#that's besides the fact that he's touch starved as all hell and any small touch would probably kill him

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Identity Pt 6 (Extra Scene)

Part (6) of Identity, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

There are two people in particular to blame for this chapter. You know who are are, and I love you for it.

Warnings: Big emotions in this - rage, guilt, blame, and the like. There do be a bit of fighting, but it's not gory. Brief description of water torture. Profanity

WC: 2,032

No one moved, breath nearly trapped in their chests as they watched the pair steadily make their way out of the hanger. Crosshair noted the stiffness in her movements, the slight hitch in her step, and his teeth ground at the certainty that her shoulder was only a small part of what she’d suffered.

“What the kriff did you do?!” He snarled at the group of regs still staring toward the now empty hallway. He’d half-expected Hunter or Echo to growl some half-hearted warning for him to back down, but they seemed just as eager for answers as he was, and the unspoken permission that granted him, the justification in loosing his rage on the remaining members of the 104th left him near shaking, face twisted with the full display of his fury.

“We followed our orders; just like she did… Things just… got complicated.” The one with the double oval on his forehead replied, and the dejection in his voice only worsened Crosshair’s anger.

“The hell does that mean?” His voice ground between gritted teeth, body innately taking a half-step forward.

“It means there were unforeseen circumstances that caused problems, and that you lot aren’t cleared to know anything more.” The clone bearing a wolf-head emblem said, not shying from the very real threat in the sniper’s posture as he tread forward to place himself pointedly between his men and the enraged squad before him.

“I don’t give a Sith’s tit about your mission. The kriff happened to her, and why didn’t any of you stop it?!” He spat, shoulders pulling back as he towered over the Sergent.

“No time.” Another reg replied gruffly from behind the telltale helm of a pilot. “When everythin’ went down, we were all too far away to do anything, an’ they had her whisked off to the other side of planet before we could reach her.”

“She was alone?!” Echo nearly shouted from behind him. Crosshair didn’t question Hunter’s silence thus far, assured that his brother was listening, calculating; that he could smell the cocktail of adrenaline filling each of them and was comparing their heart rates, their body language, the tension in their every taut muscle to figure out just how far they could be pushed before snapping, how much information they might glean from tongues loosened by shame and guilt.

“There wasn’t supposed to be any combat where she was.” The last one sighed, his head dropping toward his chest.

“Can’t help but notice not one of you has a damn scratch, so how’d she end up like that in a non-combat zone with you lot still looking like damn shinies?!” Cross shot back, disdain dripping from every word.

“That’s enough!” The pilot barked, moving stiffly forward to stand beside his brother. “Think you’re something special? That you’re all high and mighty just ‘cause you’ve got some damn crush? Well, how ‘bout we compare how many times she’s been hurt working with you than with us?!”

He nearly ignored the subtle shift of Hunter’s hand signaling him to back off, but caught himself mere heartbeats before throwing himself forward, fists clenched hard enough to shake.

“If you’re referring to combat ops, given the general nature of your missions, which tend toward community outreach and long-distance support, in addition to the fact that her most grievous injuries were caused directly by your commander’s intentional actions, statistically speaking, that comparison wouldn’t do much to support your argument.” The subtle note of annoyance in Tech’s retort was just enough to draw a huff of something too dark to be likened to laughter from Crosshair.

“Still haven’t given a reason why she was alone.” Wrecker’s voice was quiet, and that alone left Crosshair leaning slightly to the side lest he find himself between them should the massive clone decide he was done listening. “She’s a medic – can’t really do that if she’s not with you.”

“She wasn’t there as a medic.” The first reg explained wearily.

“Then why was she there? Why pull her from our unit at all?” Hunter asked, carefully masking his own anger with a feigned gentleness.

“Comet.” The Sergent called, helm shifting to stare pointedly at his brother. The silence that followed that warning only sought to fuel Crosshair’s ire while worsening the 104th’s collective remorse.

“We needed someone who could blend in with the Separatists.”

“Boost!”

The man who’d spoken drew a sharp breath at the reprimand in his brother’s tone, head snapping up to stare him down as he wrenched his helmet free.

“No! Dammit, Sinker, they should know what happened! You think needing to keep it a secret is going to do her any good?! Hell, that one’s clearly read plenty of our old mission briefs already!” Boost roared, hand snapping toward Tech. “Why the hell wouldn’t he read this one? The only difference between us telling them now and him reading about it later is how much time they’ll have to get their shebs ready to help her when she’s back.”

Despite his lingering urge to lash out, Crosshair found himself both quieted and unnerved anew at the man’s words, torn between wanting to berate them for their carelessness and appreciating Boost’s argument.

“I know…” Sinker replied, voice nearly breaking beneath the weight of remorse threatening to overwhelm him, “but that’s not our call to make.” Comet and the other one, the pilot, had both turned their attention from Crosshair and their brothers, as though waiting to see who’d cede first that they might be granted permission to speak freely.

“Then you go right ahead and report me, Sergent.” Boost spat.

“Our contact chose the location.” Sinker’s shoulders fell at Comet’s quiet whisper, but he offered no further dispute. “It was a gathering for high-ranking Separatists. The plan was her to get in, get a datachip, and monitor security while we broke into the gala’s database to get more info… get a little something extra for the effort. Apparently, our contact had ulterior motives, too. He planted a bomb. She got caught in the blast, and then she was blamed for it.”

Air hissed through Crosshair’s teeth; dread twisted through his chest at the knowledge of what a Separatist interrogation entailed.

“We got to her as quick as we could.” The pilot continued, arms crossing over his chest at the guilt clearly sown through his own words. “Beat up some guards, tracked all the outbound ships… finally had to hunt down the damn contact himself to figure out where they took her.” He didn’t need to look back to know his brothers stood as stiff as he did, waiting for that final blow of what exactly had happened.

“They had her for about eight hours.” Resigned, Sinker finally turned back to face him, movements weary as he also reached up to remove his helmet, and Cross couldn’t help but be slightly surprised to find that the man shared his silver hair color, a fact that instantly annoyed him further, but he held his tongue as he waited for the reg to continue. “We know she was unconscious most of that time, but when she woke up…”

“Enough with all the kriffin’ stalling. Just tell us wha’ happened.” Wrecker growled impatiently.

“She was drowned.” Comet stated bluntly, and Crosshair’s blood went cold. “They drowned her, brought her back, and waterboarded her trying to find out who was behind the explosion.”

He could feel his heart racing, felt his breath quicken, every thought screaming at him to fight, to forgo all fear of reprimand or consequence for the relief of even a moment’s outburst, because that was something he knew. He knew how to deal with the pain of raw knuckles and split lips. He knew the taste of disappointment his brothers would harbor in the aftermath of his rashness. He knew the sting of defeat and the empty pride of victory, and, in that moment, held no preference for either. He merely needed the distraction; that familiarity, because the ache in his chest, the way it threatened to cripple him and rend him into a frenzy too overcome with grief and guilt to think straight was something he didn’t know how to deal with, and that terrified him.

“I assume she’s been given appropriate treatment to prevent lung infections?” The emptiness in Tech’s voice robbed Crosshair of that lingering rage to which he’d been clinging, leaving him cold and void of the will to drag himself back to the forefront of a confrontation that no longer promised anything of the respite he’d longed for.

“Yeah.” Boost answered quietly. “She also has a burn on her calf… wrists and ankles got torn up from fighting the restraints… pretty sure that’s how she dislocated her shoulder, too. We got it all cleaned and bandaged, but… just keep an eye on it.” There. That last comment was all it took to rekindle his anger, and he grasped it like the fleeting lifeline it was.

“Think it’s pretty clear we don’t need your advice on how to keep her safe.” He drawled, head tilting just enough to portray the depth of his contempt.

“That’s it.” The pilot growled, throwing himself forward without further thought or warning. In that split second before they collided, Crosshair felt the very edge of his lips twitch up into a broken smile born of relief and ruined by a guilt he’d deal with later.

In an instant, everyone was shouting, and he thrived in that moment of chaos as the man’s fist crashed into his jaw. Already, several hands were grabbing for him, straining to wrench him back, but not before he landed his own strike, knee plowing into his stomach with enough force to wrench the air from his lungs despite the plates of heavy armor. Crosshair just managed a final punch to his assailant’s head before Wrecker forced himself between them, iron grip locked around the reg’s shoulder in a threat even the haughty pilot couldn’t feign ignorance to.

In the brief fray, he’d failed to notice the split second of distraction tear Hunter’s attention away from them, but he instantly froze as his brother hauled him near enough to whisper harshly into his ear.

“Cody commed me. It’s Doc.” Already, Hunter was pulling away from him, torn between ending the fight and answering the summons. “Don’t make things worse.” He added with a snarl forced into barely audible growl. Expression faltering into horrified dread, Cross merely nodded. Hunter didn’t hesitate before turning and dashing from the hanger, and then all Crosshair could hear was the heaviness of his own breathing, the way his heart pounded in chest beneath that rush of emotions resurging mercilessly in the wake of his vain attempt to escape them.

He glanced back to find his brothers studying him carefully, confusion clear in their eyes as they waited for some explanation, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak, not when the other squad stood watching him with that same attentiveness. Without a word, he merely nodded toward the hallway leading to their temporary bunkroom, sparing not so much as a glare back to the men he still sought to blame for all of this; for calling her away, for letting her get hurt, for reminding him just how easily he might lose her because of this Force-forsaken war.

He didn’t listen to the hushed voices of the 104th as he began walking away; barely let himself note the sets of footsteps voicing his own squad belatedly falling in line behind him. He couldn’t think beyond the fruitless need to know why Cody had called Hunter, what had happened in the debrief; mind demanding he find some means to force his way into that kriffing office in his brother’s stead, and his rage grew at the knowledge that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do but wait. All his training as a sniper, years of drilling the importance of patience into him, of forming that patience into a weapon honed to perfection; it was all useless against this, and he couldn’t keep himself from slamming his fist into the wall in a final fit of frustration as they neared the still foreign barracks.

Next Chapter

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[danses-with-dogmeat]

Male!Companions react to waking up alone after spending the night with Sole.

Hey all! So, just a heads up, I’m also working on this prompt for the Female!Companions for FO4, and also a bunch of companions from FONV and FO3, but if you have any specific requests or want me to add anyone, just let me know! Sorry this is so damn long, but I hope you all enjoy!

Also, there is a bit of angst in here with some mentions of suicidal thoughts, so just a heads up on that! 

P.S. If you’re one of the lovely folks who has sent me an ask, I am currently working on writing them up and I will definitely get them out as soon as I can, I just really like the prompts y’all gave me and I want to do them justice :)

Danse:  

     Danse sat up with a start, immediately trying to gain his bearings, only to find himself still in the bunker, in his own bed. He let out a shaky breath, still dazed from the heavy sleep that had claimed him. It had been years since he'd slept like that, the last time he recalled sleeping so peacefully was when he was stationed at the Citadel in the Capital Wasteland. Even more than that, he had barely slept at all since discovering his true identity. Danse shook his head, trying to clear it of its sleepy fog, he went to rub his eyes, and he felt his heartbeat increase tenfold as the memories of his night with you came flooding to the forefront of his mind. Even now he felt the heat of a blush rushing to his cheeks. He turned his head, expecting to see your peacefully sleeping form on the mattress beside him. When he didn't, he wasn't sure what to do. Immediately, a slew of emotions and thoughts ran through him, ranging from shame, to panic, to anger, and most of all, hurt. Before he allowed himself to arrive at any premature conclusions, Danse called out for you, looking around the room. Nothing. He stood up, holding the blankets around his waist to conceal himself as he made his way to the hole in the wall that allowed him to peer into the other section of the bunker. Still nothing. The slew of contradicting emotions bubbled up again, leaving him feeling slightly numb. He stood there, just staring, trying to grasp a hold of any clear thought, but they were inadvertently tumbling into his consciousness at an alarming rate. 

All at once, one feeling prevailed over the others, and Danse found himself feeling extraordinarily guilty. Guilty for agreeing to last night, for jeopardizing his friendship with the one person he had left in his life by greedily pushing too far. What right did he have to you and your feelings anyway, when his weren't even real? The pain of being deserted by you was overshadowed by the knowledge that he didn't deserve you in the first place. Even when he thought he was human, he had trouble rationalizing his feelings for you, thinking you deserved better than someone like him. Someone as hard headed, as inexperienced, and emotionally ignorant as he was. But now? Now, he wondered why you even bothered to waste any of your time on him, even just as his partner, when it was proven that he's nothing but a machine. Why had you even suggested last night, when you knew the truth about him? 

He simply couldn’t understand it. Why had you allowed him to be with you in such a way? To be with you so intimately? Why had you allowed him to touch you so invasively? Why had you spoken to him so softly, so earnestly? How could your gaze have been so full of admiration, of love? He was a goddamn machine, and you’d let him share a bed with you, make love to you. He didn’t even know what love was, didn’t know if it was possible for him to even feel it; and yet, you’d been more open with him than he had been with anyone before. And he wasn’t even human. He was at a complete and utter loss for any form of explanation or reasoning behind your actions. 

Danse stood alone in the bunker, staring ahead with brows furrowed low at no single thought in particular. It was then that he realized his heart was still beating out of his chest, he took a deep breath, and prepared himself to leave the bunker in search of you. Because, even now, when you were at the center of his feelings of uncertainty, of guilt, of hurt, he still felt the need to seek the counsel of the one person left he could truly trust, the one whose opinions he had sought in the darkest hours of his existence. He needed you. 

More than that, he needed to make sure you were safe. At least that's what he told himself as he dressed, donning his power armor, before he rode the elevator up to the surface, his iron-clad hands clenching tightly as he gripped his laser rifle. 

As Danse arrived at the surface, he noted the sunlight bursting through the lone window of the bunker, indicating how late he'd slept in, and he mentally kicked himself for his irresponsibility. If he had woken at his usual hour, would you have still been beside him? Perhaps he could've spoken to you before you left, encouraged you to hear him out, begged you to stay with him. Even just as a friend, just as a partner. He felt he simply couldn’t cope with the loss of you, of the security that you provided him. 

 Danse shook his head in an attempt to banish these useless thoughts from his mind. He couldn't control the past, he had to keep looking forward. With that, he crossed the threshold out into the Commonwealth.

Danse returned to the bunker a few hours before sundown, feeling utterly at a loss, he'd been everywhere he could reach, everywhere you could've gone in the period of time you had had to get there. He checked every house, farm, settlement… everything in the bunker's vicinity. His limbs felt weak and numb as he approached the entrance to the bunker. He could feel heat rising up in his face as his chest ached. He felt like he needed to hit something. Tears of frustration and dejection threatened to spill over, and he brought a gloved hand up to roughly wipe away the first drop that fell. Though, through the blur of wetness, he spotted a silhouette in the doorway ahead of him.  

     "Where the hell have you been?!" You shouted, running from the bunker and straight into Danse's arms. For a moment, he remained still, unable to reciprocate your relief in his state of utter shock. In the next instance, his rifle fell from his grip and he was wrapping his arms around you, as tightly as he could without injuring you. 

    "I believe I could ask you the same question, soldier." Danse said, willing his voice to remain stable. You pulled away so that you could look up at him, your expression one of confusion,

     "I thought I told you last night. I had to go to Greentop nursery in the morning and talk to the settlers about their mutant problem." He blinked at you in surprise. At least, you thought you had told him, but maybe it had slipped your mind. It didn't surprise you, given last night's activities. 

     "But… Why didn't you wake me?" 

     "Because Danse, I've never seen you sleep in, I wanted you to get some rest for once." 

     "I would have rather been with you." He said quietly. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued, 

     "It was irresponsible of you to leave me uninformed, you should have woken me. You scared me, Sole. I thought…" he took a quick breath to steady his voice, "I don't know what I thought. I woke up and you were gone, I wasn't sure if you were in danger, or if you were angry with me, or whether or not you even meant to return."

     "Danse, of course I was going to come back, I just didn't expect you to be gone when I did."

     "And for that, I apologize. However, I implore you to understand--"

     "Danse. It's okay, we're both here now, we're both safe. And I don't know about you, but I'm starving. C'mon." You turned towards the bunker and went to make your way inside. Danse stood a moment, watching you walk away. Feeling began slowly returning to his limbs, and for the first time all day, his heartbeat slowed to its normal rate. He reached down to pick up his rifle, a small smile spreading across his lips as he moved to follow you back into the bunker.

Deacon: 

     Deacon opened his eyes, only to immediately close them again, as the bright morning sun showed through the windows of Ticonderoga safehouse, and directly into his retinas. 

“Damn,” He said, reaching over to grab for his shades from beside the mattress. Once they were placed onto his face, he decided it would be safe to open his eyes once again. Deacon groaned as he rolled his shoulders, and sat up, stretching his arms overhead. 

God, he felt good. The tightness of his muscles serving as a reminder of the… ahem, events of last night. Last night, with you. How the hell had that happened? He almost couldn’t believe it. After so many years of being alone, of feeling emotionally inept, and unable to move on. Here you came, seemingly out of some sci-fi novel, with your futuristic, time-traveling backstory, and inhuman good looks, and for some reason, you’d thought he was, of all things, cute. That was the word you had used, he remembered it vividly, and of course he had feigned being annoyed by the use of the word to describe him, but in reality? He adored the fact that you thought so. No one had ever referred to him as such, and the fact that it confirmed you reciprocated the feelings he had for you; that was truly extraordinary. These feelings that he had tried so desperately to bury deep down, where they couldn’t meddle with your friendship, or your professional relationship, or his own crippling fear of being committed to someone again (given how well it went the first time). Now, he barely understood why he had tried so hard to snuff out his emotions if this was one of the possible outcomes of revealing them to you. He never dreamed that you could have returned the affection he had for you. However, if last night was any kind of indicator… yeah, he’d say the two of you had pretty strong feelings indeed. 

At least, that’s what he had thought. Until he turned to you excitedly, looking to see if you had woken yet, and found your spot next to him quite empty. His jaw clenched at the sight, but he took a breath and resolved himself to looking around the safehouse for your belongings. His teeth worried anxiously against the inside of his cheek as he noticed the distinct absence of anything belonging to you. Deacon stood in the middle of the safehouse, bringing his hands up to roughly rub at his face.   

“God dammit.” He said aloud, unable to keep something from escaping him. Deacon liked to think he had a good bit of self control, it came with the job after all, a spy with no sense of restraint and proper judgment didn't live very long. However, you had this way of making him forget everything he thought he knew about himself. There he was last night, doing the one thing he vowed he'd never do again. Falling for someone. Him! Deacon, the immature, sarcastic, dishonest, and unemotional agent of the railroad; and here he was, head over heels for a widowed, pre-war saint like you. What a pair you two would have made. 

I suppose it really was too good to be true. He thought bitterly.

Deacon grabbed his things and set off into the Commonwealth without so much as a glance over his shoulder. He stared dead ahead, refusing to address the pressure he felt in his chest. Trying desperately to maintain his cool and unbothered exterior, to remain the type of person he was before he'd met you. He always knew he could change the way he looked in a day or less, but the way you'd changed his perspective of the world, of his place in it, and his future? He didn't think you could have changed who he'd turned out to be if you had all the time in the world. Deacon was firmly set in his ways, so much so, that even he couldn't change who he was. No matter how much he despised himself at times. But man, had he been wrong, all the disguises in the world couldn't mask the fact that, for the first time in years, Deacon had a priority in his life besides the railroad, and besides himself. And that scared the shit out of him.

 Now he wasn't really sure what to think. If you had simply wanted nothing more than a one-night stand, you could have just told him so. At least then he would’ve been prepared for this shit. For you leaving him, seemingly without a second thought.

The sniper shook his head roughly as he kicked up the dust of the wasteland, his footfalls much heavier than they had any business being. He always had prided himself at being a good judge of character, at being intuitive, but he never would have expected something like this from someone like you. Someone who cared about the happiness of everyone else more than their own well-being, someone who was kind, and selfless, and empathetic, someone who constantly put their own life at risk for the benefit of complete strangers. Sure, he did that occasionally, but his life was worth a hell of a lot less. You were a good person, and always had been. From the moment he saw you, everything he heard about you, all of it pointed to the fact that you, even after all you’d lost, after everything you endured, you were a better person than he could ever hope to be. And now, for you to do this to him? It was completely out of character. Whatever, he thought, if this is all you wanted from me, then fine. It's all you're going to get. 

As he approached the Old North Church, Deacon mentally prepared himself for the possibility that you too would be at the Railroad headquarters. He decided to simply not acknowledge your… ordeal, and act as though nothing had changed. Though, if Deacon was honest (which he rarely ever was), he would rather not have you as his partner anymore. With the way he was feeling-- the way he had once felt about you, it would be too complicated. He didn’t need complicated. The railroad missions provided enough of that. 

He entered HQ quietly, and mulled about, visiting with the others and picking up missions left and right in an effort to acquire enough distractions to keep him out of the church for as long as possible. He figured that way, the likelihood of bumping into you would be decreased enough for him to get a handle on himself before having to face you. But, of course, his plans were all for naught, he realized as you stormed into the catacombs, your glowering eyes falling directly to the bald sniper in the corner of the room; the sniper who was trying desperately to make himself seem distracted as he felt your eyes burning into the back of his head. At least you had the decency to lower your voice as you approached him, 

“Deacon!” You hissed, shouting his name as quietly as one could shout. 

He continued staring at the blackboard, a hand at his chin as he feigned interest in what was written there. 

“What the hell?” You asked, taking another step towards him, close enough that he could feel your hot breath on his cheek. 

“Hmm? Something wrong?” He asked, turning his head towards you while his eyes stayed glued to the board in front of him. You took a step back, and the next thing he knew, you had extended your hand forcefully towards his face, leaving a stinging red mark imprinted on his cheek in its wake. Deacon’s head snapped back towards the blackboard at the power of your blow, his sunglasses barely managing to hang onto his face by the bridge of his nose.  

I’m not sure if I deserved that or not…

He brought his own hand up to rub the spot you had just slapped, finally letting his eyes meet yours from beneath his crooked shades. He nearly gasped at your expression. Your eyebrows were knitted together above your tear-filled eyes, your mouth a straight line as your chin trembled slightly. He’d say you looked sad, but behind your eyes, all he could see was fire. The same fire he’d felt when he saw that you had deserted him that morning. Or, at least, when he thought you’d deserted him. 

Almost without thinking, Deacon grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the more private area of the railroad HQ. Despite your clear vexation with him, you allowed him to lead you to the back of the church catacombs, near the emergency exit. 

“Alright, you finally ready to explain yourself?” You asked, wrenching your hand from his grasp.

“Me? I’m pretty sure it was you who walked out on me, and who just slapped me in the face for asking a simple question.” Your nostrils flared at that and for a moment, Deacon thought you were going to do something violent again. 

“Okay, look, I know I’ve fallen for your lies before, but I think it’s pretty damn ridiculous for you to think that I’ll believe this one. I was there, Deacon! You left me. You took all your shit and left me alone at the safehouse. I don’t care what happened the night before, even if it was awful for you, or awkward for you to see me in that way, or whatever, you still don’t abandon your partner. We agreed to that the moment I became an agent.” 

Deacon’s jaw dropped to his chest at his realization, and your accusation. He had left you? When? How? When was he supposed to find that out?

“Look, Sole, I’m a liar, I’ll give you that. But I’m a good one,” you rolled your eyes at him, a scoff sounding from your throat, “so, I wouldn’t even attempt to lie to you if I could see that you absolutely knew the truth.” 

“God, if you’ve got a point, make it, asshole.”

“Ouchies, no need for name calling there, slappy. I’m just trying to figure out the miscommunication issue we’ve got going on here.” You glared at him, and he was forced to continue. 

“The truth is,” Deacon looked down at the floor as he spoke softly to you, feeling as though the words were being wrenched from his throat, “I only left because I thought you had first. I woke up, and you were gone. Your things were gone. I thought that was it, that you were done with our… partnership. Done with me. And hey, I can’t say I’d blame you. Especially if you’d really think I could just up and leave after spending a night like that with you.”

“Oh.” you whispered, before trying to explain yourself, “I wasn’t-- I didn’t just leave, I mean, I went up to give High Rise the MILA for Tom. I was gone for five minutes, Deacon. I was coming right back.” The two of you stood a moment, as realization washed over you. And a bit of regret, too. And a sprinkle of foolishness. 

Finally, he brought his gaze up to meet your eyes. Hoping his apology was as evident on his face as it was on yours. You brought your hand to his cheek, soothing over the angry red mark that you had left earlier, and Deacon flinched slightly at your touch, his eyes falling once again to the floor. 

“It really only took you five minutes to think that I had left you?” You asked gently, the anger that had once been prevalent in your voice dissolving into concern. Deacon chuckled dryly.

“Haven’t I taught you anything? When you assume the worst, it’s a lot harder to be disappointed.”  

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But I bet it makes it all the better when you find out you were wrong.” Deacon smiled weakly at you, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, no. I’m not seeing the appeal in being wrong just yet.” The hand that still rested on his cheek slid to the back of his neck, grasping firmly as you pulled his face towards yours. The pressure of your brow displaced Deacon’s shades as you crashed your lips into his. He toppled backwards against the wall of the catacombs as you pressed more forcefully into him, his arms falling behind him to steady himself against the cold brick, as your unoccupied hand slunk up to his chest, keeping him pinned between you and the wall. You pulled your head back, but kept your hands in place as you murmured, 

“What about now?”

“Hmm?” Deacon’s ginger eyebrows raised above his glasses as his mind went blank. You cocked an eyebrow at him, a smirk forming on your face. 

“Oh, right. I suppose so. Though, I think I’m gonna need a few reminders every once in a while.” 

“Hmm,” you mused, “I think that can be arranged.”

Hancock: 

     The ghoul awoke with a purr, stretching one ruined arm out to blindly search for your sleeping body. He distinctly remembered curling up with you wrapped tight in his embrace before lulling off into the best sleep he's had in years. For the first time in months he didn't have the nagging ache of wishing you were pressed against him as he settled in for the night. The thoughts of you lying so close but so painfully out of reach were finally pushed from his head to make room for the sheer bliss of being able to touch you, to feel your unbelievably soft skin, to breathe in your sweet scent and relish in the closeness of your body against his. 

That was of course, until this morning. Hancock opened his eyes lazily, his dark gaze sweeping over the mess of bed sheets and pillows that littered the plush mattress. The sight of the disheveled blankets bringing back heated memories of last night. Before his brow furrowed at the realization of the current situation he found himself in. Hancock slowly rose from the bed, his dark eyes searching the surrounding room for any sign of you. He found his trousers, his hat, his coat... but nothing of yours remained where they had been tossed last night. If Hancock had a nose, it would have been curling alongside the rest of his scrunched up face as he thought of you leaving in such a hurry this morning. Hancock felt a pain in his chest and immediately craved a hit of something, anything, to numb the hollow feeling that began spreading through his body. 

     Sunlight shone through the windows of the old state house, the beams of light diffused by the ringlets of smoke rising from the ghoul's mouth as he took yet another hit of jet, trying hard to keep his mind blank, but inevitably failing as his thoughts returned to last night's events. Coming almost in slow motion, he picked apart every movement; every touch, kiss, lick, and caress, nitpicking every action he had made and thinking about what he might've done to warrant your desertion of him. But deep down, he knew that his actions mattered little. You had assured him on numerous occasions that him being a ghoul didn't bother you, but you had never really seen him before. Not in the way you saw him last night. Had never felt his rough skin on yours, had never run your hands up his ravaged body, the softness of your touch only amplifying the harshness of his own leathery flesh. You had never uncovered the gross discoloration of his radiation-ravaged body. But last night, you had finally gotten a good, long look. And here he was, thinking that you of all people could’ve seen past that. You had been able to forgive him for his past, after all. Hadn’t you? But maybe that had been part of it too. Maybe you’d finally realized all that he really was. A reckless and cowardly poor excuse for a man, who spends his life in a haze of delirium rather than facing the pain of being alive. A pain that he had inflicted upon himself to break away from that same self-righteous fog that he’d found himself in in the first place. It’s no wonder you’re gone. Maybe you were never even really here. Maybe you were just another daydream of his, just another hallucination. God, if that was the case, he didn’t even know what he would do. After having you so close, being with you like this? He didn’t really see the point in living without you.  

Hancock sighed heavily at the thought. He didn't know how long he sat simply thinking, his perception of time temporarily altered by the jet, but he had to do something to alleviate this torture, and if chems wouldn't do it... well.... 

  "I need some air," he rasped aloud as he stood and headed for the balcony, donning his coat and hat on his way out. The mayor had to keep up appearances, after all. 

He almost didn't see you as he stepped through the door, the way you leaned out against the rail, eyes closed, a soft, beautiful smile playing at your plush lips. Hancock could've stared at you until the world around him turned to dust, but you moved long before that musing could come to reality. Turning to look at him, your smile brightened further, and Hancock couldn't keep himself from touching you. He grabbed one of your hands in his, using his other to caress your pink-dusted cheek, affirming that you truly were physically there, standing in front of him. 

     "And what were you doing out here all by your lonesome? Trying to give a ghoul a little taste of heartbreak?" You let out a soft laugh, 

     "No, sweetheart," you called him affectionately, leaning into his light touch upon your cheek, "I thought that you would sleep longer. I just wanted to get out and enjoy some sunshine." You turned once again towards the morning sun, the rays highlighting every one of your perfect features. Hancock beamed at the sight of you, before turning and looking out at his city in thought, 

     "Hmm," he mused, "Sunshine, huh?"

