#the first one is an actual study in which he just so HAPPENS (SHOCKING COINCIDENCE??!!!!) to be nakey

[imaginepostingonsideblogs]

i spent too much on these to not post em so <3

[missaengg]

Gojo F*xxing Satoru

Day 12 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Gojo Satoru x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, fluff, first time, virginity loss, big dick, cunnilingus, p in v sex, alternate universe - grad school, porn with some plot Prompts: First Times | "Where do you want me to cum?" A/N: How did this take me two and a half days to write?!?! Slightly off schedule for the rest of Kinktober, but will probably skip a few prompt days to even this out. May circle back after October 31 to finish any missing prompts, but we shall see :) ao3 link here.

Gojo Satoru was the bane of your existence. 

Literally the bane of your fucking existence.

Because he was fucking perfect.

It was aggravating just how perfect he was: born to a wealthy family, star athlete, valedictorian, scouted by the top law firms in the country, all without breaking a sweat. Gojo Satoru had everything, the money, the jobs, the grades, the looks… the women.

It was disgusting how many women threw themselves at him, not that you could blame them. Not really. If you were anybody else, but you, you’d probably throw yourself at him too.

But you weren’t just anybody else. You were the perpetual number two. The salutatorian. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you studied, how hard you persevered, you could never hold a candle to Gojo fucking Satoru, not even in a mock courtroom arguing for or against a case.

So it was absolutely baffling when Gojo Satoru started pestering you. Out of all the women at Jujutsu Law College, the most prestigious law school in the country, which you worked your butt off to get into, you.

At first you thought it was just a coincidence. You attended the same law school. You had a fair number of shared courses. It was only logical you would interact with one another at some point during your grad school career, but then it became frequent, a multiple-times-a-day daily occurrence. You went to lunch in the school cafeteria – never on a fixed schedule… bam, Satoru… you went to the gym after a full day of classes to work out… bam, Satoru… you went to the gym mid-day because you had a free period – when you knew for a fact Gojo Satoru had class… bam, Satoru… you started the only internship offered to you at some small, no-name law firm… bam, Satoru.

It was getting to the point that you actually thought he might be stalking you with how frequently you ran into him around campus, off campus, way you-need-a-fucking-car-to-get-to off campus. It was uncanny and disturbing. 

And of course every time you ran into him, he would relentlessly tease you with that ridiculous smirk of his, calling out to you as soon as he spotted you with his infuriating, “Yo, salutatorian” or “Yo, number two”, beelining towards you to brag about how he scored higher than you in Torts or Corporate Law or whatever other course you shared with him, ruffling your hair or resting his arm on the top of your head because, of fucking course, he was also freakishly tall. 

Seriously, how could one person be so goddamn perfect?

It was one of those nights, when you were out with your best friend of two decades and fellow law school classmate, Ieiri Shoko, at some obscure, dingy bar that offered Thursday, ladies only, one dollar beers, where you again happened to see Gojo fucking Satoru striding in with his shock of unruly white hair, those stupid dorky sunglasses he wore all the goddamn time, and his usual expensive, brand name, black bomber jacket over a pristine white T-shirt.

You caught him in your peripheral, groaning as you saw his face light up when he caught a glimpse of you, making his way over easily through the crowd, which parted like the red fucking sea for him, that shit-eating grin plastered devilishly on his stupid handsome face.

“Oh, shit. Isn’t that Gojo?” Shoko asked, poking you incessantly.

You irritably sighed, swatting Shoko’s hand away. “Yes,” you replied flatly, glowering at your beer, your hopes of one fucking day without seeing your academic rival dashed to pieces.

“Yo, number two!”

God fucking damnit.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“I should be saying the same to you,” you muttered darkly into your beer.

“Yo, Ieiri.”

“Hi, Gojo.” Shoko greeted him, but you knew her well enough to hear the squeal of excitement hidden under the smooth facade of her greeting.

You didn’t have to see Shoko’s face to know how brightly her eyes were shining, trying to catch yours subtly without giving herself away. You downed the rest of your beer, knowing you were going to need another one – or four – to deal with Gojo Satoru’s shit tonight.

“Whatcha drinking?”

You almost spat out your beer. Gojo’s face loomed right in front of yours, so close you could make out the black specks in his brilliant clear blue eyes peering at you over his sunglasses.

“What the fuck, Gojo?!” you choked out, coughing, having swallowed the beer before you sprayed him, but having swallowed so quickly a portion of it went down the wrong tube.

“Satoru.”

“Gojo,” you stressed, pushing his forehead back with your finger, “do you mind?”

“Satoru.” He pouted, but thankfully withdrew. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Pilsners,” Shoko interjected, not fully understanding what exactly was happening between the two of you, but understanding enough to be amused.

“I got next round.”

You exhaled as you watched him walk away.

When did you even start holding your breath?

“So…”

“Don’t.” You glared at Shoko, who had the most sly, impish twinkle in her eye, warning her not to continue.

“What’s going on with you and Gojo?”

You sighed heavily, a regular occurrence whenever Gojo Satoru was involved, bringing your glass to your lips, grimacing when you remembered you were out of alcohol. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Shoko…”

Shoko looked at you innocently, shrugging as if she had no idea what you were going on about. “I’m just saying… it looks like he’s flirting with you.”

You snorted. Flirting with you. Hilarious.

“He’s not flirting with me. He’s torturing me. Rubbing in my face how I’m just ‘number two’.”

“Mm… that’s not what it seems like to me. You don’t buy beers for someone you’re torturing.”

“You do if you’re flaunting your wealth,” you darkly quipped.

“At some dingy bar on one dollar beer night? Yeah, big spender.”

You massaged your temples with your middle finger and thumb. “Shoko, can we not?”

“Fine.” Shoko threw up her hands, backing off albeit reluctantly. “I’m just saying. You don’t treat someone like that unless you like them”

You scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Gojo Satoru liking you? Please. There was no way Gojo Satoru had a crush on you. That was ridiculous. He had a majority of the women at Jujutsu Law College falling over their feet for him, why would he want you? 

Not that you wanted him either.

Something cold pressed against your cheek.

“Pilsner for my salutatorian?”

Gojo Satoru was holding a new, full pint of beer up against the side of your face. Scowling not-so-subtly, you reached for the glass. While you were loath to accept something from Gojo Satoru, beer was beer, and it would be a crime not to drink it.

And god could you use it.

“Ah, shit,” Shoko suddenly exclaimed. “I forgot I had a thing.”

You frowned. “Thing? What thing?”

“The thing.” Shoko gestured with her hands. “The thing I told you about. The thing.”

You stared at her, confused as to what she was going on about. “What thing? You’re the one who wanted to come out tonight.”

Shoko pulled on her jacket, gathering her phone and her purse. “I gotta go. Gotta go do the thing.”

“What– You’re leaving me on my own in some dingy ass bar?” You narrowed your eyes at her accusingly, fairly certain that she did not actually have a thing that she needed to attend to.

Shoko gave you a lopsided grin. “But you’re not alone. You’ve got Gojo.” She turned to the freakishly tall, laidback individual beside you. “You’ll make sure she gets home, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Great.” Shoko hugged you, bringing her mouth to your ear. “Have fun.” She pulled away, giving you a wicked grin and a wink, leaving you gaping after her as she disappeared into the crowd.

What the fuck just happened?

Did Shoko seriously just abandon you, leaving you alone with Gojo fucking Satoru in some bar?

You chugged your beer, finishing it in record time before Gojo Satoru even had a chance to start drinking his.

“Uh… You sure you can handle that?” 

He was observing you, his arrogant smirk still present, his own glass halfway to his lips, but there was a hint of something else, something unfamiliar and foreign, something… soft? 

No, not soft. Knowing him, it was probably something condescending like pity or belittlement.

“I can handle it,” you snapped, and eyeing the second beer in his other hand, you added, “Is that Shoko’s beer? You gonna drink it?”

You reached for the extra beer, but he held it above his head, way out of your reach. 

“Nuh uh. I don’t think you can handle it, lightweight.” 

He was looking down his perfect, chiseled nose at you, the taunt blatantly apparent on his face, mocking you.

“Believe it or not, Gojo, I can handle my alcohol so will you please…” you stood on your toes swiping for the beer, “... just give…” you jumped, “...me the goddamn…” another swipe, “...beer!”

You lightly panted, having failed to procure the beer you wanted from above his head. 

Seriously, how was he so fucking tall? 

Even on the very tip of your toes, the top of your head barely came to his chin

“Satoru.”

Exasperated, you lost it, yowling like a feral cat, your brows knitting together, creating deep, firm grooves on your forehead. “What. Does. It. Matter?”

Gojo finished his beer, placed the glass down on a nearby table, and then flicked you square in the forehead.

“Ow!” you yelped, rubbing furiously at the red mark you were sure was growing above your brow. “What the hell, Gojo?”

Gojo sighed. “Sa–to–ru. And it matters to me.” He ruffled your hair, turning your carefully blow dried curls into a tangled mess.

You dodged his hand, glaring at him. “You don’t tell Shoko to call you Satoru.”

“Ieiri’s not you.”

Scowling, you brushed your fingers through your hair, trying to undo some of the knots he created. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it means.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, you’re the thick one for not getting it.”

Gojo brought Shoko’s beer – your beer – to his lips, downing the entire pint in three large gulps. 

Watching his Adam's apple bob up and down, something in you finally snapped, all the moments of him relentlessly taunting you about being second place, teasing you about how short you were, stalking you around campus, one-upping you in mock court runs, all erupting into an explosion of something downright deranged.

“Gojo–”

“Satoru.”

“Gojo, for the love of god, shut up.”

You grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and with as much strength as you could muster, hauled him towards you crashing his lips down onto yours. Gojo froze for a second, stunned, before pushing back, lips moving against yours with a hungry intensity. His tongue darted along the crevasse between your closed lips demanding to be let in, and you acceded, parting your mouth for him to slip in. The kisses deepened, your fingers curling even tighter around the fabric of his jacket, breathless sighs escaping in between kisses. Somewhere in the torrent of kisses, his sunglasses came off and his hands found themselves twisted in your hair, intertwining your curls between his fingers.

Breaking for air, you released your hold on Gojo’s jacket, rocking back on your heels and pulling away, keeping your eyes averted towards the ground.

Fuck. Just… fuck. What the fuck have you done?

Biting back a self-deprecating groan, you closed your eyes, taking a shaky deep breath in and letting it out slowly.

“Gojo,” you hesitantly started, threading your fingers together, for the first time in your life, not quite sure what you wanted to say to him. None of your bravado remained. All you knew was that you would have to see him again on Monday in class, and the last thing you needed was for things to be awkward or for him to hold whatever this was over your head.

“It’s Satoru.”

Your eyes snapped to Gojo’s as he spoke. There was a forceful edge to his husky voice, a commanding presence, one that he rarely displayed outside of the courtroom. Your breath hitched at the way he was just staring at you, his eyes dark and turbulent, storming with need and want.

“Sa–” you cleared your throat, the feel of his first name foreign in your mouth, “Satoru.”

Satoru acknowledged you with a hum of approval, the corners of his lips flicking up into the start of what could be a smile.

Your mouth felt parched. You were shivering at how intensely he was staring at you, at how his hypnotizing cerulean eyes were reeling you in, mesmerizing you until everything other than the infuriating man in front you faded away.

He grazed his lips along the outline of your shoulder and up your neck until they reached your ear, electric tingles crawling from where he touched, jolting down your spine. “You wanna get outta here?”

You nodded slowly. Your mind was hazy and dazed, drowning in Satoru’s eyes, barely able to put together a single intelligent thought to save your life.

How have you never noticed just how gorgeously blue his eyes were before? 

“Come on.”

Satoru took your hand, interlocking your fingers between his. Your hand felt so small in his hand, cradled in his broad palm, his body heat radiating up your arm. 

The tension between the two of you was thick and supercharged, heavy and tumultuous, on the verge of a catastrophic eruption – coming out of the bar, in the taxi ride back to your apartment, in the elevator going up to your floor, down the hallway to the door of your unit, as you input your code into the lock and the door clicked open.

When the door opened, it was like a switch flipped in Satoru’s brain. His lips were on you faster than you could react, tasting you with his tongue, nibbling on your bottom lip. His dizzying onslaught of kisses came so rapidly, you barely had the presence of mind to make sure you closed your front door and locked it before stumbling through the foyer, wrapped in his embrace. 

Keeping his lips locked with yours, he fumbled to remove his jacket, yanking his arms out of the sleeves, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Your fingers teased the hem of his shirt, slipping under and feeling his muscles ripple under your fingertips, feeling for the first time just how lean he was.

Holy fuck.

You knew he was muscular. You’d seen him engaging in casual sports with other members of your law class, seen the hem of his shirt ride up when he raised his arms or wiped his face, but feeling it for yourself was different than just catching accidental hints.

Feeling your hands grabbing at his torso, Satoru tugged his shirt off, also throwing it to some random corner of your apartment.

“Where’s the… bedroom?” Satoru murmured in between kisses, tugging at your waist, grabbing a handful of your hair.

You burst into laughter, continuing to kiss him as you shook against his chest. “Satoru, I live in a studio.” Maneuvering him towards the wall, you flipped the switch flooding the room with light.

Satoru blinked, squinting as his eyes re-adjusted to the light, pausing from his titillating ravishment of your lips to quickly survey the small room you called your home.

“My bed’s over there,” you whispered, guiding his chin in the direction of your modest double-sized bed.

Satoru hiked you up without warning, forcing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, an unexpected yelp squeaking out. He strode over to the bed, covering the distance quickly given how long his legs were, and tumbled onto the soft mattress with you still in his arms, beginning another dizzying wave of an unyielding assault of his lips, but this time they roamed down your neck, along your collarbone, planting themselves on every inch of exposed skin he could reach. 

His lips were like fire on your skin. 

Your legs were hooked around his thighs, and your hips ground into him every time he lit another part of you on fire, evoking small groans from Satoru.

“Take my shirt off,” you breathlessly moaned into him, wanting to feel his body heat burn against your bare skin.

Satoru was only happy to oblige, removing himself from you only long enough to pull both your shirt and bralette over your head and to admire your heaving chest. He cupped them in his large hands, planting his needy mouth over your pert nipple. 

Ah, fuck. 

An electric zing ripped through you when he rolled your sensitive peak gently with his teeth. 

Oh heavenly fuck.

His hands were kneading, pinching, squeezing, while his mouth was pulling, biting, sucking, and the combination had you writhing in his hands. Your hips were gyrating into the firm bulge in his jeans, the friction against your pelvis delectable. 

“Fuck, saluta–”

“You know my name, Satoru.”

Satoru groaned your name, a shaky growl on the edge of the last syllable, shuddering when your hips jerked and painfully dragged along the length of his clothed erection. “Fuck, I wanna taste you.” He reached for the waist of your tight jeans, undoing the button quickly, pulling down the zipper, sliding his hand under the fabric.

Your eyes, which were closed in euphoria, snapped open, and in a panic, you grabbed his wrist before he could delve even further. 

“Wait.”

Satoru stopped. He looked up from where he had just been worshiping your chest, brows furrowed with concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s–” You bit your lip, the words sitting heavily in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru propped himself up higher, the hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

“I’ve…” you took in a shaky breath, “I’ve…”

Supporting himself on one forearm, Satoru cupped your cheek, his gorgeous, azure blue eyes peering down at you softly. “What is it?”

You swallowed, finding yourself drowning in those stupid eyes again, your stomach in knots from the anxiety of the words you were about to say. “I’ve… never done this before.”

His brows wrinkled, not following what you were trying to convey. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never done–” you gestured to his lap “–this before.”

“I don’t under–” Satoru’s eyes widened, the meaning of your words hitting him. “Oh… Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You felt yourself blush seeing his reaction to your admission. You chewed on your bottom lip, anxiously wanting him to say something. Anything. You had never admitted this to anyone before, not even Shoko, though she likely already knew that you were still a virgin. She did have a front row seat to all of your sparse romantic entanglements.

Gojo Satoru for the first time in all the time you’d known him was silent.

“S’toru?” you hesitantly asked, prodding the stunned man hovering above you.

He blinked, coming out of whatever trance he was in, an expression you couldn’t read crossing his face. “We can stop if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, holding your breath.

“You’ve had a couple of drinks, I don’t think–”

You scoffed. “Satoru, I’m not drunk, let alone tipsy.”

“I– Are you sure?” 

You looked straight into his eyes. “Yes. I want to do this.”

In all the years of wondering when and how you would lose your virginity, you never imagined it would be like this. With him. But you did want this. Badly. You wanted him right here, right now, virginity and rivalry be damned.

“You won’t regret this?”

Jesus Christ, even when he was tender he was infuriating.

You threw your head back, a long, drawn-out, frustrated groan exploding out of you. “Oh my god, Go– Satoru, no, I will not regret this. Will you please just fuck me?”

Satoru blinked, and then he was capturing you in a passionate, toe-curling kiss, caressing your cheek. He sat upright, sliding the last remaining articles of your clothing down your legs, grazing you softly with his fingertips, and then he sat there, mouth open, drinking in the sight of you under him.

“Satoru?”

“Uh, yeah, gotta… gotta get you ready for me.” He gave you a lopsided grin, and gently palming your thighs, settled in between your legs, quietly groaning as he inhaled your scent. He pressed a murmur of a kiss on your clit, and sensing the nervous tension in your thighs, he squeezed them reassuringly. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

You clicked your tongue. Smart ass.

