Fine, at lunch some new kid got shoved by a bully and spilt their lunch all over me. Not their fault- I helped her out, got her away from the bully. I got shoved to the ground. I got called into the principal’s office because some people insisted it was my fault” Jos sighs, “Whatever, y’know? I got changed- luckily I had clothes in my locker. And then in Social Studies, we had a pop quiz so that was great because no one knew where the hell you were- including me. So the teacher kinda gave me shit for it because I wasn’t sure.” “I’m sorry. About everything and that last part- I should’ve at least sucked it up and sent you a text.”

“It’s fine.” She took some deep breaths, “I know how you are with bright lights when you get migraines. It hurts you even more. We’ve both had a bad day.”

You reached out to give her hand a squeeze.

“Do you feel better? After throwing up?” Jos asks softly.

“Luckily, yeah.” You carefully laid back down as she watches you, “You?”

“Pretty much. Now that it’s mostly out of my system.” Jos shrugged, “Get back to sleep, ‘kay? I’m sorry for waking you up.” Jos scooted into the empty spot beside you and rubbed your back till you fell asleep again. “What time is it?” You ask her groggily. “4:06.”

“Oh. Okay.”

————

When you eventually awoken from your nap, it was only because of what you were hearing practically even in your sleep. Jos was whining and whimpering right beside you doing god-knows-what — well, you had a clue but you were too out of it to care until the noises she were making started to make you feel all hot and bothered.

“Jos. What the hell are you doing.” You grumbled.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about all that shit and got myself all stressed out again.” She tells you. And it was so obvious that she was still touching herself because you could hear it and you were right next to her. Has she ever done this before? Absolutely- when you weren’t in the mood. She got that. But not right in front of you. Well…right now? It was really freaking turning you on. You laid on your back, turning your head to look at her.

Jos was unbothered, glancing back at you like she wasn’t doing anything. She raised a brow seeing you biting on your lower lip, a chuckle escapes her mouth. You gulped, there was no doubt she didn’t see the needy gaze of yours as you watched her rubbing her clit. You averted your eyes, trying to get those thoughts out of your head but there was no use fighting it- seeing that your migraine’s pretty much gone anyway after you threw up earlier. Her free hand reaches over and caressed your cheek, “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Um…” You squirmed slightly. “You can take it all out on me if you want.”

“What?” She stopped moving.

“I said.” You sighed, “You can take your stress and anger out on me.” Jos immediately laid down beside you and attacked you with kisses, pushing the blanket off your body then sliding your shorts and underwear down and off your feet. You held onto your calf and put your leg on her hip. Next, her hand rubbed slow circles on your clit to work you up as her mouth continues to busy itself with the task of kissing you. The progression of the kisses from sweet to rough was quick- her teeth grazes your lower lip and bit down on it, you moan into the kiss, reciprocating in a similar fashion. Your hand blindly reaches out find her clit and give it the same stimulation that she was giving yours. Only, she got more aggressive, now hovering over you before you even had the time to process what was going on. Her hungry kisses trails down south from your mouth to your chest. She takes a break there, capturing your nipple in her mouth, giving them a good lick and suck.

You whimpered, hand getting tangled in her hair, “Oh, fuck- Jos.” Upon hearing that, she picks up her pace while kneading your other breast with her free hand and pinching its tip. “Jos~”

She laughs, the warmth of her breath makes you flinch and whine once more before she attacks your other breast similarly. You were already a mess under her touch, the heat and ache in between your legs growing rapidly. You were frustrated and in pain- in need of more of her. Jos just kept going shamelessly groping one breast and sucking the other as though it was her job. You were a noisy fucking mess, yelping, whine and moaning...you tried to keep quiet, but with the way she was playing with you like there was no tomorrow had you thinking about nothing. Nothing but her. Her kisses, her touch, her fingers roaming your body...ghosting the area where you needed her the most- however she decided to do so. Jos firmly grabbed your hips after she detaches from you and yanked you down to the edge of the mattress. Her left forearm presses down on your inner thigh, her right fingers spread your lower lips open and gathered some of your wetness. She was looking at you, you could sense it but you just couldn't look at her. Jos on the other hand, she was ogling at you, planning her next move and observing how your body reacts, how your face contorts and most importantly, the noise you were making for her- because of her. The ache was making you extremely, extremely frustrated. But she was holding back, she didn't want you to give it to you yet.

Jos' thumb brushes over your clit, over and over- it wasn't anywhere near sufficient. Rubbing your cunt, she proceeded to give you a smack. You yelped and the tears that you were holding back just got let loose. You body quivers as you sobbed as she repeatedly smacked you ass and cunt, then rubbed them to draw out sounds of pleasure from your mouth that she was clearly getting off on. But you know what was spurring her on most of all? The fact that you were crying. You needed her so badly that you were in tears.

"Please, Jos- please." You pleaded, "Please, I need you."

She laughs, her breath tickles your cunt seeing how close she was to you, "You need me, baby? Oh, you're such a good girl for me, y/n. I honestly can't thank you enough for letting me fuck you as I please..." Slowly, she began licking your clit in small circles, then her finger dips into your entrance- going in and out, hitting your g-spot without fail each time. It wasn't long before all your thoughts were gone and Jos, she was practically fucking you dumb. You hear her voice and just followed her command each time. "Ass in the air, baby." She detaches from you with an obscene 'pop' sound, flipping you over. You barely stayed on your hands long enough for her to attach her mouth onto your cunt from behind before your top half fell flat.