MacCready:   

      MacCready had been lying on his back for a while now, staring at the crumbling ceiling of the dingy little room at the hotel Rexford. This certainly hadn’t been his idea of an ideal location for your first time together, but who was he to complain? It was safe, and private, and it had been a damn good night. But he’d been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, waiting for you to stir. He’d thought it was odd, given the fact that you always woke up first when the two of you traveled together, but he’d like to think you hadn’t yet stirred because of the way he had exhausted you last night, his chest puffed out at the thought of it and he let out a contented sigh. The thoughts of your night together spilled into his consciousness, and he stretched out his arms in front of him, snickering slightly at the soreness of his body, and suddenly, he couldn’t wait for you any longer. 

 “Geeze, you awake yet, sleepyhead?” MacCready rolled onto his side to face the lump under the covers. He ran his hand over the mattress, over to you, but as he reached the lump beneath the blankets, all he felt was plushness. He withdrew the covers from atop you, only to find… pillows? Just a pillow, and a blanket. MacCready’s body spasmed as he jolted out from under the covers on his side of the bed, his head flying from side to side as he looked for you. 

“Sole?” He cocked an eyebrow at the empty hotel room, and as he noticed your absence, his expression quickly changed from confusion to one of anger. You had left? But why? Had he done something wrong? He didn’t think so… but maybe he just... wasn’t everything you expected from him. Feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach, MacCready climbed from the bed, grabbing his trousers from the floor and stomping around the room in pursuit of the remainder of his clothes, not failing to notice how everything belonging to you was no longer in the room either. Heat rose to MacCready’s face as he pulled on his duster, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, or anger, or heartache, or some combination thereof. 

What the heck? He thought, you were the one to suggest doing this, why would you do that if you were just gonna leave me like this? Right when MacCready had thought he’d found the one. The person who could help him move on from Lucy after everything he’d been through. You were perfect, not just for him, but for Duncan too. You were selfless, and kind, compassionate, resourceful, sometimes you were a bit of a sarcastic ass, but he loved that about you. You were a parent and a spouse, just like he had been. You were both lost, and broken when you found each other, just a couple halves that had made each other whole. You were his future... Or so he’d thought. But who was he kidding? You were so out of his league, the two of you weren’t even playing the same damn sport. He should’ve known this would be the outcome. But then, why the heck did you let it go this far? Sure, he was the one who had poured all of his feelings out onto the table, but he didn’t know what he’d expected you to do. He just felt like he would explode if he held them in any longer, especially when the two of you spent so much time together. He saw you every damn day, and all he wanted to do was hold your hand, he wanted to sleep beside you and hold onto you through the night, to have you run your fingers through his hair and tell him that you felt the same way. MacCready never imagined you’d do something like this to him, never thought you’d get his hopes up, dangling the future he'd always dreamed of having right in his face before ruthlessly snatching it away. 

He rolled his eyes at his own ridiculous train of thought and groaned as he bent down to grab his rifle. 

“At least you paid for the room up front.” he mumbled as he placed his hat on his head and made his way to the door.

 MacCready’s footsteps fell heavily onto each stair as he headed down to the lobby, wondering where he’d go from there. He considered going and looking for you, but what was the point? Clearly if you wanted to see him, you wouldn’t have freakin left. Was he really petty enough to seek you out just to tell you how messed up it was that you’d left him the way that you did? Maybe… but he needed a drink first. To the Third Rail it was, then. What was it, 10am? He could drink at 10am. He could do whatever the heck he wanted, especially now that you were gone. 

MacCready reached the bottom of the stairs, looking straight past the small crowd of people that were gathered in the lobby as he made his way to the exit. Just as his hand reached the door, he heard his name being shouted. His body shuddered at the sound of your voice, and he stood stock straight as he decided what to do. One fist clenched as the other hand pushed the door open and he crossed the threshold into Goodneighbor. The door never closed behind him, and he felt an iron grip on his forearm as he tried to head towards the Third Rail. 

“Ow, hey!” He spun to face you, face slightly contorted in his confusion. What was he supposed to think now? He was still angry and hurt, but should he be? Ugh. 

“Wait, Mac. I know how it must’ve looked, but really, it’s just a misunderstanding.” He stared at you, his deep blue eyes clouded with suspicion. He didn’t say a word, not wanting to ruin anything by making false assumptions or accusations. Instead, he waited for you to explain, wrenching his wrist from your grip as he folded his arms over his chest. 

Before you could continue, Rufus came up from behind, asking quietly if he could go through the doors. 

“Come on,” you urged, “let’s get out of the doorway.” You herded MacCready to one of the couches in the lobby, seating yourself next to him. 

“Alright. Explain.” He said, brows still furrowed. You almost snickered at how put-out the sniper seemed. You couldn’t quite tell if it was an act or not, but knowing MacCready… yeah, probably not an act. 

“Rufus was having some trouble with Drinkin’ Buddy.” You told him, “The bot shut down and no one could get him to turn on again. This morning, some sort of warning light started flashing, so he came up and asked if I could help him fix it. I would’ve asked you to come along, but you were still asleep, and I know how you hate being woken up…” You trailed off, waiting for him to say something in response. 

Man, MacCready felt moronic. Why had he been so quick to assume the worst? Okay, maybe not the worst, the worst would’ve been… Well, that’s not important. He shook his head, finally letting himself breathe deeply again. 

“You sure that was it?” He asked, uncertainty coating his tone as he narrowed his eyes at you. 

You leaned forward, smoothing a hand up his chest to the back of his neck as you brought your lips to his. Your fingers fiddled with the hair at the base of his neck and held him to you as your mouth moved against his, trying to answer his question without having to use your words. This was better, anyway. You felt a hand move to your waist as he relaxed into the kiss, his strong grip pulling you nearly into his lap as he returned your fervor. Only when you needed air did you pull back from him, your heartbeat still racing as you watched his gorgeous eyes flutter open. 

“Did that answer your question?” You asked cheekily. He smiled, face still pink from the heat of your kiss. 

“I don’t know, boss, I may still need some more, ah, reassuring.” You snickered at that, and glanced back at Clair’s desk. 

“Any more convincing and we may need that room again. You think if we go now, we won’t have to pay the hotel for a second day?” 

God, I think I’m in love. MacCready thought as he nodded to you, a boyish grin spreading across his lips. At that, both of you scrambled off of the couch, quickly making your way towards the stairs and up to the hotel room.

Nick: 

     The synth didn't sleep, but he didn't mind it. He stayed awake beside you in bed, replaying memories of the night over and over in his mind. Although he wasn't sure how comfortable it could be, he had his arms curled around you, holding you tightly to his synthetic chest while the memories of his favorite night (in either of his lifetimes) were running through his mind. You snored softly in his embrace, utterly at peace, as he gazed affectionately at your soft features. Nick didn't often feel blissful, and he never would've imagined himself in this situation, being completely content with the person he admired, and adored so adamantly, safely wrapped in his arms. He should've known it wouldn't last. 

Without a sound, he felt as you slowly and gently pried his arms off of your body, climbing off of the shared mattress. Nick figured that you would give him an explanation; perhaps once you were out of bed? When you went to go and dress yourself? Before walking through the door? But you were silent throughout, even as he heard the door click shut behind you. Nick closed his eyes tightly, sighing to himself and wondering if the pain in his chest was substantial enough to cause him to short circuit. What had he done wrong? Even if it was nothing, he would understand why you had left. Even at his best, Nick could hardly amount to what any average human could give you, and he could never give you everything you wanted. Everything you needed, and deserved. He wasn't real. So he wouldn't blame you for leaving, hell, if he hadn't been so caught up in his own blissful feelings, he might've encouraged you to go. And he had, before last night had truly begun, he recalled asking you if he was what you really wanted. Then, you had seemed so eager, almost laughing at the thought that he couldn't be enough, after all this time the two of you had spent together, and all your pining over him. These thoughts circled through the synth's mind as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He willed himself to grab a file and get to work, to do something, anything, to distract himself from the pain, but it was as though the weight in his chest was too much to bear. The height of his earlier high only amplifying the depths of his current low. 

     Every attempt to look through a case file was a failure, his yellow eyes roaming the first few lines of writing before his mind drifted off. To thoughts of where you could have gone, whether or not you would come back, and thoughts of last night. At the way you made his pistons fire at triple times their normal rate, the way you made his metal heart flutter in his chest, and the way you had come so beautifully undone in his arms. That was it. The moment he needed to remember for the rest of his days on this ruined earth. At that very moment, nothing else seemed to matter. He was sure he'd been foolish before, thinking you could never care for him in such a way. How foolish he'd felt then... it was nothing compared to now. The synth brought his metallic hands up to his face, the tips of his fingers displacing the worn hat on his head. He imagined tears flowing from beneath the heels of his hands as he dug them into his eye sockets, but of course none came. Would that have been acceptable? If he had been able to shed real tears, like a real human being, would you have stayed after last night? If he had been able-- 

The door to the agency burst open at that moment, interrupting the old detective's thoughts, and sending his head shooting back to see who had busted in so aggressively, his hat flying from its usual place atop his head. 

The fact that the synth couldn't breathe didn't matter in this moment as he huffed a massive sigh of relief at the glorious sight of you, the light of the early morning sun casting a warm glow around your body. 

"Oh doll..." the words escaped him as a smile began to spread across his synthetic lips, "for a moment there, I thought you were an angel." You giggled at that, your flushed smile causing the whirring in his chest to increase exponentially. 

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, I was just about to open up a missing person's case on ya." You finally closed the door and made your way to his desk, leaning down to give his cheek a chaste kiss as you smoothed your hand over his chest, stopping to grab at his tie and pull him up towards you. 

"Always the professional, hmm detective?" You smirked at him and he gave you a crooked smile before bringing his good hand up to stroke his thumb over one of your soft cheeks. 

"Although," you continued, teasingly bending down to pick his hat up from the floor, "your uniform doesn’t seem to be up to the usual standards." 

"Oh? Is that what you think?" He said, reaching for the hat before you held it behind your back, a mischievous grin forming on your lips, 

"Sure is. You don't have your hat.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” He interjected playfully. 

“And” you continued, “look at this coat, full of rips. It’s practically in shambles." you ran a finger down his side, allowing the tip of your fingernail to catch at the tiny holes littering the worn fabric.  

"Hey now, my coat's always looked like that. You didn't seem to find fault in it when you were cold last night." You shook your head, 

"Nope, I'm sorry Mr. Valentine, it's all in disarray, I'm afraid we'll just have to scrap the whole thing." 

"Well now, if that’s what you were after, you could've just told me, darling. No need to insult--" His sentence remained unfinished as you tightened your grip on his tie, pulling him in for a kiss that was anything but chaste. He had so many questions left unanswered, but for reasons unknown, he couldn't seem to think of a single coherent inquiry to voice to you in this instance. Looks like it will just have to wait until later.

Preston: 

     Preston felt uneasy. His eyes had opened slowly when he had awoken, his heartbeat had remained consistently calm, dapples of sunlight shone through the holes in the curtains beside the bed, indicating that he had slept through the night. Why did everything feel so… so peaceful? No nightmares, no panic attacks, the usual insomnia Preston tended to face in the wee hours of the morning had never reared its infuriating head. 

Then he remembered. 

It was all because of you. Amazing, incredible, infallible, irresistible you. Heat flooded to his face as a coy smile touched his lips. Suddenly, he felt he had to be near you, he had to see you to believe what his mind told him had happened last night.  

“Mhm, good morning," he sighed, as he turned to face your side of the bed, "how are you-- ?" Preston's eyebrows creased as he noticed your absence, his voice trailing off as he realized his question had no recipient. 

"Sole?" He sat up, rubbing his awakening eyes before glancing around the room of your Sanctuary house. 

"Sole?!" Preston said, louder than the first time. Perhaps you had simply gone to the washroom? Or to the kitchen maybe? Rising from the bed, Preston fetched his trousers from the pile of clothes that rested at the foot of the bed, trying not to dwell too much on the thoughts that it inspired. 

But... only my clothes are here. He reflected, feeling a pang in his chest, before reminding himself that you might want to be clothed, wherever you’d gone, even if it was just in your own house. He released a bit of his anxiety in a quick breath, before heading for the bedroom door, he opened it gingerly, glancing down the hallway before making his way to each of the rooms in search of you. He did so slowly, hesitantly, in fear of what he might find. Or, rather, afraid of what he wouldn't find. 

Preston stood in the empty kitchen, numb, his fear utterly realized. He collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, afraid to let himself think, but unable to do anything else in his current state. Why, why, why did he have to act on his feelings for you? He just had to tell you how you made him feel, he had to be vulnerable and had to “put himself out there.” He just had to be intimate with you, he had to ruin everything. Why couldn’t he have just been happy with the way things were, with you as his friend? There he was, his life in danger, unable to help the people who needed him most, the Minutemen in complete disarray after having failed those they vowed to protect, and there you were. Here to save their asses, to turn his disaster of a life into one full of hope, full of light, and now, you were gone. You had left because he was an inarticulate, inexperienced, greedy, fool of a man who couldn't keep his mouth shut and just settle for having you as his general, and as his best friend. Why had he needed more? He didn't deserve more, not with you, hell, the whole damn world didn't deserve you, so how did he ever think you could want to be with him? 

But you told me you did. You said you cared about me and-- No. Actions speak louder than words, and your absence after the first night you two had spent together… that spoke volumes. 

Maybe you finally realized that I'm nothing special. Not compared to you. Maybe you realized that, next to you, and without you, I'm nothing at all. Preston balled a fist and pounded it weakly against your worn kitchen table, the dull thud resounding through the empty house. He sighed, sliding the chair back with a groan as he rose to his feet, heading once again to the back of the house. Entering your room without you felt like a crime, but he figured he might as well remove his things, and put on the remainder of his clothes, before leaving.

He stared down at the pile of tousled fabric at the foot of the bed, slowly untangling each individual article, secretly hoping that, if he took long enough, you would eventually make your way back into the room. That you would give him some inconsequential excuse for your absence, and he could forget all of the confusion and uncertainty of the morning. As Preston gingerly began to re-dress himself, thoughts came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. The way your soft, gentle fingers had undone each of the buttons of his shirt, the pressure tickling his neck, then his chest, down his stomach to his naval, your hands wasting no time as they moved upward to push the silky material off over his shoulders. He recalled the feeling of the smooth fabric of his scarf, as it unraveled slowly around his neck, a chill creeping onto the sensitive skin before you had chased it away quickly with the heated touch of your sweet lips. He remembered the breathy gasp that had escaped from you as your hands grasped tightly at the lapels of his coat, his mouth colliding with yours over and over again as his mind screamed for him to stop, to slow down, to ignore the fire blazing beneath his skin. 

This is your general! It had told him, this is your friend, your recently widowed friend, your friend that you desperately need to keep in your life! If you screw this up, how will you ever be able to forgive yourself?

He should have listened to his head then. Why hadn’t he? Preston was sure that, if he had, it would have spared him from the awkward discussion he was bound to have with his superior officer in the near future. It certainly would have saved him the pain he was feeling now. 

At the same time though... Last night had been the best night of Preston’s life. Did he really regret having those memories now? Yes, he had to. After all, what did last night matter if it hadn’t made you happy? 

Preston shook his head, releasing a breath he was sure he’d been holding since he left the kitchen. Pulling up his boots, he grabbed the remainder of his things and left the room, glancing back at the empty bed one last time before placing his hat atop his head and pulling the door shut softly behind him.

The beams of morning sunlight chased away the fog that had settled in the streets of Sanctuary, bits of bright blue sky peeking through the gaps in the clouds. Looks like it’ll be a nice day. He thought somberly, trying desperately to perk himself up, lest he bump into any settlers on his patrol. He wouldn’t want to worry anyone with his troubled expression, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to answer any questions about his current state. Preston started towards the bridge, planning to begin his patrol of the perimeter from there. He was so focused on his destination, he nearly failed to notice the hand waving him down from the side of the street. When he did turn to look, his breath caught in his throat. 

“Sole!” He exclaimed, much too loudly, as he noticed you, nearly dropping his laser musket. A wounded settler was seated on the curb, you were kneeling next to him on one side, wrapping a bandage around his arm, with Sturges standing on the other, an empty stimpak in hand. As soon as he processed what he was seeing, the Minuteman lieutenant tried desperately to compose himself, a blush inadvertently creeping up his cheeks as his eyes met yours. He adjusted his grip on his musket, and cleared his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment.  

“Is everything alright over here?” He asked, making his way over to the group, “What can I do to help, general?” you gave him a small smile, assuring him everything was alright, and finished tending to the settler who, as Preston found out, was a new arrival who’d run into a pack of mongrels on his way to Sanctuary. When they were all certain the settler would be okay, Preston quietly asked the general if they had a moment to talk, much to Sturges’ amusement. 

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it, then. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Sturges slapped Preston on the back as he passed by, snickering to himself. Preston felt heat rising to his face again and quickly motioned for you to follow him behind the house, hoping to get a little privacy. He took in a sharp breath, before releasing it slowly, and you smiled warmly at him. That’s a good sign, I suppose.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you quietly. Your eyes looked past Preston, almost as though you hadn’t heard him, and he felt a pang in his chest. Turning your head slightly, you glanced to either side, ensuring no one else was looking on, before turning back to him, looking into his eyes as a flush touched your cheeks. 

“If I’m honest?” you started, and Preston’s breath caught in his throat, “I’m a little sore.” you said with a little smile, and Preston felt his knees wobble as his legs nearly gave out in relief.  

“Heh, if I’m honest, me too.” He said, shyly looking down at his feet as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. “So, about that,” he continued, “last night, I mean. Did you, ahem, did you like--”

In an instant, your lips were on his own. The kiss was soft, but forceful, affirming all that Preston was uncertain of. 

“Last night was… amazing, Preston.” You told him after you had pulled away, your hands resting on his shoulders, keeping his body pressed to yours. 

“Then, when you left this morning ... ?”

“Sturges was looking for you when he found the settler on his patrol this morning, but he obviously didn’t find you in your bed, so he came to find me and--”

Preston groaned, an embarrassed smile forcing its way to his lips, 

“He didn't see anything, did he?” You giggled at that,

“No, honey, he didn’t see anything.” You rolled your eyes playfully, before pulling at his shoulders, urging his ear to your lips, “But someone did. And I hear they really liked what they saw. You know who it was?” you whispered. 

“Who?” you heard him breathe.

“Hmm, you really don’t know?” You sneaked a peek at his face, noting the goofy grin that spread all the way to his warm, chocolate eyes, and you couldn’t help but lean further into him. Preston drew an arm around you, his hand on your lower back, keeping you anchored to him, and all apprehension following this morning’s events seemed to be forgotten.  

“You might just have to remind me.” He said cheekily, pulling you into another kiss.

X6-88: 

     The tightness in his chest was the least of the courser's worries as he woke to find himself utterly alone. You were gone, that, he knew. But where-- no, how? How had you woken and readied yourself without also waking him? 

He never should have agreed to last night. Not only was it completely inappropriate, given your future position in the Institute, but it had distracted him from his main duty. The most important mission he'd ever been assigned: to watch over his charge, to keep them safe. To protect you. He had grown distracted, and now you were gone. The future director of the Institute, someone he respected and idolized, a person he cared about, more than anyone he'd ever come across in his existence, was just gone. His loyalty to you was akin to his loyalty to the Institute itself, and that was non-negotiable, unbreakable, hard-wired into him. You had won his devotion on your own, which made it that much more meaningful. And that much more painful when he realized that you might not feel the same loyalty for him. But why would you? And why did he care? He was allowed to feel allegiance towards you without you needing to return it, was he not? But … if you had felt this loyalty for him, you surely wouldn't have left him alone, correct? At least that's what it seemed like, but X6 wasn't particularly knowledgeable when it came to this subject. He didn't know, these thoughts confused him, and normally you were the one to help him make sense of his more... human tendencies and emotions, but clearly in this instance, he was on his own. You had treated him like no one ever had, like a real person, and so he thought he could start acting like one. Feeling like one. But he was wrong. X6 wasn't wrong often, and he hated the feeling. In his current state, every feeling he had was a negative one. He decided to shut it out. These feelings weren't helping him protect you, which was still his mission, reciprocated loyalty or not. Sitting around, contemplating his emotions didn't help him to find you. 

  The courser sat up and climbed off the mattress, grabbing his clothes that he had folded neatly beside the bed last night, noting that only his were present. After you had fallen asleep, X6 had untangled his body from your own as gently as he could, so as not to wake you, and had placed your clothes beside the bed in preparation for the morning. He had retrieved his courser uniform from the floor, with the intent of dressing himself and sitting on watch for the night, but you had stirred, sleepily requesting he return to the space beside you. He remembered hesitating, before folding his coat and placing it on the table beside your own clothes and doing as you had asked. Sliding beneath the covers, he had laid on his side, placing an arm around your waist. He remembered wondering if what he had done was correct, if he was doing this all right, but you had seemed happy, and that was all that mattered to him. So, if he had done nothing wrong, why had you left? Taken your clothes, and your bag, and your gun, and vanished without a trace? And when had he started caring about your happiness? Your health, and your safety, yes, he should certainly care about those, given the nature of his orders. But now he cared about how he made you feel. He wanted you to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make you feel that way. But why?

X6 shook his head, attempting to clear it, and grabbed his rifle from the top of the dresser. It was distracting thoughts like these that had forced him into his current predicament, he wasn't about to make that mistake again. Placing his shades onto his face, he prepared to head through the door, and out into the wastes to search for you.

  X6 surveyed the surrounding area outside of your home in Sanctuary: the gas station, Abernathy farm, Tenpines bluff, even the inside of Vault 111. Yet, there was no sign of you. He returned to Sanctuary and found your house still empty, the hollowness growing in his chest as he realized that your leaving really had been intentional. Elsewise, he would have stumbled across you, or some sign of you, by now, right? He stood in your old kitchen, his knuckles paled at the death grip he held on the edge of the counter, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold his emotions at bay. 

How could he have agreed to last night? And why would you have presented the idea if you had meant to do this to him in the end? With a groan of frustration, X6 pounded a hand against the countertop, leaving a small indent in the shape of his fist. Not only had you left him, you had done so without warning, without explanation, and now he couldn't find you. He couldn't find you. That's what he did, he was a relentless hunter, a cold pursuant, he completed all of his missions efficiently, he followed Institute protocol, he followed orders. What he didn't do was get wrapped up in human emotions, he didn't throw caution to the wind and give into his most base desires. He was a synth. He didn't yearn, or want, or love. Or at least he hadn't. 

Not until he met you. 

The courser sighed, fists still clenched in frustration. He didn't know what to do, you were his mission, but if you commanded him to leave--? But you never actually had ordered him away... In his eyes, there was only one option for him to consider.

  "Unit X6-88, ready to relay back to the institute. Alone." 

   A flash of blue, and he was back. No one asked him to report in, and he didn't offer. He started straight towards the SRB, wondering what the consequences would be for his behavior. A memory wipe would be the best outcome, especially if... Oh. But if they saw the memories from last night, what would happen to you? 

X6 stopped in his tracks, turning quickly to go up the stairs that ascended to the residential portion of the Institute. Once again, he was at a loss. He didn't want to lose those memories, but more than that, he didn't want anyone else to see them. You were the first person he's ever met that treated him as a human, saw him as one, made him feel like one, and he couldn't bear the thought of what the Institute scientists would say about you, say to you, or do to you, if they saw what you had done with him. The courser looked down at his feet as he walked quickly, moving instinctively towards your quarters. He turned down the hallway, and recoiled at the figure that appeared as your door dragged open. X6’s eyes widened beneath his shades, and he cleared his throat to keep himself from gasping in surprise as your eyes met his. 

"There you are! I was wondering when you would finally turn up, I finished with the meeting hours ago. I was just about to go out and look for you. Don't tell me you slept in this late?" You said with a grin that spread all the way to your glorious eyes. X6 couldn't form words, he just stood gawking at you, his mouth half open, looking like a complete fool. Right, the meeting with Father. How had he forgotten?

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your smile being replaced by an expression of concern. The courser didn't answer, he still couldn't keep his thoughts in order; instead, he stepped forward until his chest pressed against yours, urging you to back into your quarters. You did so rather hesitantly, a confused expression causing your brows to crinkle. When the door had closed behind him, X6 slowly reached out his arms, wrapping them tightly around you, just as you had shown him last night, he pulled you to his chest and held you firmly. The warmth of you, your soft hair and sweet scent calmed his strained nerves, and he finally allowed himself to take a deep breath and close his eyes, just for a moment. As quickly as he'd initiated it, he pulled away from the hug, squaring his shoulders and straightening his posture, 

"I'm glad you're safe, ma'am/sir."

[nejibaby]

Small Details

Pairings: Neji x Y/N

Summary: Neji was a man of few words, even more so with you, and when he sees you with Naruto in a compromising position, he has troubles expressing himself.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: And I finally managed to finish this! It took me so long! Today, I offer you a flustered Neji... 👀 I hope y’all enjoy it because I may or may not have melted after writing this 😚

✨Photo taken from this post by @yul-is-sparkling ✨

Naruto was finally back after two years of training with Jiraiya. Being one of his closest friends, you were excited to meet him and to see for yourself how much he’s grown.

Naturally, you challenged him to a duel the first time you saw him again. It was kind of your thing with Naruto — competing with each other on who’s faster, stronger, better in ninjutsu, anything really. Mainly because Sasuke, who he often referred to as his rival, would rarely indulge him with such things, and you did. You were both competitive like that.

In no time, you were both alone on the training grounds. You could already tell how drastic his improvements were within the start of the battle.

You were in awe at how the Legendary Sannins could bring out the best in their apprentices. But despite not being trained by them, that didn’t mean you were lagging behind.

In those two years when Sasuke seeked Orochimaru for power, Naruto trained under Jiraiya, and Sakura learned from Tsunade, you were the only one in Team 7 who remained under the supervision of Kakashi sensei.

Kakashi sensei may not be a Legendary Sannin, but he was a formidable shinobi — one of the best during his generation even. However, truthfully, he infuriated you at first, not because of how late he always was — you were pretty used to it to the point that you don’t question him anymore about his whereabouts and he stopped coming up with excuses as to why he was late — but because there were times when he was too laidback.

Sure, there were moments when he was hands-on: teaching you different jutsus, lecturing you about certain concepts, informing you on what you should always look out for, drilling your body past exhaustion, and the like. But more often than not he would be saying something like, “Find it out yourself” or “I can’t exactly tell you how” as he leisurely sits on a tree branch while reading the stupid Icha Icha books.

You were dumbfounded and furious at first but when your initial annoyance subsided and you had adjusted to his teaching style, you flourished.

That’s why you could take on Naruto even after his training with Jiraiya.

What started as a serious duel between you and Naruto was reduced to playful banter the longer the fight dragged on. At one point, both of you would just tease each other while throwing kicks and punches halfheartedly.

Both of you had your guards down. That was a mistake on your part, because just as Naruto aimed to kick your face and you bent over backwards to dodge it, you slipped. You lost your footing all because of a rock situated near your right foot.

It was a rookie mistake.

Naruto was quick to notice that you were falling so he immediately grabbed ahold of your hand. The problem was he failed to pull you back up. So you ended up falling down with him. And somehow, he ended up with his arms on the sides of your head so he wouldn’t crush you as you were underneath him.

You were both shocked. You were just blinking at each other. It took awhile for the two of you to gather your bearings. When you did, you both immediately laughed out loud. Naruto moved his body so he was lying next to you as you both continued laughing your hearts out.

“What the hell was that, Naruto?!” You feigned exasperation. “You wouldn’t be able to save a fly if you tried.”

“At least I wasn’t the one making rookie mistakes like that,” Naruto shot back. “Plus I tried to help, that’s what matters.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. You could’ve at least focused your chakra on your soles so we didn’t fall!”

“And you could’ve paid attention to your surroundings, Y/N!”

You bickered with each other as you stood up and helped Naruto get up. What the two of you didn’t know was that your boyfriend Neji had watched the whole incident.

Neji wasn’t really the type to get jealous. He’s a very understanding boyfriend. He’s aware that you and Naruto have been best friends even before he met you. He even knew about Naruto’s feelings for Sakura. However, any sane person wouldn’t want to see his significant other beneath someone else, right? Granted, it was an accident, but still… It was such a compromising position to find you in.

He made his appearance as you playfully punched Naruto in the gut.

You instantly noticed him approaching. Your smile widened even more at the sight of your boyfriend. “Neji!” You called, skipping your way towards him. You would’ve tackled him in a hug if Naruto wasn’t around.

He maintained his stoic expression as he greeted, “Y/N. Naruto.”

“Oi Neji, it’s been a while,” Naruto waved.

Neji only gave a curt nod in response.

You asked, “What are you doing here, Neji?” but just as you ended your question, the answer immediately clicked on your mind. “Oh my god, I’m sorry I forgot!”

Over your excitement of Naruto’s arrival, you forgot that it was a Tuesday. Tuesdays were your lunch dates and sparring sessions with Neji.

“It’s okay.”

“Hold on.” you told him and then faced Naruto. “Gotta go, Naruto! Bye!” you said as you grabbed Neji’s hand out of habit.

Neji flushed, not exactly expecting your action, but you didn’t notice because it was something that you’re used to doing, although not in the presence of someone else.