But his quip didn’t hold his usual teasing sass, and you focused on releasing the tension in your tight muscles. Which, as you found out, turned out to be easy. Because you turned into jelly the moment Satoru ran his tongue along your slit and up to your clit.

You sharply gasped. You might be a virgin, but you weren’t a stranger to pleasure having learned how to stimulate yourself with your fingers and the occasional toy, but this…

You arched your back as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your swollen, sensitive bud.

This was nothing compared to how you satiated yourself alone in your bed at night on those occasional moments you needed release.

This was bliss.

You felt him snicker against your cunt. “So wet for me…” 

You had half a mind to swat at his head, but he sucked down hard, and whatever thoughts you had of wanting to slap him flew out of your head, reacting to his sinful mouth by twisting your hands in his unruly hair instead. He grunted when you inadvertently pushed him in closer, your thighs clamping against the sides of his head, hips bucking up with each jolt of electricity buzzing through your center.

“Goddamn, girl.” But he didn’t let go, continuing to devour your quivering cunt with the desperation of a man deprived. “So fucking wet.”

You squirmed, the sensation of him mouthing you, lapping at your folds, circling the entrance of your pussy, spinning into an intense whirlwind.

“That’s it,” Satoru instructed, feeling how your muscles were clenching and releasing rapidly. “Let go. Cum for me.”

Everything within you pulled taut, tightening into a pressure cooker of overwhelming ecstasy, bursting violently in an explosion of strangled cries moaning Satoru’s name, your back lurching off your bed, stars swimming in your blackened vision.

And as the explosion roiled through your trembling body, Satoru continued to tantalize every inch of you between your thighs, firmly holding your erratically bucking hips in place, until you softened into a quivering mess.

“Geez, number two, didn’t know you could scream like that.” Satoru smugly smirked, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. 

“Don’t call me that,” you mumbled, flushing from the embarrassment of how hard you just unraveled for him. “Aren’t you a little too dressed to fuck me?”

“Want me that badly, huh?” 

But the speed at which he kicked off his own jeans and briefs betrayed how much he needed to be buried deep inside you.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he sprang free. 

It wasn’t as if you’d seen many dicks in your life outside of movies or TV, but fuck… Satoru wasn’t just big… He was big. The man was fucking blessed.

Without meaning to, you whimpered, your stare fixated on his blessed appendage, wondering how the hell it was going to fit into your virgin cunt.

“That’s not going to fit.”

“I’ll go slow, don’t worry.”

Your eyes flickered from his dick to his surprisingly gentle face, a grimace of distrust written all over yours. “Satoru, you’re too big, I–”

“Sweets,” Satoru calmly said, gazing gently into your eyes with assurance. “It might hurt a bit, but I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

You swallowed thickly, but you nodded. Satoru smiled, a genuine smile absent of any teasing, and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Let me know if you need to stop.”

Another nod.

Satoru positioned himself at your entrance, sliding the remnants of your climax along his erection. He pushed gently, slowly sinking his tip in past the tight entrance.

You hissed, the sudden sensation of yourself stretching to accommodate him deliriously painful in the best way. Satoru waited patiently for you to adjust to him, and when you relaxed, he painstakingly slowly pushed further in, inch by inch. 

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you rasped.

Satoru was shaking, the exertion of holding himself up not to crush you, controlling himself to sink in slowly, forcing him to hold a static position for a prolonged period of time. He was concentrating so hard, the tip of his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth.

Had Satoru always been this adorable?

Or maybe his dick was just that magical, making you think the most infuriating man alive on this planet was adorable.

Satoru sank in another inch. You groaned. He was stretching you out, dragging along your walls as he sank in, filling you to a fullness you didn’t even know existed.

“Are you not in yet?”

Satoru paused, letting out the most indignant exhale of air. “Are you serious right now?”

You stifled a giggle, but you weren’t trying to be silly. It was sweet how Satoru was taking his time for you, but you wanted to feel him, buried to the hilt, filling you overwhelmingly so that he was all you could think about.

Fuck it.

You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, hurling his hips into yours for the last couple of inches.

Satoru swore under his breath, but you barely heard him. That last forceful push in meant his tip barreled into your cervix, and fuck… fuck, did that hurt.

Tears welled in your eyes from the dull ache throbbing in your lower belly. 

Satoru brushed your hair back, keeping his hips as still as he possibly could. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed. “Breathe, breathe.” 

A tear slid down your cheek, which Satoru wiped away. You gasped, breathing heavily as you waited for the ache to dissipate, focusing on the air entering your lungs and exiting through your mouth.

“Why’d you do that? Should’ve let me handle it,” Satoru fussed, rubbing soothing circles in your skin and placing gentle kisses on your cheeks.

“I wanted to feel you,” you wheezed, feeling like a downright idiot, but also pleased with how fully buried he was in your warmth. “But you’re too fucking big.”

“Tch… silly girl,” Satoru grumbled, but the corners of his mouth twisted upwards. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m going to start moving now, is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

Satoru brushed his lips on your forehead where he flicked it earlier that night, and without taking his eyes off of you, started with tiny, slow thrusts. He was barely moving, but even his tiny thrusts were sinfully divine. You rolled your hips with his, wanting more.

“Fuck,” Satoru hissed. “I can’t hold back if you squeeze me that tight.”

“Don’t.”

Satoru broke. He laced his hand with yours holding it tightly above your head, and drove into you frenetically, nuzzling his mouth into the crook of your neck, nipping the soft skin. The heat between your writhing bodies all-consuming, a blazing inferno caught in the dizzying tornado of passion.

You clung to him, deep, thready moans tumbling from your lush, parted lips.

“Satoru…”

“Keep saying my name.”

You whispered his name, the pressure of him moving inside you filling you with a torrential flood of euphoric sensations, reducing you to a puddle of whimpers under his powerful, frantic thrusts. His strokes were unbearably hot, waves of searing pleasure overtaking you, receding and building, incensed by the obscene grunts escaping him.

“I– fuck.” Satoru bit your shoulder hard, growling unrestrained, primal. “Where do you want me to cum?”

It was a bad idea. It was quite possibly one of the worst ideas you’ve had in a while, but it didn’t matter, you wanted to feel him, you wanted him to claim you as his, you wanted him to mark you with his animalistic need.

“In– inside…”

Satoru let out a long maddening moan, so full of his desire, pouring into you in a frenzy, you hit your peak, pulsating around him desperately, unraveling at the sensation of his burning cum coating you inside in erratic bursts. 

The two of you shook against one another, heaving as the cloud of ecstasy receded and your breaths calmed to normal. Satoru slumped to his side, pulling you into his chest, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

He chuckled, still wrapped in the hazy aftermath of your shared bliss. “I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Geez, miss number two,” he grinned down at you, “do I really gotta spell it out for you? Thought you were smarter than that.”

“Don’t call me that,” you retorted. “Spell what out for me?”

Satoru grumbled something you couldn’t quite catch, yelping when you pinched his side, but wrapped his arms around you even tighter, sighing. “It means, I’ve had a crush on you since last year.”

Oh… Your eyes bugged when it sank in. Oh.

Gojo fucking Satoru had a crush on you.

You.

Out of all the women you knew he could choose from…

You.

Your face grew uncomfortably hot. Embarrassed, you buried your face in his chest. You felt Satoru shift, squirming at your silence.

“Say something, will ya? Before this gets more awkward?”

You bit back a groan. “I–” Fuck, you weren’t ready for this. “I think… I think I like you too,” and because you were so embarrassed and upset with how fucking smooth he was, you added, “when you’re not pissing me off.”

Satoru snickered. “So, like we dating now or what?”

“I– I guess?”

“What do you mean by I guess?” 

Satoru sounded downright offended. Cute.

“Yes, we’re dating,” you clarified, grumbling that he was making you spell it out for him. “Especially if I get your magical dick all to myself.”

“Magical dick, huh?” Satoru chuckled. “So, miss number two–”

“You really need to stop calling me number two.”

This whole thing was madness. God, Gojo Satoru drove you fucking insane. In more ways than one.

“What should I call you then?”

Brat. 

You rolled your eyes. “How about just my name?”

Satoru hummed, the gears in his head turning. “I know, I’ll call you my number one.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he craned down to meet your eyes, glittering with a mischievous sparkle, “you’re number one in my heart.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Ugh. Fucking Gojo Satoru.

Feeling your blush deepen, you buried yourself into his chest again, rubbing into the space between his pecs ferociously. “You’re so fucking cheesy, S’toru.”

“Admit it, you fucking love it.” 

You knew that tone of voice. It was the one that came out when he had that adorable boyish grin on his face.

“No,” you grumbled.

But you did. You fucking loved it.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

[diabolikpersonals]

Okay okay if at any point the relationship between Yuma and Ayato/Subaru starts getting romantic who is gonna have to be the one to ask the other(s) out, cause it seems like Subaru and Ayato would really wanna ask Yuma out and would maybe even fight about it, but can't bring their selves to do it. But Yuma's also oblivious to his feelings so it could take a while for him to realise that he likes them. But another way it could go is if either Subaru or Ayato told the other their gonna try and ask Yuma out and it develops into a argument about whos gonna get him but Yuma ends up overhearing them and BOOM asks them both out with him. So now there are two more questions:

1. Where is gonna be their first date? And whos idea it was?

2. What will the Sakamaki and Mukami brothers gonna think about this new relationship? I can imgaine Ruki getting really annoyed because Ayato and Subaru are gonna be over at the Mukami house every single fucking day and when they aren't there they are out somewhere together doing dumb things.

so here's what usually happens when I'm daydreaming about these three >:3

before they can think about calling them "dates," ayato and subaru have some excuses for hanging out with yuma all the time. for instance, they like watching him work (both in the school garden and like, hypothetically, if yuma got a part time job or something then they'd spend way too much time there lol...like, they'd save up their allowance to buy food there....anyway) so they'll be like "no, it's just a coincidence, we always eat lunch here! it's not just to see you or anything!"

I also imagine that they've got a little study group on, which seems kind of out of character, right? none of these characters really enjoy studying. but subaru's a first year and the sakamaki baby brother, so if yuma and ayato find out that he's struggling in school, despite their own subpar grades I bet they'd be like "well I'm your upperclassman / older brother so it's my duty to help out, leave it to us!!" ...but of course, I don't think much studying actually occurs in these little sessions lol. I can picture reiji being like "you asked yuma and ayato to help you study? .......................why?" so I love this headcanon lol

so up till now, when everything they've been doing can pass as just friends hanging out, basically everything has been ayato or yuma's idea. but the shocking thing is, when they finally do something that can be called a DATE, I feel that subaru caused it.......on accident. he did his best to think of something he wanted to do with them, and he definitely thought about it with romantic feelings for yuma in mind, so when he suggests that they go out and do this thing together...subaru's really nervous, he's blushing, he's probably saying some obvious tsundere shit like "it wont be a DATE or anything..." so........nobody can really deny it anymore, this is gonna be a date.

hmm, what kind of date would subaru plan with yuma in mind? I feel like it definitely should be outside bc they're both people who enjoy the outdoors. subaru is kind of clumsy with this sort of thing, so I think it'd be sweet if he picked some obscure place in the woods to take a walk, but then they get lost ^^; ayato and subaru have a shouting match about it, blaming each other, and yuma saves the day because he brought lunch for the three of them so they end up having a picnic. it'd be a nice excuse to show them subaru's disney princess qualities as well lol. all 3 of them would see a frog and be like "WHOA LOOK AT THAT" so I think it would be fun!

ruki is definitely going to get annoyed when ayato and subaru keep coming over...! they must be awful at dinnertime. yuma keeps adding more food to their plates and kou's like "wtf, this is favoritism!! save some for me!!" and ruki gets a headache xD I think ayato and subaru will basically take over two guest rooms and make this like their second home. and they'll get so comfortable with it that ayato will get mad at ruki for cleaning "his room," like "I cant find any of my stuff anymore!" and ruki's like "why are you leaving your stuff here, this is NOT your HOUSE"

[ishiwritesstuff]

Memories Come in Waves (Tonight I'm Drowning)

A/n:- This was a very notes app type of story that i found while digging through my actual notes app. This story is partially based on things that happened to me when i was 16 so take it w a grain of salt pls :3

In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spiderman And in every other *sighs* universe, it doesn't... end well.

16.

Isn't 16 the year where every netflix or disney main character goes to their beautiful coming of age journey, with a boyfriend, newfound academic and mental strength, along with a sense of belonging? Well I thought I was on that path too, moving to a new school always brings back that sense of hope and innocence.

But, all of that, derailed, because of that one person I thought would be mine, that one person, who, if he wasn't mine, I knew I'd stay friends with, with shared inside jokes and short looks that always showed comfort, and understanding.

Fuck Harlow Vincent.

The first time I met him, I forgot he existed. That's not even exaggeration, I truely forgot he was a person I talked to. Meeting him, with a short introduction from my best friend, in the badminton court, was nothing but a fleeting thought of meeting a new acquaintence.

I met him again, in school. Apparently we shared the same psychology class, which I failed to notice since the start of the new school. When a task of decorating a pinboard forced us in the same proximity, he came over and introduced himself again, where I remembered him again. Extending my hand for him to shake, and feeling his firm, confident, and warm hand on mine, is my most vivid memory of him. I remember just... talking to him, the ease of the conversation shocking me, as i've never been a very open person with people I just met, though i can hide it well. The time flew by, and the period finished, but I felt just a good platonic bond with him.

My next memory involved me, a few months after, just emotionally numb, sitting on the stairs where I first met him. I'd found that, my spiralling mental health might be due to the fact that, the subjects that I chose to study, I started dreading to pick up, having random breakdowns over them. My parents found out, and my father made the decision to switch them to the subjects I always liked studying. That... didn't sit well with my mother for a few days, which led to us not talking for those few days, just complete radio silence. Those feelings, I just told my best friend on those stairs, and from the badminton court, out came, who else but Harlow. He sat, and listened to me rant as well, patiently, and offered me advice, his mountain dew, and cracked a few jokes, which... helped me. I followed through on the advice, and, a few tears later, everything was fine back home. He also helped me switch comfortably, as i'd coincidently taken the same subjects as him. This led to us having more meaningful conversations, and him opening up about his problems as well, which I (hopefully) helped him in. That connect, made me fall for him, because, for his flaws, he truely tried to be a better person, tried to work on himself, and I liked that more than I thought I would.

Now comes the painful bit, the part where he found out. A walk, with my entire friends group at the time, and an offhand comment, with our names attached together, just froze him. Froze as in he very, truely stopped moving. Me, being painfully oblivious to it, asked if anything was wrong, He said no, and we moved on; but he made it a point to leave my side and stand somewhere, anywhere else, as long as it wasn't beside me, and talked to everyone else beside me. I only realised the reason later that night, in bed, hurt on why he'd do that.

Our talks became short, and dull, lacking all the emotion it had previously. He still hung out with me, but only if I was present, and didn't initiate anything. It hurt still, and it was delusional on my part to even THINK he liked me, but it was a rub of a wound in salt nonetheless.

In one of those hangouts, I got my little brother, 6 at the time, excitedly talking about marvel, pokemon and roblox (that is a things kids do now, dont judge), and him, fucking Harlow Vincent, just standing here, hearing my brother go on, and talking to him in such a respectful and nice tone, that I have not heard people use with my brother, and that... that tipping point, made me fall head over heels for him, for 10 solid months. His heart, his understanding nature, his 'not afraid to tell you where you went wrong' characteristic, and his absolute resolve in healing himself didn't help my situation.

Lord knows that fall would lead to an injured heart, and an unexplainable void in my feelings.

I dont know what happened, but in the span of those months, I just had enough. I was over him, and, with some introspection, thought that the only reason I fell for him was because I attached my emotion well being to him, which wasn't healthy at all. My friends pointed out every last thing I dismissed and glossed over about him, while wearing rose tinted glasses, and I was... appalled at how i'd missed them. I realised that while he did have his good parts, other people who was better suited for me did have those characteristics too, and that he had done things that I couldn't just let go.

That was the point I decided not to text him again, because thats the only time we even used to talk. Even birthday texts were devoid of any emotion. I was the one who wished him, he never wished me, knowing full well when my birthday was, and that 17 was a big year for me.

All we are now, are strangers with memories. Memories that physically pain to revisit. But occasionally, I do fall in the rabbithole of those memories. I sometimes, joking call him my period crush, becauee I only think of these things on my period. But it does pain.

Its been a year, this month was the month I refused to talk him. The only contact we have now is through forced interactions, or second hand interactions, with a person usually being in the middle, while we pretend not to listen to what the other is saying. Its... not ideal I know. We sometimes accidently lock eyes for longer than a second, and those waves of memories take me under, leaving a lump in my throat, and I look away. In an MUN, he held a position higher than me in the organising committee, and while he gave me instructions, he sometimes stepped closer for comfort, which led me to always stay two steps away from him, and his slightly disappointed look never failed to make me feel guilty and so fucking confused.

Those memories are like riptide waves, which will, without fail, take me away from the things that ground me, to the dark side, which i refuse to let happen. Except for tonight. Memories like these come in waves, and tonight darling, i'm drowning.