————

She massages your ass, burying her face deeper into you while you stayed put letting her eat her fill of you. You couldn't hold it any longer...the urge to come was strong and you were having a hard time trying to keep it together because whatever sounds you were making? You had no control over them- Jos had complete control over you, like putty in her hands. Or her mouth, in this case. Your moaning and whining filled the enclosed space- and it was loud. That, you were sure of. And Jos was not done with you- she was devouring you like it was her last chance. But you were so, so desperate to let go and you weren't sure if she wanted that yet.

Nothing coherent has been coming out from your mouth for the last 20 or so minutes, so how were you going to ask her anything at all? Jos picks up her pace again, much to your surprise and you couldn't take it anymore- you unraveled as her tongue was still lapping and she happily ate that up, earning you a hard smack on your ass. "I'm surprised you lasted this long, love." You heard her voice behind you. Your knees started to give way but she had a tight grip on you, forcing you to stay up so she could carry on.

You were fully in tears when she chased after your second orgasm, but it just felt too good for you to want her to stop. With each flick of her tongue, out came her name and a needy sound. Jos'd never felt this turned on, hearing you under her control like this? Doing whatever she pleases to your tight, pulsing cunt. "Jos, I can't- I can't stay up- I-" You managed. Unfazed, she flips you back over, pushing your thighs open as you squirmed and sobbed, overwhelming pleasure building up in your body. If you shifted up, she follows, if you'd somehow ended up moving to the side, there she was. Jos was latched onto like a hungry animal trying to feed...and you were so fucked out your brain'd turned to mush, complying with her ministrations. With each spark that she literally sent down your spine, the tighter the coil in your core got. It was so severe- the need to get that second high, as much as it was starting to hurt a little. It also kinda made you even wetter.

"Think you can squirt for me, hm?" Her mouth barely leaves you enough to speak, "Wanna give that a try, my baby?" You obediently nodded as if on reflex as you feel her fingers slide into your cunt smoothly. They worked together with her mouth and pushed you over the edge just how she'd asked for you to. Your back arches, pushing her even closer to you as you cried her name repeatedly while she assisted you in coming down from your forceful climax.

Jos soon snaps out of her mood quickly, as she clambered back up to meet your face when she heard your cries. "Are you alright, baby?" She brushes the hair out of your eyes, tucking them behind your ear, "Do you feel okay? Don't cry, baby. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." It made her a little flustered to see you in this much tears- just from the sheer intensity of the pleasure. You weren't hurt, but she was scared that she hurt you. "'m- I'm okay, we've just never went this hard before. I didn't expect myself to cry. Don't be sor-"

She smiles, caressing your face, "You took me so well, baby. So well. I love you."

You gave her a giddy smile as she hugs you tighter, letting you rest your head on her chest, "I love you, too."

"I love you more, sweetheart. You're alright, I got you. Just close your eyes and rest. I'll clean you up while you do, alright?" She whispers, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, "Jos?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Do you feel better?" You ask, your breathing hitches unexpectedly.

"Sure do, baby." She confirms, licking her lips, "Thank you."

#auli’i cravalho #i don't play track answers #the power #the power amazon prime #jos cleary-lopez #reader insert #x reader #female reader #lgbtqia #queer fiction #wlw smut #wlw ns/fw

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devastator1775 · 6 months ago

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Anne's Journey - Chapter 4: Core Heist (preview)

A little preview of what I already have, because ...well, because I felt like it. Minor spoilers under the cut, so read at your own volition.

Anne was in a rush to get to school the following morning, despite her mild exhaustion She had been up all night, looking over photos and blueprints, in order to make sure her plan had any sort of merit. She needed to find – aha, there she Ashley. And much to Anne’s amusement, the redheaded Drone was once again playing matchmaker between two other Drones. She ran up to Ash and her quarry and grabbed her by the shoulder, making the latter yelp in surprise.

“Hey Brody, Killian, I need to borrow Ash for a second.” Anne stated to the two boys, already dragging a startled Ashley away from them. “No problem? Okay, thanks!”

“Girl, great to see you, but do you know how long I’ve been working those two?” Ashley asked as she followed her friend. “I was about to seal the deal between them.”

“That can wait, and besides, everyone knows it’s just a matter of time between those two. C’mon, here.” Anne turned a corner, peeking around to make sure no-one was around. When she was certain they were alone, she leaned in closer to Ash and brought her voice down to a whisper. “So, I’ve gone through those document we got from the Centre yesterday.”

Ashley’s eyes turned from annoyed to curious, an eager grin spreading on her lips. “Ooh, okay, I’m all non-existent ears. What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

Ashley visibly deflated, her visor turning – literally – blank for a few moments, before she crossed her arms with her expression alternating between annoyed to curious to confused. “Then why do you sound so eager-beaver about it?”

“Because I noticed something weird with the files and decided to hack them.” Anne grinned. “I found something really, really weird.”

“Okay, you’ve had my curiosity, and now you’ve got my attention.” Ashley chuckled. “Could’ve started with that, y’know?”

Anne quickly summarized what had happened the day before. She swore that Ashley’s visor was going to pop out with every new revelation she relayed to her best friend. She did purposely let out the part where …she found out she could instantly heal from any wound. Best not to spring that particular ‘special detail’ on her for now.

“Jeez, ‘weird’ indeed.” Ash commented when Anne finished her story.

“Right?”

“So, what are you going to do?” Ash asked, peeking around the corner to see if they were still having a private conversation. The redheaded Drone knew like no other how quickly rumours would spread around the school. “Seems to me that you’ve hit a dead end.”