“See you later!” Naruto waved.

When Naruto was out of sight, you dropped Neji’s hand unconsciously. “Sorry, I forgot about lunch. What time is it? Have you eaten?” You asked Neji.

He quickly responded and told you he hasn’t eaten anything yet.

“Well then, let’s go. I’m starving.”

Neji and you walked side by side out of the training grounds.

“So…” you started saying.

Neji stared at you. “Hm?”

“How was your day, baby?”

He cleared his throat and looked away almost instantly. Very rarely would one find Neji flustered, but calling him “baby” always worked. He wasn’t quite used to the endearment and every time you addressed him as such with tenderness laced in your voice, he would blush. You use it all the time just to see his cheeks tinted pink. It was a cute sight.

“What’s wrong?” You playfully asked while trying to get into his line of vision.

He refused to meet your gaze until he regained his composure. When he did, he told you — in an impassive manner — what he had done in the morning before he went out looking for you.

Despite his expressionless face and his rather hushed tone, you listened intently to the words he was saying, the smile on your lips never leaving your face. Neji was a man of few words even until now that you were together so you made sure you paid attention every time he spoke, not wanting his words to go to waste.

He wouldn’t admit it to you but he loved that about you. You would remember even the little details of his stories, which in itself was a big deal considering you tend to forget a lot of things. You treasured his words, sentences, thoughts, ideas and plans, and kept them enclosed in your memory.

Neji loved that you focused on him. You made him feel like he was important and worthy, and that he mattered, in a completely different way than the others’ view of him.

The others only saw him as important because he was an asset both to the Hyuga clan and to Konoha. He only mattered to them because he has the strength and ability to protect them.

But you didn’t see him that way. You saw him as his own person — a man with a brilliant mind, a great moral compass, and a heart of gold. This was further confirmed when you told him that if his circumstances were different — if he was not a Hyuga or even a shinobi — you’d still fall in love with him as long as his character remained the same.

He knew you love him, there was no doubt about that. It was known; it was an irrefutable truth, an indisputable fact. But why did seeing you with Naruto trigger his insecurities that you had previously put to rest?

His mind was reeling, but he tried his hardest to be in the moment with you.

The thing was, he might have misread you a little. Because the attention that you gave him wasn’t solely focused on his words. In actuality, it extended to his actions and mannerisms as well.

This was how you knew that there was something that was bothering Neji today.

Unwelcome thoughts swarmed his mind, leading him to absentmindedly reach out to you. He was walking beside you closer than usual, with his hand on your lower back. While there was no doubt that he was listening to you when it was your turn to tell him about your day with Naruto, he had a faraway, vacant look on his face.

You may have missed the presence of a rock a while ago, but you certainly wouldn’t miss these small details about Neji.

These might come across as something normal for other people, but for someone like you who dedicated a lot of time admiring and memorizing every little detail of the certain Hyuga boy, it was easy to tell that something was on his mind from the way he was taking up a portion of your personal space. Almost as if his own restrictions were non-existent.

Normally, it would’ve been easier to confront him about it, but you were a shinobi, and if there’s something you learned from Kakashi sensei, it was that you have to gather more intel before actually making a move.

But you could only think of one way to confirm if there was something bothering your partner, and it was through his hair.

On regular days, Neji wouldn’t allow anyone to touch his hair, including you. But when there was something that was bothering him, or if he had a particularly rough day, he wouldn’t mind it if you threaded your fingers through his hair. In fact, he wouldn’t admit it, but he preferred it if you did that. It was something that calmed him down.

So while you continued telling him how your day went, you subtly angled your body towards him. Then you tentatively reached for the tips of his hair with your hand that was closest to him. You managed to grab a few strands of his hair between your thumb and index finger. You twisted them between your fingers.

You looked up to him to check if he was bothered by it, but it seemed like he didn’t mind at all. This certainly meant that his mind was elsewhere, despite the fact that he was nodding in the right parts of your speech and even correcting you when you used the wrong word to describe something.

You retracted your hand after coming up with your conclusion. You even stopped talking as you were thinking of what could’ve happened for him to be this distracted. Neji didn’t even notice you stopped talking mid sentence.

Somehow this just felt different from the times he was frustrated or anxious before, and quite frankly, you were worried.

By the time you had both placed orders and seated in a random restaurant, you decided to confront your partner. “So, Neji, baby, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

He choked on nothing after hearing your question. Was he really that easy to read? Or was it easy just because it was you reading him?

He cleared his throat and feigned ignorance, “What are y-you talking about?”

You opted to give him a pointed look instead of a verbal response.

He didn’t stare back, looking anywhere but you. Most times, Neji would face you head on until you conceded; with you, he was comfortable being stubborn and unyielding because it came without repercussions. But today, he wasn’t up for the challenge. And if you looked more closely, he was once again sporting a faint color on his cheeks.

You waited a moment for him to answer, or at least to look back, but it was to no avail. With a sigh, you said, with the softest tone you could muster partnered with a reassuring smile, “Would you let me know when you’re ready, at least?”

Surprisingly, Neji looked at you then. “It’s nothing… It’s just… something silly.”

You gently grabbed a hold of his hand. “Don’t tell me it’s silly, I know it isn’t if it bothers you, baby. You don’t have to tell me now if you aren’t comfortable yet, hmm? Just know I’ll be here to listen to you.” You gave him a genuine smile and a small squeeze to his hand before letting go.

Neji’s eyes hadn’t strayed from then onwards. He had to admit sometimes he would forget how incredibly kindhearted you were, even more so when it came to him. You always made sure he was comfortable. You never forced him into doing or saying things that he wasn’t ready to do or say. You allowed him to make his own decisions and respected them, something that rarely came from being a subordinate of Konoha and a member of the branch family of the Hyuga clan.

Life as a shinobi was sometimes constricting, but you were his breather from all that.

It was your turn to be bashful from his stare. You could feel your face warming up from the unexpected, scrutinizing gaze. “Neji, stop it.”

“What?”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Stop being beautiful, then.”

The words that came out of Neji’s lips startled you. It wasn’t everyday he would actually use words to tell you you’re beautiful. The way he expressed his appreciation to your beauty would come in the form of fluttering kisses or gentle brushes on your body parts — coincidentally, or not, on parts where you feel the most insecure about.

Fortunately for you, the food came at the right moment, since you weren’t exactly sure how to respond to his unexpected compliment. You both ate in silence then, occasionally peeking at each other  — almost like how it was when you first started dating each other.

When you were done with lunch, you expected to take the route towards the training grounds like you both usually did, but Neji’s hand has taken solace on your back once again and this time with intent to guide you to a different direction.

You were confused but you followed anyway. “Where are we going?”

“To my place.” A pause. “Is that fine with you?”

“Sure” was all you could say. Admittedly, you were quite tired from the duel you had with Naruto earlier and you didn’t really have enough energy to spar with Neji, considering he never went easy on you.

By the time you had entered his place, he graciously offered his couch to you, as if sensing your exhaustion. You immediately plopped down on his couch after setting aside your footwear by his front door.

“Tired?”

“Very,” you mumbled.

He handed you a glass of water, knowing you weren’t quite fond of tea. He sat down beside you just as you thanked him and sipped on your drink.

Setting aside the glass, you leaned back on the couch, only to be welcomed by Neji’s arms. A small smile automatically crept into your lips from the gesture. You snuggled into him as a reflex.

It was moments like this with Neji that you treasured most. While you enjoyed tagging around with him and the rest of Team Guy on missions, you preferred spending time with him peacefully like this, without the imminent threat of danger looming over your heads. It was rather a rare occurrence, after all, for two shinobis like you both were.

Neji was first to break the comfortable silence. “I saw you with Naruto a while ago.”

“You did? When?” You excitedly asked while trying to pull away from his embrace to look directly to his face. But for some reason, he kept you in place, your cheek pressed to his neck. “Did you see me kick his ass? Like literally.”

“Yes,” he answered flatly. It was a response that sounded so… dry. Usually when you both talked about Naruto, there would be a fondness from his tone. “But… I also saw something else…” he trailed off.

You raked your mind, trying to remember what had happened earlier. Then the memory of falling down flashed on your mind, and suddenly you felt embarrassed for Neji having to witness such a mistake. “Oh no!” You jumped out of his grasp, startling him in the process. “You saw me fall down! That’s so embarrassing!” You covered your face with your palms.

“Well, yes… but—”

You snapped your head at the tone he used. He didn’t sound like he was going to tease you for your mistake, in fact, it kind of sounded like he was worried.

“I’m fine though, if you’re worried,” you offered, assuming he thought you got hurt from the fall.

“I’m glad you are not hurt,” he said. Not long after you noticed him visibly gulping.

You could tell there was something else in his mind, and whatever it was, you had a feeling it might’ve been the thing that was bothering him a while ago. You tried to come up with guesses as to what it could’ve been. As you recalled how the conversation started and considered how he was acting, a plausible answer popped into your mind.

“Are you perhaps… jealous?” You hesitantly asked. He was the first one to initiate this conversation so you were assuming he was ready to talk about it. Despite that though, you didn’t want to force him to talk so you carefully and reluctantly asked him. He was always allowed to drop the topic if he wasn’t comfortable and he knew that.

Neji cleared his throat as soon as the words left your mouth all the while avoiding to meet your eyes once again. “Maybe,” he almost inaudibly said.

You were surprised by his answer. It wasn’t always that Neji got jealous. The only time he was was when a stranger was blatantly hitting on you in front of him while you were on a mission together.

“It did not sit right with me seeing you in an… inappropriate position with someone else.” He explained. The tone he used sounded like the one he used with the Hokage when he was taking responsibility for something that went horribly wrong on a mission.

“Don’t make it sound like it’s wrong,” you said softly as you cupped his face. “You don’t have to feel guilty about feeling jealous. Your feelings are valid.”

The gentleness and warmth in your voice made his heart flutter. If this was a conversation with someone else, he was sure he was going to get teased for feeling this way, but it was with you, and you had always been different.

“I love you, Neji,” you said before you kissed his lips.

It was amazing how the three words you used that preceded his name could easily wipe out the jealousy that had brewed inside him. This was another testament of how well you knew Neji — not only did you know the small details about him, but you also know the right words to ease his worries.

[moemammon]

When I was in High School, my crush and I got into a fight and neither of us were talking to each other. One day I was headed up the stairwell to get to my science class, when I saw them coming up from behind... I don't think they had even noticed me yet considering that they were busy talking to their friend BUT I am slow going up stairs so even if I rushed up the stairs roadrunner style they would have caught up to me, well; the little corner that connects the steps going up to the second floor and the steps heading down to the ground floor had a large open window... and I jumped out, like I literally just jumped out. I didn't even think it through, I just saw the window and my body was like "Yep, IK what to do." I landed on a bush or tree? It's too big to call a bush but too small to call a tree, landed in a squat before my feet gave out and I fall onto my knees and got two large grass stains on my jeans knee part, couldn't walk right either after that landing, I was shaky all day lol but it was a risk well calculated bc the whole thing would have been so awkward. I mean we used to be like BFFS before the rumors began and then they started and we just stopped talking without warning, we couldn't even look at each other. Our science partners, bc we were in groups of four, literally got fed up of our bullshit bc we literally refused to acknowledge the others existence... anyway, I digress...

Anyway, this whole story is a long winded way of me requesting how the brothers would react to an MC that literally just jumps out windows to avoid awkward moments, or to dodge people that want to ask them for favors, or when they straight up want to avoid someone?

And sorry about the large ass message, but thanks for letting me vent

You have a special place in my heart, window-jumping anon. Just uhhhhhhh look down next time okay? Ily

The Demon Brothers react to GN!MC jumping out of a window to avoid an awkward moment

(Mario jumping sound effect)

Lucifer

He approached you after class to ask exactly what you were snickering at your D.D.D. about during class.

Must've been real funny if you weren't listening to your lecture, huh?

"I imagine you've somehow found something worthy of laughing about in Demonology 101?"

You do not have the guts to tell him that you and Mammon were texting back and forth, abusing a new photo editing app to alter pictures of the eldest himself.

I mean, take a wild guess about how he’d react to seeing how big you edited his head to be-

The avatar of pride lets his eyes pierce into you, like he's trying to stare a hole through your blanket of "uh"s and "um"s,

You don't exactly see a way out of this one, but you can NOT let Lucifer see your photo gallery.

So you glance to your left to the open classroom window, and do the only thing you can think of: you jump.

Luckily you're on the ground floor so you??? really didn't have to jump so dramatically. But the fact that you yeeted yourself into a bush JUST to escape has left Lucifer speechless.

Honestly? He so impressed with your dedication that he's not gonna stop you. Besides, he's gonna see you back at home anyway so-

Also thinks you might be hanging around Mammon too much because that 100% seems like a stunt he’d pull.

Mammon

GIVE GOLDIE BACK RIGHT NOW

He KNOWS Lucifer told you to bring the credit card to him, and he demands to know where it's hidden! He's positive you know where it is!

But you don't really though?? You just brought the card to him like you were asked. If anything, you're the victim here!

But Mammon isn't having that. The avatar of greed is circling around you like an angry cat, patting you all over like airport security to see if you've got his beloved card.

"Where is it, huh?! Ya really think you can steal from THE Mammon?! Even if Lucifer told ya to, who do ya think you are?!"

When he has confirmed that you don't in fact have his previous Goldie, he's now cornering you up against a wall.

If looks could kill, you would've exploded into a fine powder

And you feel like your mental strength is about to do just that. So what do you do after you notices the slightest of breezes caress your face?

You jump outta that open window, before Mammon can even finish his "Wh- Oi! What're ya-"

Even though you just face planted into the garden, you're up on your feet and making a mad dash for somewhere that wasn't here.

Mammon lets you run for ten while seconds before he's hopping out after you. You think you can outfox the Great Mammon?! Think again!!!

Levi

You... weren't interested in this movie in the slightest, but you didn't have the heart to tell Levi that. Especially not after he’d begged/harassed you for the past week about watching it with him!

Reluctantly you agreed, and now you were suffering,,,But Levi was ecstatic! This movie was a classic! Sure it was an old one and the acting was a little bad, but you could overlook that if you watched it with your heart, not your eyes!

According to Levi.

You managed to keep your eyes open for the grueling one and a half hour movie, enduring every corny line of bad acting, horrible CGI, and lame sound effects straight out of a 90s super hero movie, and now the hell was finally over...

Or so you though, until Levi followed that up by immediately pulling out a cosplay outfit worn by one of the supporting characters in the show.

Funny how it seemed specifically tailored to your measurements. Even funnier how Levi was looking at you with those damned eyes.

You knew what he wanted without him even having to say it. But one look at the gaudy outfit he presented to you made your heart burn with a sudden indescribable urge.... to escape.

Honestly you caught him so off guard by suddenly getting up and sprinting out of the room, that he makes a sound that's pretty much the noise equivalent of "?!?!?!?!?!?"

He watches you run down to the end of the hall, throw the window open, and fuckin JUMP. Pretty sure he just witnessed your death??

Also this kinda solidified his 'gross otaku' mentality, seeing as you literally jumped out of a window to get out of cosplaying with him. A simple no would've sufficed, MC.......,.,,..,,,

Hey gamers... can we get an F in the chat? 😔✌️💦

Satan

Satan lent you a book to read last week that he was sure you'd be interested in! He found it pretty interesting himself, so he wants to see if you'd like it as much as he did.

That being said, you don't have the heart to tell him that you,,, didn't read any of it. Well you kind of did, if the cover counts for anything.

You doubt he would accept that as an answer, considering how you told him how much you appreciated receiving the book, and how you'd definitely read it and let him know how it was.

So now, Satan had come into your room with two cups of tea, ready to settle down and have a nice, long talk about your thoughts on the riveting plot that you promised you would indulge in.

"I'm really glad you decided to read it. I found that the protagonist reminded me a lot like you. I'd like to know what you thought about it."

Satan sets down the tea cups, and one sip tells you that he brewed it exactly the way you like.

His expression is eager and warm as he waits for you to begin gushing about just how deeply the story touched you... how absolutely moved you are by the sheer majesty that was the book he lent you...

Okay yeah, you're sweating bullets. You can't imagine how the sparkly eyed avatar of wrath would react to learning that you chose the company of your D.D.D. over Satan's book.

You don't have such an ice cold hard that you can just crush this book nerds dreams like that! And every time you look at his expectant face, the weight of your crimes weigh heavier on you until... you break.

Satan watches in shock and awe as you almost perfectly reenact the big scene where the main character leaps out of the window of a building rigged to explode, before making their escape. And you did just that.

Wow.. he never thought you could be so moved by a story, but he completely understands...

Asmo

How many outfits, Asmo. HOW MANY OUTFTITS WILL IT TAKE TO APPEASE YOU?

He's made you model TWELVE outfits so far, and you swear if you see another ascot, you're gonna lose your mind.

Asmodeus doesn't seem to notice the way the light slowly fades from your eyes, because he's pulling out outfit number thirteen with that cheery smile of his.

"Isn't this one absolutely adorable? Look, this part will look lovely around your waist! This part here hugs your body in all the right places, and this-"

You can't do it. You've gotta get out of here. You'd love to stand around and get mild rug burn from trying on a billion different clothes, but-

Actually no you wouldn't.

You DID promise Asmo you'd hang out with him today, but this wasn't really your idea of a good time.

"-Oooh, just thinking about it makes me want to eat you up~! Here, put it on for me, will you? I'll give you a kiss as a reward!"

You would do no such thing.

You make a mad dash for his ornate window and push it open. He has no time to stop you as he helplessly watches you vault yourself out like the room was on fire.

"MC?! Wh-where are you going?? Come back here! Grass stains are impossible to get out of that fabric!!!"

Beel

He means well. I swear he does. It's just that Beel can be a little... overbearing when he's worried about you. He cares, okay?

But he hasn't seen you eat anything all day! You tell him it's because you've got a stomach ache from who knows what, and you promise you've had little snacks here and there to keep from starving, but he can't accept that!

Eating is important, and you need it to survive. So Beelzebub was currently trying to nudge your mouth open with a pizza slice, while you vehemently refused. "Just one bite. And then another after that. You have to eat, or you'll go hungry... and I don't want that."

Beel knows the true pain of being hungry, and he’d never wish that on you! So just forget about your stomach ache for two seconds and open up-

Not that you really can. The aroma of that pizza was not sitting well on your stomach, and you were pretty sure you needed a fast escape or you'd risk losing your lunch. Greasy foods didn't exactly mix well with sour stomachs...

Beel still won't let up. He has a strong hand planted firmly on the small of your back, as if trying to prevent you from leaning back any further in your attempt to escape the pizza.

"If you eat this, I'll treat you to dessert at Madam Screams," he says, as if bribing your refusal of food USING food will somehow work out.

You can't break his heart, but you seriously can't eat that! Your head is spinning, thoughts racing, face becoming greasier and greasier from the pizza pressed against it, and-

You snap. In a sudden burst of strength you break free from Beel's grasp, and sprint toward the nearest window. All you see is your chance for freedom, and you're taking it.

You leap out and tumble into the ground, all while Beelzebub wonders what?? Just happened???? Did you really hate pizza that much...?

He never knew you were such a picky eater... To think you'd go so far as to jump out of the window though...

Belphie

You thought it was cute at first, when Belphegor wanted you to join him for his naps. And you didn't mind much. It was the weekend, you were tired, and he makes a pretty good body pillow.

But you didn't realize he planned for this to become an everyday thing. The youngest might not act it, but he sure could be spoiled.

But seriously, if you slept any longer, you might never have a normal sleep schedule again! It never occurred to you just how often Belphie sleeps.

He's definitely not human, because there's no way you can keep up with that, and maintain a normal lifestyle.

But the way he quietly, gently grabs your sleeve to cue your next nap session makes your heart clench. Why was it so damned hard to say no to this gremlin??

You were trying your best though, but the words always seemed to get caught in your throat. Belphie picked apart your excuses, doing everything in his power to take you back to the attic.

"You can study when you wake up." "Mammon wants to go shopping? Reschedule." "Lucifer told you not to be late to the board meeting? Just hide."

You're starting to get sucked into the sleepy lull of his voice, and it feels like your entire body is becoming heavy with fatigue. But no.... you resist!

Since there's no escaping this through words, you have to think fast. Fortunately, your fast thinking has led to an amazing solution!

Jump out of the window, baby

Belphie is just??? Did you fuckin???? Are your legs okay??????????????

He probably stops asking you to nap with him for a while, since you're willing to almost break your legs just to get out of it. You're gonna make him have weird dreams....

[fernweh-writes]

Hi dear, I was wondering if you could do headcanon about slashers having s/o, who is really insecure, that she is not pretty enough, doubts herself and is afraid that she is not worthy of them.. So basically some comforting fluff? 👉👈

Some of these are kinda nsfw. Mostly just Jesse and Asa’s though.

-Fern🌿

Michael Meyers

Michael was a person who didn’t understand social cues and had no clue how to deal with people and their emotions. But he’s also a stalker who is good at observing people and you’re the love of his life.

He notices the way you look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes so sad and also so filled with hate at the same time. Your eyes always focus on the same parts of you and it’s like he can almost hear the criticizing thoughts in your head.

Today as you stood in the mirror your hands squeezed your sides, wishing that your waist was small like all those models on TV and magazines. You wish you looked like the girls you noticed Michael always looking at, the kind of girls he always seemed to admire.

You were so busy glaring yourself down you hadn’t even noticed Michael walk up behind you until he was setting his hands on top of yours. His mask was still down over his face, so your eyes met the empty dark holes of it in the mirror. You had only ever seen him without it once before.

Spinning around in his arms, you turned to look up at him, “You’re being extra sneaky today, I didn’t even hear you unlock the door.” He didn’t look down at you, his head still tilted up, watching you in the mirror. The fact he didn’t acknowledge what you said made your heart drop.

That was until his hands left yours and crept up to his mask, slowly removing it. His blue eyes searched yours before tilting your chin up and placing a firm kiss to your lips. Without breaking the kiss he grabbed your hips and picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you over to the bed.

He planned on showing you just how much he appreciated you and your body.

Bo Sinclair

It was pretty common for Bo to make comments about your body. His sexual comments sometimes made you feel slightly better, like you were desirable. Other times it made you feel like a piece of meat, like all you were good for was a quick fuck.

Bo may be insensitive and he usually never thought twice about what he said, but he was also observant and good at picking up on people’s emotions. He noticed when his comments stopped making you laugh and shove his chest and you began to force a smile that looked more like a grimace. Still, he was Bo, and he figured that if it really mattered you would just tell him to shut his trap.

After some time though he figures it’s best to lay off the vulgar comments and switch on the southern charm. He can sweet talk anyone he wants but he especially loves the power he holds over you whenever he uses that charm against you. You’re so easy to fluster, you melt into him every time he compliments you.

He quickly decides that he enjoys praising you. After all, it seems to make you so needy for him. The fact you seek out his praise just fuels that big ego of his.

Comes up with plenty of pet names. His favorites are definitely darlin’ and pretty girl though. Calling you honey is one of his cheesier favorites. You can expect him to start saying “Honey, I’m home,” whenever he comes home in a good mood. If he doesn’t say it, it’s best to just hand him a beer and let him yell at whoever he decides to be upset with.

If you open up to him about your insecurities he really won’t say much. Bo has never been a big feelings person and he doesn’t know how to do a good job of comforting or relating to people. However, you’ll notice him being extra sweet and affectionate. Just don’t mention it or else he’ll feel the need to be an asshole. He’s gotta keep up hsi reputation after all.

Long story short, Bo isn’t all bad and he can be soft and sweet sometimes.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent saw you as his muse, his goddess, his reason for living and he made sure to always show you exactly how much you meant to him.

He knew your body better than you ever could. His hands had traced every curve, every dip, every perfect imperfection of you and he could always find something new about you to admire.

Vincent knew the parts of you that he hated, so he always made sure to pay extra attention to those parts of your body just to show you how much he admired everything about you. Everything you thought was the worst part of you would quickly become his favorite.

He’s no stranger to insecurity, he grew up in a small town where people loved to talk and gossip. Talk and gossip isn’t much fun when you’re the kid with only half of a face who wears a mask everywhere he goes because his parents didn’t like to look at him. He would rather die than to ever let you feel that way about yourself.

He still has a favorite part of you though and that’s your eyes. They tell him everything he ever needs to know about what you’re thinking or feeling. He’s seen your eyes show how much you hated your reflection to the amount of love for him that was bottled up within you. Your eyes always gave away what you were thinking, which allowed him to be able to swoop in any time you were troubled.

You quickly become one of his favorite things to draw. He no longe needs a reference for you anymore either, he has your whole body memorized. He couldn’t forget anything about you no matter how hard he tried. Even then, why would he ever want to forget something as beautiful and perfect as you.

Brahms Heelshire

He completely understands feeling insecure. After all he had to hide in the walls and cover his face after the fire. He watched his parents love a doll more than they could ever love him. So he makes sure to tell you how beautiful he thinks you are even if you aren’t a blonde. But he doesn’t understand why you feel like you don’t deserve him.

Brahmsy thinks you’re the best person ever, he wouldn’t have kept you as his nanny if he didn’t think that you were perfect. After all you take care of him and handle everything your strange life throws at you.

He’s seen every part of you while hiding in those walls and there isn’t a single part of you that he isn’t mesmerized by.

There really isn’t ever anyone for you to feel lesser than in the manor. After all, it is just you, Brahms, and Malcolm. However, if anyone ever came along and made you feel inferior or undeserving Brahms wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of them. He can’t have you feeling upset.

He’s touched starved and handsy so he uses each and every single chance you give him to explore your body. There’s nothing he wants more than to touch every part of you. He’s in awe of you and he wants to show you just how much he needs you.

He makes sure to express to you that if either of you weren’t worthy of the other it would be him. After all, he got extra lucky for you to have stumbled into his grasp and there’s no way in hell he’s letting you escape.

Thomas Hewitt

There’s not a moment where he isn’t showing you just how much he loves you. Once he becomes comfortable with you, Thomas is surprisingly affectionate. He is not against PDA and the family never mentions it. After all Luda Mae wants grand babies and Hoyt knows better than to anger Tommy. Besides, Luda Mae thinks that the two of you are absolutely adorable.

Thomas is well aware of how it feels to hate the reflection in the mirror and he hates that you could ever feel that way about yourself. He does his best to show you that he sees you in a completely different light than you see yourself in. To him, you’re the sweetest most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth.

The fact you think you don’t deserve him leaves him feeling flustered. He never expected anyone to love him the way that you do. For you to say you’re not good enough for him blows his mind. He’s a murderer and he doesn’t see how you could ever find him attractive. He. Can’t even speak to tell you how much he adores you but there’s times where he really wishes he could.

Whenever you’re having days where you feel more self critical than usual he puts off his chores to take care of you. Hoyt can bitch all that he wants, Thomas is always going to put you first. Will spend all day in bed with you running his hands over your body and placing gentle kisses against your skin.

Listens to anything you have to say. Although he can’t contribute much to the conversation, Tommy is still a very expressive person. You can see the criticizing look he gives you anytime you say something negative about yourself. He’s not above huffing and rolling his eyes either, grumbling anytime you say something that he doesn’t like.

Billy Loomis

It’s no secret that Billy had plenty of people throwing themselves at him. Sure, he never really paid much attention to them, but that doesn’t change the fact that so many people wanted your boyfriend. So, it was easy for you to begin to think about how easy it would be for Billy to find someone better than you.

As soon as you open up to Billy about these things he’s quick to shut those thoughts down. After all, Billy rarely ever let’s people get as close to him as you have. In fact, the only other person that comes close is Stu. Billy wouldn’t have opened up to you if he didn’t think that you were permanent and he makes sure that you know that.

Begins to shut down all your self critical comments as well. Before he just thought you were joking, and in a way you still were, but he knew that you thought there was some truth to your words. He’s basically going to force you to be kinder to yourself whether you like it or not.

Billy can be an ass sometimes, he likes to pick fights, and he can be insensitive, but never would he use something he knows your insecure about as leverage against you. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did.

Lots of heavy petting and make out sessions whenever your having days where you feel more self loathing than usual. You may not like the person in the mirror but he sure as hell does. He’s gonna make sure you know just how much he loves you and how much he loves your body as well.

Stu Macher

Simply cannot allow you to think that you are anything but the hottest and coolest person on the planet.

Before, it was pretty common for Stu to flirt with the girls at his parties, sometime he could even get kinda handsy. However, as soon as he finds out that you’re doubting yourself, he cuts it out quick. No one could be better than you and he feels bad that he even allowed you to think he could ever be interested in anyone else but you.

He enjoyed showing off but once he finds out your insecure he begins to flaunt the fact you’re his. Points out how many people wish could be him whenever he’s showing you off. He believes that if you see how many people want you but can’t have you, you’ll start to feel more confident.

Stu has always been very affectionate, which includes being physically affectionate. Don’t think that he would ever shy away from PDA either. You point out someone staring at him, jealous of you? Great, he’ll make sure to make out with you right in front of them to prove he’s off the market. Won’t hesitate to feel you up in front of people either cause he’s definitely a perverted little shit.

Lots of cuddling and compliments from him. Also enjoys spoiling you to show you just how much he loves you. Shopping sprees to find clothes you feel confident in become very common.