[jonahgarland]

Jonah knew he would never get definitive answers as for why his father had acted the way he did. Sure, David could provide all the explanations he wanted, and it was comforting in some way to hear their Dad's motives explained by someone with a little more insight into what the man was like, how his mind worked and how his life's circumstances might have contributed to keeping Jonah out of his life while never truly letting him out of sight. But the simple fact remained that he would never be able to confront his father face to face, as the man had robbed him of that opportunity. Despite no longer able to work as a journalist, the younger blonde still had the mindset that his job had taught him: Whenever he tried to get to the bottom of a story, the most effective way was to go right to the main source, get all the information first-hand and without having been filtered by other people's thoughts and feelings. That no longer was an option for getting to know who his father was. But at the same time, there was another story waiting to be explored. One that was still being written, in this very moment, and for which he had the other protagonist right in front of him.

It was such a loaded question, and yet not one that was entirely unexpected. How had Jonah found out about this place? Thinking about how much work it had been to get the information to track David and his father's connection to the Haus, and what had been the collateral damage of his actions, it seemed crazy that he had actually pulled off coming here. In that regard, it wasn't surprising that his brother thought the more likely option was the insane coincidence of Jonah just randomly being employed as a sex worker at the very resort his family had helped to remain a secret. "Well, I've worked as a journalist before I came here, so I'm pretty good at doing my research... plus I had some help", he briefly added without giving more details. Jonah was traumatized enough by his guilt over what probably happened to the investigator, and he felt no need to pull David into his mess. "Basically, I tracked down the lawyer who managed your- our father's estate, and discovered the payments to the Haus of Perses. Figuring out what the place was, that was the hardest part, but I noticed that the payments never stopped, so I figured... You were likely a client."

He only briefly raised an eyebrow in surprise at the realization that his father had not just known, but actively worked with the resort's original owner. The Haus's history had not peaked Jonah's interest a lot, but he knew enough to make a connection. "Our father worked with Steven Blackwell's father?" Oh, the irony. Briefly he had wondered if Blackwell had ever met David or their Dad, but to know that the former owner's own father had quite a connection to his blood family... It didn't matter right now, though.

What interested him more than anything right now was David himself. The folder would give him anything there was to know at this point about their father, and Jonah was surely going to study it closely soon enough. But he didn't want to focus on the dead when his flesh and blood was sitting right there. "So, do you, like... have a girlfriend? Or are you living for your job, basically?" He was curious when hearing that David wasn't out about his sexuality. For Jonah, being proudly gay had never been an issue, and in some ways maybe he had things to be grateful for that he would've missed out on if he'd grown up alongside his brother. At the same time, he was realizing just how little he knew about this man. And how much he wanted to know him. The shock was slowly starting to subdue, and the disbelief of finally meeting the man he'd been looking for was replaced by joy. Slow, happy tears dropped from his eyes as he felt that sudden hug, and he embraced David as he soaked up those words he hadn't even been aware he needed to hear this badly. "It's okay, Dave. You're not responsible for his decisions. I'm just... god, I'm so happy you came to find me and I still can't believe this isn't a dream. This is literally all I hoped for when I came here, you know? I wasn't thinking this was going to happen anymore."

It was definitely a lot to take in and David was merely there now to provide the support necessary for Jonah not to lose his absolute shit in the midst of all this. Funny, how a couple of months were all it took for him to realize that he was not an only child but also had a younger brother somewhere in the world. The idea of having someone blood-related to him only made David want to find Jonah all that much faster. Shit, he would have done the same if it was a long-lost cousin… let alone a brother. Too bad that their father had felt the need to keep this all a monumental secret to protect his public image. He better than anyone knew that the story could be easily spun if they kept walking in front of the media and his political opponents. But at the same time… those could be quite the cutthroat individuals. Jonah’s existence would not only destroy their father’s political career but ultimately… make Jonah a target for everyone else who wanted to see their father fail. Was his course of action the right one? No… but given the circumstances and the backlash, David couldn’t entirely blame the other man for what he had done. Even if he would have taken a different approach.

“You came here because of us? How did you learn that?” That was a surprise. David had no idea that Jonah was aware of their existence – let alone discover that they were clients there. If everything he had read about his brother was true, he was a journalist and he definitely had ways to find out information but… finding that their father was a client at a brothel? Nothing short of amazing, really. “How on earth did you find that out? This place is supposed to be a secret.” David was not mad. If anything – fuck, he was impressed! “Our dad worked alongside the original owner to bend the laws and find loopholes that would permit the Haus to work on Virginia under the guise of a luxurious resort for the rich and powerful who didn’t want the media to bother them.” And alongside the Blackwell family – they made sure that this place was as invisible as everything. To have found it? To have learned that their father used to come there? David took a deeper breath and walked around the couch again so that he could sit next to Jonah and place a hand on his leg. Now that they were side-by-side, he could definitely see the family resemblance. Their hair looked the same. The smile was the same as their father's. Even the eye color. There were certain things that he definitely pulled from his mother but David could see it. Right there in front of him – and he wouldn’t even need a DNA test. That man was his brother. “We took turns coming here. It would be suspicious if we both disappeared from the public eye at the same time. When dad came here, he always used the excuse of a retreat for the mind or an around-the-world cruise. My mom disappeared from the scene too but while he was here, she was doing… something else.” Yes, she knew. There was no divorce because it had been a marriage of convenience for both of them. “And I would drop by when I needed some time away. I’m not… out and proud. Still deep ass in Narnia, I guess.” There was a pause and David squeezed Jonah’s leg for a moment before tossing all caution to the wind and wrapping his arms around the younger man, pulling him for a tight hug. “I’m sorry you had to look for us when it should have been the other way around. He should have brought you in rather than keep you out. Just… keep the folder, alright? It’s yours as much as it was his. And…” There was a faint little giggle dancing from his lips then. “You’re my brother. You have the right to know everything and I promise that…. that I’m not doing what he did. Not anymore.”

[97-liners]

frat!s.coups x sorority!reader

words: 7.3k

themes/genres: college au, frat au, fluff, rom com

warnings: suggestive! there’s a heavy makeout scene, but no sex. general college antics, including heavy drinking/partying. there’s a scene with a creep on campus.

it’s your final year of college, and you’ve been elected president of your sorority. this is all great and fine, but as the semester goes on, you find yourself having repeated run-ins with the president of the fraternity next door in a series of unfortunate coincidences (that might not actually be coincidences, as you come to discover).

or:

in which you’re trying to deal with your crush on seungcheol in a normal way, but the meddling kids are making it harder than it needs to be.

title and soundtrack: hello tutorial - zion.t feat seulgi 

please reblog from this link! tumblr is dumb as usual 😡

1.

Not even a day into your senior year of college, you open the door to find Seungcheol on the other side and you immediately know you have a problem on your hands.

This isn’t the first time you’ve met Seungcheol. The two of you have been neighbors since freshman year, when he joined the frat next door to your sorority. He’s naturally friendly and likeable, everybody’s friend, and it’s no surprise to anyone when he’s elected the secretary, vice president, and then, this year, the president of Sigma Beta Tau. This isn’t a problem at all. And anyways, you’re also friendly and likeable, an organized, responsible leader, going into your senior year as the president of your sorority. That’s not the problem.

The problem is the broken glass littering the carpet of the downstairs hallway between the first sitting room and the study room, the empty window frame next to the mess, and the guiltily sulking forms of Mingyu and Seokmin towering behind Seungcheol.

“I’m here to apologize,” Seungcheol says, “on behalf of Sigma.”

You blink at Seungcheol. Just a moment ago, you had been in the hallway inspecting the mark on the wall left by the errant football, cussing out the mysterious perpetrator with a few of the other girls who were in the study room at the time of the incident. There’s a cut on your hand from a jagged piece of glass and a careless swing of your arm when the knocking on the front door had startled you. 

“Seokmin and Mingyu are here to clean up the glass and board the window,” Seungcheol says, tilting his head in the direction of each boy as he mentions their name. “They were playing catch in the backyard and got careless. It won’t happen again, and Sigma will foot the bill for repairs.”

But the thing is: it’s been a while since you last saw Seungcheol. He’s gotten his ears pierced and his hair is a bit grown out and pushed back, and he’s wearing a sleeveless muscle tee that shows off his broad shoulders and well-muscled arms, and he’s so fucking hot that your brain short-circuits and all words leave you.

“Kim Mingyu,” you hear a loud voice come from over your shoulder as one of your sorority sisters rounds the corner, her hands on her hips, “tell me how I just knew that it was your clumsy ass that did this? Do you not know how to throw a football? Do I need to teach you how to aim?”

“Stop it, Minjeong” Mingyu whines, immediately putting on his puppy eyes, “Seokmin was the one who threw it-“

“And you’re the one who couldn’t catch it,” Seokmin immediately counters, pointing an accusatory finger. 

“You boys are both so dumb,” Minjeong rolls her eyes, “it’s a miracle if either of you ever manages to hold hands with a girl.”

“Take that back,” Mingyu gasps, mouth falling open in shock. “Excuse me, but I’ve held multiple girls' hands before!”

“You’re the one who got dumped on Valentine’s Day last year ,” Seokmin accuses, and Minjeong’s eyes flash with rage, her mouth opening to deliver something biting and mean.

“Both of you, knock it off,” Seungcheol suddenly interrupts, his voice deep and commanding, and Mingyu and Seokmin immediately close their mouths and look guilty. You feel a not-completely-unpleasant shiver travel down your spine for some reason.

“Whatever,” Minjeong says, turning with a flip of her short hair and heading up the stairs haughtily. 

“Um,” you say, opening the door a bit wider, mouth suddenly dry, “sorry about that.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Seungcheol says again, looking genuinely apologetic. “These two are clowns, and they’ll be cleaning up their mess.” From behind him, the two guilty parties in question nod sheepishly.

“We’ll handle the broken glass. We brought gloves and everything,” Seokmin says, raising a pair of leather work gloves.

“Thanks,” you say haltingly, turning to the side to let the boys in. “The broken window is in that hallway.” You point toward the opposite end of the sitting room in the direction of the disaster zone.

“Y/N!” Seungcheol’s loud voice, bordering on a shout, startles you into a jump. When he takes your hand in his own large, warm hands, your heart nearly bursts out of your chest through your esophagus. “You’re hurt,” Seungcheol says, turning your hand over and inspecting the cut on your palm.

You blink, willing yourself not to overreact. “Oh, yeah, I think I cut myself on some broken glass.”

“Let me clean that up for you,” Seungcheol says, gently passing the tips of his fingers near the site of the wound.

Your brain isn’t functioning. It’s all static, half panicked and half dazed, as you hear yourself say “the first aid kit’s in the kitchen,” and proceed to lead Seungcheol there, with your hand laying palm-up on his the whole time. 

Later on, as he dabs at the cut with a damp paper towel and sprays it with antiseptic before patting it dry and placing a band-aid over it, you realize that you’ve made a terrible impression, even if it’s not your first. Seungcheol is an innate leader and his presence commands respect, and all you’ve done today is stand around dumbly and let your sorority sister insult Mingyu and Seokmin. 

Seungcheol gives you his number, saving himself in your phone with a cherry emoji by his name, telling you that he’ll be in contact to arrange for repairs to the window. You thank him, graciously accept his apologies once again, and send him back on his way next door, the band-aid on your palm burning a hole into your skin and tugging at the embarrassing fluttery part of your heart, and you think: you have a problem on your hands, and it’s called Choi Seungcheol. 

2. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

The boy in front of you falls on the ground with a shout, jumping at the sound of your shriek. He turns and you recognize him as one of the new Sigma pledges, a freshman named Chin or Cham or something. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammers, scrambling up to his knees, “I was looking for a girl—“

“Obviously! But you can’t be up here,” you snarl, pulling your bathrobe tighter around your body. You’re wearing fluffy slippers and there’s a towel around your hair. Pointing the curling iron in your hand at the boy, you glare at him. “Come with me.”

He slumps, avoiding eye contact, and lets you lead him down the stairs as if you were holding a gun to his back instead of an unplugged curling iron. You’re still in disbelief at the sheer nerve of the boy to try to sneak into the upper floors of the sorority house— your sorority house, at 9pm on a Saturday night, no less. 

“Sit,” you wave the curling iron at the bottom step of the staircase in the center of the large foyer, and the boy plants his ass on the hardwood ledge obediently, looking like a kicked puppy. “I’m calling Seungcheol.”

The boy’s eyes flash with panic. “Wait, I said I’m sorry!” But his pleas fall on deaf ears, and you already have your phone held up to your ear anyways. Seungcheol picks up almost immediately.

“Hey,” his voice is somehow deeper and rougher on the phone, “what’s up?”

“I caught one of your pledges upstairs, Seungcheol,” you say, narrowing your eyes at the topic of conversation. “Come pick up the kid.”

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol groans. “Who is it?”

You point your phone in the kid’s direction. “What’s your name?”

“Chan,” he supplies helpfully, looking miserable. “Lee.”

“Yeah, that’s one of mine,” Seungcheol sighs. You hear some rustling in the background. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Thanks,” you reply primly, hanging up. 

True to his word, a minute later, there’s a knock on the door. When you open it, Seungcheol stands on the other side, wavy black hair hanging over his face and dressed in an oversized sweatshirt. 

“Sorry for the kid,” he jerks his head in Chan’s direction, looking thoroughly exasperated. “Chan,” he calls out, frowning, “what’s the number one rule of sorority houses on this campus again?”

Chan pouts. “Um. Don’t break windows?”

“Wrong,” you cross your arms, letting your curling iron hang from your fingers, no longer wielding it like a police baton. “Rule number one. No boys allowed upstairs. I know it’s archaic and patriarchal, but this is literally a house full of young women with no self-preservation instinct, and college still isn’t a safe place for women, statistically. So, no boys allowed upstairs, and if we catch another one of you past the first floor again, I’ll have to ban Sigmas from this house completely.”

Chan’s jaw drops. “But Jeonghan told me that rule didn’t apply if I was invited in!”

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief the same time Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs a heavy, long-suffering dad sigh. “Do you think we’re vampires? And, who invited you?”

“Oh my god, Chan,” you hear a voice come from upstairs and turn to see Yerim hanging over the bannister on the third floor, lashes on, glittery makeup on her lids, wearing a tiny going-out skirt. “I was just flirting when I told you to come over! I didn’t think you’d take it literally!”

You shake your head. “We have got to raise our standards a bit,” you huff under your breath, and Yerim rolls her eyes.

“Please, sometimes I just want to have some fun with a cute himbo. We can’t all fuck fraternity presidents, can we?” 

There’s a slight choking noise from Seungcheol that’s quickly drowned out by Chan and Yerim cackling in tandem and the sound of blood rushing to your face, your heart thudding in your ears, the last of your patience leaving your body. “You,” you point at Yerim with the curling iron, once again wielding it like a weapon, “go away and stop antagonizing everyone. You,” you direct the curling iron at Chan, “don’t let me catch you back here again. And you,” you turn to Seungcheol and falter, not sure why you’re angrily rounding on him when he didn’t do anything wrong. “Um. Thanks for coming over.”

“Yeah, any time,” he fluffs the hair at the back of his flushed neck and motions awkwardly for Chan to get up. “Give me a call if you need anything. C’mon, let’s go.” 

The freshman gets up from the staircase and follows Seungcheol obediently, turning and giving Yerim a friendly wave before leaving and closing the door gently behind him.

“Hey Y/N, hurry up and finish getting dressed,” Yerim calls down from the third floor, “you said you’d sober-monitor us at the Nu Kaps’ party.” 

It’s then when you belatedly remember that this entire exchange happened while you were still in a long fluffy bathrobe covered in a pattern of little fried eggs, fluffy slippers on your feet, a wet towel piled on your head, an unplugged curling iron in your hand with the cord dragging on the floor. 

“What is wrong with me,” you huff under your breath, turning to head up the stairs.

3. 

You derive a considerable amount of pleasure from being the opposite of a stereotypical machine shop hand, you with your lip gloss, sorority letters on your laptop, and Starbucks in your hand. It’s a far cry from the burly dudes that typically run the shop, but you’re a mechanical engineering major, goddamnit, and you’re smart and friendly and you love getting paid just to help other engineering students with their projects. 

But perhaps the only downside to being a shop hand presents itself when Mingyu shows up at the tail end of your shift with a tupperware container of homemade cookies in his hands and a pout on his lips. “I need help,” he says, his voice small and helpless despite his towering stature and large biceps peeking under the sleeves of his tee. 

“Ask Johnny,” you tell him as you replace your safety glasses on the rack and scribble your time out on the sheet hanging by the door. “I’m not the shop hand on duty anymore.”

“Um, but I want your help,” he insists, following you as you shoulder your backpack and leave the shop. “Some of the brothers are trying to build a loft and we can’t figure it out, and we need an engineer.”

“A house full of dudes, and not a single one of them can put a few pieces of wood together?” You raise your eyebrows at Mingyu. He sticks by your side as you walk back home, which, unfortunately, is the same path and direction that he takes to walk home. 

Mingyu whines, “yeah, but I want your help. Did I ever tell you that you were my favorite calculus TA? And look,” he holds out the tupperware in his hands, “I made red velvet cookies stuffed with cream cheese frosting, just for you.”

For such a large, buff, fuckboy-appearing guy, Mingyu is surprisingly pathetic when he wants to be. It’s hard for you to say no when he curls his shoulders in like he’s trying to make himself small, like the world’s saddest little Victorian street urchin. “Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll help you.”

But when he leads you upstairs to the half-finished construction project, instead of the group of boys he had mentioned, you find yourself face-to-face with a sweaty, frazzled-looking Seungcheol in his bedroom, surrounded by plywood and pine beams. 

“Mingyu,” he says, furrowing his brows, “I thought you were going to get Johnny.”