“That’s what I thought at first, too.” Anne began, grinning mischievously. “But then I thought: if the PSC in my core they originally detected was a fake, then there is a good chance that I could find out the real one. Those are still in there, whether or not a counterfeit is present or not. It’s impossible to remove those..”

“And how would you do that?” The redhead tilted her head in confusion. “You said it yourself, they’ll probably end up with the same results as 16 years ago.” “Simple …” Anne stated matter-of-factly. “I’m ----- -- ---- -- --- ----!"

AND THAT'S WHERE THE PREVIEW ENDS! WHAT IS ANNE GOING TO DO? FIND OUT WHEN THE CHAPTER RELEASES!

#murder drones #fanfiction preview #preview #fanfiction #immortal vuzi au #vuzi #fanfic

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star-my · 2 years ago

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Vixen ~ Three (Final)

➼ Pairing: Jimin x OC (Shin Ara)

➼ Length: 6k

➼ Rating: pg-15

➼ Content: Arranged Marriage AU, CEO AU, Mafia AU | TW: Vague Threats of Violence; Kidnapping; Non-Graphic Violence (Fight Scene); Minor Discussion of Human Trafficking (not by BTS/SKZ members)| Ara and JK are so sibling-coded; Jimin ships Vixen and JK

➼ Thanks to @moonleeai for betaing! I had this posted at noon and closed tumblr but when I came back now somehow it disappeared into the cloud?? I'm so annoyed ;-;

➼ Taglist: @bangtan-famiglia-net@kookthief@otome-wandering@sarcasticbambi

➼ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way represents any member of BTS, SKZ, or any other K-pop group mentioned in any way beyond the face and name claims the author made for this work.

➼ Chapter 1 (13/10/23) ➼ Chapter 2 (14/10/23) ➼ Ao3 ➼ Masterlist

ARA, AGE 25, (PRESENT DAY)

A hand flopped around on the wooden table, finally locating the device making that infernal racket far too early in the morning.

“It’s too early for this,” Ara groaned, sliding the call button on her phone. “Yeoboseyo?”

“Princess? It’s Jimin. Sorry if I woke you…” Ara heard a sharp inhale as her husband realised the time. Still, he pressed on. “Um…you know how Park Wonshik adopted me after I was kidnapped?”

“Ye-ah,” she replied slowly, trying to figure out what was going on. Why was he sounding so awake after helping her break up the trafficking ring early this morning? He probably hadn’t slept yet, she realized. Hence, his too-early call.

“So, the police broke up this ring last night and saved a bunch of kids. They called me and asked if I’d mind talking to them, tell them that things are gonna be okay, y’know?”

Ara made some sort of agreeing noise, heading to the bathroom to gargle some mouthwash and maybe comb her hair and hope that putting her hair in order would simultaneously put her brain cells in order.

“So…one of my dad’s old friends was there and suggested maybe…we could foster one or two of the kids who are in need of a home until they get all the paperwork sorted out. A couple of the kids agreed to testify, so they’ll also need to stay close until the trials are over. What do you think? We have really good security, so they won’t need to worry about a repeat kidnapping, and I know we’ve got space and love. You mentioned wanting to help trafficking victims when I was telling you about my childhood…but…”

The longer her silence stretched out, the more Jimin rambled. He was so cute.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great, practical way to help,” Ara agreed after spitting her mouthwash out. “Just let me know how many you kids you drag back so I know how many rooms to get ready.”

“Thank you, jagiya.” Muffled conversation crackled through the line as Jimin paused to speak with an officer. “Sorry, I have to go. I’ll call later, alright?”

“Okay. Love you!”

“Love you!”

Ara put her phone down on the counter and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

~~~

At 2:33 PM, Jimin arrived home with an eleven-year-old girl in tow. The police officer and Child & Family Services officer quickly checked the premises and living situation, then left, leaving Jimin, Ara, and the girl.

Ara smiled, crouching down to her height. “Hi, I’m Shin Ara. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello, Mrs. Shin. My name is Kim Nabi,” Nabi bowed politely. “It is nice to meet you as well. Thank you for letting me live with you.”

Her shiny hair teased the tops of her shoulders as she moved.

“I’ll show you to your room, then,” said Ara, motioning at the stairs. “I know you saw it already during the tour, but you can get settled now. My room is right across the hall, so my bodyguard will be close by if you feel unsafe. Have you met Jungkook yet?”

Nabi shook her head, then gave a small smile full of delight as she really took in her room.

Ara and Jimin’s gazes met as they exchanged smiles at her satisfaction.

The walls were a pale periwinkle reflected in the pale blue duvet, the trim white to contrast the wood furniture.

“I hope you like it,” joked Ara. “There are a couple of outfits in the closet, but I thought maybe you’d like to go shopping for some things your own style while you’re here. Jungkook and I will take you whenever you’re ready.”

Ara pulled the stuffed rabbit from the top shelf of the closet and held it out to Nabi. “I thought you might like a friend to talk to while you decide if you want to talk to me or someone else about what happened. I’ve told quite a few secrets to Cookie here, and he’s kept them all remarkably well. He also gives a pretty nice hug,” she smiled conspiratorially.

“Thank you very much, Mrs Shin, Mr Park,” Nabi bowed again.

“You’re welcome, Nabi. I know things have been tough, but you’re a very brave girl,” said Jimin. “We want you to feel safe and at home here. I remember how I felt after I was brought here by my adoptive father. If you want to scream, cry, maybe hit a couple of things, go for a run– whatever you’re feeling, we’re here for you.”

“Thank you,” Nabi said again.

Jimin kissed Ara’s cheek goodbye and left to finish his assistance at the police station.

Ara looked at Nabi, laid a soft hand on her shoulder, and said, “I think you’d like to be alone right now to settle in, but if you want company, my room is across the hall, and the door’s open. If you need anything, just walk in or give me a shout, ‘kay?”

Nabi nodded, and Ara crossed the hall to call Jungkook and explain the situation.