Jesse Cromeans

For you to not feel good enough for him insinuates the idea he has bad taste, and Jesse does not have bad taste. He will go to any length to prove that to you as well.

His favorite pet name for you is princess because to him you might as well be royalty. He wants you to know that your a treasure to him. Expect to be spoiled with the finest clothes, expensive jewelry, you’ll be living lavishly once your Jesse’s. He sees himself as your protector and provider, prides himself in that fact, so obviously you deserve nothing but the best there is.

Jesse understands what it’s like to be insecure, especially after what Gem did to his face, so he’s quick to shut down any negative comments. He knows how to say all the right things as well so you can expect plenty of messages from him that make you absolutely melt. This man can charm anyone, but he mainly focuses that charm on you.

Likes to dress you up in expensive lingerie and tell you how pretty you are before absolutely wrecking you. Jesse will make sure to praise you the entire time.

Feeling insecure about what his employees think of you? He’ll make you sit on his lap during his meetings just to show you off. If you’re blushing like crazy it just makes him feel more justified in caressing your body while his employees can do nothing but stare at the pretty little thing in his lap. Although, if they stare for to long they’ll no longer be an employee or alive.

Would most definitely fuck you in front of a mirror just to show you what he sees. Look at how pretty you are when he’s absolutely wrecking you, how could he not be in awe of you.

Asa Emory

Do you really think that you would be the most prized part of his collection if you weren’t the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. You’re his favorite pet, he keeps you in his home, in his bed, you don’t get to feel unworthy. Although, the fact you feel like you don’t deserve him would fuel his god complex.

If you’re having a hard time with your insecurities his rough touch will turn into gentle caressing. It’s a rare occasion so make sure to savor the moment.

He notices when you’re feeling upset. Asa knows that being away from you so much gives your mind more time to run rampant. So whenever he’s been away longer than normal he makes sure to indulge you a little bit, even if he is busy. Expect him to let you sit in his lap while he works on grading papers and assignments that he’s gotten behind on. Occasionally he’ll rub your back as you snuggle against his chest. He’s allowed to be soft sometimes to.

Admires everything about your body and he makes sure you know it. Gently caresses and kisses every part of you, especially the parts you’re insecure about.

Much like Jesse, mirror sex is 100% on the table. Asa would love nothing more than for you to see just how beautifully you fall apart because of his touch. He knows your body better than you do and never fails to get exactly the reaction he wants from you.

Domestic Asa Domestic Asa Domestic Asa. If you’re having an extra hard time with your insecurities he would definitely make you breakfast in bed. For just one day you’ll be allowed to call the shots. Or at least you’ll believe you’re the one calling the shots.

[highdramas]

forever is the sweetest con | b.b.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: language and tfatws spoilers? not really but just in case

word count: 2167

summary: bucky makes a friend in his neighbor and her cat.

note: hiiiii so happy that so many people enjoyed the world's a little blurry! i am going to be writing multiple one shots, all connecting and showing little snapshots from the life of bucky and the reader <3 you don't have to read them in order, but reading all of them will help you better understand the relationship!

enjoy! <3

“stupid fucking thing.”

the swearing followed by incoherent irritable grumbling is like a dog whistle to bucky barnes. he’s standing outside of his apartment, lingering in the hallway, waiting to see if the person will speak again. to the surprise of no one, bucky hasn’t put much effort into getting to know his neighbors. he gives curt nods as he passes them in the hallway, tries his best to muster a smile when he gets caught at the mailbox beside someone else. he thinks that it looks more like a grimace than anything, but still-- it’s something.

“son of a bitch.”

the voice is feminine, and it is angry. he’s trying to discern if there is any immediate distress, and if there is-- maybe he can help. he’s pulled from his thoughts quickly as a door swings open and a large box is thrown out onto the doorstep. “fucking hell.”

the door doesn’t close. it stays open, still swinging, as if recoiling from the force in which it was tossed open. bucky could very easily continue on his way to his apartment, put away the few groceries he had purchased-- mostly pasta and cereal-- and spend his evening how he spends most evenings. fighting off sleep, because he knows what comes the moment consciousness fades and the darkness swallows him whole.

but he doesn’t.

instead, he dashes to his door and places the bag at the entryway, turning back on his heel. he fiddles with his gloves as he grows closer and closer to the door. and then, he sees you.

bucky can’t see much-- the door is only cracked. but what he can see almost makes him laugh. you’re huddled over what he assumes is a cat tower. well, a sorry excuse for a cat tower, really-- it’s half put together with miscellaneous pieces strewn all around you. you seem to be studying the instruction manual, flipping through it before you eventually toss it to the side. “kitty, i don’t know about all of this,” he hears you say.

again, there are multiple options here in terms of what bucky can do. he can leave now, pretend he never saw anything. he can check on you, and then… and then what? he doesn’t know.

he knocks.

bucky takes a step back as you scramble to your feet, pushing your hair back. you open the door and up at the stranger. “hi.” the word is short, and he can tell that you are not in a good mood. “if you’re going to bitch me out about the noise, i’m sorry. i bought a new cat tower for my cat, and it’s a bitch to put together. and i hate building anything, so i’m basically useless.” you suck in a breath and muster a smile. “so, like i said. sorry. i’ll be a better neighbor tomorrow.”

you go to close the door, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he blurts-- “wait-- no.” he shakes his head, clears his throat. “no, i wasn’t gonna bitch you out. i was--”

what was he going to say? what was he going to do?

“i was going to say i could help. if you want.” he clears his throat and rubs at his chin with a gloved hand. “i’m alright at putting furniture together.”

you linger in the doorway and look at him. though there are countless people who look at him every day, oftentimes, bucky doesn’t feel like he’s being recognized. sometimes he wonders if he is secretly invisible, drifting through this too-long life as a ghost. but the look you give him is piercing, and the smile that follows makes his heart stop in his chest.

“i’m not gonna turn down someone building this god forsaken thing for me,” you open the door wider. “come on in.”

--

bucky finishes his handiwork on the cat tower within thirty minutes, but something about you draws him in, and now it has been an hour and a half and he has not tired of your company.

you are very charming. that is the first thing that bucky notices about you. and it’s not just your personality, either. everything in your apartment seems to drip in you. there is no wall that is bare, there are different colored lights twinkling around each window, plants galore. it makes him almost feel embarrassed about the state of his own home. if you can even call it that.

it’s not a home. it’s a place where he fights off his demons and drinks cheap beer and pretends that he is okay, pretends that he is not alone, pretends that he doesn’t need sam or his therapist or anyone else in order to figure out how to live in the present.

but yours. yours is a home.

there’s a pang of jealousy, nestled deep in his heart. he doesn’t care if the thought is unreachable for someone like him, someone who has done the sort of things that he has done-- he wants it.

the thought will never reach the light of day, of course. no, it will stay buried in his belly, churning with the guilt and the anguish and the loneliness, too.

“you good over there?”

“huh?”

bucky looks up to see that you’re looking at him. your head is tilted and your mouth slightly agape, and the look… he can’t quite place it. it’s more confusion and less concern, and in a weird way, he likes that. “yeah. i’m fine.”

he’s confused by the way that the corner of your mouth turns up. “you’re a good liar,” is all that you quip before you push up off the ground, dusting off your leggings. “do you like pizza? i’m starving, and i would cook us something, but i don’t want to subject you to that. my mom says the only thing i should ever make is cereal, and even that’s pushing it. says i use too much milk.”

bucky laughs.

and it shocks him. it takes no thought at all to laugh at your words, your charm, the way that you carry yourself with such easy self deprecating humor. you make him laugh.

you, on the other hand, don’t think anything of it. you raise your eyebrows at him. “well? it’s pizza or we’re eating two big bowls of honey nut cheerios.”

“pizza is good.”

you bite down on your lip and you nod, fishing your phone from your back pocket. “great.”

bucky studies you as you order the food.

he’s learning that there are many things that he envies you for.

every muscle in your body is loose and relaxed. you don’t walk, you seem to float-- drifting in and out of rooms, brushing past him, as if you’re made up of nothing but air and stardust. you joke with the employee on the other line and then you hang up and look back to him. “i said we’d go and pick it up. it’s my favorite place, just down the street.”

“yeah, that sounds nice.”

bucky follows your lead. he’d never taken off his jacket, or his gloves, but you hadn’t made a comment about them. you scramble into clothing suitable for a new york winter and then grin at him, face slightly obscured by the massive scarf. “ready?”

he nods, and then you set out. you’re quiet for a few moments, before you say, “you’re bucky, right?”

there’s a silence that settles between you, as if some jig is now up. you glance over at him. “that’s not a bad thing,” you say softly. “or an insult.”

“yeah, i know.” his elbow knocks against yours lightly. “but, yeah. i am.”

you nod and offer your own name in return, and that is that. you don’t allude to anything else that you might or might not about him, his past, or the fact that he was used as a hydra weapon for a majority of his life, now thrust into a brand new century. no, all you do is say, “bucky’s a nice name.”

“thanks, doll.”

the pet name rolls off of his tongue so easily, like breathing. he stops for a moment, leaning into the urge to be embarrassed, but you don’t let him. “no one’s ever called me that before,” you say, brushing against his arm. “i like it.”

“it’s what all the guys used to call their girls.” he stops. “not that, you know--”

“yeah, i know,” you laugh. “i know what you meant.” you glance up at him again. “like i said, i like it.”

bucky swallows his nervousness and instead comes reassurance at your words. “i can keep callin’ you doll, if you really like it that much.”

playfulness. ease. comfort. things he has not felt in so long-- yori has tried to pull them out of him when it comes to women, but it has always felt forced, too fast, not right. this feels right.

“you make it sound like it’s such a chore!” you gape at him, but your voice is not malicious in the slightest. you are holding james buchanan barnes in the palm of your hand and you do not even know it.

“it’s not a chore,” bucky reassures. “trust me.”

“whatever you say,” you point to a small hole in the wall shop. “this is it.”

bucky holds the door open for you and you smile and wink as a thank you and god it sends his mind spinning, intoxicated by even the look that you give him. your name is performed like a symphony by every employee in the shop-- they all grin and wave, some make small talk. they eye bucky who stands a step behind you. but you turn and you place a hand on his forearm and even through all of the layers he swears that your touch burns. “this is my neighbor--” you look to him.

bucky clears his throats and he musters a smile, somewhere between his normal grimace and the smile that only seems to form in your presence. “james.”

they greet bucky with kindness and send the both of you on your way with the large pizza and a free liter of diet coke. “her favorite,” the owner says pointedly, winking to you. “we’re always trying to tell her to stop. maybe you can get her to knock the habit.”

“i don’t think anyone can get me to stop drinking diet coke,” you joke, looking at bucky with a level of fondness. “but he can certainly try.”

“i’ll give it a valiant effort,” bucky says and he tips his head to everyone before he opens the door for you once more. he holds the pizza and you hold the soda, tucked beneath your arm, and you make the trek back to your apartment in comforting quiet.

bucky learns that you don’t have a dining room table. you call it a waste of space, so you two sit in front of your coffee table on floor pillows, eating off mismatched plates and drinking the diet coke out of mugs from the thrift store you frequent.

the night is growing quieter, and you think that both you and bucky sense that it is coming to an end. you think you might be a bit addicted to being around him. he reminds you of the smell after it rains and black coffee, of laughter under neon lights and gentleness.

bucky is beginning to gather his things to leave when a meow turns both of your heads. your eyes light up. “hi baby,” you coo and the cat goes right to you and you scoop her up in your arms, presenting her to bucky. “this is katherine. or kitty, as i call her. she’s normally pretty scared of people.”

bucky hesitates, looking between you and the cat. finally, his hand reaches out and scratches kitty beneath the chin. she purrs almost instantly, nuzzling her face into his hand. you watch, somewhere in between shocked and amazed, as bucky interacts with her. “no, i swear, she hates people.” you pause. “wanna hold her?”

“oh, i don’t know…”

you raise your eyebrows and then he looks back at the cat, who gives a yap. it seems to say: please? he huffs and it fades into a smile and he holds his arms out. you set kitty into them and watch as she curls into him, rubbing the top of her head against his chin.

a girlish laugh bubbles from the deep pit of you belly and you clasp your hands together in front of you, watching with hearts in your eyes. the corner of his mouth turns up as he continues to pet the cat.

“bucky,” you say, putting a hand on your hip. “i hate to inform you, she’s never gonna let you go now.”

bucky looks up at you through his lashes. you, with your easy and calm demeanor, your loud laugh and your inability to build even the simplest of furniture.

“i think i’m okay with that.”

[i-like-sparkly-things]

Beautiful?

A Halstead!Sister

'But they don't know. They don't know what it's like to be you. They didn't know what it was like to wake up everyday, to a body you never asked for.

A body nobody wanted.'

Warnings : eating disorder, body insecurities, body dismorphia

Requested : Yup, by anon , 'could u do a fic where she has an eating disorder? and doesn’t tell jay but then one day she passes out at school and has to tell him?'

Word count : 1.7k

Note : this took too long I don't know why 😭but yall Guess who's thankful that yall bear with my English ? me. :) and ps this is my first request!! And yall please please know that all of you are so freaking beautiful and worth fighting for. Know that you are loved and it is never, ever weak to ask for help.

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

The constant pain and sleepless nights were paying off. Your eyes sparkled when you saw your new numbers. It was working.

You took your diary, crossing out breakfast on the to do list after eating a banana.

This was going to be simple. check what you eat, check your weight and repeat . You knew that if you tried really hard, you would be the one in control.

Control. That's all you wanted. Such an easy, yet painful thing.

You looked to the mirror, as your hands hovered over your ribs sticking to the skin . You'd never felt so beautiful in your life. But your eyes roamed down to your thighs. The flesh of your legs were touching. It wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

'' Y/n , come on ! Move your ass! I need to get to work!! '' Jay shouted for you, from downstairs.

'' Shut uppp I'm comingg'', you yelled back.

Ever since your mom had died, dad always kept to himself leading you to stay with your brothers. It had become a routine. Jay  would drop you off at school and Annie's mom would give you a ride home.

Lucky for you , Jay was constantly busy with cases. He hadn't noticed your new diet or the mood swings.

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

Your teacher had started the lesson. And slowly you sensed something wrong. Your head was pounding. God why is she so blurry? You look to Anne sitting next to you and she's Blurry too. You felt your body giving up to the swaying ground.

'' y/n!! '' Annie shreiked as your limp body crashed to the floor.

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

'' Chuckles!? '' Trudy called out,climbing the stairs to intelligence. "Do I look like a cocktail waitress to you? Where have you been??"

"Morning to you too, sarge" Jay sighed. "and its detective"

" Well , Detective , Y/n fainted at school and wanted you to pick her up"

"What ?" he asked shocked, aldready beginning to pick up his jacket.

"Sarge" he said, looking to Voight for approval, although he would leave nonetheless. "Go."

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

"Mr. Halstead" the school nurse addressed him, as he entered the clinic.

"Call me jay. Y/n, are you okay? what the hell happened?" he asked you worried.

You had never fainted before and apart from the flu every couple of years, you had a clean bill of health, as far as he knew.

"Jay, I promise I'm fine. Just got a little dizzy, that's all" you answered knowing how overprotective he can get. Now all you could hope for was that he would let this slide.

"I tried getting some food in her but she told me she was fine" the nurse explained to Jay.

God No. the the salad she offered you had so many calories.  you had made too much progress nothing was going to stop you especially a simple fainting episode. It was a minor setback but you were sure you could continue your weight loss diet.

" What, WHY? " he questioned, but just  as you were thinking of a better reply " You know what, I'm gonna take her home." he interrupted your thoughts as he spoke to the nurse.

" Only if you are sure, you're good"

" I am Jay. One hundred percent." you replied, happy to skip the rest of the school day.

It's not like you've been paying attention any ways. You'd zone out a lot during class and  your constant hunger and cramps didn't help either. But you drowned these feelings away with small sips of water and occasional slices of cucumbers.

You Craved the Emptiness. the feeling of being lighter. The feeling of being....... perfect. It was intoxicating.

Taking your school bag, Jay wrapped a study arm around your shoulders , guiding you through the school corridors and towards his truck.

"God, I can't wait to go to bed", You said climbing the truck and fastening your seat belt.

"Yeah right. I'm taking you to med" he stated. "WHAT? Jay, what the hell ? I told you, I'm fine!!"

You knew Will was working and didn't want either of your brothers to know about your new diet or how much weight you had lost. It was too late to quit. The disgusting image in the mirror was slowly getting better..... getting thinner, prettier.

"You've never fainted before Y/n, and I promise I'll get Will to run the exams and do all the tests" he assured you.

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

"Y/n, I thought I told you I never wanted to see you here again.", Maggie greeted, pointing a finger at you.

"Awwww  but I missed you", you pouted, " No don't do that. your brother's waiting in treatment room 3 so you better get going." she instructed and you dropped your school bag near the nurses station.

You and Jay enter the room, to a very worried Will. "Y/n, what happened?" he asked , gesturing you to sit on the bed.

"did you hit your head when you fell? Did you fall in the bathroom or something like that?", he continued, not giving you time to answer.

"what did the nurses say? are you stressed about school?" " Will-", you interrupted his rambling " I'm fine, just..... got a little dizzy."

You watched , as he took his pen light to your eyes. "Ah! Will, stop!!" You said, trying and failing to refrain him.

"You know, it'll be easier if you stop squirming" Jay commented with a smug smile. "Your not going anywhere"

"Shut up" you groaned.

You need to get out of here. What if they gave you food. What if they found out you were hungry all the time. They'd never stop making fun of you. They'd tell you that you were overreacting and that all this was so unnecessary.

But they didn't know. They didn't know what it was like to be you. They didn't have floppy arms or fleshy thighs. They didn't know what it was like to wake up everyday, to a body you never asked for. A body nobody wanted.

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

"Jay" Will called out, seeing him outside your room. It had been a couple of hours since you were bought in.

Will had ordered some tests, being the ass he was.

Wonderful. You just hoped that all the tests would be normal and you could get the hell out of there.

"yeah man? just needed to text Hailey, Why, what's wrong?" Jay asked, studying the worried expression on his brother's face

"It's Y/n. "

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

You were fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt when your brother's walked in, staring at you, as if you were a ghost.

"Y/n," Jay croaked out his voice laced with dread, "how long?"

No. No. No. This can't be happening. God, you knew that they were going to hate you forever.

"what the are you talking about?" you needed to try to get them to back away."Is something wrong?"

They were standing on either side of your bed. Jay came closer and sat down on your right the beside your knees, eyes never leaving yours.

"Your tests-" Will started, "They came back showing you have severe deficiencies. That your body is struggling to survive. That it's not getting enough food." he broke away from your gaze.

"We um-" Jay, as if almost on queue, continued."We looked through your school bag and found your diary. "

You sucked in a sharp breath and shook your head. No. He knew. They knew.

All your calorie counts, the amount of calories you can have in a day, your research on diets, workouts, to do lists, hell, even your Period Tracker was written down. (although you barely had it anymore)

That book was the reason you were finally becoming happy with yourself. Your body.

'I'm sorry', you mouthed "I'm so, so sorry" This was it. Your voice hitched, as tears flowed down your cheeks. "I was finally happy"

In an instant, your brothers were by your side.

Jay engulfed you into his chest, your words circling his mind. 'Finally?' God, you lived together! You were his sister! His baby sister! How could he have let this happen to you? How could he not have noticed that you were drowning? That you were starving yourself. What kind of brother was he?

Will rubbed your back, until your sobs became quieter. He was a doctor. A damn doctor! God knows how long this has been going on, but at the end of the day.... he failed. He failed to be there,..... when you needed him.

"Y/n, you don't have to do this. You're beautiful Y/n. You really are. And I'm sorry that anyone else has convinced in otherwise" Jay breathed out, hoping you heard him, in his embrace.

"It felt good, Jay" your voice was muffled by his shirt, but to your brothers, your voice was loud and clear.

"Did it?" You turned to Will, "Did the hunger feel good?" his heart broke saying the words out loud.

'Yes', you wanted to answer. Of course it felt good. You were getting so many compliments from your friends at school. Boys started acknowledging you now.

It was like you finally existed. You felt...... worthy.

But with all the strength you could muster up, you couldn't get the words out. Because there was always one voice that told you to quit. The voice you'd been drowning out for so long. The voice that told you, that you were in fact, beautiful.

Your mother's.

"No" you said, realizing that Will had tears in his eyes as well.

But you couldn't find a hint of shame in them, no matter how much you searched. Instead, you were met with the immense worry and guilt of your brother.

"We can help, Y/n" Will said, as he took your hand in his, "We will help and we'll be there every step of the way."

"Every step" Jay assured and you turned to him. "All you need to do, is let us in"

You weren't prepared for this. You had no idea what to say.

You didn't want to feel tired all the time, always craving for food. But the idea of going back - back to all that shame - that's what scared you.

"Y/n," Will spoke up, seeing as you were struggling to answer, "I promise you, we are going to make you feel better...... and we'll fight those thoughts of yours together."

You took a shaky breath.

Thoughts.

Your thoughts.

You had let them consume you for a long time now. Too long. maybe..... Maybe the right voice to follow, was your mothers'. "okay-" you sobbed, "okay", and once again you found yourself in Jay's arms.

You, clinging to him like your life depended on it and him holding you tight, because it did. His hand rested on your head, tangled with your hair.

Will saw a tear make its way down his brothers cheek, something he hasn't witnessed often.

Your brothers sat silently, listening to you cry. Taking in the conversation, only having a glimpse of the pain you were in.

You had a long, long road ahead but as you sat in your brother arms, you felt a sense of peace, comfort maybe.

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

Masterlist

[shoichee]

Can you do a scenario with Murasakibara, Hanamiya, Imayoshi and Kagami where their S/O really wants a lot of attention like cuddles etc? Do you mind making it fluffy as hell? I just finished finals and I’m so drained mentally. Good luck with your finals I hope you do well luv! 💗

My rules are 3 characters max for requests (GoM requests are the exceptions), but it’s been a looong time, so I’ll do them all as a treat! I RLLY HOPE YOURE DOING OKAY, FINALS SUCK SO MUCH :(( I think i did my finals alright heh // these are more formatted as fluffy (within their character LOL) reactions more than anything, enjoy! IM SORRY I TOOK SO LONG PLS FORGIVE ME ANON 

Murasakibara Atsushi

“Hnn?” He looked away from his plate on the table in the living room to see you fidgeting with the hem of your shirt after asking to cuddle. Your shirt had been slightly stained from all the messy cooking you both did together earlier for lunch in his home. “Okay.”

Murasakibara immediately goes back to eating his shrimp tempuras, delicately picking each one to pop into his mouth despite his large hands. He didn’t need to look at you to see how flustered you were in hearing such a casual response from him. Normally, he would be hesitant to agree, he knew that, but sensing how you were too antsy in wanting physical touches from him, he didn’t mind to indulge you. Besides, who’s to say that this isn’t also a treat for him, as well? Not like he would admit that so readily though.

“What are you standing for, (y/n)-chin?” he slightly frowns with an averted gaze before opting to stare at his food on the table instead. “Hurry up already…” At his words, you skipped to sit on the floor next to him with a happy flush, sitting close to him and watching him finish his meal before you can pounce on him. Murasakibara eyes you swaying side to side with anticipation, and he immediately sighs with closed eyes before he gently puts down his chopsticks. Your questioning gaze immediately morphs into one of surprise when he swiftly picks you up and places you on his lap, with your back against his chest and his chin on top of your head.

“Hm? Why do you look surprised? Didn’t you wanna cuddle?” he drawls, moving his chin off your head and tilting your head back by nudging your chin upward to gently kiss your forehead. The languid giant then picks up his utensils again to pick up the last shrimp on the plate to place it against your lips. “Hurry already, food doesn’t taste good when it gets cold, (y/n)-chin…”

As you were chewing, he put the chopsticks on the cleared plate and pushed it away towards the center of the table, all while nuzzling his own face closer to your hair and temple.

You also didn’t miss the way his spare arm was slowly sneaking around your stomach to pull you tauter against his own warm body.

“Hm…” he hums with a deep rumble from his chest. “You feel nice… Oy, stop moving around, (y/n)-chin… what are you doing?” He curiously stares at your fingers carding through his moppy hair, wondering why you’re so drawn to it. When you tell him that you simply want to appreciate every part of him, he merely smiles like a satisfied child before he takes that same hand running through his hair to place a chaste kiss in the palm.

“Hm?” He slyly smirks at your flustered expression. “I want to appreciate every part of (y/n)-chin too, obviously.”

Hanamiya Makoto

Most would be very afraid to be in the near vicinity of Hanamiya Makoto. You’re one of the very few who would approach him so unabashedly, let alone be direct about what you want from him. Even still, Hanamiya raises a thick brow at you before loudly scoffing at the question of you two possibly cuddling together because you “missed his touch.” He ignores you completely and turns his attention back to analyze his teammates practicing on the court, reclining his back further on the bleachers with a stretch. Yet, he’s inwardly ticked yet somewhat touched that you knew that he had no objections to you cozying up to him, without him needing to say anything. Ah, but the ever so “Bad Boy” wouldn’t easily let you approach him like so, and he knew from the way you were standing there expectantly, you knew too. After all, Hanamiya would never pass up an opportunity to potentially savor the sweet taste of misfortune of others, no matter how menial.

“Come over here, darling~” he coos with an open grin as he continues to relax with his arms behind his head, saccharine tone oozing with his dark, rich voice. “I can’t stand a moment without you by my side.” Of course, he once again feels conflicting emotions of subtle pride and irritation in being unsuccessful in embarrassing, flustering, or even provoking you in the slightest. When you settled yourself by his side with a casual scoff of your own, he immediately shot out his arm around your shoulders and cradled your head closer to lay on his shoulder. But he leans in close to your ear to hiss with his usual infuriating sneer, “Like I’d ever say that, dumbass.” You only respond with a customary retort before snuggling closer against him, pulling his arm around your side for more optimal cuddles.

Even despite the harsh rebuke, his touch is gentle, reverring, protective one would dare say, even if his eyes are currently more occupied watching the court than you.

“... Hey,” he curtly calls out after some minutes later, flicking your ear with the hand around your shoulders to ensure you are listening to him. He gets a small sense of satisfaction seeing your dismayed expression. “You’re being awfully damn clingy lately. Are you actually that fucking touch-starved?” Yet again, his actions betray his words, the same fingers that harshly flicked your ear were now softly toying with your hair near your temple in a clumsy, nonverbal attempt to soothe you.

He hates how you somehow knew yet again how he meant that he was only curious about your recent actions, the way you cheekily replied back how he’s actually reciprocating the cuddles with a raspberry tongue to try to provoke a reaction from his end. And he hates it even more when he willingly lets you reciprocate the soft touches when you tuck his shoulder-length hair behind his ear.

But all he could do to save face was to click his tongue arrogantly. Even still, you somehow see straight through him.

Imayoshi Shoichi

“My, my, those are quite some puppy eyes you’re shooting at me, hm?” Imayoshi relaxes his posture and lays back against the couch to give his signature closed-eye smile. “To think you were this needy.” He simply cocks his head innocently, but you knew something ulterior simmered behind that grin. Even without opening his eyes, his “stare” was still overwhelming in intensity that you couldn’t help but squirm and debate to take back your request.

“Ho? What’s with that look, my dear (y/n)? Don’t mind me darling, keep doing what you were doing before… Hm? I’m being mean?... I’m only graciously doing what you asked me to do. You wanted my attention, correct? You have my full attention now…” His smirk only grows wider when you huff at his comments. “You meant that you wanted to cuddle when you asked for my attention…? Now, now, (y/n), you know that greed is the greatest vice… Still, how cute of you to try to monopolize all of me so.”

Before you can either utter a single comeback or simply leave the room, he abruptly wraps his arms around you and immediately encloses you between his legs. You look up to try to scold him for being so difficult, but all words are caught in your throat when his eyes are slightly open in relishing your figure in his embrace. He merely smiles at your stunned silence, although he knew that you could tell that it was a genuine, affectionate one.

As you begin to relax, Imayoshi rubs gentle circles on your arms, occasionally giving a goading comment or two that elicited eyerolls from your end. Eventually, when you fall into a light snooze from his therapeutic touches, he stares at you fondly for quite some time before an idea crept into his mind.

“My dear (y/n)...” he purrs into your ear. “Am I really reduced to a body pillow for your convenience, my love? I’m hurt.” When you slightly jolt awake from the unexpected closeness of his voice, he merely chuckles at your reaction before hugging you tighter and settling his head atop your shoulder. “Well, I must admit, you’re quite lucky that I’m just as greedy for your attention, darling. In fact, if you’re not careful, I might just end up becoming greedier if you end up forgetting about me… eh? You wouldn’t…? Really now… you’re insisting that I can also ask you for attention, any time?...

… how cute, (y/n), but I must warn you to be careful about what you say, yes? Hm? You really do mean it?... ‘only for you,’ you say? Hah… you really are adorable… quite beyond my expectations.”

Imagine his actual, shell-shocked surprise when you suddenly turn around to face him to nuzzle into his neck with a sneaky kiss attack. He stiffens up, his eyes fully blown open to process the sudden sensation his body just experienced, and he could do nothing but chuckle with a slight chagrined blush.

“... You really never cease to amaze me, hm?”

Kagami Taiga

When you mentioned how cold today was, he already knew since that morning; his body has always had an aversion to the cold, and unfortunately for him, he just happened to be more sensitive to lower temperatures than the average person too.