“Johnny wasn’t on shift when I got there,” Mingyu replies quickly, stuffing the box of cookies in your hands. “I remembered wrong, I guess, and Y/N was the shop hand on duty, so I brought her back here instead.”

Seungcheol turns to you. He’s wearing another one of those muscle tees that shows off his large arms and broad shoulders and you can smell the scent of his aftershave mixing with freshly cut wood, and suddenly your mouth is dry and you can’t find it in you to chastise Mingyu for lying. 

“You don’t have to stay,” he tells you apologetically. “I think we can figure it out.”

You blink, snapping out of your trance, and step forward, walking over a stray pile of scattered power tools to frown at the mess of tiny holes in the drywall. “Do you boys not know what a stud finder is? You can’t just attach things to drywall and expect it to support any weight.”

Mingyu backs away, putting himself between the door and the doorframe. “A stud finder? Isn’t that you?” he squeaks, before escaping and closing the door behind him.

“Ignore him,” Seungcheol says, burying his face in his hands. “I just wanted more storage space.”

You don’t need Seungcheol to tell you to ignore Mingyu, however, because you’re already distracted by the materials laid out on the floor, quickly putting together a plan in your head. “Okay, so we’ll have these as horizontal supports,” you point to a stack of wood by the wall, putting the cookies down on Seungcheol’s desk. “But I don’t think the studs in your walls can support the shear that we’ll be putting them under, so we’ll want some diagonal beams too, to redirect the force this way and minimize torque,” you hold up your palm vertically and point your finger downward, then into your hand, to indicate the direction of force. “It’s all a really simple statics problem that Mingyu should have been able to solve.”

When you turn back towards Seungcheol, you’re surprised to see him staring at you, his eyes dark and intense. You’re caught off guard to see his attention so fully directed toward you. “Uh,” you lick your lips, suddenly feeling very awkward, “I have a stud finder at my place. I’ll grab some eye protection for us, too, and some drywall fasteners. I hope you don’t mind if I make you do all the heavy lifting, though,” you laugh nervously, eyeing his bulky arms. “I’ll, uh, be back in five.”

And while you’re grabbing the requisite supplies, you think, it probably wouldn’t hurt to spray a little perfume on yourself and refresh your lip gloss while you’re at it.

4. 

Sometimes, you resent the mom-friend reputation thrust upon you by virtue of being a senior and the president of the sorority this year, but there’s a few good reasons why you’re usually the one sober-monitoring the girls, and most of them include the fact that you’re terrible at holding your liquor. That’s why it’s a surprise when Sooyoung offers to sober-monitor at the Sigmas’ Halloween party. She’s not the most responsible sober-monitor, usually disappearing halfway through, but at least she’s one of the older ones, and it’s been a while since you last let loose.

And, besides, it’s Halloween. In the wise words of Cady Heron: in girl world, Halloween is the one night a year a girl can dress like a total slut, and no other girls can say anything about it. Tonight, you and Yerim are in matching playboy bunny costumes, at her insistence. Despite the sexy alien costume hanging in your closet, you had let Yerim persuade you into the black lacy teddy, iconic white cuffs and collar, and mandatory bunny ears, with the promise of the Nu Kaps’ Halloween party tomorrow and the Betas’ Halloween party on Sunday.

You’re already drunk when you walk into the Sigmas’ house, arm linked with Yerim. It’s dark and there’s a fog machine somewhere and there’s an actual DJ in the corner, one of the brothers that you don’t recognize. Sooyoung greets you, her tall figure and eagle eyes giving her a vantage point over the costumed crowd, and pushes a drink in your hand. “Come on,” she grins, eyes twinkling, “it’s your designated night away from responsibility. Drink up!”

Already tipsy and bubbly-drunk, you tip the shot back, ignoring the burn of shitty vodka, and let Yerim drag you to the packed dance floor. You’re not sure how much time passes, but somewhere in the middle, you dance with a dude dressed as a sexy priest, you’re handed two more shots and another cup of the Sigmas’ homemade jungle juice, and you dance with a girl dressed as Harley Quinn. You end up drinking way more than you should, justifying it to yourself as just blowing off steam from midterm season. 

At some point, you find yourself laughing and hanging off Tony the Tiger (it’s Soonyoung, but you had mistaken him for Johnny, who is also dressed as Tony the Tiger (this is somehow something that happens to Johnny quite frequently)), when you see Mingyu (a fireman who can’t seem to find a shirt) accompanied by Jihoon (the world’s most miserable teletubby). You remove your arms from around Soonyoung’s tiger-striped torso to wave at your friends. 

It’s at this exact moment that you feel Soonyoung’s shoulder jerk to the side after undoubtedly having been pushed by the crowd, sending you, drunk and wobbly in your high heeled pumps, stumbling away from Soonyoung and into someone’s chest. Luckily, a pair of warm, strong arms close around you before you can fall.

You look up at your savior, and in your drunken state, it takes you a moment to realize what you’re looking at, but when your brain finally processes the visual input and translates it into a meaningful image, you bark out a short laugh. It’s Seungcheol, dressed in a maroon velvet smoking jacket, tied loosely to expose his chest. 

“Cheol! You’re dressed as Hugh Hefner,” you grin, staggering to your feet.

He frowns at you. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you blink, struggling to clear your vision. “I think  I’m a little drunk.”

Seungcheol laughs, putting an arm around your waist to steady you. “I think you’re a lot drunk,” he says. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. I’ll get you some water. You should sit down.”

“‘M fine,” you mumble, but you still let him guide you away from the party and up the darkened stairs, his hand firmly placed against the dip of your waist, catching all your little stumbles and sways. You blink again, hard, and suddenly, you’re seated on Seungcheol’s bed in his room. The lights are on and Seungcheol is handing you a bottle of water.

“Drink,” he orders, uncapping the bottle and placing it in your hands. “You’ll regret it tomorrow if you don’t hydrate.”

Instead, you point to the wooden structure over his window, which now holds cardboard boxes and a few suitcases. “Our loft. It’s still up. I’m glad it didn’t collapse. It’s, like, our baby.”

“Yeah,” you hear him say, nudging your hands gently. “Water, remember?”

“Oh.” Obediently, you lift the bottle to your lips and drink, spilling some from the corner of your mouth and down your chest in your haste. When you’re done, you hand the half-empty bottle to Seungcheol, who caps it and places it on his nightstand. (His ears are strangely pink, but you forget about it almost as soon as you notice.)

The mattress dips as Seungcheol takes a seat next to you and places something heavy over your shoulders. You look down to see an oversized denim jacket belonging to Seungcheol covering your frame. With just a little bit of swimming, you manage to put your arms through the sleeves. The jacket smells like Seungcheol’s cologne, warm and spicy, mixed with the pleasant aroma of freshly cut softwood that still permeates his room. 

“How are you feeling?” Seungcheol’s voice is gentle, and you can’t help but to stare at his plush lips bitten cherry-red, the pale column of his neck, the exposed V of his chest. 

“Cheollie,” you whine, the nickname rolling off your drunken tongue easily, “why are you so hot?”

This time, Seungcheol flushes all the way pink. “Stop, I’m not,” he responds automatically, but you’re relentless in your current state.

“We’re matching,” you mumble, shifting closer to him until you’re almost in his lap. “We’re practically wearing a couple costume. Did you know I’d be dressing as a playboy bunny today?”

“No,” he puffs his cheeks, “the guys put me up to it. I had no idea.”

“You look so good,” you press your hand flat against his chest, tilting your head when Seungcheol shudders under your touch. “I’m normally a feminist, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

Seungcheol laughs and you feel his body vibrate underneath your palm. “That sounds like something you’ll regret saying tomorrow,” he grins, relaxing a little bit.

“Mm,” you consider his words. “That’s a problem for sober me. But Cheol, can you please just entertain drunk me for tonight? I want to kiss you so much,  it’s all I can think about,” you murmur, shifting to throw your leg over his lap and straddle him.

Seungcheol groans when you rake your nails lightly up the back of his neck, burying your fingers in his dark hair. With your other hand, you reach up, sliding your palm from his chest to his shoulder and pushing away at the collar of the velvet smoking jacket. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” he rasps, his hands settling on your hips and squeezing, before tilting his jaw up and meeting your lips with his. Seungcheol’s mouth is hot and slick, and he makes a small noise of surprise when you drag your teeth over his lower lip.

The party continues downstairs, floorboards rattling with the heavy bass from the music, but you’re focused on the quiet hitch of Seungcheol’s breath when you grind down on him, rolling your hips over the bulge in his pants. The tips of Seungcheol’s fingers ghost across the edge of your teddy, where the lace and satin stops, demarcating the line between your hip and thigh. 

Seungcheol moves down to your throat, licking and sucking lightly at the flesh under your jaw. When you feel his teeth graze against your skin, you can’t suppress the high whimper that escapes your mouth as you press your chest against his, needing to be closer to him, closer. You want his mouth everywhere, his hands everywhere, you want him everywhere on you.

And then, you wake up. 

It’s morning and the sun streams through the half-closed blinds of the window, covering the room with stripes of gold. Your head pounds with a nasty headache and you feel like something small and furry crawled into your mouth and died. You blink and, slowly, the world materializes. You’re laying on Seungcheol’s bed, still dressed in your costume from the night before, rolled on your side and propped up with a pillow against your chest so you don’t choke during the night. There’s a trash can by the bed placed to easily catch any vomit, and it’s thankfully empty. 

You blink again and realize that across the room from the bed, Seungcheol is asleep on his couch, dressed in oversized sweats with the hood pulled up over his head, cheeks squished, full lips stuck in a pout, curled into a ball with his knees drawn up to his chest. 

The previous night is hazy, but you can still remember some things. Soonyoung, dressed as Tony the Tiger. Yerim passing you another shot. You, straddling Seungcheol, his lips parted against yours, moaning into your mouth. Then, Seungcheol pushing you off his lap, cheeks flushed but firm in his insistence that you go to sleep despite your whines, your hands reaching out for his body. Seungcheol telling you that you’re too drunk for anything and putting you in bed.

“Oh my god,” you groan, voice hoarse. You’re a messy drunk, you know this, and you never should have let Sooyoung offer to sober-monitor while Yerim supplies you with drink after drink. You’re not sure if you can ever face Seungcheol again after your behavior the night before. “What is wrong with me,” you murmur to yourself, reaching out for the bottle of water and painkillers left on the nightstand for you.

(Later on when you get back to the sorority house, dressed in a borrowed tee and sweatpants from Seungcheol, you’re immediately crowded by Minjeong and Yerim, demanding updates. “Did you hook up with him,” Minjeong asks, following you into the bathroom and sitting on the counter.

“No,” you respond, pouring makeup remover onto a cotton pad and working at the smeared mess of mascara under your eyes.

“What?! You’re so hot,” Yerim huffs, crossing her arms. “He’s insane if he didn’t want to fuck you.”

“No, it was totally my fault.” You sigh, discarding the dirty cotton pad and wetting a fresh one with makeup remover. “I got way too drunk, no thanks to you, Yerim.”

Minjeong and Yerim share a look. 

“Anyways, he was just being a gentleman. We made out, but it never went past that. He said he didn’t want to do anything while I was drunk. Remember,” you wave a finger at the two younger girls, “sex happens between two consenting adults, and you can’t consent to sex if you’re a sloppy blackout drunk bitch like I was. I was lucky that I ended up going upstairs with Seungcheol, and not some random weirdo.”

“So,” Minjeong grins, pushing right past your lecture, “you’re saying that you made out with him? Is he a good kisser? How big is his dick?”

You sigh. “Get out and let me shower,” you snap, waving them out of the bathroom. “And stop being nosy about my sex life!”)

5.

You’re drunk again, this time at a club, after having been dragged out on the insistence of Mingyu and Seokmin. 

Ever since the Halloween incident, you’ve been too embarrassed to show your face around the Sigma house anymore in fear that you’ll run into Seungcheol. Which is why it’s a surprise when Mingyu and Seokmin show up at your front door, asking to see you and insisting that you join them and a few other friends to go clubbing. Predictably, all it takes for your resolve to crumble is an expertly pathetic pout from Mingyu and a whine of “I haven’t seen you in forever, I miss you,” from Seokmin.

When you arrive at the club with the two boys, however, you see a small gaggle of friends already seated in a corner booth, heads leaned together and conversing. You recognize Minjeong and Yerim instantly, but it looks like Chan and Soonyoung are also in the mix.

Yerim spots you first, turning and grinning brightly while waving her arm to flag you down. “C’mere,” she shouts over the booming music, “finish the rest of this cocktail for me, I don’t like it.”

You slide into the seat next to Yerim, pressing your thigh against hers and leaning into her side affectionately, and take a sip of the drink in her glass, only to grimace and frown. “Yerim, why would you order a long island iced tea? And, why should I trust you to hand me drinks, after what happened last time?”

“Just one drink,” she wheedles, looping her arm around yours, and you sigh, because it’s your last weekend out before you need to hunker down for finals, and because it’s Yerim and you can’t deny your favorite freshman, and because you can’t make good choices all the time.

Which is how you end up here— a little drunk, on the dance floor after having been dragged by a Seokmin who has been insisting all night that you meet one of his friends from high school, Jaehyun, who’s really cool and you’ll definitely really like, he promises, offering up his pinky when you gave him a dubious look. The guy in question, who you’re dancing with right now, is tall and broad and well-dressed, and he’s so handsome, you’re not sure you’re seeing correctly, because it shouldn’t be possible for a person to be so conventionally attractive. 

You put your arm around his shoulder, cupping your hand around the back of his neck for leverage, and lean up to speak in his ear over the music. “You’re one of the Nu Kaps, right? Aren’t they throwing a party at the house tonight?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “Yeah, but Seokmin and Mingyu made me come out here,” he tells you, tilting his head toward your neck so you can hear him over the noise. “Hey, aren’t you a TA for MEC 3110? I need some help with the problem set due tomorrow. Wanna get out of here?”

You burst into laughter, tilting your head back and swatting his chest. “Is that how you flirt?”

“No,” Jaehyun grins, “but I really do need help. I’m not actually hitting on you. I don’t want to get murdered by that guy,” he jerks his head toward the crowd behind you. You turn to look over your shoulder, only to see Seungcheol making his way through the crowd with a scowl on his face.

“Oh, that’s my friend,” you turn back towards Jaehyun. “He’s not scary, I promise.”

“Not taking my chances, sorry,” Jaehyun says, his cheeks dimpling with a smile. “So, can we meet about that problem set? I got a study group and everything. That unit on combined bending and axial loading is killing all of us.”

“Fine,” you puff, patting the side of his neck as he retracts his hands from your waist. “Text me, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll ask Seokmin for your number,” he calls, disappearing into the crowd just as you feel Seungcheol’s hand close around your wrist. 

Seungcheol tugs on your arm, spinning you around and pulling you into his chest smoothly. “Who’s that, and why does he need your number,” he asks, holding you against him with a hand on the small of your back. 

“That’s Jaehyun, a friend of Seokmin’s. He needs help with some mechanics problems,” you say, looping your arms around his shoulders easily. “He’s in my deformable bodies class.”

“He needs your help studying?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow dubiously. “Doesn’t sound likely.”

“Maybe he has other motives. Why do you care? I’m his TA, I can’t not help,” you reply testily, frowning. Seungcheol’s hand presses tighter against the small of your back.

“I don’t care,” he says, clearly lying. “You can do whatever you want with whoever you want.”

He’s sulking, you realize. You stop dancing and stare at him. “Cheol, you’re not jealous, are you?”

Seungcheol flushes all the way to the tips of his ears and he looks away. Against your better judgement, you laugh at the sudden awkwardness that comes over him. “We’ll talk,” you promise, grabbing his hand and interlocking your fingers between his, “but not here. C’mon, let’s get out of the dance floor.” Seungcheol doesn’t put up any resistance as you pull him through the crowd, letting you lead him back to the table, linked by your clasped hands in the middle. 

The two of you slide back into the booth occupied by your friends in the back, who all zero in on your linked hands. 

“God,” Mingyu groans, slapping a ten dollar bill in Seokmin’s hand, “fine, you win.”

Seokmin holds out a hand in Chan and Soonyoung’s direction, raising his eyebrows. “Twenty from you two. I haven’t paid Minjeong and Yerim for Halloween, so we’ll count it as even.”

“Hold on,” you frown, pulling your hand from Seungcheol’s (you nearly miss the tiny sulky pout that he makes the second you stop holding his hand). “What’s going on here?”

The kids all freeze, eyes widening as they exchange looks. 

“Um,” Mingyu squeaks, shrinking back in his seat.

“I see a friend of mine,” Soonyoung blurts, springing up from his seat and escaping onto the dance floor.

“I’ll ask again,” you frown at the remaining individuals, “what’s going on here?”

It’s Yerim who speaks up. “We had a bet,” she says, coming clean. “About you and Seungcheol, and whose idea would get the two of you together.” Yerim stares at you defiantly, ignoring Chan’s panicked swats under the table, Seokmin’s deer in the headlights stare, and Mingyu’s continually shrinking frame.

“Wait,” Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose with a grimace, “so the loft, Chan’s break-in incident, Halloween—“

“Yes, it was all planned,” Yerim says, still defiant.

“You guys broke a window for your dumb plan,” Seungcheol exclaims, aghast. 

“No, that was an accident,” Minjeong interrupts, “Seokmin and Mingyu are really that dumb, but we all saw how obsessed with each other the two of you were then, and it just progressed from there.”