~~~

Ara softly knocked on Nabi’s door for the third time. When there was still no response, she twisted the knob and peered in.

Nabi was sound asleep in her bed, hugging Cookie tightly to her chest.

“Nabi, it’s ten to seven. Jimin-ssi will be home any minute, and supper will be ready. I’m sure you’re pretty hungry by now. Jungkook wants to meet you, too, so can you wake up and get up by seven?” As Ara talked soothingly, Nabi stirred and gradually opened her eyes. Ara opened the door a little wider to let the hallway light shine in, as Nabi had drawn her blackout drapes.

“Hello, Ara-unnie. I’m up now.” Nabi yawned and stretched, then slid off the bed.

“Did you have a good nap? I hope you’ll sleep tonight!” Ara stepped just outside the doorway so she wouldn’t stifle Nabi, who yawned again.

“Yes, I slept well, thank you.”

The two headed to the top of the stairs, where Jungkook awaited.

“Nabi, this is my bodyguard and best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook, this young lady is Kim Nabi.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Nabi,” Jungkook’s bunny smile shone through as he grinned at the girl.

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you as well, Jungkook-oppa.”

Jungkook grinned even wider at Ara. “I’m her oppa already!”

Ara punched his shoulder gently. “Don’t let it go to your head; I told her she could call us that.”

The foyer door opened, signalling Jimin’s return home. He headed to the powder room to wash up, then joined the little group in the living room, brushing a kiss to Ara’s cheek on his way in.

Jungkook pretended to gag, wincing as Ara pinched his arm.

Nabi was quiet during dinner, her gaze bouncing between the three adults talking and laughing around her but not volunteering much. They drew her in when they could, but weren’t surprised that she didn’t immediately become a chatterbox. She’d been through a lot and was probably still deciding how much she could trust them.

Ara did manage to get her to commit to going clothes shopping the next day, but that was it.

A large yawn cracked Nabi’s face as Jimin asked Jungkook to see him in his office after supper, so Ara said goodnight to the men and followed Nabi upstairs, just in case she forgot where something was or needed help.

Two nights later, Jimin was back at Vixen’s HQ, meeting with the woman herself. He’d showed up unexpectedly, interrupting her spar with Hyunjin, so she wasn’t in full Vixen gear like all the previous times he’d met her.

She’d donned the mask, but her hair was free, a neat brown-black braid falling down her back, a few wisps curled to her sweaty face and neck.

“If you tell anyone you’ve seen more of me than my lieutenants, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to break our agreement,” she waved a finger at him.

“I won’t,” promised Jimin. More of her meant arms and feet, since she was only in a black tank top and workout leggings, her jacket having been tossed aside as she heated up.

Jimin noted interestedly that the gold eyes and red mouth was an indispensable part of Vixen’s persona, as they were still visible.

(As two of her most notable character marks, Ara made sure the lipstick and contacts were first in and last out when she switched between Ara and Vixen. He’d just proved her point—though he didn’t know it—that you should always be prepared for the unexpected; you never know when someone would drop in, either ally or foe.)

“So, you took care of the three men?” she asked.

Jimin nodded. “JK and I made sure they won’t be trafficking in the future…or committing any other crimes.”

She nodded approvingly. “Good.”

The tones of Vixen’s cell phone rang and she bent over, fishing the phone out of her pocket. Answering it, she turned around but didn’t move away; Jimin eavesdropped as best he could. “Vixen.”

There was a pause as her contact spoke.

“What? Stall him! Flag him down and tell him I have a visitor! Engage blade if necessary.” With an aggravated sigh, Vixen ended the call and pinched her nose, muttering something about stupid training, then turned with a smile that was clearly false.

“I’m going to need a minute, would you mind waiting in another room?”

Jimin complied, following her to a small room that reminded him of a cabin. She pointed to the twin bed and shut the door behind her. Jimin didn’t feel like a captive since there was a window large enough for him to crawl through, and there didn’t appear to be any bars or lasers to stop him from doing so if he wished. But he didn’t wish to; he was here for a reason, afterall.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway as someone came jogging up to Vixen. The tread was heavy, likely male, and the visitor greeted her in a male’s voice.

“Hey Vix, I found out where he keeps the goods- why are you frown- ouch! VIX-mmph!”

That male voice sounded awfully familiar. Jimin frowned.

“Shh! I’m gagging you because he’s. next. door!” hissed Vixen harshly. “If you’d checked outside before you snuck in, you'd have seen his car!”

Jimin strained his ears as the whispers softened and moved down the hallway. However, he’d managed to drop a bug on Vixen’s back as he followed her, so he pulled out his receiver and shamelessly eavesdropped.

“I came over the roofs tonight so I didn’t see. I’m sorry, VIx, that was careless; I should’ve known better. I’ll check 360 degrees next time, yakseokhae.”

That was definitely JK.

“Good. Yeesh, oppa, you almost gave everything away! I had Han ready to rush you with his knife to slow you down!”

Oppa?! Why was Vixen so close to JK?

“Sorry, Vixen. But I found out where he keeps the goods, and I’m getting mine tomorrow, so I need to make sure the others won’t be visible when it’s done.”

…the blacklight tattoos each member got when they were inducted into Bangtan? He’d thought JK was a reliable asset to Bangtan, so he’d invited him to get it. JK was obviously Vixen’s spy in Bangtan, but why?…most of JK’s time was spent on his bodyguarding duties with Ara.