“Well, yeah… I guess it’s been cold,” Kagami mumbles, scooting himself closer to the kotatsu in an attempt to absorb more of the brazier’s heat. And he’s been sitting there almost motionless for nearly an hour, closing his eyes and breathing softly to conserve his body heat.

When he finally opens his eyes again, Kagami turns to you to invite you to a seat next to him, but he nervously gulps when he sees you standing there with a mischievous look on your face. Who knows how long you’ve been observing him?

When you open your mouth to suggest cuddling to stave off the cold, he erupts a cherry red, knowing full well you were taking advantage of his tendency to get cold extremely easily. But you didn’t stop there. You teased him that he ignored you the entire time, and so, cuddles were only appropriate to make it up to you.

Kagami suddenly felt warm from the rush of blood rising to his face and neck.

“C-C-Cuddle?!... well, yeah… w-we’ve done this before… No! I’m not thinking anything more out of it…! It’s just… I—well, no! It’s not that I don’t wanna cuddle! It’s just…” He sputters, but stops when he realizes that he just admitted to not objecting to having a cuddle session, and he merely sweatdrops when he sees a victorious grin growing wider on your cheeks. “Fine… you must be cold too, right?—Wha, where did that blanket even come from?!”

You immediately plopped the weighted fleece blanket over his shoulders like a cape and tackled him with a hug, making sure to tug the blanket over your own body too. Kagami can only react by catching you while trying to break both of your falls, and he topples from his criss-cross sitting position to end up laying next to you, face-to-face.

“S-Stop squirming… how else are we supposed to cuddle if you keep moving under this heavy-ass blanket…? Pfft, well, it’s pretty warm now, huh? Come closer, yeah?” He nudges your head up against his chest, and his breath fans over your head as you sling your own arm over his waist.

“I dunno about you, but I wanna stay like this for a while… if that’s okay with you.”

[le-poor-writer]

Serve at First Sight (Kageyama Tobio x F!Reader)

"I bet I can..." Hinata mumbled and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Hah?" Kageyama glared back. "What did you just say?"

"I'm not good at setting. BUT I BET I CAN HIT THE LONGEST AND FASTEST SERVE!"

"IS THAT A CHALLENGE?"

"YOU WANNA GO NOW?"

"Uh... Kageyama, Hinata, Stop messing around or else you'll get an earful from Daichi-san." Yamaguchi tries to mediate the situation. The last time the idiotic duo did something stupid, all the first years had to run extra laps. And he was not up for that today.

"No use talking to idiots Yamaguchi." Tsukki sneered. "They have an IQ capacity of a teaspoon."

Hinata stood at the line of the court, deciding to go first. Throwing the ball into the air, he jumped as high as he could. As if he were a crow that leaped into the sky. His ball managed to land a good one meter away from line of the opposite side. A loud bang resonating the court and he beamed smugly at his tall opponent. Kageyama had a ball ready in hands as he took Hinata's place. Itching to outperformed the record set by the orange-head. Closing his eyes, he briefly replayed Oikawa's diabolical jump serve from their previous practice match. He knew he was a hundred years too early to be able to do that. Doesn't mean he won't try his luck though.

With a deep exhale, he took flight. Blocking out all sounds surrounding him, save that of his squeaking shoes and the volleyball as he slapped it forward. The stinging sensation felt on his hand causing him to grin. Not quite like Oikawa's, but still powerful. This is it, it will definitely plunge further than Hinata's. And it did. The ball flew pass that one meter mark. And hit a person. Kageyama's eyes blinked twice before the situation finally seeped through his thick skull. He had hit someone's head! Suddenly he could hear his surroundings again. Hinata panicked scream. Yamaguchi running towards the unfortunate human being who fell to the ground. Tsukki trying not to laugh at this slapstick comedy.

Kageyama sprinted towards the person. A hundred thoughts running through his mind. Is the person alright? Is he going to get in trouble with Daichi for this? Where are the third years anyway? Most importantly, when was that person there? How is it he did not notice them? What were they doing there in the first place? Surely no one would actually collapsed from that hit, right? He stood behind Yamaguchi who was trying to communicate with the seemingly unconscious person. And that was when Kageyama noticed, the person was a girl. A petite girl. He kneeled beside Yamaguchi. She seemed to be a little pale.

"Hello?" Yamaguchi tapping her shoulder. "Excuse me, can you hear me?"

No reply.

"KAGEYAMA KILLED SOMEONE!" Hinata hollered.

"What are you going to do now Kageyama?" Despite knowing that she only passed out, Tsukki decided to humour Hinata.

"I'll take her to the nurse's office." Immediately he carried her and jogged out of the court. Hoping not to run into anyone. Especially Daichi.

He couldn't help but glance at her face every three seconds. Wondering if she will wake up midway. But she didn't and that worried him more. If it weren't for her soft faint breaths he would have thought that he actually committed manslaughter with his jump serve. Besides, she has such a small frame. He was afraid if he really did break her. Kageyama held her closer to his body. Noticing how she fit snugly in his arms. And when looked closely, she's actually really cute. A blush spread quickly all over his face. What was he thinking? He doesn't even know her.

~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) blinked slowly. Feeling slightly dazed.

She woke up late today, all because of that stupid extra Japanese literature homework that had to be submitted during first period. And because she woke up late, she skipped breakfast. She wanted to get something during lunch, but had to drop by the school library to return some books that were due today. Well what do you know, apparently everyone needed to return their books today. If she had known she would've asked her friends to at least get her melon bread. She had about 10 minutes left before lunch ended, but she ran into her senior and was reminded to submit the club activities report today.

It was so hard to focus on classes for the rest of the afternoon. She drank lots of water in hopes to delay the impending dizziness. It was somewhat working. She only needed to wait until clubs and activities time. She'll get a sugary drink from the vending machine, then tell the club leader that she's going to head home early. But karma really had to be a bitch today. Her wallet was not in her bag. (Y/n) dreaded the fact that she might have dropped it somewhere. Searching for her wallet with this now nasty migraine is really going to be such a pain. That is until she suddenly remembered she left it in her drawer at home. She had forgotten about it amidst the rush.

(Y/n) crouched in front of the vending machine. What are the gods playing at exactly. Is it really so hard to get a single bite? Is this karma for denying Mr. Snuggles his treat last week? Well it was not her fault that he knocked over her pudding off the table! She was on the verge of tears when she heard the sound of volleyballs. Oh right, the vending machine was sort of close to the volleyball court... Didn't Yachi say she was recently the co-manager for Karasuno's volleyball club along with that beautiful senior Kiyoko. There is hope. She only needed a little money to get that small carton of drink.

She stood up quickly and regretted it. God, this migraine is killing her. With every ounce of determination she had left, she dragged her feet towards the court. Swaying a little every now and then. The sounds were getting louder, The ball hitting the court, shoes squeaking and people yelling? This is a good thing, it meant that she was getting closer. This is also a bad thing, because it's splitting her skull. Everything around her blurred as she entered the hall. Shit, where is Yachi? She took a few more steps before she felt a hard impact on her head. Dear lord that hurts like hell. And she lost all control of her body before everything went black.

"Oi." a gruff voice distracted her thoughts.

She sat up immediately. Hitting her head on the bed post in the process. She has realized by now that she must have passed out and someone from the volleyball club took her to the nurses office. It must have been this boy sitting beside her. But that still didn't mean she wouldn't be caught off guard. She has always been somewhat intimidated by the male species. Especially those tall towering ones that had to bend a little to talk to her. It's one of the unfortunate things one has to endure being 4'10 and having a small frame. People often joked that she could fit in a suitcase. Though seeing her other shorter friends did brought her pleasure, it still doesn't change the fact that a lot of people around her were giants.

"Idiot."

"Excuse me?" she glared. What's the big idea calling her an idiot out of nowhere. He was the one who surprised her. Sitting on a stool at her bedside, ain't that too close for a stranger, sir?  Who is he again? The volleyball club is pretty popular here in Karasuno after they managed to get into the finals of Inter high recently. It was unfortunate that they lost to Aoba Johsai, but everyone acknowledged what a monster the school was. Yachi said everyone felt down but it didn't dampened their spirit, for their next chance will be the Spring Tournament.

"S-sorry." the guy replied.

Dark eyes darting away from her face. She could make out an intimidating look on his face. Eyebrows furrowing sternly. Lips set on a grim line. Yet his cheeks flushed. Or was it because of the orange hue from the setting sun (she couldn't really tell), which also made his black hair glow. It dawned upon (y/n) that if he could just smooth away his frown, he would be handsome (she thinks). And if only he weren't being gruffy. Wait a minute. Tall volleyball player, black hair, intimidating frowning face but yet somehow still good looking?

"I'm Kageyama Tobio-"

"I know."

Silence... Well that was awkward.

She cleared her throat. "I'm (L/n) (Y/n). From Class 5. Um, Yachi's friend."

"Oh." Shoot. He didn't know she was Yachi's friend. What will the manager say about this. "I'm sorry. That my jump serve knocked you out."

"No no no! I was actually a little hypoglycemic. So your uh, jump serve was just the final nail in the coffin." Damn, she knew that getting hit by any ball was going to hurt. But the ball just now, it felt like it could tear her head off. Or maybe that's just an exaggeration of being starved the whole day. She realized his expression went from frowning to horrifying. "N-not that it will literally be the final nail to my coffin! It was just an expression. Maybe not a good one. Sorry I'm just bad with words when it comes to strangers. I mean not that you're an absolute stranger. It's just that- I'm sorry, I'm blabbering too much."

"Not at all!" he yelled. Ah, he got too animated. He didn't understand why. But he just thought everything about this girl is cute. From her petite stature that makes him want to shield her from the wind. To her way of talking that showed just how shy and awkward she was as how it is with him. Trying to reassure him that it was fine. He couldn't understand this sudden grip in his heart and the tingling sensation at his fingertips. Though maybe it was because he hasn't touch the volleyball for a few hours now.

Another awkward silence ensues.

"Anyways," (Y/n) was still a bit shy. She was after all talking to one of the most popular boys at school. But seeing as how he is now, she thought she could loosen up her guard a bit. "Have you seen my glasses?"

"You wear glasses?"

They rushed back together to the volleyball court. Yachi attacked her with a hug as she lamented about the news she heard from her fellow peers. Daichi scolding him to be careful next time whilst Tanaka giving him his infamous gangster glare. Hinata coming forward with his head down as he presented (Y/n)'s broken glasses. He accidently stepped on them when he was panicking, though he only realised it when she was sent to the nurse's office. Her glasses must have fallen off her head when she got hit. That hard huh. Really God, you want to test her that much today. Fine, she'll apologize to Mr. Snuggles when she gets home.

Unbeknownst to her, Kageyama felt even worse than earlier. His ball caused her to knocked out, and now it even knocked off the glasses from her head and broke it. Stuttering on his words, he apologized again. Hands balled into a tight fist. He just felt so bad. Suga noticed how dejected he sounded. But he also noticed how pink his ears were. Oh? Well even if it wasn't what he thought, there was no harm in... light teasing. Besides, they'd looked adorable together, no?

"If you really feel guilty. Then you should walk her home today." slinging his arm over Kageyama's shoulder, Suga tried to keep a neutral expression. Well there was a slight smirk, but he tried. "What if she falls down on her way home? Or run into a pole?"

"I am short-sighted Sugawara-senpai. Not blind." (Y/n) said through gritted teeth. Really these eyesight jokes should be old by now. "Besides, I will need to stop by the optic shop to have new ones made."

"All the more for him to accompany you. It will get dark soon. Might be dangerous to be walking alone with such bad eyesight."

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to burden-"

"Let's go." Kageyama interrupted. And when she declined again, he argued back. "Stop being a stubborn idiot. You still haven't eaten, you can't see well and you're so light that people can just easily carry you away."