“You all do realize how inappropriate and invasive this is, don’t you?” Seungcheol scowls, and they all have the decency to at least look ashamed.

You slap your hands on the surface of the table as you get up, abruptly interrupting the conversation. “I’m leaving,” you announce. Seungcheol makes a motion to follow you, but you give him a glare that pushes him right back into his seat. “Don’t come with me,” you snarl, “any of you. I can call my own damn uber without your help.” 

As you stalk through the club, you feel a lump forming in your throat while your skin burns from embarrassment. Just moments ago, you had been ready to ask Seungcheol out on a real date, bubbly with the thought that maybe you liked him and maybe he liked you too. But now, you feel humiliated. Played by everyone, your stupid crush used as the subject of a bet, reeling from the possibility that everything you thought was true may just be a lie, after all.

+1

You spend the week after that furiously avoiding the Sigmas, but you can only hold a grudge for so long against your own girls, especially when Yerim and Minjeong come into your room with a tray of homemade brownies and guilty faces, apologizing for their intrusion into your love life.

On the other hand, it’s a lot easier for you to hold a grudge against Mingyu, who approaches you for help on a 3D printing project and immediately turns around and goes to the other shop hand on duty as soon as he sees your glare, and Seokmin, who smiles and waves to you when he sees you in line at Starbucks only to lower his hand and look at the floor when you scowl at him in response. 

Then, half out of spite and half because you’d feel bad letting them just struggle, on Tuesday night, you end up going to the Nu Kappa Tau house on the other side of campus to help Jaehyun and his friends study for their final. It’s almost 2am when you finish up and head back home for the night. By then, the shuttles have stopped running, so your only option is to make the thirty minute trek across the deserted campus. 

It’s cold and you can see your breath as you walk. Shivering, you zip your coat all the way up to your chin and pull the hood up over your head to shield your ears from the wind, in the process muffling the sound of scattered leaves blowing in the wind. It’s likely because of the hood that it takes you so long to notice the figure following you, always maintaining a distance of about half a block behind you. You don’t really register it until you see his reflection in the windows of the darkened English building as you pass. When you pass the Psychology building, he’s still there, trailing behind you, and that’s when you start to get nervous.

This late at night, there’s nobody else on this side of campus. You take a sharp turn and loop through the liberal arts campus, your pace quickening, but when you pass by the Psychology building again and check the reflection in the windows, your follower is still there. 

Panic shoots through you when you realize that you still need to walk through the quad and past the engineering campus to get home, which contains a stretch of road lined by trees and heavy landscaping. It’s lovely during the day, but at night, it’s dark and creepy. 

You lower your hood to make sure you can hear everything, and then you pull out your phone. Hands trembling, you tap on the first contact that comes to mind.

Seungcheol picks up immediately. “Y/N?” He sounds confused as to why you’re calling, which you can’t blame him for, since you had iced him out even though the whole fiasco with the underclassmen’s bet wasn’t his fault at all. “Are… you still upset?”

There’s a lot to unpack, but you have more pressing concerns on your mind right now. “Seungcheol, there’s someone following me,” you say quickly, glancing backward. He’s still there. “I’m walking past the law library right now, heading down 34th street. I took a loop around the liberal arts campus and he followed me the whole time.”

There’s a pause, and then he replies urgently, “I’ll be there in ten. Can you meet me at the student center?”

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“Good,” he says. You can hear rustling in the back and the jingling of keys. When he speaks again, it sounds like he’s jogging. “Now, can you put your phone on speaker?”

“Okay,” you pull your phone away from your ear and hit the speakerphone button with numb fingers. When his voice comes out again, it’s deeper, and the volume makes you jump.

“Hey babe, what are you doing right now?”

It takes your panicked brain a moment to figure out what he’s doing, but when you realize, you thank your lucky stars that at least one of you can think clearly under pressure. “I’m heading back,” you respond, trying your best to keep the tremble out of your voice. 

“Perfect,” he responds, still on the move. “I’ll see you soon then. Tell me about your day, baby.”

“Um.” You search your mind for non-identifying details that you can give. “I don’t know.” Stupid, you berate yourself. Stupid, stupid, but you can already see the student center building down the street. 

“That’s okay, babe, I’ll just tell you about my day,” he says in a voice that somehow manages to soothe your frazzled nerves. “I went to the gym with some of the guys this morning, then I went to the new cafe on 14th for lunch. I gotta take you there for a date sometime, it’s really nice. I think you’ll really like the cheesecake. Did some studying in the afternoon for my MGT 4350 final.”

“Which one is that again,” your teeth chatter, “Law, Management, and Economics, right?”

“Yeah,” he sounds genuinely surprised. “You remembered.”

“Of course, Cheol, I’m not completely self absorbed.” You check over your shoulder again. You’re still being followed, but the distance is wider now. Looking back forward, you see the distant figure of Seungcheol lightly jogging over the hill towards the student center. “Look,” you say suddenly, slightly louder than you intended, “I’m sorry for what happened at the club last week. It wasn’t your fault, so I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“What, no, you don’t have to apologize,” is his immediate response. 

“Are you mad at me, Cheol?”

“No, I’m not. I was a little bummed this week when I didn’t see you, but I’m not mad, or upset at you at all.”

“Oh.” You sniffle. “Thanks for understanding. I was worried that I had fucked everything up.”

“No, no, no. I, um, I’m glad you called me.”

“Yeah, me too,” you say, walking up the well-lit path leading to the student center entrance. Seungcheol greets you there, his hair mussed, a light sheen of sweat over his forehead, dressed in pajamas with a leather bomber jacket haphazardly thrown on top, and you end the call and shove your phone back in your pocket.

Seungcheol takes your hand and pulls it into his pocket as the two of you walk back, pulling you close into his side. “You doing okay?” 

“Y-yeah,” you respond, still tense, but considerably less anxious. “Can you check if he’s still back there?”

Seungcheol turns his head, craning his neck as he scans the darkened streets. “No, I don’t think so,” he frowns. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hurry, let’s go home,” you tug at his arm and hold him close to your side like a shield.

The walk back is silent and tense, with Seungcheol occasionally turning back to check for anybody who might be following. The whole time, you feel like you’re hyper-aware of each cracking twig and each dry rustle of the fallen leaves lining the sidewalks, so much so that even the distant hooting of an owl makes you jump and tug Seungcheol in front of you. 

Eventually, the two of you make it back to your sorority house. You enter the password in the keypad with trembling hands, and when Seungcheol hesitates by the threshold, you tug him inside after you. “Stay with me for a little while,” you insist.

The inside of the house is dark. Seungcheol trails after you while you make your way through every room on the ground floor, watching as you flick on the lights and check each window and exterior door to make sure they’re all locked.

By the time you’re done, it’s 3am. The two of you are standing back in the foyer by the front door. “Um,” you tug at the sleeves of your coat, “thanks for… everything.”

“Of course,” Seungcheol smiles, “anytime.” And you know he’s telling the truth, that he’d drop everything and come to your side, to any of your friends’ sides, any time anybody needs help. 

“I meant what I said on the phone earlier,” you tell him.

“I did too.” 

You think you might melt under his affectionate gaze. “You know I’m going to have to kick you out now, right?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol laughs. “Give me a call if you need anything, though. Anything.”

“Okay. Um.” You suck in a breath. Well, here goes nothing. “Thanks for pretending to be my boyfriend earlier. But you don’t have to pretend, if you don’t want to. I like you a lot, Seungcheol.”

His entire demeanor lights up. He reaches out and takes your hand in his, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer,” he grins, eyes sparkling. “I like you a lot, too.”

“Good,” you respond, letting a smile spread across your face. 

Seungcheol steps forward, closing the distance between your bodies. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you breathe, your heart fluttering. You feel his hand come up to cup your jaw and angle your face up toward him. When he kisses you, it’s a soft, chaste press of his lips against yours, short and sweet. It’s barely a peck, but it carries the promise of more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he assures you as he steps back and opens the front door.

“See you tomorrow,” you grin dopily. You feel like you’re floating.

“The kids are gonna riot,” Seungcheol laughs.

“Let them riot,” you say as his fingers slip out of yours. “I got the world’s best boyfriend out of it, anyway.”

[yuzurins]

the last thing you’d ever expect would happen to you was atsumu asking you out.

the miya atsumu, the guy who seemed to never have anything other than volleyball on his mind.

though it was a shock to you, you reluctantly agreed, as you did have a tiny crush on the setter.

and it was fun— but only for the first few months.

somewhere along the line, everytime you’d ask him to go out, it was always, “oh i have practice,” or “i’m really tired from practice.”

practice, practice, practice.

you knew well even before you dated that he was extremely dedicated to volleyball, and that he was freakishly good at it.

yet you really couldn’t help but think,

what if he just doesn’t want to hang out with me anymore?

what if he just got bored and can’t bring himself to break up?

you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. you tried to subdue the thoughts of insecurity that were slowly eating you alive.

until one day, you just broke.

“were you and atsumu actually dating in the first place? i don’t think i’ve ever seen you two together.” a classmate of yours accused.

“yeah y/n, i bet it was just a lie just to make us all jealous!”

“that’s so shallow of you.”

“i didn’t know y/n was that type of person.”

the revolting glares that all your classmates gave you was more than enough to validate your assumptions.

it was enough to make you feel as though atsumu was really playing with you all along.

your stomach churned and you already felt the tears welling up in your eyes.

you didn’t even know what you did wrong.

was it your fault that atsumu couldn’t make time for you?

no. no it wasn’t.

so why did you have to become the villain?

why were you responsible for the fact that miya atsumu was an absolute jerk?

it really didn’t matter to you anymore.

so that evening, you broke up with him, erasing the world that was once your everything for the last six months.

you tried distracting yourself— immersing yourself in studying, grinding games until sunrise, hanging out with friends, reading books.

seeing as you weren’t phased by the thought of him, you thought you moved on.

seriously.

so how did you end up in front of the tokyo metropolitan gymnasium?

perhaps it was fate that you’d be in tokyo during the time of nationals. though you wouldn’t know, as you didn’t keep up with what the volleyball club did.

perhaps it was fate that you’d see a flyer for the spring national high school volleyball tournament on your walk around the huge city.

you could try blaming it on fate, but there’s no denying the reaction you had— the way your face lit up and how your heart beat faster.

as you were mentally debating on whether you should go in or not, you heard an awfully familiar voice.

“yn-san?”

tsu— no, osamu. it was clear from the way he referred to you.

he was the closest one to atsumu, so you guessed that he probably knew you already broke up with his brother and tried to come off nonchalant. “oh, hi.“

“what are you doing here in tokyo?” it wasn’t obvious, but after spending quite a bit of time with the twins, you could tell he was trying to not be awkward with you aswell.

“just a work trip.” you responded straightforwardly. there was no reason to lie.

“ah, i see.”

as osamu’s efforts went in vain, awkward silence came as the both of you struggled to find something to talk about.

“well—“

“you should come watch us play!” he cut you off.“what a coincidence that you’re here on the day we have our first match.”

osamu really was not the type to say that type of stuff. rather, this was atsumu’s sort of thing.

ignoring the subtle ache in your heart, you hummed and nodded. “sure, that sounds fun.”

the grey-haired boy in front of you exhaled in relief before giving you lazy smile.

“cool! see you later then.” he sent you a wave and bid farewell.

it seemed like a huge weight was lifted off his mind at the end, which you were a bit confused about, but quickly brushed it off since that wasn’t the main focus to you.

you just promised your ex’s brother that you were going to go watch them play volleyball— which was the root of the problem that caused you two to split in the first place.

it’s also the first time in two weeks that you’re going to see atsumu.

the closest word you could use to describe how you were feeling was anticipation. nervous, of course, but you very much wanted to see what was keeping atsumu so busy all the time, and how he could love a sport more than anyone else in the world. ouch

you hesitantly walk into the gym, peeking around like a meerkat as you quickly scan your surroundings.

you landed your gaze on the current tournament standings and timetable.

inarizaki vs karasuno…?

pursing your lips and tightening the grip on your backpack, you follow the sign and make your way up on the bleachers, familiar faces appearing the closer you get.

the court was bigger than you expected it to be, and there were definitely more people, too. everyone was warming up, looking like they were getting ready to start soon.

#7, miya atsumu was the first one up to serve. the cheerful music of the band grew louder, until your ex shut them up completely with a mere clench of his fist.

the sound of the two girls squealing amidst the total silence didn’t bother you at all.

because you were too focused on watching tsumu serve.

and you were, speechless.

maybe it was just you, but you felt as though the ball could’ve shook the whole gym as it impacted the ground.

you shuddered at the thought of having to receive that vigorous of a serve, and subconsciously scooted a bit forward on the seat you occupied.

the match passed in a blink of the eye. you didn’t even realize that it had already been over an hour since you arrived.

unfortunately, inarizaki did end up losing, though it didn’t really matter to you. their emotions and drive to win the game were conveyed earnestly, even if you resided in the bleachers way above them, and that itself felt like a win in your books.

maybe it was too late to say, you finally understood why atsumu was so hellbent on volleyball. why his club, and this sport, became such a significant part of his life.

the regret of not having seen atsumu ever play any games earlier came crashing down on you.

perhaps it was selfish of you to be feeling like this after acting all high and mighty that evening. what would you even say to him now? heck, what did you even want?

…you weren’t sure.

but the only thing that repeated in your head was that you needed to find him. this instant.

because communication is key in relationships, and that’s why you didn’t work out.

the clacking sound of your shoes hastily hitting the ground echoed through the empty hallways as you tried to navigate your way through the giant building.

honestly, you had no idea where the inarizaki team would be after their game, but if you wandered around enough, surely you’d see them around, right?

wrong. it’s been twenty minutes now and all you’ve been doing is going around in circles.

it probably would’ve been a much better idea to have stayed in the gym and watched where the team left off, but you were too distracted to think clearly at the time.

however, just as you were able to give up, you saw a familiar tuft of blonde hair walk past a corridor. it looked like he was walking with a teammate. springing back onto your feet, you quickly fixed your hair and followed after it, walking as fast as you could.

you trailed them through a few more corridors until halting abruptly around a corner when you noticed they stopped. there was no way you’re going to make a fool out of yourself here, so you stood there against the wall, the beating of your heart heightening every second.

it sounded like he was talking to someone about something, but it was inaudible to you as you were more focused on not making any noise. suddenly, the sound cut and you heard footsteps walking away.

pressing your lips together nervously, you slowly peeked your head out.

atsumu was sitting alone, head in his hands, mumbling on about something, before suddenly raising his head and glaring intensely at the wall. you jumped a little at his sudden movement, thinking that he might’ve noticed you, but slowly calmed yourself down as you braced yourself to go approach him.

he was probably really frustrated about the game, seeing as he didn’t realize you were right there until you sat down next to him.

“i— y/n?!” he choked, moving his whole body a bit back in surprise.

“hi tsumu, you finally noticed me.” you smiled sheepishly, wanting to tease the boy though it wasn’t quite the right time.

you could make out the tiniest flush of red on atsumu’s face at the call of his nickname. he shifted his gaze back to the wall and muttered quietly. “…what are you doing in tokyo…?”

seriously, who let him be this cute?

“you know, your brother and i had this exact same conversation earlier,” you laughed with a twinkle of endearment.

he turned his head back to face you in shock as you mentioned his twin.

“what the heck, that idiot ‘samu saw you and had the audacity to not tell me?” he complained, pout forming on his face. “ack, i’m gonna go teach him a good lesson when we get home…”

atsumu was expecting you to laugh and tell him off like you always did when he bickered with osamu, but you stayed silent, a smile remaining on your face.

he averted his gaze again though his body was still facing you. he wasn’t sure what to do in this situation, since he never expected he would see you of all people here.

“listen,” you started nervously. you wondered if this was the right choice, but it was too late to back out now. “i saw your game earlier, and geniunely, i thought you looked really, really cool.”

atsumu’s tensed lips relaxed, but too much to the point where he was starting to frown. you panicked as you knew where this was going and shoved your hand over his mouth. his eyes widened as he stared at you dumbfounded.

“don’t even mention it!” you warned, pout appearing on your face to match his. “it was a really good game, okay! i’m not even a sports person but i still got hooked in.”

he remained silent as if he was processing all your information like a robot.

you took that as a sign to continue before he could make a retort. “and i’m sorry, i’m really, really, really! sorry! that i doubted you just because you focused on your club a lot.”

hot breath tickled your palm as atsumu let out a soft chuckle. “you seriously don’t have another word to use than ‘really’, do you?”

you felt your face heat up and you pressed your hand against his face a bit more firmly in embarrassment, making sure he won’t utter any more nonsense.

“t-that’s not the main focus here! just listen,” it was now your turn to shift your gaze over awkwardly. “i just wanted to say that i’m sorry for being such a bad girlfriend and never coming to watch your games, or practice to be honest. i cannot believe i missed out on so much of your life while expecting you to be there for me at the same time too.”

“and i’m not saying this just to immediately get back together again, but rather because i think i really hurt you with my insensitive actions, so you don’t have to forgive me until—“

before you could continue, atsumu grabbed the wrist of the hand that was on his mouth and pulled you closer to him, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders and gently resting his head on the side of yours.

you flinched from the sudden contact, heartrate probably going over 100 miles per hour, but slowly stopped tensing up as you felt a light pat on your back.