Unless…Vixen was going to take out Ara to hit Bangtan and Grey? But both of them were allied with her, that didn’t make sense. And he knew JK would never hurt or let anyone or anything hurt Ara.

Clearly, more investigation was required.

“When are you going to tell him, anyways, Vix? Hasn’t it been long enough for you to trust him?”

Vixen sighed. “It’s a big secret–half my life. It takes time to open up.”

“I understand. I’ll be there when you’re ready. I’ll leave now…”

Jimin heard JK discover the bug when he hugged Vixen goodbye.

There was a pause, crackling as the bug was moved, then a dramatic inhale.

“Vix, what’s this?”

“That’s not one of ours…that’s Jimin’s. I thought I felt his fingers on my back, but I didn’t have time to check.” Vixen cursed, and then all that Jimin heard was static as JK crushed the bug under his boot.

The door swung open, JK standing protectively beside Vixen, who crossed her arms and stared at Jimin.

“Fine. You discovered it. Jungkook is my spy in Bangtan. He helped me start Stray Kids, and he’s an honorary member, since he’s technically affiliated with Gray. I’m not plotting anything against you. Happy?” “Why do you care about Bangtan’s tattoos?” Jimin stared back at her.

“Because Stray Kids have blacklight tattoos too, and I didn’t want to out JK’s and my relationship because you picked a spot close to his previous tattoo to add yours. It’s moot now, I guess.”

“Relationship?” He glanced between the two.

“We’re just friends,” they said in unison, then looked at each other. “What he/she said.”

Jimin sighed. Sure. Just friends. Whatever you say.

“Okay, prove it. Do you have a blacklight around?”

Hyunjin entered with the light and JK unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off one shoulder. The Stray Kids symbol glowed blue at the joining of his neck and shoulder. Along his left arm were eight small bands of moon phases, as well.

Vixen held the blacklight to her shoulder, and the vivid blue symbol appeared on the front of her left shoulder, slightly larger and thicker than JK’s. “Happy?”

“Alright, I believe you.” Jimin took the light from her and waved it over his left collarbone, showing Bangtan’s symbol in glowing purple-blue. “You can choose where you put it, but somewhere that allows for easy access is a good choice for easy ID,” he told JK before turning to Vixen. “Bangtan’s tattoos are secret for a reason.”

She nodded companionably. “Same with Stray Kids, hence, blacklight. JK and I won’t say anything.”

JK nodded as Jimin looked at him. “ I won’t say a word, boss.”

“You’re affiliated with three families, JK. Which one are you most loyal to?”

JK swallowed, his big eyes a bit rounder than normal at Jimin’s subtly threatening tone.

“Yeah, JK, tell me who you’re loyal to,” Vixen buffed her nails against her shirt as she leaned against the doorway, the very picture of nonchalance.

“...I am equally loyal to them. My primary loyalty is to your wife.”

After several tense seconds, Jimin smiled approvingly and patted his shoulder. “Good.”

Vixen nodded at him for his diplomatic answer, then left to continue her spar with Hyunjin.

Jimin and Jungkook rejoined, watching the spar just as VIxen put Hyunjin in an armlock. He tapped out and Jungkook danced into the ring. “Still mad at me for my slip up, Vix?”

“No, we’re good. Foxtrot spar?” She added one of her many code words with him, requesting the use of martial arts plus blades.

Jungkook nodded, and the spar began.

Jimin leaned forward, closely following the pair’s movements. Their sheer grace and long practice of martial arts gave them the facade of a deadly dance, clearly used to practicing together.

Silver flashes gleamed as their knives slashed and parried, tucked away the next second for strikes and kicks.

Finally, JK saw an opening as Vixen slowed from fatigue, her previous spar with Hyunjin lowering her endurance. Caught in a chokehold, Vixen tapped out.

Bowing, the pair ended the spar. Jimin clapped, impressed. “You both fight very well.”

“Thank you,” they said in unison, leaning down to grab a water bottle, opening it, and chugging at the same time.

Jimin rolled his eyes. Totally “just friends”.

Two weeks later, two days before the beginning of the trials, Ara took Nabi to the mall to take her mind off the upcoming event. Nabi now had a varied wardrobe, but Ara was looking for formal dresses for them for a future party..

Nabi had settled in surprisingly quickly, becoming more talkative and outgoing as the days passed, though she was still a quiet child.

She had only been on the street a week since her mom died when she was kidnapped. No one knew who or where her dad was.

Ara had contacted a counsellor for Nabi to see when she was ready to talk about it, and she and Jimin had agreed they’d love to foster with intent to adopt. When Nabi was ready, they’d talk about it. So far, she seemed to love the house, and she often followed Jungkook around like a duckling when he wasn’t with Ara.

Jungkook casually browsed through the men’s section of the formalwear store while he kept an eye on other customers. Ara took Nabi to the womens’ changerooms to try on a couple dresses each. Stepping into the room beside Nabi’s, she froze at the reflection of the man in the mirror with the gun painted at her.

“Follow me quietly and you and the kid won’t get hurt,” he growled.

Tentatively, Ara turned around, hoping Nabi would stay in her changeroom.

Alas, that was not to be, as Nabi stepped out. “Unnie, my zipp-” she stared at the man and Ara calmly, though her eyes were wide with shock. Slowly, she crept behind Ara, keeping an eye on the man.

“Come quietly and you’ll both be fine,” threatened the man. They headed out the back way to the van idling by the door.