Did he just called her an idiot for the second time in the short the period they have known each other. How rude! Not that his points were invalid. He was right. But boy does this person lack delicacy. In the end, she agreed to let him accompany her. He bought two cartons of milk from the vending machine. One for each of them, and they set off on their merry way.

~~~~~~~~~~

"No- Okay. Once again. Osmosis only works with solvents. Simple diffusion, both solvents and solutes. So in osmosis, solvents will move from low solute concentration-" (Y/n) stopped explaining when she noticed how Kageyama's brows were almost touching. His lips formed a small pout. "You know what, we have been revising for more than an hour. Let's take 5. Then continue for another hour. It's getting late and although my mum likes you, my dad wouldn't like you being in my room for too long."

Ever since that day where he sent her home, she began hanging out more with Yachi and the volleyball club. Not that she never hung out with her close friend, it's just that (y/n) felt out of place when she mingles with unfamiliar crowds. But now that every member knew her as the girl who got hit by Kageyama's jump serve, that became the basis of her acquaintanceship with the club and she got to hang out with Yachi more. And before she realized it, Kageyama has just been around her circle. Always there. Heck he has been walking her home more often now that even her mother likes him. Then they became just friends. Or she hoped it stayed that way, because she noticed her emotions began crossing unknown territories.

(Y/n) has come to learn a few things about Kageyama Tobio over the course of their friendship. One, he is an obsessed volleyball freak. A prodigy people say. But what (Y/n) sees is a person consumed by passion for the things he loves. And that isn't necessarily bad. Two, he can be quite childish. He fails to control his frustration which later comes off the wrong way whenever he expresses them. But really he means no harm, because when he is happy, he expresses them genuinely. And three, he is quite sensitive. He may want to show that he didn't care, but he actually takes things to heart. He may feel down about a comment, but he will learn to improve from it.

"Sorry."

"What for?"

"For having to teach an idiot like me."

"Oh stop it. Everyone is good and bad at something. We can't all be the perfect prodigy. That's just how things are. You may be bad at studying, but with your volleyball skills I bet you can represent Japan one day." noticing his eyes lit up, she continued. "So in order for you to attend your camp. Let's just try our best okay?"

Kageyama nodded. It was a little embarrassing to have her comforting him like this. But at the same time it brings him immense joy. When he first met her, he would get flutters looking at her cute appearance. Now, he just feels all warm and fuzzy whenever she talks to him. He liked that she didn't judge him or anyone she's ever met. She would scold him sometimes, but at the same time explained her reasoning. And he really appreciated that, how patient she was with him. It does make him guilty, but at the same time he wants to start behaving better. Is this what Suga meant when he said he has a crush on (Y/n)? Kageyama doesn't really know. He will need time to analyze everything.

"(L/n), do you have time during our Spring Tournament?" he tried looking anywhere else but her face.

"You want me to cheer on the club? Sure thing."

"Yes." Hearing her reply made him smile. With a steady gaze he stared straight into her eyes. "Watch me play, (y/n). I'll show you a really strong serve."

(Y/n) could only smile back as she felt butterflies in her stomach. "Then we better get back to studying."

[cinnaminsvga]

Undercover (M)

→ summary: the company banquets that your family loves to host are often drearier than you would like them to be. lucky for you, your bodyguards have the perfect solution: why don’t you play a little game with them? 

the only rule? you must keep quiet at all costs.

→ pairing: vamp!jungkook x reader x siren!seokjin → genre: bodyguard!au, supernatural, smut → warnings: dom!jin, switch!kook, sub!reader, remote vibrator, rough public sex, fingering, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, blood-drinking, hypnotization, jin is kinda sadistic, basically pwp ;_; → words: 5.4K → a/n: this is for the holiday fic exchange that was held on @btsghostiewritersnet!! my fic is dedicated to ms @jincherie​ (aka the loml and also the recipient of 1/3 of the fics i’ve written this year??) who requested this prompt. i’m not really good with poly or smut fics, but i tried my best??? it ended up being a lil more jk centric than i anticipated but HHHH IDK I JUST HOPE YOU LIKE THIS EVEN A TEENY BIT ;o; anyway... happy holidays everyone!!

You can feel their eyes on you.

Except that isn’t much of a revelation—they are always watchful of you, after all. Your father pays a hefty enough salary that they would risk their lives to keep you safe, so it isn’t much of a surprise to know that they are lurking at the sides, keeping distant and close all at once.

This time, however, is different. You know for a fact that it is different. There is a subtle shift in the air, something tangible enough that you can almost touch it, taste it. You know that if you glance back at them, you will find two pairs of eyes, watching and waiting for… something.

That fact alone is enough to keep the goosebumps on your arms from subsiding. You feel like a canister just waiting to burst, a small disturbance enough to get you to erupt into flames and burn every last inch of propriety left in your being. Tonight, they are here to ruin you.

“Why are you acting so damn fidgety? Stand still,” your brother huffs after a while, pinching you lightly in the side. It breaks you from your reverie, causing you to jolt away with wide eyes.

“W-what?” you ask breathlessly. You wipe your clammy hands across your expensive dress, leaving wrinkles in their wake. “Sorry. I just… had a lot of coffee before coming here, is all. I needed the wake-me-up.”

He watches you for a moment, raising an eyebrow at your odd behavior. You can tell that he’s suspicious, but he inevitably shrugs it off, too unbothered to care. Like you, it takes a whole deal to get Yoongi excited about anything, and having a jumpy sister is far from reaching his quota. “Whatever. Just don’t cause a scene, alright? These events might be boring as hell, but dad has a bunch of important people here tonight, so you better get your shit together.”

You snort. “Right. Like when does he not invite important people to these parties?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. Just behave, alright? I’m not covering for you if you piss someone off.”

“Wouldn’t have dreamed of asking,” you mutter. Little does he know, you are already planning on behaving tonight, anyway. That is the name of the game, after all.

On a makeshift stage at the head of the ballroom, your father has just finished giving his opening remarks, thanking all his esteemed guests for making it to tonight’s banquet. Polite applause follows soon after, the clamor loud enough to mask the way you inhale sharply in surprise. Your back straightens imperceptibly, your body going rigid as if you had been struck by lightning. To your left, your brother is none the wiser to your panic, his attention glued to his phone.

When the clapping breaks, you nearly speak your prayers aloud when the ambush on your senses suddenly stops as well. You take one, two calming breaths, your core throbbing needily as you await the second wave to hit. Disappointed when nothing comes, you smooth your dress down, fighting the urge to look around to see if anyone was watching.

Legs slightly weaker and breath a little shakier, you walk among the throngs of people as they make their way to their seats, getting ready for dinner to be served. Instead of heading to where your family’s table would be located, you change direction halfway and walk towards the back. Yoongi does not comment, just nodding back at you and going the other way as well. This is normal etiquette for both of you, anyway—your father has always expected the two of you to wander during these parties, greeting guests and socializing with them as proper hosts should.

Except that isn’t on your agenda for tonight. Right now, you have a game to play, and you don’t intend on losing your focus to anything else.

It does not take you long to find who you are looking for. Just like he promised, Jungkook is standing close to the east entrance, standing stock still against the wall in his designer black suit. When he notices you approach, his stern demeanor softens, a small smile gracing his Adonis-like features. It is nothing more than a quirk of his lips, but it is enough for a flash of something sharp to catch your eye. It disappears before you can even blink, but you know that what you had seen is far from a figment of your imagination.

To an outsider, Jungkook looks as intimidating as any regular bodyguard should be: tall and muscular, coupled with a dangerous gaze that could pierce diamond. He certainly works like one too, as your father would have never hired him if he wasn’t 100% sure that Jungkook was up to his lofty standards.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that there is something else that sets Jungkook apart if you just looked close enough. Even from a few feet apart, you can see the redness lining his irises, the deathly pallor of his skin, the sallowness of his cheeks. As you get closer, you notice other things too, like how his hands tremble against his sides and how his breathing has gotten shallow.

Everything about him screams vampire—a starving one, at that.

“How long has it been now?” you murmur, gently nudging your shoulder against his. You keep close to him, feeling yourself relax at the mere scent of him. Jungkook always somehow manages to smell good; you suppose that’s a given since you don’t think he’s even capable of sweating.

“Since the party started?” he asks.

“No, silly. How long has it been since you last fed?”

“Three days, seventeen hours, and twenty-one minutes, ma’am. But who’s counting?” he wheezes, offering you a strained smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not really, but I know you,” you reply. A little too well, in fact. “Seokjin hasn’t even allowed you a snack? Even once?”

Jungkook coughs out a laugh, amused. “You and I both know that hyung wouldn’t be that merciful. He did say that if I behave today, then maybe…” he trails off. You don’t miss the way he stares longingly at you, thinly veiled desire rolling off him in waves.

You feel the blood rushing up to your face, turning away from him in embarrassment. You have to remind yourself not to rub your neck, lest the make-up covering your fading scar give away your dirty little secret. “I’m sorry, by the way. I kind of did this to both of us, huh?”

Jungkook chuckles, snaking an arm around your waist. You shoot him a warning glare, but you both know he only dares to get comfortable with you when he’s sure no one is watching. Besides, it’s always been hard for you to get mad at the boy, not when he has always been so sweet with you.

“No, it’s fine. We all agreed to this when you proposed it. Besides, neither hyung nor I are going to risk our health when your safety is on the line. It’s not that bad, I promise.”

“If you’re sure,” you say, glancing at him doubtfully. You have never seen Jungkook quite so… unhinged before, as if he’s just a step away from teetering off the edge. It scares you just as much as it arouses you, but you make sure to keep that to yourself. “I honestly didn’t think Seokjin would be this ruthless.”

Jungkook snorts. “I’ve known him for a long time, Y/N. Trust me when I say that he is definitely going easy on us, especially you.”

“If this is easy, I’m afraid to know how he’s like when he goes all out then,” you say, but the thought of Seokjin becoming even more merciless than usual sends an excited shiver down your spine.

“How about you?” Jungkook asks. “Are you doing okay with the, um, you know?” He flushes, still shy to even say it aloud even after all the things the two of you have done together.

You giggle, unable to resist the urge to tease him. “You tell me, Koo. You can smell me, can’t you?” You lean closer, looking at him through your lashes. “You could probably smell from across the ballroom, especially with how hungry you are… My poor baby,” you coo. You have your chest pressed against his, your low neckline leaving nothing to the imagination. And yet, his gaze is fixed elsewhere, red eyes following the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips.

It’s a rhetorical question; you know he can smell you. The remote vibrator in your underwear has been on the lowest setting ever since the night started. The vibrations are persistent enough to keep you constantly aroused, but it’s never enough to give you what you really want.

And just when you think you’ve gotten used to the sensation, Seokjin will spike it up occasionally, causing your composure to crack ever so slightly. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t turned it on to the highest setting yet, but judging from how the dampness of your underwear has seeped past your thighs, you aren’t sure if you’d be able to keep your cool if he did.

“Do I smell good, Koo? I know you said my blood tastes sweetest when I’m like this, right?” you whisper, trailing a finger down his chest. He does not reply, his nostrils flaring as he struggles to control his breathing. He has a dangerous edge in his expression, a simmering darkness just begging to be released. It’s the kind of lust that sweet and lovely Jungkook hardly ever has the capability of showcasing, except during moments like these, when he is at his hungriest and most desperate.

“I’m not going to lose the game this early on,” he says, voice quiet. There is danger in still waters, you recall your mother telling you when you were younger, and you find that there is truth behind her words after all. Jungkook may sound calm, but the edge in his tone is laced with meaning.

“No fun,” you laugh.

As if on cue, your own dose of karma hits you when Seokjin decides to turn the vibrator up to its maximum setting. “Shit,” you gasp, barely holding back your moans. You nearly double over, mostly from shock, not expecting the intensity of the vibrations. You feel your legs turn to jelly, your body heating up and breaking out into a sweat. You have to lean against Jungkook for support, your grip on his biceps so tight that you’re afraid that you might have torn through the fabric. If he had been human, you might have worried that you were hurting him.

Jungkook stumbles slightly against your weight, surprising the both of you as he’s normally as sturdy as a brick wall. Your worry for Jungkook supersedes the lust addling your brain long enough to wonder if his blood fast is starting to affect him.

“S-sorry, Koo. Are you okay? Are you getting dizzy from hunger?” you ask, your words stilted and breathy as you try to ignore the pleasure coursing through your veins. “We can go somewhere and—fuckfuckfuck—”

You are unable to finish your sentence, having to muffle your moans by biting into his shoulder. You’re shaking and panting, the relentless assault on your clit causing a fresh wave of arousal to drip down your cunt and ruin your panties even further. The coil inside of you is close to snapping, your long-awaited climax just inches away. You have half a mind to reach under your dress and chase after your high, but the sensible part of you reminds you that you are still at a public event—your father’s public event, to be exact. So instead, you wrap your arms around Jungkook to restrain yourself, looking to all the world as if you were just two lovers in an embrace.

Just as you’re about to finish, the vibrator shuts off completely, snatching away any hopes of you coming. You want to scream in frustration, a few tears threatening to fall as you squeeze your eyes tightly. Eventually, you release your death grip on Jungkook, keeping your head bowed to hide the way you’re still short for breath. When you feel less hazy, you take a shaky step away from him while muttering apologies to Jungkook.

“S-sorry about that. So much for Seokjin going easy on me, huh? I really didn’t expect him to pull a fast one on me like that—”

When Jungkook doesn’t respond, you turn back to face him. “O-oh,” you whisper lamely, your blood heating up when your gaze meets his. “Jungkook?” you call out, though you don’t think he’ll be up for much conversation right now.

You have never quite seen him like this before. His eyes have started glowing red, so much so that there’s barely a sliver of white remaining. His fangs have extended far past what should have been humanly possible, its sharp tips puncturing his bottom lip. He doesn’t even appear to be moving, not even showing any signs that he might have been breathing at all.

“Jungkook,” you repeat. You tug on his sleeve hesitantly, but he stands as still as a statue. “Jungkook, get a hold of yourself!” It takes you a few moments of coaxing and shaking before some semblance of lucidity returns to him.

He blinks a few times, but his incisors have yet to retract. “Sorry,” he grunts, bringing a hand up to his face. He rubs at his eyes, and when he reopens them, they’ve stopped glowing. His irises are still a deep shade of red. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d lose myself there. That’s never happened before.”

“You were kinda scary there for a second,” you laugh nervously. “Almost like you were going to eat me alive.”

“I honestly might have,” Jungkook admits. “If Seokjin hadn’t stopped you from coming right then, I might have just fed from you right in the open.”

You shiver. You kind of hate yourself for liking the sound of that, even if it was hypothetical. Your bodyguards wouldn’t risk your reputation like that. For a moment, it almost could have been real though, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

“You would’ve lost the game then,” you say instead.

Jungkook chuckles weakly, shaking his head. “You, Seokjin, and I already knew from the start that if anyone was going to lose, it was always going to be me.”

“Conceding defeat, then?” you ask. You press your thighs together in anticipation, catching the way he watches your movements like a predator awaiting its prey. “Is anyone watching us?”

With your back facing the party, you would never have known if anyone was close enough to hear your strangled moans back then. Ever the attentive bodyguard despite hunger and lust clouding his mind, Jungkook had still made sure that the two of you were far away enough from prying eyes. Well, with the exception of one.

“He was watching us,” Jungkook mumbles. You don’t turn to look when he points somewhere behind you. “He’s by the northwest entrance. He was watching us the whole time, but now he’s talking to your brother’s bodyguard.”

“How much do you wanna bet he won’t notice us sneaking out?” you ask, giggling when Jungkook gives you an incredulous look. “What? Didn’t you once say you could sneak me out of anywhere without my father knowing?”

“Your father and Kim Seokjin are two different people in two different leagues,” he points out. He glances at Seokjin once more, rubbing his neck nervously. “Oh, he’s definitely going to figure out what we’re doing the moment we get out of here.”

You shrug, already tugging him by the hand towards the restroom outside the ballroom. You wink at him, your giggles full of mischief. “Then it’s settled. We lose this game, and then we start another one.”

“Another one?” Jungkook echoes, following you like a dutiful pet. When you exit the ballroom, you find the reception area empty save for a few other security guards loitering by the elevators, surreptitiously on their phones. You easily make it past them and head to where the restrooms are, setting your sights on the polished wooden doors.

You push Jungkook inside the women’s restroom, locking the door once you both are settled inside. Turning to face him with an eager grin, you almost let out a laugh at the overenthusiastic gleam in his eyes. “New game plan. I call this one the ‘let’s see if we can get off before Seokjin catches us’ game.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Jungkook chuckles, but he’s already opening his arms when you walk over to him. You accept his embrace, pressing him against the marble sinks and slotting your lips together.

The kiss is fiery, all teeth and no finesse. He has one hand grabbing fistfuls of your ass and the other cupping your jaw as he holds you in place. Your own hands almost seem like they don’t know what to do, scrambling up and down his sides before finally locking around his neck as your mind goes blank.

Jungkook’s incisors cut your lips accidentally, causing droplets of blood to trickle down. They don’t even make it past your chin before Jungkook’s voracious tongue is already lapping it up, his groans echoing in the vastly large room.

You barely register the pain before Jungkook is offering another distraction in the form of his lips trailing down to your jaw until he reaches your neck, his breath leaving goosebumps across your skin. “Y/N,” he rasps, his fangs dizzyingly close.

Before he can choose to do anything, you trail a finger to his chin, forcing him to look at you. His eyes appear glazed over, almost as if he isn’t even fully cognizant of his surroundings. But when he catches sight of the way a fresh droplet of blood is already beginning to take form on your lips, his gaze hardens immediately.

You smirk, giggling when he groans at you licking up your bloodied lip. “No marks on my neck, baby. You’re gonna have to drink from down there.”

In any other scenario, you might have been concerned at how quickly he drops to his knees. He doesn’t look too bothered, however, as he bunches up your dress to your chest and tears your pathetic excuse for underwear into shreds. The small purple vibrator falls to the ground along with it, neither of you worried about where it is rolling away.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, burying his nose into your cunt. You yelp loudly, sensitive after hours of edging. You unconsciously try to trap him with your thighs, but he holds them apart with an iron grip. From your vantage point, you can only see his eyelashes grazing your stomach as he licks two long stripes across your slit, nearly causing you to fall over had he not been holding you.

“Shit.” He leans back to look at you properly, his mouth shiny with your slick. “Can I? Can I please?”

You don’t even know what exactly it is that he’s asking, but you’re already nodding anyway, eager for him to do something, anything. “Yes, yes, yes. C’mon, Koo. Give it to me,” you whine. Your voice sounds hoarse to your ears, desperate and delirious.

Not one to disobey, Jungkook does exactly that. One moment he is on the floor and the next he is lifting you with ease, placing you on the marble counter and standing between your legs to keep them spread. He returns to kneeling and hooks your legs onto his shoulders. He caresses your thighs with a gentleness that seems out of place, craning his neck sideways so he can plant a chaste kiss on your inner thigh.

You whimper impatiently, nudging him with your knee. “Jungkook, this is sweet and all, but my pussy has been aching to be stuffed for hours now so I’d really appreciate it if we can just get on with the pro-o-g-gram—” you stammer, your verbal skills forgotten the moment his thumb brushes your clit. Your body jerks on instinct, his delicate touch like lightning on your skin. “Ah, fuck! Jungkook, please!”

You have your head thrown back, unable to keep still when he proceeds to push a finger into you without warning. He pumps into you slowly, the drag of his fingertips torturously slow as you incoherently beg for more.

“More? You fucking asked for it,” he grunts, adding a second finger and being rewarded with another chorus of moans from you. He fucks his fingers into you like a drill, the obscene squelch of your sopping cunt coupled with the sound of palm hitting against your clit is like music to his ears. He can sense the way your blood is rushing through you right now, pleasure thrumming through your limbs and making you intoxicatingly sweet.

“I can’t wait to taste you, darling,” he says, licking his lips in anticipation. “You must love this, don’t you? Love it when I finger you like this, even though you know hyung is going to catch us and punish us for this?”

You nod fervently, incoherent babbles dribbling from your open mouth. “W-want both of you! Want S-Seokjin to catch us and make us cry.” You gasp, your stomach clenching when he curls his fingers in just the right way to make your toes curl in pleasure. “Koo, I’m a-almost there!”

Your pussy, despite hours of being constantly aroused, still feels like a vice grip, selfishly sucking him back. He relishes your moans, drawing more sounds out of you that you had not known you were capable of producing. There is no time or space for shame as your whines grow higher in pitch, calling out his name when you sense your orgasm approach.

Jungkook feels feverish when he finally takes a bite from your skin, your blood made sweeter when you climaxed from his fingers alone. The meat of your thigh gushes crimson like a fountain upon his desert-like tongue. He is drunk on you; not even nectar can be sweeter than you.

He drinks for what feels like hours, lapping at your wound until he cannot stomach another drop. A blatant lie, of course, but he also does not wish to drink you dry. So with a heavy heart, he pulls away, leaving one last lick up your thigh to stop the bleeding. He slumps back on his knees, his head lolling drowsily as he looks at you with a satisfied smile.

You are in no better condition, your chest heaving as you struggle to regain your sanity after both the mind-blowing orgasm and blood loss. Still, you smirk sleepily back at him, your eyebrow raised as if in question.

“What?” Jungkook drawls.

Instead of a verbal response, you point at his crotch with your feet. When he looks down, his dick is completely hard, his erection straining against his slacks. He was so deeply engrossed in the flavor of you that he had not even stopped to consider his own arousal, but now that it has been so kindly pointed out by you, the need to be inside of you consumes him like a fire burning him on a stake.

A guttural sound escapes his throat, a renewed fervor pushing him to climb to his feet in an instant. Impatient, he struggles for a moment to loosen his belt, has half a mind to just tear his pants in two when—

“Jeon Jungkook, can you hear me?”

Jungkook stiffens. Unable to hear the voice coming from his earpiece, you give Jungkook a quizzical look, wondering why he’d suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Koo? What’s the matter?” you ask, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Jeon Jungkook, answer me,” Seokjin’s voice is slightly garbled by static, but the authority in his tone is unmistakable.

Jungkook swallows thickly. He lifts the small microphone attached to his lapel, bringing it closer to his lips. “H-hyung?” he stutters. Your eyes widen, realization and panic seizing you.

You both share a frantic look. Fuck!

Seokjin chuckles darkly. “Took you long enough. Did you and our little mistress have fun?”

“W-well, we—” Jungkook stammers, looking to you for help. You shrug your shoulders, equally as tongue-tied. He returns to his mic, “We were just, umm…”

“Open the door,” is all Seokjin utters before Jungkook’s earpiece goes dead. Jungkook rips the small piece of plastic from his ear, both of you turning to the door when a loud knock reverberates across the restroom.

“It’s…” Jungkook cuts off, but he doesn’t need to say anything for you to know exactly who is waiting outside the door.

“Open the door,” Seokjin repeats, but there’s a certain quality to his voice that makes both you and Jungkook immediately want to follow his command. Without another word, Jungkook stands up stiffly, his feet dragging as he unlocks the door to allow him inside.

“No fair,” you complain. You pout, crossing your arms. “You used your siren voice on us!”

“I wouldn’t have needed to use it if you two weren’t acting like a pair of brats,” Seokjin says, sickly sweet. He’s smiling, but there is darkness lingering in his expression. It doesn’t help that your lower body is still exposed, free for his gaze to roam. “Do you have any idea how much trouble the two of you are in?”

“I’m sure my father is hardly concerned,” you scoff, filled with false bravado. You smirk when his eyebrows furrow, keen to tempt his anger. After all, Seokjin is the most fun to play with when he lets go. “Besides, I pay you to look out for me, don’t I? I’d expect you to come up with an excuse on our behalf.”

“I suppose so,” Seokjin hums. He glances at Jungkook, whose prior arousal has yet to subside. In a flash, Seokjin has Jungkook backed up to a toilet cabinet, roughly grabbing his bulge. Jungkook wheezes, his eyes flashing open in surprise.

“And you?” Seokjin asks, using his free hand to force Jungkook to face him. “You understand that you left your post, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jungkook gasps out. Seokjin’s grip tightens, and Jungkook releases a soft moan.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes hyung,” Jungkook emphasizes, his hips unconsciously rutting upwards. Seokjin situates his thigh in between Jungkook’s legs, letting the younger boy rock against it for a few moments before pulling back just as quickly. Jungkook whines pathetically, jaw agape.

“You both lost the game. What makes you think you deserve anything?” Seokjin asks. He directs his question to you, glancing over his shoulder. “Well? Did I interrupt something I wasn’t supposed to see?”

When you don’t reply, Seokjin frowns. “Answer me, Y/N.”

His voice is musical, and it pulls the answer out of you, unable to resist. “Yes,” you say, through gritted teeth.

“What were you going to do?”

“He was going to fuck me,” you say. You smirk when his shoulders tense. “We were going to fuck without you.”

At your admission, Seokjin considers you with an unreadable expression. The tension in the air is tangible. Jungkook has his eyes averted, but judging from the way his cock twitches in his trousers, you know he’s also aware of what’s going to happen. All you need to do is wait a little, and then Seokjin will—

He steps away from Jungkook and walks towards the chaise lounge situated near the wall of the entrance. He sits on it primly, his back straightened as though he were about to call you in for tea. “Go on then,” he says, flapping his hands flippantly. When neither of you moves, he quirks an eyebrow in amusement. “What? Don’t let me ruin your fun. Continue where you left off.”

“Um…” you say, thoroughly at a loss. This is usually the point where Seokjin decides to punish either of you, or perhaps drag the two of you back home for more adequate disciplinary action. Instead, he seems content to allow the two of you to do as you please. He has a mask of indifference on, and it’s always been a little hard for you to figure out what he was really thinking.

“But…” Jungkook gulps. “W-we wanted you to, um…”

“What? To join you? Oh please,” Seokjin laughs, a little cruelly. “No, I’d rather not stop your fun. Carry on.”

“But—”

“Carry. On.” Seokjin commands, his power trickling onto his words. At once, Jungkook straightens up, his feet carrying him towards you and spreading your legs apart. You gasp, the sudden movement surprising you.

“Seokjin, what are you..?”

“Fuck her, Jungkook,” Seokjin interrupts, ignoring your baffled stutters. “Fuck her until she can’t even stand.”

Jungkook shoves down his pants and underwear in one swift motion, kicking them off his ankles somewhere behind him. He situates his cock against you, rubbing the tip against your slit for a second before thrusting forward and splitting you open.

You both scream and moan at the sensation, your warm walls clamped around him deliciously. He begins his brutal pace immediately, both due to his desperation to meet his orgasm and also the magic imbued in the simple command given by Seokjin.

The intoxicating roll of his hips has your eyes seeing stars as he pulls out nearly all the way before pushing back in. He angles himself until he hits your sweet spot with every thrust, ripping ragged whimpers from your throat. Your second orgasm is quickly building before you know it, your body tightening up as he continues to rut into you.

With a trembling moan, you gush around him, coating his cock with your arousal. Your legs are still shaking even after you finish, your entire body going limp from the exertion. Jungkook slows down, still painfully hard inside of you.

“Did I tell you to stop? Keep going,” Seokjin utters quietly. He is the picture of calmness, his hands folded delicately onto his lap.

“What?” you exclaim. “I can’t, no, it’s too much—”

But when it comes to Seokjin, his word is the law. Between the two of you, Jungkook has always been more susceptible to his voice, completely powerless under Seokjin’s influence. And so, Jungkook resumes fucking into you, mindlessly obedient.

“I’m too—Jungkook, stop, I’m sensitive,” you cry out, but your pleas go unheard as he reaches between the two of you, his thumb grazing your clit and causing your entire body to jolt forward. Your walls squeeze around his cock in response and Jungkook trembles in pleasure. His ministrations on your clit, in tandem with the swiveling of his hips, are almost vicious, the sting both pleasurable and painful.

You can feel the beginnings of tears forming, the assault on your senses almost too unbearable to handle. “S-Seokjin, please! Make him stop!”

Jungkook is nearing his climax, his rhythm growing erratic and showing no signs of slowing down. He is unable to hear you past his desire, completely entranced and hypnotized.

“You want him to stop? Fine,” Seokjin says, amused. “Jungkook, stop.”

“No, please!” Jungkook lets out a tortured wail. His body freezes in place, his cock still twitching inside of you. The poor boy lets out a few stray tears, his eyes squeezed shut as his body refuses to do his bidding. He sobs, his voice cracking as he pleads, “Hyung, I was so close!”

“Not my problem,” Seokjin giggles. He gets up from his perch on the sofa, leisurely walking towards the both of you as he surveys the frozen boy with a satisfied grin. “That ought to teach you a lesson,” he says, patting Jungkook on the back.

“And you,” he says, facing you, “aren’t getting away so easily.”

You gulp, a shudder running down your spine. “B-but, the party..?”

Snorting incredulously, Seokjin taps his microphone on. “Namjoon-ssi? Yes, I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly. I found Miss Y/N. It seems that she is having stomach problems, so I’ll be escorting her home. Please inform Master Min about her early departure,” he says in one breath, shutting his earpiece off before the other man can reply.

“It seems like everything is already taken care of,” Seokjin says angelically, even though he is anything but. He bends down to pick up Jungkook’s discarded pants, handing them to the younger. He also finds your forgotten vibrator under one of the sinks, picking it up and placing it neatly into his pocket.

He smiles. “Get dressed, both of you. The night is still young, after all.”

[boldlyvoid]

ain't it fun? | part two

Part Two

summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

warnings: falling in love, fluff, hurt/comfort, implied/referenced smut, non-descriptive

a/n: so glad you liked part 1 I couldn't help myself from continuing

word count: 3k

from the beginning

She’s laying in his bed, one of his friends showed up early and she’s pretending she’s not there. But his friend brought breakfast and it smells good and she’s starving.

After crewing the hell out of her lip and 5 minutes of hyping herself up; she gets up off the bed, still in her sweater and shorts from their movie night, and she slowly opens the bedroom door, peaking out to see if Spencer was in view.

“Hello?” A friendly man spots her, standing as he makes his way to shake her hand. “I’m Derek.”

“Y/N,” she smiles.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he smiles back. “What’s going on here?” He gestures to her and then back to Spencer as he exits the kitchen and sees her.

“We watched star trek all night, if you don’t believe me I can make him recount it to you from memory?” Y/N replies, smirking like she knows him just as well as his friend.

“And how might you know Spencer?” Derek teases right back.

“He’s my best friend in the whole world,” she replies like it’s nothing, “and I live across the hall.”

Derek shoots a look at Spencer that’s almost proud, almost emotional, like a mom who heard she’s going to be a grandma, “Is that true?”

Spencer blushes, “she’s my best friend.”

“Tell me how this all happened!” Derek is more than excited, sitting down on the couch with a wide grin as he waits to hear more.

“Um, we met in the hall, we have the same interests and now we watch movies together and have sleepovers with candy and popcorn, like we’re 13-year-old girls? I’ve even braided his hair,” she avoids the real reason why they met. Unsure if Spencer has told anyone about his drug problem or not.

“And now I’m going to go finish sleeping in my own bed,” she makes awkward finger guns at the door accompanied by her most awkward smile and she’s off.

Spencer follows her out into the hall, closing the door and looking at her apologetically; “I’m sorry, I won’t tell him anything more about us if you don’t want me to?”

“Us?” She questions? “You tell me you love me a lot, but you’ve never told me who you want me to be to you… I want you to think about that and then come and see me later.”

“Can I have a kiss? It helps me think better,” he whispers as he leans in.

She rolls her eyes, playfully, leaning in as well until their lips meet. It’s soft and sweet and she wishes there could be more, but for now she has to go.

Once she’s inside, she leans against the door of her apartment and listens to see when he goes back inside. Only what she hears is even better, “Derek, I’m going to have to ask you to leave so I can go ask her to be my girlfriend.”

He shoos the man from his apartment, avoiding all his questions and convincing him to finally leave by saying, “you’ve been telling me for months that I need to get over it, and now you’re going to stand here and stop me from telling her I love her, again?”

“Again?”

“Derek!”

“Fine.”

And then he’s knocking on her door, “who is it?” She teases.

“Y/N, open the door, please?” He begs without a single regret behind his tone.

She opens it slowly, “yes?”

He tilts his head with a look that screams; ‘come on?’

But she looks back at him as if to say; ‘what about it?'

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“The first step in getting help is admitting you have a problem.”

He laughs at the absurdity, “you’re kidding?”

“Spencer, even though you’re a pain in my ass; would you like to be my boyfriend? I’m asking because the words make it real, and I would like you to really know how I feel, thanks for coming,” she extends her arm into the apartment, gesturing for him to walk in and he does so with a laugh.

“I would love to be your boyfriend,” he responds once the door is closed. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want this to be real?”

She can tell he’s not sure why he’s apologizing, “I need confirmation. I can’t sleep in your bed almost every night for a month, and just have to guess if I’m allowed to call you my boyfriend when my mom calls and asks why I won't text her back at night.”

“Oh,” he looks upset. “I thought that by telling you that I love you that it would work, but I understand. I really would like to be your boyfriend and be yours for however long you’ll have me.”

Her heart melts in her chest, he's so nervous and shy because he truly means it. His heart is in her hands now, “how long are you available?”

“Forever.”

“I have more questions,” she whispers as she moves closer, pressing their bodies together as she holds his sides and he holds her shoulders.

“Okay.”

“What did you mean out there, and also sorry for listening, but I’d like to know…”

“It’s okay,” his words are soft. “I’m um, a virgin?”

“Oh?” Her eyes shoot wide open, “I was expecting like an ex who broke your heart?”

“Oh no, I’ve never… I don’t... no,” he shakes his head profusely. “I’m not in a rush either, I just wanted him to leave me alone. That’s not what I’m in here for.”

She smiles, “I am too…” she whispers, “I’m really glad you are too, actually.”

“You’ve thought about it?”

“Think, big brain, go back to right before I closed my door that first night…” she teases him before making a fake VHS tape rewind sound that always makes him laugh.

“You wanted to leave the group because you can’t sleep with members while you’re healing,” he smirks at his recollection, “I mean, other than the general attraction, have you thought about the possibility of that happening for us one day?”

She nods again, “one day, I’m cool just making out with you for now, actually. But yes. I would like for you to be my first because I trust you the most out of every single person I’ve ever met.”

He looks like his heart is exploding as his grip on her shoulders tightens, “I would like for you to be mine too, eventually.”

“Eventually,” she repeats with a small smile, leaning in for another small kiss.

“Derek left without his breakfast, and he didn't even get a chance to touch it yet…” Spencer whispers against her lips.

She laughs through her nose, kissing him once more before pulling away, “come on, boyfriend.”

—

She’s been in Quantico for 5 months, 3 of which she’s now spent with Spencer.

She’s laying beside him as they watch star trek and her mind is off in space. She can’t focus on anything other than the thought of her rent coming due and how she’s probably going to have to decide if she wants to leave after her 6-month lease is up.

“Spence,” she whispers, “do you know any other cheap apartment buildings in the area?”

“Why?”

She turns to face him, the yellows, reds and blues flash across the screen and illuminate him lightly, “I don’t have enough money to keep living here, and I don’t want to move back in with my parents.”

“Would you like to move in with me?” He asks carefully, “don’t feel pressured to say yes, it’s just I’m never really here and I don’t want you to leave.”

She smiles at the offer, “If I move in I have to tell the disability people, and then my disability money will change because you make so much and they still believe that men own women when they get together, like some what's yours is mine, shit.”

“Really?”

She nods, “yeah. They'll want to know how much you make every month when I get my statement and then they decide what I deserve because if you’re making money, clearly I’m taken care of, right?”

He can hear her sarcasm and he knows it's just to mask the hurt, and she can tell by the way his whole face changes.

“Wrong,” Spencer is oddly defensive. “That is so wrong, there are so many women in this country trapped with terrible men who abuse them. They never see a single dime of the money that comes in, and if they have children they are lucky to receive money for groceries. I’ve seen all of it first hand, it’s horrific, and yet they still think they can take care of disabled women who are in more need of money than anyone else?”

“I love you.”

“What?” He stops, breathing, blinking, everything. He just stares at her as he comprehends it.

She hasn’t said it back yet.

“I love you.” She repeats it and smiles, tears welling in her eyes as she appreciates how much he really does care; how much he really gets it.

“Lie, tell them you’re back with your parents. It’s not like they check-up and then just stay here. Move your things in and make this your place too, do whatever you want to it, it deserves to be lived in.”

“You’re really serious?” She’s not sure why she’s so surprised, he’s been saying he loves her every single day for the last 2 months and 3 weeks.

She’s loved him the whole time, but she’s afraid of that at the same time because once she loves him out loud, then she loves him for real and that’s scary. He has a scary job and he’s never home and if she loves him then she has to deal with that and the fact he might not come home one day.

He nods gently, “I know you need a lot of space for your art supplies so move whatever you need to to make room. I think you’re magnificent, and I don’t think that you should feel held back, I'll do anything to help you with your little craft store.”

A tear slips past her eye and towards the pillow, she blinks as she smiles, unable to speak as she just appreciates his kindness, “I think when whatever is out there made your soul, they were like 'this one; he’s special, we’re only making one of him and he’s going to go through some shit, but it’s because someone else is too and they need each other.'”

Spencer’s smile grows, large and toothy as he moves in closer to hold her. Noses pressed together, they’re hugging basically now, arms wrapped around each other and legs tangled as they enjoy the moment. It’s so nice, there’s nothing left to say.

They’re content with each other.

—

She moves what she needs into Spencer’s apartment the next week, he’s out of town and it’s easier this way with him out of the way.

It’s easier to miss him in here though, everything smells like him and feels like him, and his personality is on every single wall. She wants him to come home so badly, living without him for random bouts of time was the worst part of their relationship.

The rest of her things are in boxes in her apartment, waiting by the door for when Spencer comes back. He offered to put everything in his old Volvo Amazon and meet her parents for the weekend and her mother was through the roof over it.

She has called 4 times in the last week to ask about all Spencer’s favourite meals, what he likes for breakfast most mornings and if he had any allergies. She’s cleaned the “guest” room, which was really just where she slept before, and she was very clear that he was allowed to sleep with her as long as no funny business happened.

That was the funny part.

They still weren’t doing it and she was fine with that, so was he. Neither of them was ready, emotionally nor physically. They’ve both been through some terrible things that make it very hard for them to want to share yet.

She loves him more this way, while the sex would probably be amazing and she knew they were both getting off anyway and they weren’t secretive about it, at all. They just didn’t do it together yet… and she was starting to want to.

The most they’ve done is the occasional mutual masturbation session and that was just when they were too lazy to do it when they were alone, earlier in the day, and just needed to in order to finally sleep. It was always quick, quicker than when she would do it alone because he was just so cute like that.

She found herself getting off to thoughts of him more than anything else the longer and longer they shared more and got to know each other.

Because while, yes, they live together and they’re dating; they’re still really just best friends and roommates. They don’t see each other as often as they want to, they have separate friend groups, she has meetings on the other side of town now and they’ve never even been on a date.

For how fast they looked to be moving to anyone who knew them, they were going extremely slow behind the scenes. The reality is, they were following the rules of addiction recovery more than the rules of society.

She wasn’t really ready to take on the emotional commitment of having sex with someone when she wasn’t really over her trauma. It went far deeper than just her addiction, there was more Spencer had no idea about and she wanted to make sure he knew everything before he met her parents.

So like always, they got into bed as soon as he returned and they had a cuddle conversation. It was soothing to not only feel the other person close, but they both stimmed by running their hands over something soft. He knew something was up as soon as he walked in the door and she asked for a cuddle before even saying hello.

He didn’t, however, expect the long-winded backstory of her childhood to be the issue. He was silent the whole time she explained, he cried with her as his cheek rested on her forehead and her tears fell onto his shirt below her face.

Learning his past was just as hard.

She cant imagine how no one could love him, no one took him in and offered him shelter and love and warmth. He deserved kindness and family. He was worth the world and then some to her, and it hurt so deeply to think of no one showing that to him. He’s spent the last 25 years just searching aimlessly for a single iota of respect.

No wonder he fell in love with her so easily.

—

The first time is terribly awkward but incredibly euphoric… and they cry after. Not from sadness or regret; no, they’re so in love and so happy with their choices, it’s more of an overwhelming overflowing of emotions that was bound to erupt along with them.

“This has to be the most vulnerable time in the entire world if you really think about it,” Spencer justifies why he’s crying as he starts to get anxious about being too much. “I mean we’ve already seen each other naked and know each other outside… we might as well share what's going on inside too.”

She nods against his sweaty chest, “I used to be really upset that my doctors put me on Dilaudid. I still hate that all this happened to us, but I’m really glad we don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

It gets easier the more they do it. It’s still always hilariously awkward, they were so stupidly in love it translated into every moment; like when they attempted shower sex and knocked the curtain down and got water everywhere. Or the time they attempted a quickie in the bar bathroom and his boss walked in, and they had to try not to laugh or move or do anything as they made the most awkward, silent, eye contact ever, in the corner of the stall.

Being horny and awkward was the worst combination but they made it work pretty well.

He was tender and loving and he listened to instructions well. He was a quick learner, he was happy with whatever she wanted and he always, always, tried to finish last. (He wasn’t that lucky) but he was a truly nice guy.

She loved him more and more as the seconds passed. He was just so wonderful, he had his up and downs but they always had great communication, and he understood her unpredictability from her disabilities. The best part was that he loved her regardless of how she was when she woke up in the morning, and she always went to bed with either a kiss or a text proving he loved her.

Before they knew it, a year had passed and she was laying in his bed while he got ready for work. She loved watching his selection process, his colour coordinated closet and handy-dandy tie organization rack. He was so cute, and he always looked so amazing.

“I don’t want you to go in today,” she whispers with a pout.

He takes his phone off the dresser and calls in then, “yeah, Hotch I’m really not doing well. I don’t know what we ate last night but I— yeah thank you.”

He puts everything back in the closet and crawls right back into bed, he snuggled back in close and she smiled at her job well done. He didn’t need to be at work as often as he was, he had a lot of personal and sick days stored and they were always telling him to use them. He deserved a break for that beautiful brain of his, an 8-hour turnaround between psychopaths wasn’t good for anyone, especially not the 2nd most prized possession of the FBI.

“What do you do during the day when I’m not here?” He asked, genuinely not knowing how she occupied her time outside of his presence.

“I sleep until 11,” she whispers as she snuggles in closer.

He’s warm and cuddly and perfect. Naps in the morning are possibly the best periods of sleep someone can ever experience. It’s so relaxing to reward the body with more time, and it’s even better when it includes the perfect snuggle companion.

Taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[bakatenshii]

Flushed

Dabi x Reader (BNHA)

word count: 5.1k

TW: 18+, smut, dub/noncon, drug use/abuse, corruption, virginity, (mild) blood

A/N: I am 12 days late for Sunny’s birthday, but my heart beats for one person and one person only— the light of my life, my wife @blahkugo​, who wrote me two (2!!) Shig fics for my bday Charity & Sludge, that I reread on the daily like the morning news. Cheeky shoutout to @thisisthehardestthing​ for writing one iconic sentence in here that I would have framed if I could. 

flushed

/fləSHt/

(of a person's skin) red and hot, typically as the result of illness or strong emotion.

cleanse (something) by causing large quantities of water to pass through it. 

Dabi doesn’t prowl for prey, he’s not on the lookout for fowl to take home for dinner. No, they come to him. It’s easy, always so obvious, he plucks them out like chicken in a hen house, ripe for breeding. 

It wasn’t hard to spot a desperate girl burning out, Hell, the campus’ full of them. But you had something more, something fun, something that made his lips quirk up and his dick twitch— you were uncorrupted. 

He can just tell, despite the airs you try to give, the aura of a virgin’s akin to an omega in heat to a starving alpha. Sweet, honeysuckle, the tiny flinches when a man gets too close, the breathy lilt in your voice when they propose something too risque; he inhales it all, commits it all to memory like you were desperately trying to do as you chewed on the tip of your pen and scratched out lines on the book in front of you. 

He didn’t need to push, you were already teetering the line, but he did it anyways— because it was fun. 

It was elating to watch you stumble into class the next day, eyes dark with sleepless anxiety, misery painted into every crevice of your features while your notes were tucked neatly into the drawer in his room. Really, you shouldn’t have left them so open on the lecture hall table, it’s like inviting a robber home and cooking him a three course meal. 