“you don’t have to apologize that much, it’s not like i was the best boyfriend to you either.” atsumu spoke, voice almost as soft as a whisper. he leaned his head on yours slightly further in attempt to give you reassurance. “i’m already overjoyed just from the fact you came to watch me play, even if we did lose.”

if you were in an anime, the scene that would be playing right now to describe your mental state would be you frolicking around in a sunny meadow, butterflies fluttering everything, flowers in their full bloom, animals peacefully sleeping around, a moment of complete pure bliss.

your heart was doing somersaults, and you thought that steam would erupt out of your ears from how much you were blushing. the only thing you could get of your mouth was a small hum, yet that was enough for the boy to understand.

atsumu giggled quietly at how adorable he thought you were, embracing you with both arms now and resting his head on your shoulder as he listened to the sound of your heartbeat.

you mimicked his actions shyly, moving your arms to wrap around his torso.

“…you still smell like sweat by the way.” you mumbled into his chest.

your ex—or maybe now boyfriend again—lifted his head to let out a sincere laugh and squeezed you into his hold even tighter just to tease you as you jokingly squirmed around.

the small empty corridor filled itself with the sounds of laughter and the comfort of two immature teenagers. the two of you stayed there together for quite a while, losing track of time just in each other’s presences.

“‘tsumu?” you spoke up.

atsumu hummed in response, fatigue finally hitting him from the long game he had earlier.

“i missed you.”

[zaceouiswriting]

The unknown son (First Version)

Character: Derek Hale x male reader

Universe: Teen Wolf

Warnings: Sad, Cheating

Authors note: This was a request by @arekmaximoff. I actually have a second version of this request, which I will post next week. I can't oversaturate the market, now can I? :D If any of you have a request on your own, just send me a massage. Have fun with this one! :)

Hands wet from washing dishes, after another long day with the pack. You never would've thought, to be a motherly figure to an entire pack of teenagers, but here you were. All thanks to the man you married, the love of your life.

It wasn’t always everything good between you two. Especially, when you had a long-term relationship, as you moved away to study at a prestigious university, to become a doctor. But even though, you two haven’t seen each other at points, for a long time, your relationship was always strong. The moment, you finished your studies and came back he asked you to marry him, that was now eight years ago, in a month to be exact.

A couple of the pack members, that did not live with you and Derek in the newly build Hale house, were still sitting around, playing board games, But because the sun, was already setting, it would be much longer.

Just as you thought, that the evening was at an end, the doorbell rang. Panicking, that one of the guys, most likely Stiles, had forgotten something again, you searched for a towel. At the moment, which you had found one, you already could hear someone standing up, to get to the door.

„Nope sit down again, Isaac!“ Even without supernatural powers, you exactly knew what every single one of your pack children did at all times. You could hear him mutter, asking the others, how you could know that he tried to get the door.

With the towel in your hand, drying them off, you looked for a second into the living room. „Because you know you guys. Maybe even better, than you know yourself,“ you told him teasingly. Which flashed a panicked and then embarrassed look over his face, as he understood that you just joked with him.

It felt just natural to you. Always knowing what they do, it gave you a little peace. 

As you finally get to the door and opened it, you looked surprised. Because you couldn’t see anyone. For a moment you thought that it was just a prank, until your eyes completely out of coincidence, down. There in front of you, on the porch of the house you lived in with your husband, stood a small child - Around eight, maybe nine years old.

„Can I do something for you? Have you lost your parents?“, you asked him as friendly as you could even crouching down, so he could look you directly into his eyes. At first, the small boy seemed reluctant. But something changed drastically, as you heard your husband's heavy footsteps behind you.

„Derek Hale?“, he asked in a small voice. For a while nothing came back from the man behind you, wondering what had happened, you turned around to look at him. His entire face was pale as if he had seen a ghost.

„Babe, is everything okay?“, you tried to ask him softly, but after you two had locked eyes, and he instantly averted his eyes again, you knew something was up.

„Yes, that is Derek Hale, why are you asking?“

„Mum told me he would care for me from now on. Because he is my dad!“, he excitedly exclaimed at the end, running past you, still crouching, directly to Derek, hugging him. His small arms and small statue only let him hug his middle section, but that seemed to be enough.

Derek even put his hand on the little boy's head. Even though he looked shocked, he was not that surprised about it.

„Are you hungry?“ The question almost was left unanswered, wouldn’t it be for the boy's stomach.

Derek took him with you together into the kitchen. Where the boy told you what he liked and what not, luckily he had a similar taste to your husband, so it wasn’t hard to make something for him.

He told you about his life with his mother, in a small apartment in the same city, you had studied. You needed to restrict every fiber of your being, to not lunge at your husband and rip his dick off his body.

As he told you his age, which you perfectly guessed as eight years old, you had to breathe sharply in and out. Holding your emotions in. You could preserve a perfect smile, only for a second could the sadness be seen in your eyes, before you masterfully blink the upcoming tears away.

You, on the other hand, told the small boy everything about Derek, all the great attributes he had. His strong will, his protectiveness, his big heart, and his strong sense of loyalty. Absolutely sure, that he would be a great dad. What you both wanted to be soon.

This led to you explaining the relationship you have with Derek, to his son, whom you did not know even existed. At first, the boy did not really understand, but after the second try, as he did, he didn't really care about it. In his word: „Everything is better than my mother“. This was heartbreaking to hear because you loved your mother and father, they are great people. To hear a child say something like this about their mother, was almost too much for you.

Almost an hour after the boy had finished his meal, Derek and you together brought him into bed.

As soon as the door closed, your smile faltered. But Derek hadn’t seen it, because you had your back to him. „You were great to him, I wanted to tell you, but there was never-“ Before he could finish his rant, you turned around, a scowl on your face and tears running down your cheeks. Silent crying was always a talent you had, which made it often hard to read you. Now it was on Derek to let his smile fall. He had thought that you were happy, to have a child now, after you wanting one for years.

Without him realizing, what that meant. Because you had no idea, before this day.

You only looked at him in disappointment once, before leaving him in the hallway, and getting into your shared bedroom. In absolute record time, you packed a couple of bags, which you hurriedly carried out, directly past Derek who still stood frozen in the hallway. 

But as he saw you carrying bags, he freed himself, running after you the stairs down.

Right before you could leave the house, which you had helped build up and make a home, Derek got to you, holding your arm back.

Before either of you could comprehend what had happened, your hand had colored his cheek red. You did not want to get confronted by him, because you feared that you would cave.

„You have an eight-year-old child Derek? Are you fucking serious? We are together for fifteen years! He was born one month before our wedding! Exactly one month, on the fucking day!“, you screamed at him as loud as you could.

The strong man, as you had known him your entire life, could only stand there and take it all in. „Please, don’t tell me, the woman with the baby at our wedding was-“

Before you could finish, he finally met your eyes again, horror and the realization that you would find everything now, hit him like a truck.

„You- You had sex with my roommate? Did you impregnate my roommate that had a boyfriend at that time?“ Everything began to make so much sense. The way her boyfriend had broken up with her, the pity glances he threw at you, the last couple of times you had seen him, and the cryptic message he tried to give you.

„I’m going to my brothers. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t show up at any of their houses.“ Just then you left the house. Not even giving Derek any chance to speak up again.

You married the love of your life. The man you are in a relationship with since both of you were fourteen. Through thick and thin. You helped him through the loss of his entire family, while you only wanted him to be patient with your studies.

Not even that was he able to do, after everything you had done for him, even risking your own future, for covering things up, when he did something dangerous and or illegal, after his family's death.

And now you had to explain to your entire family, why you left this well-liked man, with a child. Most likely not understanding why you were upset. Maybe you would paint it or something like this for them to understand. Your older brother Joey, was the best bet for someone to understand it quickly because he was in a similar situation years ago, where it came out, that his daughter wasn’t his.

Maybe you would even be able to let all these feelings out. At least you hoped so.

[Masterlist]

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ starting prompt: “Everything changed for me when I met her... My Beloved.”

♡ pairing: yandere! damian wayne (Robin) & fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “imagine me and you? I do. I think about day and night, it’s only right, to think about the girl you love and hold her tight. so happy together.” 

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / in this AU everyone in the batfamily is a yandere and probably has a darling so yeah.

Gotham Academy, for the wealthy and elite one might say. you were one of the lucky ones who got accepted through their scholarship programs and busted your ass off to keep your grades up all years. 

you had very few friends considering most Academy students hardly interacted those who they deemed poor. one friend you did have though was the Wayne heir himself. Damian was one of the first to introduce himself to you when you first arrived to Gotham Academy and really remained your friend throughout the years. 

the fresh morning air blew in the wind, making you pull your jacket closer to you as you tried to find warmth in it. the jackets they provided for your uniform were extremely thin and hardly held in any kind of heat. 

“hey! I think the Wayne kid is looking for you!” you heard your friend, Reagan tell you, “he’s waiting for you at the central garden!” you gave him a smile, thanking him for letting you know before running to where Damian usually was in the morning. 

your mornings with Damian, when he would attend school, would start with him bringing you your favorite coffee and switching homework assignments. 

unlike Damian, you were usually better in courses that had to do with humanities, such as history and english courses and you lacked the smarts that Damian had with science and math courses so the two of you would swap homework first thing in the morning. 

“good morning Wayne,” you said, sitting down on the bench. he handed you his coffee, blowing it to make sure it wasn’t too hot, “good morning, beloved. how did you sleep?” he asked, making sure your eye bags weren’t too harsh. 

you shrugged, “I’m okay. just stressed because of midterms and all of that. how did you sleep?” you asked, taking a sip of coffee. “great considering we fell asleep on Facetime together,” he mentioned, “I did the ap calc homework that you can finally copy!” he added on. 

Damian handed you the calc homework as he watched you scribble down the answers. he noticed that you had painted your nails a new color and touched the polish with his finger, “baby blue? that’s new,” he murmured. you nodded happily, “I love this color on me. I even brought color with me in case it chipped throughout the day!” you exclaimed. 

you showed him the bottle and he grabbed it, “put it on me,” you were taken back by the request. you didn’t take Damian was the kind of guy to dabble in wearing polish but nevertheless complied and put the polish on it before grabbing his hand and blowing on it to make it dry quicker, “I didn’t know you wore nail polish!” you mentioned. 

Damian thought for a moment. 

“I don’t but that way people will know we’re matching,” he murmured as the warning bell rang off. 

you and Damian walked slowly to your first period class. the summer going into your Senior year, Damian made it a duty of his to make sure that the two of you shared the same classes. so without you knowing, he had Tim hack into the Gotham Academy school system and pull Damian onto the rosters where you were enrolled in. 

you found the similarities to be funny, however; some of the teachers wondered how the hell they put the two of you in every class together. some didn’t care considering you were able to keep Damian from saying smart shit to someone in class and others were just weirded out by the coincidence. 

“god, I hate this class. you know Matt who sits in front of the class? I have to swear some gross comment about how great my legs look in the uniform by him at least twice every day.” 

Damian’s eye twitched at what you had said, “does it bother you?” he asked, his fist clenched. you nodded annoyingly, “more than anything in the world. I can’t go one day without hearing the comments,” you groaned. 

the two of you got to class but as you walked in, you had saw that Matt wasn’t in class and sighed in relief. Damian had told you he was running off to the bathroom before class started and just to write down whatever he missed while he was gone. 

you sat down, immediately writing what was already on the board but as the class started, Damian still hadn’t shown up. you were beginning to think that maybe the coffee had upset his stomach but about half way through the class, Damian came and plopped down at his desk. 

“where were you? Jackson nearly had a fit because you were late!” you muttered to him. he shrugged, taking out his pen and notebook before leaning over to copy what you had on yours.

it took about another twenty minutes when another teacher ran into the class frantically, “Matthew Harrison was just found in the garden, unconscious and is barely hanging onto his life!” the teacher told your teacher, making all of you gasp in surprise, “call an ambulance!” 

you stared to Damian wide eyed, “my God, that’s insane! we were just there. I wonder who did it,” you told Damian, chewing your lip nervously, “I hope whoever did it doesn’t come for any of us.”

Damian could tell you were scared from the news and he quickly grabbed your hand, “I think you’re safe, beloved. you shouldn’t worry about it,” he assured you. you nodded, going back to writing down the notes, “hey, he finally got what he deserved for harassing you, right?” Damian mentioned. 

you laughed shaking your head, “I guess but I mean, I hope he doesn’t die or anything,” that was the last thing you said before the both of you got to working on the work the teacher assigned for the class while she was gone.

Damian could tell you were shaken by the news but at the end of the day, he did what he had to do. someone was harassing his beloved and he’d be damned if they got away with it. it took every ounce of self restriction to stop himself from actually killing the idiot but the beating he actually gave him did more than enough to satisfy him for the time being.

two broken legs, a broken nose, and making him go blind in one eye was more than enough. the great thing about Gotham Academy was that because of how old the building was, cameras weren’t installed anywhere outside and any cameras that were inside were just in the upgraded part of the school which happened to be the front of the school and the gym. 

the end of the day came as Damian had offered to take you home. you denied the request, telling him you wanted to walk to get some fresh air before you trapped yourself in your room for the rest of the night. 

Damian was hesitant on letting you but at the end of the day, you weren’t his...yet. he knew his feelings for you weren’t exactly normal. far from it, actually. 

when his feelings for you boiled over to damn near obsession, he confided in the one person he trusted the most and that was Dick. he practically confessed how he needed to be near or around you every day or else he would go insane. even if it was just seeing you from afar made his day a 100x better. 

Dick laughed at his brothers confession because he knew it was about time it happened to him. he had gone through the same feelings when he met his now wife and so did Bruce, Tim, Duke, and Jason. 

when Damian was finally confident enough to tell everyone else, they finally let him in on the family secret. these feelings were nothing to be afraid of. he should embrace them and hell, make his feelings get even ‘worse’. it was his job as your protector to feel that way and act on his instincts for you. 

Damian got home, seeing his father and brother watching the news. they were covering what happened at school and a part of him laughed seeing the coverage. 

“did you see what happened?” Dick asked his brother. Damian nodded, kicking off his shoes and laying on the other couch, “of course I did because I was the one who did it,” he said nonchalantly. 

Bruce and Dick stared at him, wide eyed and shocked, “the scum was messing with my beloved. he was making disgusting comments about her and degrading her in a way she and I didn’t like. the piece of shit deserved more than what he got,” he stated, not even bothering to look at them to see their reaction.

“so it’s best we don’t investigate this, I assume?” Bruce asked, “you would assume right,” Damian replied. 

Dick got off the couch and went on one knee to look at his brother, “Damian, you know the implications that comes with how you left him. you know that, right?” he stated. Damian stared at Dick with no fear in his eyes, “everything changed for me when I met her... my beloved. I would kill for her if I had too.” 

Bruce sat in his seat, proudly smirking at what his son said. Dick nodded, walking back to the couch as Damian stood up to go to his bedroom, “it’s only a matter of what before I make her mine so expect her to be around soon enough,” he told them.

+

a few weeks had passed since the incident with your classmate. since then, you had gotten clingier to Damian, not wanting to be at the end of the beating. Daimian had no issue in it, he was practically basking in the touches and side hugs you were giving him. 

you and Damian had decided to head back to his place after school to get some studying done. Friday nights were usually reserved to studying at your place but Damian had offered to make you dinner at his place and study before watching a few movies. 

you had never been over the Wayne manor before and frankly, you were kind of scared to run into his father. THE Bruce Wayne would most likely be in attendance and meeting the most powerful man in Gotham would probably scare anyone. 

Damian unlocked the gate, quickly taking your backpack as you snuggled into his jacket. you were immediately welcomed by his butler, Alfred who offered to put both of you bags in the hallway so no one would step over them. you thanked him profusely, making Damian mutter to you that that’s why he was here. to serve you. 

“so, what would you like to eat, beloved? I can make you anything you desire,” he boasted. you looked at the cookbook that was laid next to you and flipped through the first few pages, “this sounds nice,” you pointed to the plant based steak with veggies.

Damian quickly got to work, making the veggies first as he offered for you taste them every now and again. you would usually relay a kiss on his cheek as he finally got to cooking the steak. you couldn’t help but wonder how he got to be such a great cook, however; as he was finishing plating the food, you saw his father as well as you assumed were his brothers. 

“uh Damian?” you mentioned, pointing to the three men who walked in. Damian sighed knowing that of course his brothers were going to come and annoy him, “who’s your friend?” Dick asked, putting his chin on his hand. 

“this is ( your name ), my beloved,” he told them proudly. you were a bit taken back by the nickname he so easily used on you, “ahh, we’ve heard so much about you,” Tim continued, “she’s so pretty....she’s not like other girls,” Dick mocked. 

your face felt a burning sensation as Bruce told his sons to be quiet, “nice to meet you ( your name ),” Bruce introduced, “welcome to the family,” you barely caught what he said as Damian excused the two of you to go up to his bedroom. 

“your family is...nice,” you tried to say without sounding nervous. Damian rolled his eyes, “they’re bunch of idiots. that’s what they are,” he muttered, not bothering to look back at them. 

once you got to his room, your mouth dropped a bit. you had never seen such a luxurious bedroom before. satin sheets, the coldest pillows, his bedroom could probably house a family if he really wanted too and the fact that this was his bedroom, you were taken back. 