Getting in, Ara felt the dull throb of a needle prick as everything faded to black.

~~~

Jungkook headed to the fitting rooms anxiously. Twelve minutes had passed with no sign of either Nabi or Ara. Normally, Ara asked for his opinion on formal fits; while he supposed she may have decided to ask Jimin’s opinion instead, he was still a little worried.

As soon as he saw the silver and jade hairpin Ara had worn that day on the ground, the needle pointing to the back exit, he knew something was up. Pulling out his phone, he began making calls.

~~~

Slowly blinking her heavy lids, Ara tried to focus her thoughts and make sense of everything. As she gradually became more clear-headed, her memories returned.

Pretending to still be unconscious, she strained her senses to check her surroundings.

So far, she could tell that she was likely in a warehouse (how original) in the industrial area by the Han River, with the smell of water and the faint industrial noises surrounding her.

Nabi was in the chair behind her, back-to-back, either still out or merely pretending, like herself.

Ara couldn’t sense any hostile presence around–evidently, they were still supposed to be under the drug’s influence for a while longer.

Carefully, she pressed her watch button in and twisted it, sending an emergency GPS ping to both Chan and Jin.

Clearly, the kidnappers didn’t expect much of a chaebol heiress; since she was untouched, her eight knives, two GPSs, and five impromptu weapons were still on her. Well, at least they were respectful. This meant she was likely not going to be harmed, at least at first, and they didn’t know she was Vixen.

She could work with that.

“Nabi-ah, are you awake?” If she was, Ara would have to wait for her prince(s) in shining armour (unless the kidnappers tried something before then), but if Nabi was still out, Ara could fight her way out and then claim a rescue…

She felt Nabi’s hands brush hers, then– “I know you’re Vixen. Can you get us out of here before oppa comes?”

How- how did this child– Jimin still didn’t know!

“I’ll try.” She wiggled a knife free and passed it through their bonds to Nabi. “Go for blood if you’re in trouble. Now is not the time for guilt or gentleness. Use your teeth and elbows if you have to. Aim for fleshy parts like eyes, groin, or disabling their arms and hands.”

“Got it,” Nabi whispered back. “You’re so cool, unnie.”

Ara smiled inwardly, then began tugging the knot of the rope around her hands loose.

Once she had undone the ropes, she slyly slid one of her knives from her thigh free, using it to cut Nabi loose. “Sit tight unless you’re attacked, okay? On three, I’m going to get our captors’ attention. I already sent a distress signal, so Jimin and Jungkook will be here soon,” she added to reassure her foster daughter.

On three, she ripped the blindfold off and stood up, sliding the knives tucked into her heels out and kicking them off, choosing to fight barefoot.

A quick slash up the side seam of her skirt, and she was ready to fight.

The kidnappers had noticed that she was awake, and five men dressed in black ran into the room.

Good, no guns, yet. The illegal weapons left traces very difficult to clean up and explain away.

Silently she charged the row of three, using the first’s momentum to tumble the second and third like dominoes.

While they were still reeling, Ara began slicing at the fourth and fifth, incapacitating them by aiming for their thighs and shoulders.

One, Two, and Three regained their balance, and Ara hurled one of her blades into Two’s shoulder as she danced around Three, hitting pressure points to take him out.

On her way to One, she yanked the knife out of Two’s shoulder, jabbing it at his waist and thigh.

One appeared to be better trained than the others as he aimed for a pressure point on Ara’s neck. Unluckily for him, she grabbed his wrist, forced him to his knees, and kicked him in the groin.

Spinning back to Two, she hit his neck to temporarily paralyse him, watching him slump before repeating the motion on One.

Sighing, she brushed her hair out of her face, wishing she hadn’t dropped her hairpin at the store as a clue for Jungkook. He’d have found her soon enough through the CCTVs, and she could see better without her hair flying around if she’d kept it.

A second batch of five emerged from the hallway she assumed led to the boss’s control room, but this time the group was armed and better prepared.

Ara supposed the first group were the disposable, bottom-tier underlings who underestimated her.

Dropping into a crouch, she grinned ferally. Worked every time.

Two and Three charged her at the same time, so she simply crouched there, then uncoiled at the last second. Using Two’s knee as a springboard, she wrapped her legs around Three’s neck, sending Two sprawling and choking Three out.

On her way to meet One, Four, and Five, she gifted Two a knife to the thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery. Oops.

Just before she hit One and Four, she dropped to her knees and slid by, taking their legs out. Rather badass a move of her, if she thought so herself.

Five grabbed her by the hair–rude, but smart— thankfully, it was long enough she could twist to face him and swipe at his knees, then grab his wrist and twist him around.

He released her hair, and she swiftly knocked him out, then headed back to the still-conscious Two, Four, and One.

A quick insurance stab to their dominant arms, and all ten opponents were incapacitated, if not unconscious.

Ara spun to the door, dropping into a defensive stance and re-gripping her blades tightly, only to relax in relief when IN and Felix showed up.

“Oh, good, you’re the first ones here. Nabi knows– I’ll figure out how later– but as of right now, Jimin doesn’t know, so you two took out those assailants, okay? I watched you rescue me when I woke up halfway through the fight,” Ara quickly aligned their cover stories.

Clearly, she should tell Jimin about her…nightly business ventures, but now would not be the time.

“Yes, ma’am,” Vixen’s bodyguards saluted, then began dragging the kidnappers into a row and tying them up.

Ara reclaimed her knife from Nabi and sat back in her chair, holding hands with the girl.

“Jimin-ssi should be here very soon and we can go home, okay? You were so brave; I’m proud of you. It’s okay now, so I understand if you’re a little scared or overwhelmed. Do you want to talk about it?”