Finals season marked the end of your social life, and the beginning of Dabi’s career. It was almost boring, the repetitive nature of his job; too easy, too simple, a mockery of the entitled bookworms who look down on scummy repeaters like him. But the entitlement is what fuels him, over-achievers fearing for two simple digits on a crumpled sheet of paper as if it’s worse than death itself.

He thrives off of their stubbornness to accept anything below perfect; the hilarity of it all, the irony that their insurance to achieve higher standards than that of a scum like him only fuels his lifestyle, bringing him deeper down the depths of degeneracy. 

He sat behind you closer than usual, spoke a lil louder than usual, dropped in the most nonchalant comment about a study drug kids are crazing over these days. He watched as you flinched, hands stopped moving to listen in to the spiel he was spewing, the fishing hook he was dangling in front of you. 

A magic pill, one that’ll help you concentrate, kill any sleepiness, get you buzzed for hours on end— best of all, it’s totally legal, he gets it from a pharmacist, scout’s honour. 

That’s what he told you when you turned around to him at the end of class, whispering in hushed fear, nerves bouncing off your skin in goosebumps on your exposed arms.

Why he’s selling it? Because he needs some extra cash, he said. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he knew you were desperate enough not to care. 

When you met him in the dead of night at the empty carpark of his building, he knew he’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. No self-respecting girl would meet bottom-barrel trash like him in a deserted location at half three in the morning, no, you were untainted, but you weren’t pure.

He didn’t need to know it worked, doesn’t matter what your test results reflected, all that mattered was that you came back to him a few weeks later, met him at the same dingy carpark, hands trembling slightly less this time. 

He pretended to scold you, reveled in the way your lips curled into a soft pout, and warned you that tolerance builds fast. Do it in moderation, he had said— he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite. 

You came to him only a week later this time, and Dabi had pretended to be shocked. He wasn’t, he gave you a lower dosage the last time, there was no way you’d have been satisfied. Microdosing leads the unsuspecting to addiction, the one fact he learned from school. He lectured you, asked you if you’d built up tolerance too fast, if you wanted to try something different?

He watched as your eyes lit up, pupils dilating in excitement at the promise of something different, something better. It really was too easy. You were too easy. 

That night he invited himself over to yours, said he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t have any side effects. It was new, after all, and it was stronger. He’d sit there and be quiet, he promised; it was all out of the kindness of his own heart. 

It was almost embarrassing how eagerly you’d lie to yourself in hopes of a better grade.

Dabi wasn’t gonna do anything to you that night, trust takes time to build up after all. Besides, it’s no fun to pounce on the prey before they started running. You studied the nonsensical scribbling on annotated novels, he studied your tiny movements, twitches, nervous habits; etched them into his brain for future use. 

A too-long breath, a gasp, a clench of the fist signaled your come-up. He timed it, approximately thirty-five minutes for the initial peak, then smaller spikes at half hour intervals, totaling in four hours before you came down. Impressive, still, considering he’d given you the same dosage as the first time. 

He stuck to his words, staying quiet only until prompted, offered you water every once in a while, really, he deserved an Oscar for playing the best supporting dealer. It only took two more sessions before your tolerance peaked again, calculated and timed to perfection right before the next assignment.

The beauty of seeking out an English major was that they’re always searching, reaching into the void for any type of inspiration to translate into eloquently formed words. The beauty of seeking out you, was that you were already in too deep, hooked by the lil pills and plunged into the bottom of the ocean. 

Your grades rose while your inhibitions sank, a dramatic irony, isn’t that what they called it?

It’s cute, really, he only had to give you a nudge this time. Asked you how your assignment was going, played the sympathetic friend, and offered you something completely new, completely different. ‘Have you ever tried 2CB?’

Silly question, rhetorical, almost; of course you hadn’t. Innocent sweet girl like you never would’ve even touched weed, much less a hallucinogen. But he poses it to you in an eager tone like he’s genuinely waiting on an answer, like this isn’t just one big game to him. He laughed when you said no, asked him what it was— do you want him to show you?

You trust him, don’t you? He’s helped you through your exams, supported you through your assignments, honestly, he deserved a pat on the back. Don’t tell him you didn’t trust him, come on now, that’d break his heart. 

He didn’t expect you to put up a fight, but you gave in almost too easily, guess those lil pills really did migrate and nest in your bloodstream. 

The safety of your own dorm room was always granted to you, a faux-sense of security to veil you in, shield you from the true depth of depravity you’ve sunken to. He held you underwater in a net, ensuring you that he’d pull you up whenever— ‘just say the word.’

The net had long been cut, he’d admired the way you’d comforted down there, paddling aimlessly in hopeful conviction. 

It’s become routine, almost. Dabi lets himself in easily, settles into the couch across your desk, pulls out a baggy and passes it to you. “A psychedelic,” he explains, “you’ll see colours you’d never seen, find beauty in everything, an artist’s best friend,” if he does say so himself. 

He watches you pop the lil pill in your mouth, follow the stream of water pour down your throat, traveling the rips and divots of your tongue, before it drops down your throat into your bloodstream with a bob of your larynx. You’re so pliant, so obedient, he reminds himself to thank your parents for grooming such a cute lil doll.

You let out a loud gasp an hour and a half later, and he watches your fingers curl into themselves; and for the first time he speaks unprompted. 

“You good?” It’s almost genuine; the curiosity, at least. He wants to know how articulate you are, needs to know how deeply submerged your consciousness has become. 

He watches as you meet his gaze, little tongue dashing out to wet your lips, and nods once, twice, slowly. You shake your head almost immediately after, croaking out an, “I feel ill,” before pushing meekly at your desk to stand your body up. Cute, weak.

Just how he likes them.

He reaches an arm out to you, pulling you into his chest easily and nests your head into the crook of his neck. “Nauseous, aren’t you?” You nod, and he smirks. “Don’t worry princess, it’s just a rough come-up. I’ll make you feel better, I promise.” 

It’s almost believable, how sickly sweet he sounds. Too many sitcoms accumulated in recycled dialogues to woo girls in any situation; mix and match, simple yet effective. 

He can feel the restless rise and fall of your chest pressing against his, short quick pants as if gasping for air, a small hand scraping at his arm; yeah, you’re definitely coming up. 

He picks you up and nestles you into your own couch, so easily as if handling a ragdoll, then walks to the kitchen and pours you some water. The perfect friend, the perfect support, the perfect dealer. You’re so vulnerable, so exposed, you don’t even know it; it makes his brain fog over with carnal desire to pounce— but he doesn’t. Not yet.  

He lays back on the couch with you, arm snaking around your shoulder to coax you into a subdued euphoria. All the words he’s garnered throughout the years of fishing for his next meal come bubbling out so naturally in practiced scripts, “It’s okay princess, it’s a stronger pill. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” He’s promising a whole lot, tonight. 

“Hey,” he tips your face to meet his with all the tenderness of a lion stalking its prey, “I’m here, right? You trust me, don’t you? I’ve never let you down. I’ll never let anything happen to you.” 

It’s hard to force down the gagging noise on cue with his disgustingly fake, rom-com lines, but the way he can feel your body loosen, relax, and mold into his tells him he’s close. So close. 

This is the best part, this is what he’s good at; the last stretch of patience while stalking his prey, with footsteps so light, treading so carefully, until the air slows down around him and he can taste your scent wafting through the air.

It happens in an instant, a whole-body jolt as you tense up, euphoria announced with a sharp gasp. The smile that crawls up his face is nothing short of sinister, predatory, but he knows you don’t notice. You can’t. Your eyes are strewn shut, basking in the high, and he takes the moment to swallow the pill he’s held under his tongue. 

It’s no fun to tripsit, he doesn’t get anything out of that, and Dabi doesn’t do things for free. He feels your head fall back onto his shoulder, short breaths warming a ripple of goosebumps up his neck, and watches as you push your heavy lids open to gaze at the ceiling.  

He can feel your giggles reverberating through his chest before he hears them, innocent, pure, unsuspecting. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, because virtuous girls like you like to be treasured, made to feel special, safe— he can make you feel safe; no one’s told him not to play with his food before he eats it. 

He watches as you flutter your eyelids at him, sigh into his touch, really, you’re the textbook prototype, he doesn’t even need to adjust his tactics. “You feelin’ good?” A hot breath into your ear, and he revels in the way your lips pout to let out a soft sigh. 

Funny how differently you react when you’re high out of your mind, maybe it’s the drug, or maybe it’s just Dabi? You’ve always wanted a bad boy like him, didn’t you? Good girls like bad guys; it’s textbook cliché, and you’re the blueprint. 

He doesn’t wait on an answer, he knows it: you’re feeling good, great— divine. He’ll be right there with you soon, he promises.

“Tell me what you see, princess,” Dabi’s not listening when a cascade of nonsensical descriptions come bubbling out, he doesn’t care. It’s all to get you to keep talking, shift your attention elsewhere while his hand slithers down your arm to play with the hem of your shirt.

At the first brush of his finger on the bare skin of your waist, he feels you purr into him, eyes rolling back in bliss. It’s his cue to give you more, invitation for him to snake his other hand up your naked thigh and knead the flesh gently. 

Gentle does it, he’ll bring you higher as you go. 

He ghosts a breath just under your ear, nipping at your lobe, and admires the full body shiver tumbling through. Moans, loud and needy, come panting out past your lips and echoes off the walls before bouncing back to him. He lets you symphonize short breaths and whiney pleas with each lick and suck traveling down your neck, painting blooms of purple and red as his hand travels dangerously high. 

A firm grip is all the warning he gives you before he tucks his fingers into the crease of your thigh, laughing almost at how obediently you spread your legs. What happened to that pure, innocent girl? Guess under all that laid a dirty whore, just like the rest of ‘em. 

It was slick, so wet, pussy dripping past the delicate lace and drooling over his fingers. Lace, befitting of a slut who lured him in with the fake charms of a virgin. He slides a finger down your slit, gathering up all the juices before presenting it to you. 

“What do you see?” He holds up his finger, slick dripping down like syrup, and watches your pupils dilate in effort to focus. He can see the way your lips part, string of saliva connecting the two soft molds, before gasping out, “melting ice cream.” 

“Want a taste?” 

You clamp over his finger before he even asks you to, sucks on the digit like it’s a melting ice lolly, before your eyes shoot open and mouth twists in disgust. Of course it doesn’t taste nice, normal food isn’t even edible when you’re rolling like this. You’re sticking your tongue out, in an attempt to air out the taste, or maybe you’re just a dumb dog, a dumb bitch, he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care. 

The same hand, now slick with saliva, grips your chin and crashes your lips into his. His tongue finds yours first, tip licking up the crevice of yours lolling out, and he sucks it into his mouth like it’s a crime for it to be kissing the air. 

There’s no modesty, no gentleness, his tongue pries your lips open, and he feels the weakest form of resistance before he’s thrusting the muscle down your throat. He lapping over the back of your teeth, traces over each bump and rugae on the gummy sides, and snickers at your shit attempt to kiss him back with your slack mouth drooling out the corners. 

He feels a pawing at his arm— your hand meekly grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt to bring him in closer, press his chest into your soft tits, crowd him into you more, more, more. 

It’s cute; it’s stupidly desperate. 

He gets it though, it’s no worries. Human nature is all it is; the desire to climb higher and higher— he wonders if he can get one out of you before the pill hits him. 

There’s no gentleness in the way his hand slots between your legs and cups your dripping cunt this time. He wishes he has more time to admire the way your legs quiver and twitch with every firm pat against your clit, but he’s on a time crunch. There’s so much time to spare, he can play with it all he wants later.

He can feel your needy moan vibrate through his lips and reverberate straight into his brain, sloppy mouths working simultaneously together and against each other as he rips your panties and shorts off in one go. Any self respecting girl would shut their legs in shame, in embarrassment, any attempt to protect their dignity, but you don’t. He doesn’t let you, anyways. 

A hand moves under your shirt to roughly grip at your tits in the same breath he sinks a finger into your sopping hole. Inhale; squeeze, thrust, exhale— you moan. It’s tight, as tight as a virgin pussy should be, but not too tight that it fights against the foreign digit ramming into it at a relentless pace too rough and quick to befit an unexplored hole. 

He can feel the pulsing around him, gummy walls milking his finger for all its worth, and he digs his palm into your swollen bud; it’s all he needed for you to come undone. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream, the 2CB in your system rendering you incapable of anything except long breathy sobs of his name. 

His finger pops out with a wet squelch, and he brings it to his mouth to taste it; tarty, thick— he’s still sober. You’re blubbering out drivel about the stars you saw, the colours swirling around at the peak of your euphoria, you think you saw God— is Dabi God? 

Dabi had to laugh, pat you on the head with his hand covered in syrupy slick, watch it leak and clump your strands of hair. He picks you up with your shorts and panties drenched through dangling at your ankles, and walks you to your bed.

You don’t notice, still basking in the afterglow; he knows this. Not that you’d push him off, tell him to stop. Not in your state anyways. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. 

He drops you once the bed’s in frame at the same time he feels his pulse rise, heart palpitate, and a wave of nausea threatens to bubble over. It doesn’t; he doesn’t let it. An experienced veteran would never. It’s a welcomed sensation, one he’s all too familiar with, and he gives himself a brief minute to breathe it in, savour it, before glancing back down at your limp body on the bed. 

Is it your body? He can trace your silhouette from the dip of your waist, the full of your hips, something glistening, gleaming in the light— your pretty little virgin cunt. His eyes roll back at the next inhale before he finds himself landing on the bed on top of you, forearms digging into the soft mattress of your bed. 

He hears your voice singing into his brain, soft lulls of his name stringing out in DabiDabiDabi— the desperation and need shooting straight to his cock, he doesn’t even need to look down at your soft pliant body, welcoming him, inviting him in. 

“Feels good, yeah?” His voice comes out rougher than usual, low and strained, and laughs at how eagerly you nod, watches your chin catch the air and paint strokes of colour following the route it takes, “Who makes you feel this good?” 

He knows, he knows because it’s all you’ve been able to say the past while, the only word on your mind that you can even blubber out— 

“You, Dabi,” your pants grow heavier; his pants grow tighter, “it’s you Dabi, please—“

A hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, your soft, uncalloused, hand, and he grips it by the wrist before bringing it up to his face. He traces every line that curves and meets on your palm with his tongue, letting it be covered entirely with drool before wrenching it down under his joggers and into his boxers to cup his aching erection. 

His hips rut into your palm almost immediately as a knee-jerk reaction, every hump into your tiny hand has him panting into your face, sweat beading at his temples. His tongue drops down to lick at your lips, asking for entrance, begging for access. Your lips might’ve parted just a fraction, maybe just to let out a breathe, but Dabi takes it as permission to thrust his tongue in and prod at your dormant one.

He can feel you gag at the sudden intrusion, throat convulsing to push back the unfamiliar slimy muscle, and he briefly considers yanking your hand out and shoving his cock down that pretty little mouth of yours. 

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have the patience. He needs it urgently, needs your tight virgin cunny stretching and agonizing over his overbearing size, needs to feel the flutter of the gummy walls with each thrust; he needs it bad, he needs it now—

Your hand is wrenched away as he yanks both waistbands down to his thighs. He looks at you, eyes blurring through kaleidoscopic vision, and makes out your disoriented gaze staring back at him. Disoriented with toxins, disoriented with need, lust, desperation— a hand reaches behind Dabi’s neck and pulls him back down to crash bruised lips together. 

It’s all the invitation he needs, not that he needs it, no, what he needs is to sink his painfully hard cock into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. There’s a faint squealing coming from underneath him, and he thinks he can feel nails digging crescents into his nape, but all he can feel is your warm, wet walls clenching around him. 

There was no need to prepare you for any longer, there’s no point if he doesn’t stretch your virgin pussy out with his own cock; it’s wasted on fingers, his fingers don’t deserve to feel the way you walls quiver and contract around it. The pitched cries stop eventually as he feels your body go pliant and soft, and he has half a mind to realize you’re probably starting to come down soon.

He doesn’t wanna deal with that, you won’t be sober for another few hours, but you’ve peaked already, and not with him; that’s not fair, that’s no fun. His cock stills inside you with half still unsheathed and he reaches down into his pocket to take out a baggy of powder. There’s a spoon in, thank fuck, and he feeds a small bump right up to your nose. 

“Inhale,” he slots it right up your nostril, “it’ll make you feel good, didn’t you feel good?” Your head lowers to nod, bumps the edge of the spoon right into the cartilage of your nose, and inhale. Good girl. 

The baggy is tossed haphazardly before he’s working his dick into you again, cockhead pushing through the doughy walls in search of that pocket at the end of your pussy.

You don’t struggle anymore, instead clinging onto his shoulders and carving half-moons into the flesh. It hurts a lil, and Dabi doesn’t like it when it hurts, not when he’s the one hurting.

He snatches your hands off him and pushes them above your head, into the plush forgiving mattress. His teeth are back on your neck, biting over the ripples of purple and green and red and blue, reveling in your cries and moans that come out in symphonies. 

It feels good, great— divine, it’s what he deserves for bringing you to Nirvana. He’s basically your muse, after all, how can you truly describe rapture without experiencing it first? 

He can hear your moans ringing out from underneath, can see them traveling in the air in hues of reds and pinks and reds and reds— there’s red on your bedsheets, of course there is. He forgot that’s what comes with a virgin cunt; blood, mixing with the translucent coating his cock, dripping down and painting the crisp white sheet red, drifting into the air and congesting the whole room with red. 

He inhales the colour, sucks it into his lungs, and uses it to fuel the pistoning of his hips. Your breaths turn to pants, turns to sobs of his name leaving your lips again, and he thinks you look good, so good, taking his cock like this. You should thank him for bringing you to your second orgasm. 

Just look at you, crazy isn’t it? Crazy what a lil pill can do. But he’s got something better, something so much better, something that’ll bring you to a new dimension. You want that, don’t you? C’mon don’t be shy, Dabi will bring you right there, don’t you worry.

There’s still the faint cries from your orgasm when he flips you over and pushes your face into the untainted sheets. He watches as your hands sprawl up to grip and grasp at something, anything, and his hands ease up on the hold on your skull for a second to let you wheeze and greedily gasp for air.

He flickers a trail of blue down your back, watches the flames dance and rage in a mirage, every bouquet indented by the ligament of each tender rib, and there’s a faint scream. The pitch rises with the flames, taunting it to go higher, faster, paint murals in every swell of your back until he can’t see anything except ash coal char. 

Dabi blinks, squints his eyes as he throws his head back to focus on the paint chipping on the ceiling. It cracks and crinkles, shying away from his pointed glare, before he sucks in a deep breath and looks back down at you. 

There’s no ash, no char, only warm tanned flesh, pressed flush against the pristine white sheets underneath. It burns against the pads of his long fingers splayed out across your back, and he winces in annoyance at the irony.

You don’t seem to notice his pause, too fucked out or fucked up to register what’s going around you probably. A mixture of both; Dabi can’t really remember what he’s given you or how long he’s been there. 

He can’t decide if he wants to stay there anymore,  can’t make out the pros and cons of either. He counts them off with each painful yank of your hair, each harsh thrust into your abused virgin cunt— it was that, wasn’t it? 

He was there because he sniffed out a cute lil virgin, one so untainted and untouched, one begging for him to corrupt. He’s not known to be very generous, but sometimes he gets into one of those moods; it can’t be helped when there’s a desperate doll waiting to be torn apart. 

He knows what you want, can read you with his eyes closed— you don’t need eyes to feel the pulse of a greedy cunny; it clenches with every slap of the face, damn near clamps down entirely as his slender fingers slither around to the front of your throat.

Two fingers shove past your lolling tongue and yanks your head back by the digits hooked on the corner of your mouth. There’s drool, and spit, and so many fluids coming and entering all at once— and then you’re coming, again, probably, for the third time that night. Fourth? 

It’s methodical, straightforward, he reads the instruction manual once, maybe twice if the first one’s a bit faulty, and he’s got it down to muscle memory.

At the sound of heaving he looks back down again, admires the feel of two of his fingertips fucked straight into the back of your throat, and pushes down on the rugged gummy wall. You gag, and he laughs. It’s cute, so cute, you’re real cute, you know?

“Such a good lil whore aren’t you?” He digs his nails into the flesh of your hip and rams his cockhead until he can feel the kiss from your puckered cervix. “All fucked out of your mind, bet you can’t even hear me, can you?” 

He watches as you gurgle out words past his fingers wedged down your slack mouth, and choke on the pools of saliva drooling out. It’s the funniest sight, fascinates him to death, really. 

A slap to the face might bring you out of your daze, so he slips his hand back out of your sloppy mouth and revels at your body propelling forward straight into the headboard. He grasps at the tips of your hair and wrench your body back towards him before any satisfying impact could sound out. It’s a shame, but concussions are not in his agenda. 

“Been fucked so loose, filthy slut can’t even keep your body up,” he rolls your hair around his hands and yanks back until your skull meets his chin; it’s excruciatingly painful, probably, and that’s why it’s the best. 

It’s the perfect way for your mouth to fall open naturally, to scream, squeal, fluster around in attempt to be freed from the position— it creates the perfect hole for him to spit in. He watches as your face contorts in disgust, tongue pushed out to let his spit drool out the sides, but that’s no fun, not very nice of you, is it?

“Swallow,” he assists you with an extra hard thrust, and you choke on the moan coming out. His hand comes forward from your hip to rest under your chin before pushing it up so it clamps shut, “I said, swallow.”

Your eyes flood with tears that waterfall down your face, and God, he thinks you look the best like this— wrecked on his cock, body littered in purple and red, covered in sweat and blood and cum; his perfect lil cocksleeve, just for him. 

It’s emotional, almost— religious, even, he can feel the palpitations in his heart thumping against his chest echoing off the headboard banging against the wall, and lets the euphoria consume him, wash over him as he coats your walls with hot ropes of cream and white, hips stuttering with your greedy cunny fluttering and clenching around it, milking and sucking in his cock in deeper, deeper, more.

He thinks you might’ve cum, might still be cumming, but all he can hear is the Messiah calling for him, choir singing lulling him into an infinite jubilation; he closes his eyes to bathe in it, let himself be cleansed and washed over with ecstasy. 

When he pulls out, your body flops onto the mattress, and he watches as white dribbles out your quivering hole, mixing with the red on the sheets, creating a puddle of pink and magenta, before passing out in the fuschia.

[lillian-nator]

Ranch AU

Or, as we all call it, The Cowboy AU 

Essentially, this was something that I created, and it’s gonna be purely fluffy, with a small bit of angst here and there. Any of the angst will be hurt/comfort. It’s meant to make us all feel better after those fucking harsh lore streams. I started it, based off of some shit in the Dad!Schlatt AU, and after that I honestly didn’t write most of it. It had really been a project in the discord, because we were all sad and shit, so if you have some fluff to offer, please do! I am happy to make almost anything canon - and we could always use more ideas. :)

I hope you enjoy some mindless farm boi fluff!

BASIC INFO: 

It's SBI's Ranch (Phil is Dadza, Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur are his sons)

Phil, sells to the local stores, and manages the crops. He doesn't do too much labor anymore. He hired his boys for that.

Dream, SapNap, Purpled, Tubbo, Callahan, and Punz are all hired farm hands

George, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy work at the shop where they sell their products; Niki makes all of the dairy products, Fundy and Ranboo stock, label prices, and keeps track of sales, and George works customer service with his Gogy magic.

Wilbur works with the sheep, the goats, and he trains the dogs (Collies - they herd sheep), he also works with the crops a lot

Schlatt isn't hired but he might as well be. He can be found wherever Wilbur is, and is probably drinking a beer he stole from Phil. He doesn't get paid, but he eats all of their food.

Tommy works with the cows, the pigs, the chickens, the horses (sometimes), his goose, and the dogs / cats that they own

Tubbo works with Tommy. Essentially. But he also works on the crops, and the bee farm that they have set up.

Techno works with the horses, and is currently training to be a veterinarian.

Dream works on horses with Techno - they race the horses competitively - but otherwise, is where ever he is needed (usually crops)

Purpled works with Tommy and Tubbo. He mostly works with Tubbo on crops and his bee farm.

Punz and SapNap haul things. As your resident Chads, they are in-charge of moving heavy things and doing manual labor.

Callahan is their repair man. He fixes tractors, and machines on a daily basis.

SOME HEADCANNONS: 

HENRY, a saga:

that henry has a matching bandana to the one Tommy has so that everyone knows thats henry. Tommy doesn't like it when people touch henry so henry gets a bandana - Shark -

when Phil first started raising Tommy, he would've never guessed that he would turn out the way he did.

He was loud, and brash, and hit his brothers, and made fun of the neighbor's kids,  but then Tubbo became Tommy's best friend, and then Phil introduced Tommy to the cows.

The cows are Tommy's everything.

When a Bred Heifer is due, he sits with them everyday past their due date - he sat with Betty for 5 days when she wouldn't birth a calf. He was so fucking worried.

When one of his cows are sick, he sleeps in the barn until they get better. His last days with Harvey fucked him up.

Tubbo, Tommy, Purpled, and Ranboo spend long nights at the farm, and Tommy always leans against Henry as he stares up at the stars.

Henry who his best girl (all cows are girls and Tommy doesn't give a shit about gendered names). Henry who wears a matching bandana. Henry who is fluffy, and warm, and Tommy's everything. -

Sometimes when Tommy had a bad day, whether it’s stress, or school, or just whatever, Tommy sleeps in the Henry’s stall with her. Phil has so many pictures of Tommy curled up with Henry. From when she was first born to now. - Eye

Tommy hates winter because that’s the one time of year Phil won’t let him sleep in the barn. Even with the layers and heat lamps it’s too unsafe. Tommy always gets up extra early in the winter. Both because he has to check and break ice in the water troughs but also because he misses his girl - Eye -

Henry's mother, Betty, was the first Cow Tommy had helped during birth. He sat with her for 5 days when she hadn't gone into labor past her due date. It took 9 hours for Henry to be born, and Tommy was there through the entire thing -

Well, almost the entire thing. He was at school for the first hour of labor, and was so pissed at Phil when Phil knew and didn't immediately come get Tommy from School.

It always felt like Tommy and Henry had a special bond because Tommy literally raised Henry from birth. -

They didn't think Henry was gonna make it when she was first born, but Tommy was fucking determined, and bottle fed that cow every single day and night. When she was slowly weened off milk, Tommy got unironically sad that he didn't have to bottle feed her anymore.

He still visited her every morning, and milked her mother at dawn, right after he got eggs from his hens. -

Henry waits for Tommy at the end of their long ass drive way when he gets home from school. She knows that when the bus pulls up that her boy is back and so she’s always there waiting lazily for pets and a nice walk together back to the house. Even when it’s cold and someone is waiting for the kids to get home in an ATV or something Tommy always walks back to the house with Henry - Eye

Thinking about how long these fucking country roads are. And how Tommy and Tubbo have the same bus stop even though Tubbo and Tommy's houses are a couple of miles away. Tommy has to walk a mile to get to the beginning of his driveway, and seeing his favorite girl there is like a reward at the end of a journey. Tommy probably keeps a bag of feed in his backpack, which is just a mixture of grain, hay and corn, and gives Henry a handful to thank her for waiting for him.

Clementine, The Goose: 

Tommy has a goose, and names it Clementine. 

He found her in the woods one day, when she was very young, and he decided he was going to keep Clementine. 

Clementine is only ever nice to Schlatt and Tommy. No one knows why. 

Clementine follows Tommy around. Very endearing. 

Phil doesn’t question it at this point 

NEW MILO, the sequel:

OG Milo is a kitten that Wilbur found on the side of the road, in the rain, and he took the kitten in, trying to save him. Wilbur immediately got attached.

Techno pulled an all nighter, half spent  trying to save OG Milo and the other half comforting Wilbur. "You couldn't have helped, he was too starved and out in the rain for too long." Phil adds that if Techno can't save something, it can't be saved. - Ethan

Wilbur's next cat was named New Milo in honor - Ethan

Anyway, New Milo has three kittens. Blood God, Boots (given to Fundy), and Bumbles (given to Tubbo). They're called the Bees and they were born Christmas Eve - Ethan

BLOOD GOD, the pussy:

Blood God is Techno's cat. Its just a ferall little molly that loves techno too much. - M -

After Techno helped New Milo have her litter, he wasn't originally gonna keep any of the kittens, but he saw this tiny thing with the orange muzzle and just: stole her.

He is also nicknamed Blood God, for both his skill in hunting and healing

He originally named her Piglet because the orange spot looked like a pig snout [the main reason he chose her and not her stronger littermates] but called her Blood God teasingly when he first adopted her

Wilbur didn't realize he meant it as a nickname and told everyone her name was Blood God

Techno still calls her Piglet, but everyone else calls her Blood God because that's the name on her collar.

Most of their cats aren't collared, but Phil made her a custom collar because he was worried she'd get lost hunting with Techno and Dream - Ethan -

Blood God is such a batshit cat. She's a runt, really, oddly small compared to her siblings, and she's their best mouser

She's the cat that everyone leaves scraps for, but never tries to pet out of fear

Often she'll climb up people's legs and sit on their shoulders, and it's the only time you can pet her.

She is very, very affectionate with Techno and he loves her very much. He has her very well trained, and she comes with him and Dream when they go hunting sometimes alongside a terrier.

She's a little itty bitty calico molly and she has an orange patch right over her muzzle - Ethan

TOMMY'S HENS, the chicks:

He gets real defensive of his hens. They lay eggs for him. They deserve to be treated well. -

Tommy does in fact have an egg incubator; Sometimes it's just better. Tommy prefers letting his hens care for their own eggs, but he does still use the incubator - Ethan -

Some chickens enjoy being thrown so they can flap and shit. A few days after passing ownership of the hens to Tommy, Phil is going down to the crops and just sees Tommy chucking his hens and watching them rush back to be thrown again

he feels a hint of "what the hell" but he notes the gentleness tommy does it with and how the chickens seem to be enjoying it and he shrugs and keeps walking - Ethan -

Once Wilbur was helping Tommy with the chickens and he dropped an egg

Unfertilized, of course, but Tommy looked like you'd just punted a toddler

Three years later, Wilbur isn't allowed to touch the eggs anymore

Tommy's paranoid he'll hurt a live one

"Get out." "What - Tommy it was an accident, it was just one egg." "If you aren't gonna treat Phoebe's eggs with care; You can get the fuck out." "Tommy -" "Out." -

the quality chicken eggs depends usually on how the chicken feels. While under his care, the eggs the chickens produced were really good.

Under Tommy's care? Phil's eggs tasted like horseshit in comparison - Ethan -

They have their like, main barn and to the side of it is a little pond. The chicken coops are a little beside it, with the singular duck coop (he only has four ducks) closest. He calls the area the Business Bay

AGES: 

Tommy - 16 Tubbo - 16 Purpled - 17 Ranboo - 17

Techno - 19 Wilbur - 21 Schlatt - 19 Phil - idk like 45 or some dad shit

Fundy - 18 Niki - 19

SapNap - 18 Dream - 19 George - 20 Punz - 19 Callahan - 20

RANDOM HC’S: 

Tubbo, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy are siblings. -

Whenever they eat meat they talk about who they're eating. 

They tell stories about their day and such but they always start dinner, when its meat, saying "rip lmao" and telling stories about them

...they don’t do it when they eat beef

Everyone sitting down with their plates of ham Wilbur: so who was it? Phil: Fern Tommy, already eating: rest in peace fern Techno: he shat on my boots once -

Each of the boys get a few animals that aren't allowed to be butchered.

Wilbur has Friend, Enemy, and Skit the Bull. (Wilbur wanted to name a Bull "Shit", but Phil said no because Tommy was 11 and already swearing too much for his liking)

Techno has none of the livestock. He only cares about Blood God, and his horses.

Tommy has a pig [currently unnamed], his Hens (6 or 7 of them, that lay eggs), and his dairy cows -

Phil is ALWAYS chewing on straw. -

Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur all call Phil "Pops" or "Pop". They all used to call him "Papa" though. It's like a coming of age thing for the three of them, when they stop calling him "Papa" and start calling him "Pop".

Phil may or may not have cried when Tommy started calling him "Pop" at the age of 12.

ALTHOUGH, all 3 boys know that if you want anything, you call Phil "Papa". Phil can't resist it. -

Techno and Tommy with starry eyes: pops Phil: no Wilbur: Papa Phil, with slightly less confidence: n-no   - Ethan -

Tommy holding a baby calf in his hands that he walls to bring inside for the night because hes in love with her: papa please!! Phil, practically in tears: fine.   - M

[tatestripedsweater]

Crimson Sheets

Plot: James certainly wasn’t afraid of a little blood, so when your period arrived he took great pleasure in easing those cramps of yours

James Patrick March X Fem!Reader

Warning: Blood Kink, Oral (Female Recieving), Period Sex

Word Count: 2,271

A/N: If any of these ^ aren’t your thing simply don’t read, the warnings there for a reason dears. I tried my best with his smut, hope you enjoy!

Protective was an understatement of how you’d describe James, if anyone was looking in your direction one quick glare from him and they’d be gone. Quite literally after a few hours.

So when he saw you curled up in the bed you two shared; which was mostly used for fucking, his heart sank. Small whimpers left your lips as the sheets covered your figure, he often liked whimpers escaping your throat but this was a completely different scenario entirely.

It’s not that he hadn’t been with you when you were on your period, you just simply tried to avoid any attention to which he’d figure it out.

‘’My darling.. who do I need to kill?’’ Kneeling beside you by the bed, his big hand moved your hair back so he could see your face properly. Your eyes red and puffy, he would hurt the person who had put you in this state, part of him had a suspicion that it’s Elizabeth.

‘’No one.. it’s nothing James..” He could always tell when you lied, your voice went high and you couldn’t bare to look him in the eyes. James’ jaw clenched as he tried to compose himself, not wanting you to see the rage inside him with you in this fragile state.

‘’Darling.. dearest.. tell me’’ The pet names he called you made your heart flutter, even though you both came from different eras in the world you could help but fall for the man kneeled by you. Yes he was a killer, and the anger in him sometimes frightened you but he was the only man that you had been with that out your needs first.

‘’I’m bleeding..’’ The anger went from his eyes and it soon turned to worry, lifting up the sheets he saw no evidence of the red substance. He was acting like a doctor, examining you for any injuries. ‘’I meant between my legs James..’’

‘’Oh..’’ You half expected him to walk away, back in his day women rarely spoke of such a thing, just suffered in silence. But the smirk on his face said otherwise, what was going through that brain of his? ‘’Darling you should’ve just told me, I am sure I know a way to ease your pain’’

Before you could even question him James had already moved so he was kneeled above you, his tall stature made you feel tiny. You sometimes wondered how you got so lucky, he could have any women he wanted yet he picked you.

‘’ I hear orgasms ease a females menstrual pains my dear, so that is what I’ll give you’’ Before you could even protest to the idea he lifted your night dress, James cold lips caressed the skin of your stomach before leaving open mouthed kisses on soft and supple skin.

A groan left his lips when he heard the noises that was leaving yours, anyone would think you hadn’t been touched like this before, James knew how sensitive you were to his touch and used that knowledge to his advantage. Kissing his way down to your stomach he saw a glint of fear in your eyes, James could tell no man has ever pleasured you through on your period but he wasn’t going to stop. Not even for a little bit of blood.

‘’Darling I take the lives of others, I practically bathe in their blood, this inconvenience of yours is not going to bother me one bit’’ Using his teeth he peeled of your underwear down your thighs, he knew just how to get you writhing under him. From the material of your underwear grazing against your skin as he pulled them down made goosebumps appear on your skin, he couldn’t help but let out a dark chuckle at how sensitive you are.

Looking away you felt your cheeks go bright red as he looked between your thighs, you couldn’t even respond but only with a moan as soon as his lips wrapped themselves around your clit. James’ hands pressing down against your stomach as he held you in place, he felt himself get harder with each moan that you let out.

He didn’t even complain of the taste, in fact he loved it. The mixture of your cunts natural wetness and the copper of the blood was enough to make him grind down against the bed as he lay between your legs. Squeezing his head between your thighs he pried them back open, even in times like this James wanted complete and utter control over you.

‘’J-James..’’ Leaning your head back against the pillow you took everything he was giving to you, his tongue was like magic. Moving a hand down you gripped onto his raven hair, which made him not only groan against you but nipple slightly on your clit. The sudden feeling made you jolt ever so slightly, a smirk plastered across his face.

‘’Be careful with pulling my hair dearest, you know how excited that makes me’’ Oh you did indeed, the first time you done it, it was my accident, but the reaction you got out of him was enough to make your underwear from to your ankles.

Teasing your cunt he parted your lips with his fingers as his mouth still assaulted your clit, using his index and middle finger he thrusted them inside you. Your moans were getting louder with each stroke of his fingers and every suckle of your clit, but he didn’t dare stop now, not with you completely under his control.

You hoped to god he wasn’t going to stop, you felt like you were in heaven, as soon as your legs started to tremble James just knew he had you right on the edge. He was like a starving man taking his last meal, James could spend hours between your legs with no complaints what so ever. Curling his fingers inside you, James hit the spot, he knew just from the way your hips bucked and how you cried out his name like a mantre.

‘’James please!’’ A mixture of curse words and his name left your lips as your orgasm started to take over, you felt like fire was pooling down in your stomach. It wasn’t a bad feeling, not at all, it was the most pleasurable moment you had experienced. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped onto the bed sheets for dear life, James’ eyes were on you the whole time as he worked you through your orgasm.

‘’There she is..’’ He muttered against your cunt as he slowed down to ease you from your high, you were like an angel to him. It was like light had surrounded you, the only pure thing he had in his life yet you were like a whore in the bedroom. His to take as he pleaded, and he certainly didn’t hear any complaints from you.

Slowly pulling away he got back up on his knees, and the sight before you was enough to make a nun swear, from the tip of his nose all the way around his mouth was covered in your blood. Licking his lips he hummed in satisfaction, at this point you didn’t even care about the bedsheets Mrs Evers had to clean after this, the way James looked deemed him a wild animal.

‘’Now dear, let’s get to fucking that cute cunt shall we?’’ The expression on his face was absolutely sinful, and you were sure you’d be welcomed into hell when the time came.

Unbuckling his belt and throwing it somewhere forgotten, he pulled his clothes off with ease. He was like a god, but telling him that was surely going to boost his ego so instead you kept it to yourself. James’ cock was purple around the tip due to it being confined within his clothing. Pre cum ran down the underside of his of cock, growling he saw you bite your lip, knowing exactly what was going through your mind in that moment.

‘’Later, right now this is about you dear’’ James lifted your legs up and around his waist, pulling you closer to him. His cock run across your slit teasingly slow, blood coating his cock as he fired James knew what he was doing to you and he loved it. He had you purring like a kitten and the man hasn’t even fucked you yet, there was one thing about James and that’s that he liked to tease. Wanted you to beg for what you so craved, wanted to hear you tell him how you wanted it.

‘’Please.. use me, I’m yours..’’ Oh you certainly were, and he reminded you each day. Whining as his names dug into your hips, leaving half moon shapes, his hips snapped forward as his cock filled you up deliciously.

‘’Oh that’s it! Take my cock darling!’’ He snarled with each thrust of his hips, he kept it hard and fast, the sheets below you looked like someone had been murdered and honestly it wasn’t the first time that happened within this room.

You were screaming underneath him, the whole hotel was sure enough to hear the both of you. Looking up at him desperately your eyes met his dark ones, the bed was creaking under you both, the headboard banging against the wall. ‘’D-dont stop!’’

‘’I don’t plan too darling!’’ James leaned down and moved your legs up and over his shoulders, the new angle forcing his cock deeper inside you. His hand met the back of your head, pulling your hair tightly to which forced your head up, leaving your neck exposed.

James’ lips met your neck in a hot frenzy, biting down hard on the flesh until he was satisfied with the purple mark leaving in his wake. The only noises in the room were that off you both moaning, and skin slapping together and the wet noise of his cock thrusting inside your cunt, his balls hit your ass with each thrust and you were sure there were going to be bruises just from that.

Sweat formed on your skin, the light making it glisten. His stamina was something you’ve never came across before, I guess that was a perk of being dead, he could go on forever if he could but you, still alive and well could not.

You were careful not to touch the scars on his back, knowing that he’d disapprove and anger him, instead your nails gripped onto his ass cheeks, pulling him deeper inside you if that was even a possibility. His cock filled you up to the brim, your cunt squeezing against him like a vice had such obscene noises leaving your lovers mouth.

‘’Darling your divine, a work of art!’ He snarled each word with a hard thrust, making you squeal out. James always praised you during times like these, it wasn’t exactly gentle sex but it wasn’t the roughest he’d been with you. You were his life, and soon to be wife, Mrs March.

‘’James I don’t think I’ll last much longer..’’ He could tell, from how your legs shook on his shoulders and the squeezing of your cunt around his cock. His orgasm was dawning too much James always made sure to make you cum first, there wasn’t anyway he was going to fill you up beofre you’ve had pleasure overtake your body.

Not caring about the now dried blood around his mouth he kissed you, hungrily yet lovingly. The taste of your cunt mixed with tobacco and the metallic taste of your blood had you whining against his lips, you didn’t expect to find it so arousing, but by god you did and you certainly wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to do it again.

Holding you close he started to loose his rhythm, he was holding back from his own release and you could tell, with each thrust it was getting sloppier and sloppier. The noises your bodies made together was something out of a porn, his breath ragged as your cunt squeezed against him yet again. ‘’J-James..’’ Whimpers left your lips as you felt another orgasm approaching, the burning sensation coming back in your stomach but much stronger this time.

‘’Cum for me darling, let go’’ His voice much deeper than usual along with his words sent you over the edge, clinging onto him for dear life your cunt tightened around his cock once again, forcing a loud moan from your lovers lips. Your orgasm took over your entire body, you started to see stars, it was beautiful and erotic, arching your back as he kept thrusting even after your orgasm, he knew how sensitive you were.

‘’Fuck darling!’’ A snarl left his mouth, he sounded like a wild animal, a beast if you will. His met yours once again hungrily as his thrusts lost more rhythm before his hips stuttered against yours, growling he filled you up with his cum. The smell of blood, sweat and cum filled the room like a whores perfume, it was a scent you could get used too.

Panting heavily below him he watched you with adortion, James thought he’d never find another woman after Elizabeth but once you checked into the hotel it all changed. He had to make you his, and he did, but the fear off loosing you outside of the hotel overtook his senses everyday you left the premises.

One day he would kill you, James knew he would, with or without your consent. But for now he held your hot and sweaty figure in his arms, you completely oblivious to the plans he had in mind for the future.

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

A Lesson In Touch [Din Djarin x Reader]

Title: A Lesson In Touch Summary: You want nothing more to say your feelings for Din out loud, but words don't come to you or Din easy... Maybe you can express your love in another way. Warnings: A little bit of angst and description of injury, but that's about it Request: N/A

A/N: This is the third and final instalment of "a lesson in" series! ((unless i get inspired to write another part)) Let me know if you have any requests for Din in general!!

A/N 2: Here is a list of people that said they wanted to be tagged for this fic! Hope you like it

@elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @the-fae-child @zoleea-exultant @captainwanderlust78​ @ihavemyownissuess​

PART 1: A Lesson In Mando’a PART 2: A Lesson In Tradition PART 3: A Lesson In Touch

Din Djarin~A Lesson In Touch

Din hadn't quite mastered the art of subtlety when it came to you. He was very thankful for his beskar, specifically his helmet, otherwise he was sure you would've noticed his outright staring. In no way was he trying to make you feel uncomfortable or offend you, but he just felt mesmerised by you in a way that no other being in the galaxy had. Well, apart from his little green son. But, this... This was something different.

        You were something different.

        Ever since you had bought that necklace, the way he felt about you had only intensified. It was scaring him in ways he didn't even want to confront. Thoughts of a relationship, of a family with you began to stir within him. It wasn't realistic- definitely just a day dream. Kriff, he hadn't even been in a romantic relationship before: how was he ever going to treat you right? Sure, he'd dabbled in a few flings here and there... Some he was less than proud of. Although he'd never broken his Creed, he had certainly bent the rules a handful of times; in his defence, he was young, and stupid... And, touch starved. In truth: he probably still was.

        It had been a long while since anyone had touched him with any other intent than to kill him. He was used to the roughness of touch that came with combat: the way his fists hit another, and he was in turn hit, but your soft lingering touches were enough to distract him for the whole day.

        He began to crave them: any excuse to be close to you.

        If only the Mandalorian knew that he wasn't being as subtle as he thought. Even with the helmet disguising his eyes, you could feel his vision on you. At first, you felt self conscious under his gaze. You interpreted it as him glaring at you: maybe you had done something wrong with the kid? Or maybe you had offended him, and he just wasn't saying anything? But, slowly, you got better at reading his body language. It was tough at first, as Din revealed very little personal information about himself. Coupled this with the fact he was usually clad head to toe in beskar armour, you made slow progress. However, over time, you began to pick up on little cues. Soft, small hints that he wasn't glaring... He was looking at you: you'd caught him staring.  

        You were going to confront him about it, initially; maybe even make a light joke of it. You had quickly gone off of that idea. Soon, you decided you liked the Mandalorians eyes on you; you even let yourself believe that he might only have eyes for you.

        And soon, just as he craved you, you wanted more than just his eyes on you.