“wow, so this is how the rich and famous live?” you joked, sitting down on his bed. he shook his head, “all this means nothing to me...as long as you’re with me, I’d be the happiest person alive,” you stared at Damian, wondering if what he said was really true. 

the two of you ate, mostly in silence as you tried to take what Damian had said. there had been rumors floating around Gotham Academy that Damian might’ve liked you. you tried to dispel the rumors, claiming that someone like you was no where near Damian’s type but now that you were hearing the words he was telling you, you were more keen on acting on his feelings. 

after finishing dinner, he offered for you to join him on his bed to watch a movie. you had never actually gotten to hang out with Damian outside of school. since you were always so busy doing schoolwork and Damian always had things to take care of, as he put it, you two never relaxed together. 

the aura in the room was cozy as he offered you a very expensive looking blanket to cover you up from the chilly air coming from his window. the movie the two of you picked was some random rom-com, it felt kind of stupid to be watching this kind of movie with Damian but at some point, you stopped paying attention to the movie and looked up to him. 

“did you really mean what you said earlier?” you whispered to him. he gave you a confused look, “of course I did. would I ever lie to you?” he said back, kind of offended that you would even accuse him of lying. 

you sat back up on the bed and turned to fix yourself as you finally gave him a kiss. Damian’s eyes widened, not expecting you to do that to him. regardless, he immediately pulled you on top of him and deepened the kiss by pushing you up against him. 

Damian slid his hands in the back pocket of your skirt, finding it a bit confusing why the uniforms even had pockets on the skirts. he gripped your ass a bit, making you moan in surprise as Damian tried his hardest to contain himself but failing as he slipped his tongue into yours. 

the two of you remained kissing for what felt like hours. you knew your lips were bound get bruised from the amount of tugging Damian was doing but by the time you pulled away, you could see the faintest of blushes appearing on Damian’s brown skin. 

“wow, didn’t know you felt like that for me,” you muttered shyly. Damian chuckled, giving you a quick peck, “I have feelings you wouldn’t even begin to understand but one day....one day you will,” he replied. 

you didn’t pay no mind to his reply as he had brought you down for another kiss. what you didn’t catch was the smirk playing on his face. he knew that once graduation came, there would already be a ring on that left ring finger and soon enough, you’d be baring his heirs. 

the Wayne’s got what they wanted. it didn’t matter what they had to do to get it but what the Wayne’s wanted, they got. 

[five-rivers]

Home

The building that housed Fentonworks had never been normal, no matter what neighbors and real estate agents might profess.

Things had happened there. Deaths. Wild twists of fate and shocking coincidences. People who lived there heard noises, saw things, felt things. Experienced sicknesses with no cause. Were cured of sicknesses without cause. Survived things that should have killed them.

It was a thin spot between worlds. Reality was a rippling membrane, frayed enough for things to shine through.

The construction of the neighborhood itself had been… strange. It happened much faster than it should have, as if there was a whole extra shift of workers on the project.

The townhouse that would one day become Fentonworks had stood out even in that mystery. Extra rooms, a basement deep enough to cause a nasty fight with regulators, features not approved by the architect.

It was a wonder they hadn’t hit any of the water lines or the sewage systems. A wonder- and an impossibility. So, the matter was ignored and dropped.

Then the next owners expanded that impossible basement, building another, secret basement and putting things in the walls- They were criminals, of course. It was expected for them to do illegal things. (Although exactly what they had done was… oddly uncertain.)

(Drugs, perhaps.)

Then, the lunatics. Then, the tiny cult that collapsed in on itself. Then the empty years, dozens of transient ghosts trying and failing to pass through, and the ghost hunters. So many ghost hunters, none of them particularly successful.

Then, the Fentons.

Then, little Jazz.

Then, little Danny.

Danny with wide eyes that saw too much.

And all the horrors that the Fentons could dream up, from living hotdogs to weapons that burned like stars and doors to places that should not be visited.

And this was Danny Fenton’s home.

.

The Manson estate was an odd case, even for Amity Park. Save for the basement, the entire building they lived in had been transplanted, brick and beam, from Germany.

Rich people were bizarre.

Even the Mansons couldn’t explain it. The man who had done it hadn’t been a Manson. The Mansons, who were relatively new money, all things considered, had purchased it from one of the man’s children. Anything to boost their prestige.

It was fancy, and it was old, a gothic and statuesque mansion worthy of its name. Still, it wasn’t quite fancy or old enough to merit the kind of expenditure moving it had to take.

Hence the rumors, squelched by the Mansons, that the place was haunted.

It wasn’t.

The rumors, however, were enough to get one Samantha Manson interested in the occult. Especially given how hard she saw her parents working to hide the rumors from her.

No. The mansion wasn’t haunted. For all it’s oddities and quirks – which only multiplied as the Mansons added more and more features to it – the building itself was mundane.

(The land it was built on might have been another story.)

And this was Sam Manson’s home.

.

The Foleys didn’t want to know what Tucker got up to in the attic, but liked to think that, with that one exception, their home was a nice one. It was on a nice street, in a nice neighborhood, just far enough away from Fentonworks to keep both sightings of the Ghost Assault Vehicle and resultant property damage and property taxes to a minimum. Within walking distance of the high school, a supermarket, and a park.

They kept the fridge and pantry stocked. Their food might not have always been healthy – red meat was an element of almost every meal – but it was always available and filling. They made an effort for the dietary restrictions of Tucker’s friends of course.

All the rooms were kept clean and neat. Even Tucker’s, by way of bribes. Everything was organized, everything had its place. Except, perhaps, for the stray shoe or piece of schoolwork.

But that attic.

It really hadn’t been anything, before Tucker asked if he could move his computer stuff up there. Just a storage space, one too difficult for either Angela or Maurice to climb up there often. They didn’t consider themselves old, but they couldn’t call themselves young either. Not with a son Tucker’s age.

Once Tucker had realized the attic was there, he had been fascinated. And, well, once he was old enough for them to not worry about him falling off the ladder, they let him go up.

Some days, it seemed, he didn’t come down.

Better than his faintly disturbing Ancient Egypt phase, where he kept bringing pictures of mummified corpses to the table. Or, worse, the werewolf phase.

And this was Tucker Foley’s home.

.

Amity Park had claimed the distinction of ‘most haunted town in America’ long before the Fentons opened their portal. In fact, that was the reason the Fentons had set up shop there, in the first place.

No haunted town was complete without at least one haunted house. Amity Park had several. Not to mention a haunted hospital, a selection of haunted schools, a haunted museum, a haunted pool, a haunted crosswalk, a haunted mall, a haunted football field… The list went on, essentially ad nauseum.

Of course, that list mostly consisted of places that became haunted after the Fentons built their portal. But even before then, some places offered their dubious charms to tourists.

Mostly gullible ones. More than half of the claims of hauntings before the portal opened were fraudulent in their entirety. These places quickly went broke and got abandoned when real ghosts started showing up.

One of these was the ominously named Raven House, which stood in the hills on the west edge of town.

The story the tourists of years gone by had been told was that a widower had lived out here, all by himself and that one day, he stopped coming to town, or paying his bills, or even getting his mail. When the mailbox at the end of the long driveway was full, the mailman decided to go check on the widower. What he found was a flock of ravens and a skeleton, entirely picked clean of flesh.

No such death had occurred there, nor in any part of Amity. No such person had ever lived in the house, either. The last owners, before the company that decided to market the house as haunted, were a couple with two children.

It wasn’t until months after the portal started up that it became haunted in truth.

.

“This place isn’t haunted,” said Danny, panning his flashlight over cobwebbed corners on the ceiling. “I don’t think it ever was.”

“That’s what, strike five?” asked Sam.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Four, actually,” said Tucker. “We counted the hospital as inconclusive, since we don’t know if anyone was there before Spectra.”

Danny nodded. “It’s weird, though, isn’t it? That no one lives here, I mean. It looks like a perfectly nice house.”

“Décor’s a bit… eh. Trying to hard to be haunted,” said Tucker, poking a raven decal on the wallpaper.

“I like it,” said Sam. “Needs cleaning, though.”

“Hey,” said Tucker, “you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you? Because I’m pretty sure that’d be illegal.”

“It isn’t as if anyone else is using the place,” argued Sam. “It could be a great backup hideout, if we ever had to… you know.” She glanced at Danny. “Plus, we’d be doing them a favor, really, keeping things clean and lived in.”

“I think it’s an okay idea,” said Danny.

“Yeah, but you think lots of dumb things are good ideas. Like showing up at a party hosted by people who publicly humiliate you on a regular basis.”

Danny grumbled something about trauma responses that sounded like a direct quote from Jazz and something else about that incident being ages (aka weeks) ago. Then, he brightened.

“We could get one of the little ectoplasm generators to power everything,” he said. “Remember all that stuff we lifted from Skulker and Technus? We could actually use it. Study and test things without worrying about whether our parents will walk in. I mean, your attic is great, but still.”

“Plus, we can have actual lab safety protocols. No offense, Danny.”

“I am the one that half-died in a lab accident, so… None taken.”

Tucker rubbed his chin. “Alright. I suppose I can see the appeal… But if we have stuff that can trace back to us, we could get in serious trouble."

“We’ll be careful, then,” said Sam.

“Anything I take from Mom and Dad has plausible deniability. They’ll assume ghosts stole it.”

“We also need to clean if we’re being serious about this. And get a fridge. And figure out the pluming situation.”

“Fridge is on the list. We have to be careful about the outside, too. If this place is suddenly well maintained, people will notice.”

“Sure, but that isn’t something they’d call the cops over,” said Danny. “They’ll just assume new people are moving in. If anyone sees it at all. We’re pretty far away from anything. But pluming won’t be too hard. We just need to bring our own water. Like, toilets flush using physics. If you dump more water in, they’ll go, no electricity required.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can’t even tell you how many time Mom and Dad blew out all our breakers with stuff in the lab,” said Danny. “You pick up a few things.”

“Well,” said Tucker, swinging his flashlight over to examine a discolored spot on the ceiling. “Then… Home sweet home, I suppose.”

.

There was a house in the hills in the west hills of Amity Park.

And this was the home of two and a half humans and half a ghost.

[qitwrites]

|| 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20 || 21 || 22 || 23 || 24 || 25 || 26 || 27 || 28 || 29 || 

(AO3) 

June 1st falls on a random Tuesday. The weather is decent enough, the sun bright but not harsh, and the air is pleasant, slowly dipping to colder temperatures.

Everyone crowds around various desks to chatter before homeroom, and Iida spends a grand total of two minutes trying to bring about order before migrating towards Todoroki’s desk to join in the conversation he’s having with Midoriya and Sero. When there’s roughly 14 seconds to spare before Aizawa rolls into the class in his signature yellow sleeping bag, everyone takes their seats and on time, as always, Aizawa arrives.

Three things are noted immediately:

1.     The yellow sleeping bag is nowhere in sight. It’s happened before, but not often.

2.    There’s a strange bounce to Aizawa’s step. Not like a normal bounce, but he’s not dragging his feet like a reluctant, sleep-deprived sloth. His steps are focused and intentional. This is a very rare, almost never-before-witnessed sight.

3.    His hair is up. He doesn’t usually do it up for class, though they’ve seen him pull it into a pony when he’s dressed more casually and not in his hero attire. This is an unprecedented situation.

The class watches Aizawa wearily because, from literal months of experience, they have realized that when something is out of the ordinary, shit usually flings itself towards the fan in a most spectacularly dramatic fashion.

Even Bakugou is on-edge, watching Aizawa like a hawk. Midoriya is ready to whip his iconic notebook out and make yet another behavioral observation under the Eraserhead section. Iida looks ready to disperse any tension. They are all ready.

Aizawa sets his stuff down, gruffly wishes them good morning and then turns around to write something on the board.

They are not ready.

It’s not a big deal at all actually. In hindsight, its stupidly minor, but with Aizawa, it stands out bright and shiny, and even Koda makes a small noise of surprise.

Aizawa’s hair is pulled into a pony with a scrunchie. Which is fine, all well and good. But the scrunchie is made of a rainbow-colored hyper shiny material, which is surprising, because Aizawa always seems allergic to color, especially on his person.

And finally, there are only 6 colors in the rainbow. Momo connects the dots before the rest, though Midoriya follows closely behind.

‘That’s-‘

‘-pride,’ Midoriya breathes, soft but just enough for Bakugou, Jirou, and Sero to hear.

The class is shocked for the first ten or so minutes, as more and more people make the connection, but honestly, it’s just a scrunchie. And with Eri under Aizawa’s care, it isn’t unlikely that he’s worn one of her hair ties or something. This is probably a coincidence, even if it is the first of June, so everyone stops fixating and starts focusing on class.

The scrunchie goes unmentioned and1A is on the same page- it’s definitely just a one-time thing.

It is not a one-time thing.

On the second of June, Aizawa saunters in seemingly back to his normal attire, and a few shoulders slump. They might all be saying its a coincidence, but that doesn’t mean they’re happy about it. There’s something so reassuring about the idea of their teacher, someone that protects them fiercely and loyally, being supportive.

Aizawa doesn’t seem to pick up on the mood, he just assigns them some self-study before taking a seat at his desk. And then he, very uncharacteristically, puts his feet up and reclines in his chair, a folder propped open in his lap.

There’s a collective inhale, the whole class breathing in as one because there it is- undeniable proof that it isn’t a coincidence.

On Aizawa’s feet are the brightest, most vibrantly gay pride socks ever. Each of the 6 colors loop around the material before the pattern repeats, and there’s no white material or anything, just the colors of the flag over and over.

‘Holy shit,’ Mina whisper-shouts, and her smile is blinding. Uraraka giggles. Tokoyami nods sagely and says, ‘The support of a figure of authority is a beacon against the darkness of humanity.’  

They do their best to focus on self-study, but there’s a buzz around the class, a happy vibe that permeates the air and saturates it completely. There’s a glob of purple in the corner that seems indifferent, if not actively dismayed, but he goes ignored.

Midoriya writes something in his notebook and puts three stars next to it.

On the third of June, Aizawa has a rainbow hair clip pushing his bangs out of his face, and on the fourth, the soles of his shoes are rainbow and proud.

The competition begins the following Monday.

The thing about class 1A is that they try to support one another in any way possible, to encourage and stand together and everything. The other thing is that they’re hella competitive. It’s a hero course after all, and they’re trying to come out on top and be the best.

And it turns out their teacher, the chilled, nonchalant, mostly uninterested Aizawa Shota, is almost more than a little competitive when it comes to this stuff.

On Monday, Momo uses a pride scrunchie to pull her hair into her signature ponytail. Jirou has a band around her wrist that says love is love is love, and Satou bakes rainbow cookies for the whole class, leaving a few on Aizawa’s desk beforehand.

Their teacher walks in with his hair up again, and when his eyes settle on the cookies, they widen fractionally before he schools his expression into a more neutral one. He greets them all and his eyes flit over Jirou’s band, and the colorful cookie crumbs around the class. When he looks at Momo, she quickly turns her head to the side, showing off her hair accessory that matches his.

Aizawa doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t smile, or even nod, nothing. He just kinda gets down to business. At least, that’s what it would look like to someone on the outside.

But 1A reads him- they watch the way he pushes his hair back, fingers lingering on his scrunchie while he reads out their assignment. They see the way his eyes momentarily linger on the cookies or Jirou’s wrist, such small, quick glances that they all catch because they read him. They know him, and he knows that they know.

When class ends, the room is filled with warm giggles when Aizawa leaves, the plate of cookies in hand.

The next day, Ojiro has a braid in his tail with different threads mixed in there, forming the familiar rainbow pattern. Mina has her horns painted in a pride flag ombre, spanning three different colors on each. Kirishima uses a rainbow hairband to keep his bangs out of his face during training, and Midoriya switches out his black shoelaces for rainbows.

Aizawa’s eyes ping pong around the class, and for a moment everyone wonders how many dress codes they’re breaking but he doesn’t say anything again. He just reads out their assignments as usual, his own pride pin shining brightly on his chest, against the black of his hero uniform.

It’s all fun and games, full of warmth and support until Aizawa starts pulling out the big guns.

Because when Aizawa walks in with a multicolored scarf wrapped around his neck, the class collectively realizes- he is challenging them, and beating them quite mercilessly at that. 

It’s obvious enough that even Bakugou growls in frustration, and then the games begin.

Mina shaves the word Pride into Iida’s undercut. Kaminari paints his nails. Hagakure replaces all her uniform buttons with multicolored ones. Shoji replaces his teal blue face mask with a pride one, and Uraraka has a few braids on the back of her head too. Satou’s desserts get more and more elaborate, more and more eye-catching and delicious.

The day after Aizawa walks in with a multicolored scarf, belt and goggles set, Satou stays up the entire night baking, set on paying their teacher back thrice fold.

Morning finds a rainbow croquembouche perched on Aizawa’s desk. Even Bakugou gives Satou a nod of respect because what the fuck? It’s literally a tower of sweets, brightly colored and absolutely delectable, and they get the biggest reaction out of Aizawa yet. His eyes widen, mouth dropping into a shocked little ‘o’, and his eyes immediately seek out Satou, who gives him a wide grin. Shaking his head incredulously, Aizawa conducts his class as usual. It’s a herculean task but he manages.

He still walks out with the entire dish balanced in his hands with great care.

Every teacher in their year has rainbow-colored tongues for the rest of the day.

Aizawa retaliates with eyeshadow. Rainbow eyeshadow. Jirou’s mouth drops, Aoyama starts wailing dramatically and even Todoroki looks impressed. Bakugou clicks his tongue and looks away, and Mina wants revenge.