Nabi shook her head. “I wasn’t scared; I knew you’d keep us safe, and Jimin-oppa and Jungkook-oppa would come for us.”

‘’How did you know I’m Vixen, Nabi-ah? And I gather you figured Jimin and Jungkook out too.”

Nabi grinned, turning in her chair to face Ara. “Jimin-oppa doesn’t wear a mask. I recognized him from the night when you all rescued us. That pink hair is kind of distinctive. I thought Jungkook-oppa worked for Vixen, but then I saw him with Jimin at the police station. I didn’t know till you woke me up for supper the first night; the way you talked to me and approached me was just like Vixen. And then I saw you with Jungkook-oppa and you were close to him like Vixen was.”

“Is that why you were watching us all so closely?” Ara had a revelation. “I just thought you didn’t trust us yet.”

Nabi nodded proudly. “I was trying to figure out who knew what about who.”

Ara smiled at Nabi and smoothed her hair down. “You are a very clever girl– you’re the first person to figure out that Shin Ara and Vixen are the same person. Everyone else who knows, I told. Have you figured out what everybody knows by now?”

“I think so…you and Jungkook-oppa know each other and Jimin-ssi, and he knows Jungkook-oppa but not you?”

Ara nodded, “Good job, Nabi-ah. Jimin’s family and mine are allies, and Jungkook works for both of them, Gray and Bangtan. He also works for my –Vixen’s– family, Stray Kids. Jimin-ssi and my appa both do not know about me being Vixen, but I think I should tell them now, don’t you?”

Nabi nodded. “Secrets should be kept few and far between.”

“Wise wor-”

Their talk was interrupted by a group of armed men bursting in, guns in hand.

Ara and Nabi blinked back at Jimin’s wide gaze. “You’re safe!”

He holstered his gun and anxiously looked them over. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, pulling Ara into a hug, then Nabi. “What happened?”

“We’re fine, Jimin. Nabi is probably a bit more anxious than she lets on, but we’re fine,” Ara ran her hand down his chest soothingly, feeling the rapid thumping of his heartbeat.

Jimin pulled back to examine Ara's face. “Why is there blood on you?”

“Oh, it's not mine, it’s…theirs…” Ara waved at the neat row of captives guarded by Felix and IN. “They took those guys out and rescued Nabi and me. Jungkook called them, saying we were in trouble.”

Ara had to have some last fun as Vixen, before she unmasked. Unable to resist, she asked in a loud whisper, “Why are there so many of you and why did you have a gun?!”

Jungkook coughed loudly to cover his laughter at Ara’s acting. Felix and IN exchanged grins, turning their backs to ‘guard the prisoners’.

The rest of Jimin’s squad of six looked awkwardly around, invested in the drama and wondering how their boss was going to get out of this jam.

Panic flashed through Jimin’s eyes. “Uh…why don’t we get you home and have a doctor look at you, jagiya. You must have been so scared, Nabi-ah. Let’s go home, hm? I think Mrs Lee was stress-baking up a storm.”

Jungkook slipped out to start the car and told Jimin quietly, but loud enough for Ara to get the message, “I called Dr. Hyunjin– he’ll understand. I have Lady’s men ready to help; I called her guys after you and Jin-hyung.”

“Thanks, JK.” Jimin escorted his girls to the car, leaving Jungkook to drive home while he fussed over them in the backseat.

Ara waited till Nabi showered and Hyunjin okayed her to do anything, much to her husband’s chagrin.

Nabi went straight to bed, and Hyunjin told Ara and Jimin that she was healthy, with no side effects from the drug used to knock them out, and was only stressed, though less so than he’d expected.

Ara was touched by Nabi’s faith in her and her guys.

Hyunjin said good night and all the attention was on Ara. She willingly took a shower, conceding to that after adamantly refusing Hyunjin’s checkup.

Finally, so Jimin would stop worrying, she agreed to give him five minutes to reassure himself that she was indeed feeling 100%.

Ara perched on the counter in her ensuite, her towel wrapped around her neatly and another on her head to keep her hair from dripping in her face.

Cupping Jimin’s face in her hands, she looked him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, yeobo.”

“It’s not your fault, jagi,” Jimin protested immediately.

“Not the kidnapping, no, but the worrying, yes. There’s something I need to tell you. Please don’t freak out, okay?”

Jimin nodded warily, his eyes full of questions.

Ara grimaced, then said. “I know you’re Park Jimin, Head of the Bangtan mafia.”

His face jerked out of her hands. “What? No, I’m not– where did you–”

“Sh, I know, Jimin.” She cupped his face again. “I know Appa is Shin Jungok, head of the Gray mafia. I know my oppas work for you and him as mafiosos. I know your friends aren’t just your friends, they’re also mafia. I know my friend Minho is mafia. The reason I know all this is because…I’m mafia. I’m Lady Vixen.”

Jimin pulled his face away again to stare at her, his jaw slack and his eyes wide.

“I know I was never supposed to know who you all are, but I have since I was twelve. I started planning Vixen then; Kookie helped me. When I was seventeen and Kook was my full-time bodyguard and we could sneak around, I became Vixen.”

“I…don’t believe you.”

Ara hopped off the counter and exited the bathroom, heading for her closet. She changed into jeans and a blouse, then slid her shoes on. “Follow me if you dare.”

Jimin took her hand, confused and curious, as Ara led him to Jungkook’s bike in the garage.

They hopped on, Ara revved, and they sped off, Ara making evasive manoeuvres and pulling over randomly to ensure no one would follow them.