~~~

The universe had a fucking funny way of answering your inner desires. When you said, you had wanted to feel him, feel his skin on your own, when you had said you wanted to feel his touch, this wasn't what you meant. Kriff. This was getting bad. Din was bleeding badly.

        What had initially meant to be a pretty simple bounty had turned into a rather difficult one. The location Din was sent initially was inaccurate, and then when he arrived at the actual, correct location, it was a trap. His target had friends, and it soon became an ambush. The Mandalorian was still capable of taking them down, but they put up a pretty good fight, and before knocking out all of them, one had managed to stab Din in his side.

        Which lead you to now.

        Din was in your arms. He had stumbled into the Razor Crest, clutching his side with one arm and dragging the quarry with the other. You'd almost lost control in that moment, but you knew you had to stay calm for him. You rushed up to him, and quickly aided him in throwing the bounty into carbonite. Then, you made quick work of laying him down on your make shift medical bench, and asking him where the pain was coming from. Your eyes were wide with panic: he could probably tell. You were terrible at hiding emotions when it came to him, and you'd never exactly done this before. Sure, you'd patched yourself up more times than you can count: but someone else? Someone you cared about? Now that was something else entirely.

        "Din," you cooed gently, trying not to make his pain worse, "I'm going to need to remove some of your armour. Is that okay? Is... Is that breaking your Creed?"

        "I- No," Din huffed out, trying to be kind to you despite his situation.

        "Okay, good... Good... I need you to lay as still as you can okay. I'm just going to..."

        You don't know why you start narrating what you're doing. Maybe you thought it would put him at ease if he knew what was going on. Maybe it was making things worse.

        Gently, you peeled away his armour from his torso, and observed the large cut down his side. You pressed your hand against him, and Din winced in pain. Your hand retracted quickly, and you ran to the first aid kit kept in the Crest. You opened the bag, and began searching around for the bacta patch and disinfectant that you needed. Your heart was beating really quickly, and you could feel Din's pulse getting weaker. His breathing shallowed. You steadied your shaking hands as you brought the disinfectant up to his wound.

        "Din," you murmur, "Are you still with me? Din... I'm sorry this is going to hurt."

        You saw his head nod slowly, and you began cleaning the wound as carefully as you can. He winced in pain and his hand shot up; he grabbed out to you, and his hand was wrapped around your upper arm before you knew what was happening. Despite the situation, his touch (even through his glove) surprised you. Your heart rate began to increase, and your face felt hot.

        "I'm nearly done now," you promise him, "I'm just putting on the bacta patch and then you can rest."

        "T-Thank you, cyar'ika," Din replied, his grip on your arm faltering before letting go.

        You took his hand and squeezed it gently. Din was weak now but at least his wound has been tended to and he wasn't losing anymore blood. It was only now that the worst of it was over, that you took note of the blood across the ship. This would be one hell of a clean up. First, you washed your hands, and then you gently removed the remainders of Din's armour, save his helmet (of course). You unbuttoned his tunic and swapped it out for one that wasn't covered in blood- and one that didn't have a large hole in it. You like to think that he'd appreciate it.

        With the ship finally cleaned, and Din safe, you crawled into your cot beside the child. Your eyes felt heavy as you held the child close to you: you took one last look at your Mandalorian, before finally falling asleep.

~~~

Din Djarin woke up startled. His hand went to his side, at first, and then across his chest, before ending up resting on his helmet. His eyes scanned the room before settling upon you. His eyes softened; in your arms lay his little womp rat. He was safe, and so were you. Din sighed, relieved that you were both still okay.

        His eyes cast down to the pile of armour beside him: you must've removed it after he'd passed out. He recognised that he was now wearing a new black shirt, and that his old, bloodied one was nowhere to be found. His mind didn't have time to wonder where you'd put it, as the sound of him moving off of the make shift medical bench had caused you to begin to awaken. Your eye sight was blurry for a second, before focusing in on Din. He was up.

        He was up!

        "Din! You're awake!" you exclaim, shaking off any sleepy feeling that still remained.

        "Are you alright?" Din asks, stepping towards you.

        "Am I alright?" you repeat back to him, now also finding your feet, "You get stabbed, come home bloody to me -barely standing I might add- and you ask me if I'm okay?"

        Din shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

        "Never mind me: how are you feeling?"

        "I'm... I'm okay. Better now, thanks to you," Din reassured, reaching over to take the child from you now that he had woken up from his nap.

        "Well, I have been told I have an excellent bed side manor," you tease.

        "Oh yeah?" Din plays along.

        "Really! If it wasn't for this whole bounty hunting gig, I definitely would've been a nurse," you assure confidently; although truthfully at this point in time, you have no interest in taking care of anyone else besides your small found family.

        "You would've made an excellent nurse," Din chuckles.

        It warms your heart: hearing him laugh.

        "I thought you were going to pass out quicker than me at certain points, though," Din continues, "But I'm not dead so you must've done something right."

        "Hey now, Mandalorian: in my defence, I was not expecting you to come back covered in blood and barely conscious. Forgive me if I was a little rusty."

        You hadn't realised how close the two of you had become until now. His body was so close that you could almost feel the heat coming from his body. Or maybe it was yours. You weren't honestly sure at this point, but it was making your face heat up. You shyly looked away from his gaze. Seeing him like this almost felt unnatural. You were so use to him fully covered in armour, that seeing him without all the beskar felt like you were seeing him naked. Despite this, you enjoyed seeing him like this: he felt more human to you now. If he was feeling vulnerable at all, he didn't show it. If you didn't know any better, you'd almost say he enjoyed this new layer of vulnerability because it meant he could feel closer... Closer to you.

        "You're forgiven," he murmurs, his voice low, "Am I forgiven, cyar'ika?"

        "Hm..." you hesitate, teasing him for a second, "I will have to think about that-"

        "-Mesh'la, please," he pretends to beg you, smiling under his helmet; Din's eyes remain on you, almost transfixed as you pretend to ponder the status of his forgiveness.

       "Only if you tell me what m- me- mesh'la means," you whisper in a hushed tone, "Or agree to teach me Mando'a. I have to know what you are saying about me."

       "Only good things," Din replies in the same quiet tone, "Beautiful."

       "Beautiful," you repeat back to him, your heart swelling, "Din you are... Me- mesh'la too."

       You expect him to reply: correct your pronunciation, or joke back with you but the Mandalorian has gone silent. Not an uncomfortable wooden silence. No, it was a warm silence. It felt right, and after a second, you adjusted to the new quietness. You imagine neither of you have had a moment like this in a long time. The silences you were use to only echoed with your hollowness, reflecting your loneliness. But this: this felt right.

       Gently, Din leaned his head on your own. Due to the presence of his helmet, he was careful not to be too forceful, but you soon accepted the gesture, and kept your forehead on his.

       A keldabe kiss.

       That's what you would come to know that as. Although it originally started as slang for a headbutt, it soon became a sign of affection among Mandalorians. Affectionate moments with the Creed felt few and far between, so this was a way around that. And, it was one you quiet enjoyed. Even if you couldn't always touch your Mandalorian in the ways you wanted to, in these moments it didn't seem to matter. Despite the Creed, despite everything, there was no true barrier that could separate you and Din Djarin.

       Your foreheads stay together for a moment longer, before separating. You look up at him, and you know -even without words, even without touch- he is yours, and your are his.

[shushiyuii]

Atlantic Runaways (Part 1)

I’m feeling a bit unmotivated today and sicky, ill do as much as i can today so in case i can’t upload much take this fic i made a while ago.

Also future parts of this au will contain noms! So just be aware of that!

Warnings: Mistreatment (Take this warning seriously please)

Words: 1.8k

When Wilbur was a young Mer, he enjoyed swimming around in the open waters, living with his pod and learning new things. But that wasn’t easy nowadays living within a cramped tank, especially being forced to perform. He was captured several years ago now, he was a full adult now, being raised in what he could barely call his home.

So many people mistreated him here, not to mention the lack of food, he was almost always starving but over the years you get used to that sort of thing, all that matters really is if you do well during your performances you get more food, and he hates it here. He really hates these humans, they’re pitiful.

He hates the crowds and how they applause after doing a single flip, his trainer seems to agree on that. He always scowls whenever he hears those cheers, but it wasn’t like he’s on Wilbur’s good side, he was just as bad as the people who watched his suffering.

He was one of the ones who caused his suffering. Treating as if he were any less than him, paying no kindness or compassion, the lack of food, if he performed one-trick incorrectly, he would not get any dinner, he hated this place.

Back in the ocean, things were so much easier, so much more space, freedom, family and everything. Now he sat at the bottom of the tank, his cave barely fitting half of his body, his hunger craved food, sometimes he even thought of eating humans but if he wanted any chance of escape, it would probably be best not to do so.

He sighed; he couldn’t even see the stars anymore as he was moved to indoors, only going outside for outdoor performances. It just led to even less space, this place for Wilbur was hell, they didn’t even know he resembled a human, being sentient and able to speak.

Meanwhile, with TommyInnit, he was having the best moments of his life. He had recently finished a course on Marine biology and was now on his to becoming an intern for L’manburgs most famous water park!

He would be able to work with sea creatures! He could study them, communicate and understand them! He had applied for the position a while ago and well got accepted!

“Dear Tommy Danger Kraken Innit,

We are happy to announce that you are now a part of the team! Welcome to L’manburg Water Park! With your help, we’ll rescue all sorts of sea creatures, learn new things about them and even perform with them! We hope you’re as excited as we are!

Please come to the park on Monday morning, once you arrive at the receptionist desk, state your name and we’ll show you around the park and how everything works! We hope to see you soon! – Staff”.

Tommy was so excited he yelled at the top of his lungs! Jumping with joy! He would finally accomplish his dream! He could work with sea animals! He was so excited to tell Tubbo! He immediately ran over to his phone to call him.

Once the phone picked up there was groaning on the other side, he had woken up Tubbo. “Pft, Did I wake you, Big man?”. He groaned in response to that, “What do you want, Toms?”. “Well~,” he said dragging out the ‘L’, “I’ve got big news, Big man! I got accepted for the internship!”.

Tubbo woke up at the fact, gasping in excitement “Really man?! Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you, man!”.  Tubbo exclaimed. “When do you start?”. “Next Monday, actually! I’m really looking forward to it!”.

The next couple of days went by quickly, and then Tommy’s alarm went off, he rushed downstairs and ate his breakfast as fast as possible. His dad was surprised with how excited he was, insisting that they go immediately, pushing him out the door, it was the most excited he’s seen Tommy in ages, it made him happy.

He soon arrived at the park, he tried to walk calmly towards the reception, but he practically sprinted towards the reception. Many people were lined up to visit the park, but he walked right past them, gaining multiple stares. The busy receptionist looked towards Tommy, smiled sweetly and asked, “How may I help you?”.

“Hey I’m Tommy! I’m here for the internship”. “OH! Of course!”. The receptionist got up from their desk and went towards a draw and pulled out a couple of things, some papers and a wet suit. “Here’s your suit! If the size needs adjustments, please let us know! Just head behind here” They gestured to some doors,

“Just head straight away and at the second turn, the third door to the left will take you to the office where our boss will speak to you!”. He smiled and thanked the receptionist.

He took the receptionist’s directions and knocked on the office door, “Come in!” said a voice on the other side. He entered and there sat a man who looked like he meant business, with his dark brown hair and horns. “I’m Schlatt, nice to meet ya’ Kid!”. He smiled; something seemed a little off about this man, but he seemed friendly enough.

He waved back, “Have a seat”. There the two conversed about the details, safety, rules and regulations of the job. He also had to sign some papers to make the job official but now he was officially an intern! And according to this one paper, he was going to be trained under a person by the name of $*&^£, and he was going to be working with a Mer named Wilbur.

From the details of Wilbur, he was quite the large Mer, being just about over 30 ft in length. He also had a record of being docile when being worked with but wasn’t the friendliest Mer but wasn’t the most dangerous either as he hasn’t had a track record of incidents.

When asked about it, they had said “Oh, Wilbur needs some experience, and every other trainer is currently really busy with their Mers, the only ones available were those two”.

Despite that fact, he was still excited! He was going to be working with a Mer and that was a rare opportunity! He got changed into the suit and went out into the training area. There sat the trainer, he looked shady with his hair and face unkempt, covered in dirt and the strange smell. He looked very strange, with the fact that he was also smoking a cigar which probably wasn’t allowed on the job.

“Ah, you must be the newbie.”. It sounded grumpy, like his face with a scowl but it immediately changed to a cheery and upbeat attitude. “Nice to meet you Kiddo! Name’s $%^&£ and I’m pretty sure you know how to work with Mer right?”. He nodded; he had taken a Marine Biology course.

“Good, I’ll show you the Mer you’ll be working with”. They walked towards the pool, despite Wilbur’s size, it looked quite small to fit a Mer as big as Wilbur. The man then dipped his hand into the water and made a couple of splashing movements. Tommy looked towards the water, and something worked within it. A chirp could be heard in response as water splashed as Wilbur surfaced.

“Wilbur, this is the newbie I told you about, be nice”. To which he left them to be alone, and by that, he left the room entirely. He was trusting a teenager with a dangerous creature, the thought of being alone with a Mer was exciting but all the scarier with how dangerous Mer could be.

After a brief moment of silence, the Mer made eye contact with Tommy, he looked to be scowling in somewhat disgust, not only that but unhappy. “Hey there! I’m Tommy!” he tried his best to smile but the look on Wilbur’s face somewhat scared him. The Mer made a low warning growl with his fins flared and dove back into the water, not even wanting to bother with Tommy.

Tommy stood still for a second in fear but a couple of minutes later nothing besides the stillness of the water, nothing had happened. It appeared Wilbur just went back to his den. He tried calling back Wilbur, but nothing worked. And this went on for days, Wilbur only coming out for training for his upcoming performance or food.

Tommy didn’t like the look of things, his excitement for working there slowly leaving him, every day was just hoping Wilbur would communicate with him, didn’t Mers tend to bond with humans?

 Wilbur found this new human that was around, very annoying. Every day the human would try to touch or talk to him, and he wanted nothing to do with it, every time he was called, he’d just ignore it. Why should he have to communicate with something that wasn’t necessary? He’s never known this human in his life and all humans were all the same, selfish.

 It was finally performance day; he would finally get to perform with Wilbur maybe it was a chance he could bond with him! That wasn’t how the day went, it was amazing! But he just sat around keeping watch on things, he just had to feed Wilbur the occasional treat as %&*£! Did all the work. He knew he couldn’t be too mad, but he thought it would be more exciting than this.

After the show, $%*£! seemed quite pissed off with how Wilbur performed today, but Wilbur did amazing! Why was he yelling at him? Was it not up to standard? But that wasn’t quite the case, £$%!$ smelt like alcohol and his words were slurred and movements clumsily made. Wilbur seemed to notice this himself and was quite pissed off himself.

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST DO YOUR STUPID JOB YOU STUPID FISH!?”. He then slapped Wilbur in the face, Wilbur raised a claw to where he was hit but didn’t seem too affected by it. Wilbur growled in response, his face in a predatory look but he did not attempt to attack the man.

Tommy was shocked, to say the least, not only that but pissed off. Tommy always had an urge to protect, even those he wasn’t close to, but he’d still protect people who needed it.

“Hey! Who are you to hit him like that?! He didn’t do shit to you!” He yelled. £$%!* looked to Tommy with a face of pure rage, Tommy had badly pissed him off.

Wilbur dove back into the water as the two argued, it was a back-and-forth heated argument. Which eventually lead to the man trying to punch Tommy. Tommy evaded it but then he the man, made a different move, he pushed Tommy into the water.

Water filled Tommy’s lungs, the water dragging him into its depths, he tried swimming back upward but every try he couldn’t swim back up and he continued to sink. As he kept trying, a ‘swoosh’ sound filled his ears and the water moved. In his vision was Wilbur coming towards him as he lost conciseness.