Ara casually strolled up to Vixen’s HQ, D9, and entered her fingerprint, eight-digit code, and eye scan after a moment’s pause.

She headed straight to the back, to Vixen’s room, waving briskly at the sparring members of her mafia gathered in the main room, and pressed on a panel in the wall.

The panel popped out and Ara reached in, removed a small package, and slipped her contacts and fangs in. A small tube of lipstick sat on a shelf, and Ara carefully applied a coat. The mask went on, the jacket was zipped up, and her boots laced up.

Dumbfounded, Jimin watched as his wife did a slow twirl in front of him, a smug smirk on her face. The entire transformation took five minutes.

“You’re really Vixen.”

“Yup.”

Hyunjin popped in with the blacklight again and Ara confirmed her SKZ tattoo on her shoulder. “Thanks, Jinnie. Can you ask the others to come see me in a minute, please?”

In the minute they were left alone, Ara sat behind her desk and kicked out a chair for Jimin to sink into. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner–for worrying you without reason. I was actually the one who knocked out the guys; Innie and Lix got there after. That’s why I was bloody.”

Hyunjin reentered with IN and Felix, handing Jimin a bundle.

He unwrapped it to discover six knives and two stilettos, which caused him to turn to Ara in confusion.

She smirked. “I never go out unarmed. I also have a GPS in each watch and a few of my larger jewellery pieces. I could also have utilized the belt on my skirt and my necklace as weapons, if I so wish. Unfortunately, I had to leave my hairpin behind, but I often wear my hair up in pins because they double as an excellent weapon in a pinch…especially if they’re modified. All this is to say, I’m sorry for worrying you earlier, and I can take care of myself, so please don’t worry if something like this happens again.”

Jimin stared at her, taking in this whole other side of his wife he’d overlooked before. “Wow, you really are a vixen.”

She tossed him a wink, a proper one, as Seungmin, Minho, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung entered.

“Sup, Vix? Oh…”

“Yep, I told him. Thought he might like to know some of my most trusted men, so he can reassure himself about everything.”

Once her men gave a succinct explanation of their path to Stray Kids and left, the couple were left alone, silence blanketing Vixen’s office.

Jimin leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “You’re really something, jagiya.”

The faint sound of people sparring elsewhere in the building filtered through the air while he collected his thoughts.

“I want to be angry that you hid all this from me, but I can’t really without being a hypocrite. Thank you for telling me now.”

Ara sighed in relief. “Thank you for accepting this part of me. Shall we agree to keep no more secrets?”

The two shook hands solemnly. “No more secrets.”

“Oh, by the way…Nabi figured you out the first night she stayed with us because you don’t wear a mask, and also because of your pink hair. She found me out because Vixen and Ara approached her the same way.”

Jimin sputtered and Ara giggled.

“We have a future menace to society and the underworld on our hands.”

Park Jimin and Shin Ara exited the courthouse, their bodyguards shielding them and their new daughter from the paparazzi.

Once the trial was over and the traffickers harshly sentenced, Nabi relaxed more and was able to enjoy life.

She’d readily agreed to Jimin and Ara’s proposal and was delighted to become a Park.

Secretly, she was dying to know which Family she’d join when she grew up, but wisely didn’t say anything about it.

Now, the papers were signed, sealed, and filed, and Kim Nabi was officially Park Nabi.

In honour of the occasion, Bangtan and Stray Kids had collaborated again to open Black Swan, a restaurant that would be Nabi’s future, if she so desired.

Bangtan and Gray had also collaborated to open Blue and Grey, the last bar in the Blue string owned by Jungok.

He’d been thoroughly shocked to find out his little girl had known for a long time about his secondary business, and how she had twisted his most trusted men around her little pinky (Jin and Namjoon had been glared at for weeks after Ara spilled the beans), but he was proud of her ambition and success, even though he wished she had stayed on the legal side of things.

~~~

Jimin crawled into bed beside Ara and flipped off the light, turning to pull her to him.

“How is everything going? You’ve been pretty busy lately,” she murmured, cuddling into his body heat.

“It’s calming down now, thankfully. The worst part is seeing you less.”

“Flatterer,” she said, but Jimin heard the smile in her voice. “I miss you too, when you’re busy like this.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, enjoying her angelic appearance as the moonlight fell across her face. They lay there, cuddling in silence for a while, until a thought struck Jimin. He’d been getting used to talking to Ara about his mafia issues, knowing that she’d understand him better now.

“Yoongi is looking for a wife.”

“Oh?” Sheets rustled as Ara pulled away a bit, turning to look at him.

“Yeah, for some reason he wants a wife who’s not in a gang. You know anyone?”

Ara made a noise of surprise. “Really? Hm…I might! You know how I’m allying with that gang, Seventeen, temporarily? I might find a way. I’ll look into it.”

TO BE CONTINUED…in Godmother: Tigress

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading my story! I hope you have a beautiful life<3

Some fun notes about the universe, if you're interested:

-> 22924514 = Vixen in Alpha-numeric code. It's Vixen's code for D9. D9 is a STAY easter egg.

-> Jimin and Jungkook were both part of the same trafficking/rescue situation. They weren’t together, though, and their memories are fuzzy and black out from that time. Eventually, they realise they have a connection and bond over it.

#bangtanwhq #bangtanfamiglianet #group: bts #member: pjm #type: fic #author: star-my #series: godmother #title: vixen #chapter: 3 #length: 5-6k #rating: t #au: arranged marriage #au: ceo #au: mafia #bts fanfic #bts jimin fanfic #bts ff

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