The entire class comes together for the final showdown. Everyone tries to put color in their hair, though it doesn’t really work for the darker colors. Tokoyami adds a few sprinkles of glitter into his feathers, Iida switches his plain black frames to much more gaudy pride ones, and Todoroki and Bakugou have the most vibrant hair of them all, bright and ridiculous. Aizawa eyes them fondly almost, and that’s when they should’ve realized they were way out of their depth.

Because on June 30th, Aizawa walks into the class, his uniform spick and span, hair down, a ridiculous bounce in his step. Everyone eyes him from head to toe, and when they land on his feet, Kirishima inhales shakily.

‘No,’ he whispers.

‘Oh yes,’ Aizawa answers, his grin far too gleeful.

‘No fucking way,’ Bakugou snarls. His hands are shaking.

‘Language,’ Aizawa admonishes, his smile widening.

‘We’re doomed,’ Mina mumbles.

And right then, Aizawa taps the heels of his shoes together, and his pride rainbow shoes glow up and that’s it. Class 1A has lost. They accept it rather graciously, all things considered. Aizawa cackles like an evil witch, and Sero comforts a weeping Kaminari.

On July 1st, things go back to normal. Mostly normal.

Because Midoriya keeps the shoelaces. Someone sneaks a rainbow charm on Bakugou’s bag that he somehow keeps forgetting to obliterate to pieces. Kirishima doesn’t switch out his hairband, and Ojiro asks Tsuyu to braid his tail when they go out for more casual outings.

And Aizawa? Well, the soles of his hero boots are never quite the same.

[jiminrings]

hey hannah! hope you are doing great darling ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ i may have a request in mind, a university/college au with jock!jk and shy art major!yn or an olympics au? with olympic athlete!jk and olympic athlete!yn (you decide which sports!) thank you so much in advance ♡

never (k)not you

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 5k

glimpse: established relationship ft. jock!jk and shy art major!y/n, y/n gets an unexpected pep talk and jungkook doubts himself, and either so much tears or so much dUST according to kook

notes: baby ok FIRST OF ALL, i’m so sorry i only got to write this now :(( it’s been three months since you sent in this request bUT well it’s here now :D thank you so much for requesting and waiting!! i really hope ur still here or else i-i... will lose it

if you squint, best friend!tae is actually rich kid tae both from the art major drabble and insufferable!!

lunch with taehyung either makes the both of you the LOUDEST motherfuckers in the planet or it’s just comfortable silence

comfortable silence’s more common whenever the two of you are in public because to put it simply

he’s cold and you’re shy!! makes sense

but god just mention his girlfriend’s name oNCE and he’ll talk your ear off and you get genuinely excited when he is

he just needs to mention gouache for less than a second and you will genuinely freak

then suddenly the both of you are the chattiest beings ever and absolutely no one will yield until they get the final say

but this

this just feels weird...

because it’s lunch and you’re not talkative and the silence is most definitely not comfortable

you just know tae has something up his sleeve and will probably catch you off-

“are you and jungkook a thing?”

...

......

it’s never actually registered in your head that you and jungkook are a THING but absolutely no one knows

literally no one

not even the dust living underneath your bedframe!! or if guardian angels existed, then they’d probably be clueless as fuck

lol wait what was that cold gust of wind on ur arms

jungkook is the dreamiest man alive and he’s been your boyfriend for what?? two years now??

and the two of you, and more of him actually, insisted to keep it private

your relationship is none of anyone’s business and it uh.,. it literally seems to be that way because sometimes even yOU forget that you’re in a relationship

jungkook avoids you like the plague and you keep to yourself like you do with all your gouache

this dynamic of no one knowing has been so instilled in you that tae’s innocent (?) question is enough to make you spiral little by little

taehyung was just harboring an idea ok

because like two days ago when you went out with him and his girlfriend for ice cream, jungkook was there too by himself

and that just seems like pure coincidence

but then they dOn’t seem like coincidences anymore when he realizes on the same day how many classes he was in where you were in

and you don’t even have the same major!!!

or when he’s walking you home because your apartment is literally on the right side of his girlfriend’s (changbin’s on the left) and he’s taking every possibility he gets

but it just so happens that uh... jungkook’s always there from a distance? like when the two of you are walking and that guy just hAD to be there at the back??

goddamn it tae should’ve gotten his parents’ offer for personal security while he’s studying in campus :((

“woah woah wOAH what’s the matter?” you panic when he shoves you inside your apartment the moment you manage to open it

“this fucking jungkook guy is either stalking you or me and it’s starting to get on my nerves!!”

“... taehyung-“

and then he realized that oh... ok... i see

what if this guy has a crush on you??

but it didn’t make sense because why would this soccer guy (no offense) that’s a jock (no offense) who always either looks high with how giggly he is (no offense) or bereaved with how he scowls (no offense) could POSSIBLY like you???

you who’s the art major (no offense) with your clothes almost exactly like he is (no offense) that he has an inkling that either you were copying him or him copying you (no offense) and the shyness that you absolutely wouldn’t talk to anyone unless they go first and tHAT even became a tough cookie for him!! h i m

wait

on another thought...

that does make sense

you and jungkook are more likely to be a couple than anyone else more alike to either of you, no offense :D

and the way now that you’re frozen and scoffing like ur voicing mater’s engine in cars

“w-what? FUCK no!!”

mhmmm

yeah that’s the spot

taehyung means this in full offense but you’d be absolutely bankrupt if ever you wanted to try your hand at poker when your tell is literally cussing in capital when you’re flustered

this is the equivalent of your mom leaving you by the line to the cashier at the grocery when she needs to get something and you’re next at the line and you have no money on you and you’re too hesitant to tell the person behind you to-

“why? are you thinking of asking him out?”

he hears you seethe and that’s only the second time he’s heard you actually do that so he may have straightened his posture a lil

you wouldn’t hold it against taehyung because jungkook is one fINE specimen and tae doesn’t stare from that description anyway

you just can’t help but feel a lil.....

ಠ_ಠ

because you know that jungkook is yours and when it comes to things like these, you can’t do anything about it

how could you??

fine... if taehyung tries to-

smack!

the fact that your friend has a gigantic palm for one doesn’t soothe the gears in your head

you’re positive that your brain actually shook inside your head for a split second

“i already have someone, dumbass.”

taehyung has to remind you again to which you immediately awe in remembrance, a sheepish smile on your face bc for a moment, you actually considered begging for tae to back the fuck off without making it seem you’re already with jungkook

he waves you off because you’re about to coo at him again, a small smile on his face because he wouldn’t forget how he’s so lucky

it’s nice to be in love!!

you should probably try it some time

but then again, taehyung’s starting to think that you’ve been in a longer relationship with jungkook than him in one, so he thinks that he should be the one taking notes from you

“can i, uhm, ask how did you know?”

you don’t mind swallowing your pride because you already know you can’t bullshit your way out of this one, a timid look on your lap

sheesh

tae’s pride seems to swell up because his suspicion’s right just by oNE singular try

“because i’m rich kid kim :) don’t you know that?”

see now this is only one of the few times that he’d gladly take his title

rich kid kim was coined by the courtesy of changbin, his girlfriend’s friend :/

it just seemed to STICK on everyone else after then

changbin was the first to narrate his actions like he’s the lead star of a poorly-produced netflix film

what’s wrong with rich kid kim? is his greeting every time he crosses paths with changbin

he was just pissy that oNE time!! it was ONE time

taehyung thinks of the whole jungkook situation and relates it to him as much as possible because ya know,,, he is the main star and koo’s just a second lead

ok changbin’s netflix narrations are really rubbing off on him

“think of jeon jungkook as an elitist that everyone wants to be close with, and yet he actually looks like one of the good guys — like me — and he looks like he wants to shoot himself in the foot when he gets offered caviar oNE more time, and then you’re like uh, the comic relief???”

he spews his interpretation all in one breath effortlessly and you’re just blinking slowly to try and digest it all

it’s oddly too specific

hol up now why does it sound like he’s been actually waiting for you to ask him that

HOLD ON YOU’RE THE COMIC RELIEF???

“a clowN?” is what you react first and tae can’t believe that that’s the only thing you picked up from his perfectly sound analogy

“uhhhh like a bartender? a waitress? someone that isn’t a socialite,” he shrugs as he tries to make amends, remembering that the last time he went to a rich kid kim party, no one was technically in pennywise shoes nor juggling bowling pins

“are you trying to insult me tae?”

:((

yIKES are u gonna cry

“what?? no!! no!!” he launches from his seat as if he was falling and that catches him a couple of glances from rich kid kim loyalists (there’s a lot of things he’s unaware of), about to punch the floor if only their lord and savior didn’t take it in stride, “i’m not trying to insult you, but it’s how you take it, y’know?”

his nonchalance puts you on the edge even more, launching from your seat and uh you don’t exactly have any concerned fanbase there to worry for you

“so i sHOULD?? tae you’re basically saying that-”

alright that’s it

he needs to actually get through you this time because more often that not, you are so fucking stubborn that it beats him

he glares at you, eyes looking comically large and pissy as he’s stopped in the middle of slurping from his cup noodles to talk some sense into you

it feels like an eternity until he finishes his noodles and you were almost tempted to just eat the remaining portion to fasten his pace

“in rich kid kim terms, or reality y/n terms?”

you’re almost too scared to answer but you already do before you can even process, raising two fingers

and for a moment, you think tae’s actually gonna go easy on you!

whew you definitely aren’t prepared if-

“do you come out together by the main door? or from the back?”

your eyes are as large as they could possibly be and if you stay in that same shocked and taken-aback state, you’d need to look for those creams with how much your eyebrows and your forehead are creased

u-uh well now that i think about it-...” okay maybe you and jungkook don’t come into uni by any of the several hundred main entrances at all, but that doesn’t mean-

“does he hold your hand? carry your backpack? doesn’t matter if you have a dumbbell in there or not, does he carry it?” tae lists item after item, racking through his mind as these were also all the things he does, and all the things he’s picked up from everyone

“does he bring your water? lend his hoodie when you’re not even sniffling? pick a fight when someone even looks at you the wrong way? read something relatively romantic in english lit, then text you about it? brag about you to his friends? does he-...”

...

....

okay

you are awfully too silent for even your nature

tae was blissfully obvious just two seconds ago when he was enumerating boyfriend traits (that he himself exhibited, excuse you) left and right

then he started to realize that you weren’t stuttering nor interjecting on the side

he’s :O when you’re standing up from your seat, straightening out your hoodie, one that isn’t jungkook’s, that you’ve been anxiously wrinkling for the past ten minutes

“excuse me, tae. i have uh.. i have a lot to think about.”

everything he’s said made a solid number on you because not even distracting yourself becomes successful

not even your mini fixation on gouache helped you because so far it really sucks

it’s become a routine of jungkook to come over to your apartment almost everyday that it practically feels he’s living with you

he knows where you keep your milk and how cold you want the AC to blast and how you organize your groceries

and yet jungkook can’t-

“koo do you love me?”

it’s a question that was sprung so suddenly because come to think of it, you’re knitting and jungkook’s head is buried in your thighs while he tries to take a nap

he doesn’t bother trying to figure out your thought process because it’s a question that’s so simple that it seemed trivial

jungkook’s a dream when he nods and hums to your thighs, making you tread your hands on his hair instead of your roll of yarn

“mhmmm. more than life itself.”

he loves loves you!!! he doesn’t even know why you’re asking

“okay,” you hum back, crouching down to press a kiss on his nape that he appreciates because he’s a little ticklish on that spot, “hold my hand tomorrow then.”

:-)

jungkook launches from his position on your thighs, sitting up immediately that it’s gotten him dizzy

“... w-what?”

oh boy here it goes

you don’t feel like dancing around this issue anymore because after all, you do have the right to stick your finger in this!!

he’s your boyfriend i mean like what’s not clicking

“it’s not that big of a deal, jungkook. it’s not like i asked you to propose to me or something.”

his eyes widen more at that, his cheeks puffing out and it makes you realize that taehyung was right and it dOES look like he’s hiding a goldfish in there sometimes

you try to bite back a laugh at that but jungkook is devoid from any entertainment at all, looking like you just asked him to pick between you and the universe

“you uh want me to propose??”

he has his hand awkwardly caressing his nape and his cheeks flush as he’s trying to process things

yeah he DOES love you and he’ll marry you eventually but you’re doing this now!!! as in now??

how’s your wedding gonna work? god, can the two of you decide on the menu for your reception? does this mean your aunts and his aunts would mee?? no no that could not possibly be-

“you don’t need to,” you sheepishly mumble and you’re not gonna deny that marrying jungkook did cross your mind every once in awhile

you aren’t against it but marriage is not the issue at hand!! it’s just about him hOLDING your hand tomorrow and not forever now

“so you don’t want me to?”

...... christ where is this going to

there’s palpable tension in the air and you just feel like giving up, sinking further into the couch and koo’s reading TOO much into it

what if you slouching on the couch means you’re breaking up with him and you wouldn’t marry him even if he was the last person alive

“if you aren’t ashamed of me, or if you don’t feel like dYING when i’m five feet away from you and your jock friends-“

“lovie i-“

your ringless hand raises and prompts him to shut up, palms a little sweaty and fingers tired from stress-knitting

“then hold my hand. tomorrow. please.”

:-)

okay fine then

last night wasn’t exactly the best experience because you felt a little too distant even if he was enveloping you into his arms

last night, kook didn’t even dare to try and press mischievous kisses from your jaw to your shoulder because you felt untouchable with how wringed you were

then he had breakfast by himself much earlier and had to practically sHAKE you awake to whisper that he’s gonna leave earlier because he has a plan, and then proceeds to tell you to act as if you didn’t know that he has a plan, then go back to sleep and forget altogether that this literal rude awakening even happened

if you ask him, he is wearing the most boyfriend fit ever in this entire universe

which is uh his regular outfit of a fit shirt and a cool-looking jacket with chunk boots thrown on top of it

BUT!!!!

hear him out ok

he’s wearing a bracelet

uh huh

a bracelet...... that has the iNITIAL of your name

yuh how romantic is that

man both hallmark and netflix must be bankrupt because of jeon jungkook!! he’s sure of it

he just knows

the big deal of it all is jungkook waiting for you by the stairs, bouncing on heels out of displaced nervous energy because he’s too jittery to just coolly lean against the wall

“kook?”

you’re tilting your head at the sight, a little lost but more on fond as he smiles squarely 

“y/n! it’s uh, it’s you! wow!!” 

he exclaims but not without tucking his hands into his pockets and non-discreetly looking around your surrounding before he deems it clear enough, which is what you still find useless for him to even do it!!

the whole point of this is to not care!!

he’s gingerly placing himself beside you and although it’s not exactly what you asked for, it makes you sigh a breath of relief because it’s been tOO long that you’ve been next to him in this public atmosphere

he’s not exactly far, but he isn’t exactly bumping shoulders with you either

there are some glances alright 

jungkook has a loose grip on you but you could fEEL how his hand is so sweaty

he’s just looking at the floor and he allows you to guide him because if not for you, he would’ve been bumping into both lockers and people non-stop

u actually have first period together but you typically sit rowS away but now he’s just sitting on the chair right above yours

he isn’t next to you but he’s literally above you, so maybe you’ll take it

you can’t exactly text taehyung how it’s going because he could see everything from where he’s seated at

this was supposed to be an enjoyable time :(

a nice, giggly, warm enjoyable time with jungkook

but being this unrestricted meant him being so rigid that quite frankly, you’ve grown sick and wary of it in less than an hour

you’re making your way to the library and jungkook’s sTILL following you when you were sure he wouldn’t have

and if you ask him, he doesn’t know either why he followed you

he jus did it without thinking even if it meant him taking quick steps behind you with his head down 

he doesn’t know why you’re here and he feels a little guilty that he should know it if this was already a part off your routine

but this time, jungkook can’t look at you because this time, you’re the one who’s unreachable

who kNOWS what your empty stare could possibly mean

“we don’t have to do this anymore, y’know.”

that’s the quickest way to conclude it, nodding to yourself surely

meanwhile, jungkook is a millisecond away from a goddamn mELTDOWN

“w-what do you mean?”

“this!” you genuinely chuckle and even wiggle your hands around to make a point

he swears to god rn that he is gonna BLUBBER

“a-are you breaking up with me right now?”

his voice is already cracking and it reminds him that oh, yeah, the two of you are in the library and he’s about to cRY

you’re gasping when you take his trembling hand and jungkook wants to snatch it back and beg you to hold it tighter at the same time

oh no :-)

“it’s okay. i don’t mind anymore. and what, we’re gonna graduate like a year from now! doesn’t matter anymore.”

but wait it SHOULD matter

he’s gonna cry oh god oh god he’s gonna-

“you don’t need to change for me.”

:((

so that’s what

jungkook cries and it’s from relief that no, you aren’t breaking up with him

“o-okay,” he nods as he wipes his own tears that are blurring his vision and there’s sO much that he actually worries if it would budge his contacts

he just wants a hug from you to console him like you always do

but instead, you look around, settle on tapping his chin, then standing up

“cheer up. i’m gonna go eat lunch with felix.”

and then yOU’RE the one leaving him

quick

does he really look like a red-nosed, bleary-eyes, puffy-lipped mess??

say sike rn lads

jungkook clearly doesn’t look the best and he doesn’t exactly know what he was doing when he came out of the library and marched over to hang out with his friends like he always did

but something’s just different

he looks like someone whose world turned upon him and has nothing left to himself

surprisingly, it’s not hobi who’s the only one thinking of that

his friends are all ????

“y’okay man??”

namjoon’s the first to break the silence and everyone sighs because they were all holding a breath just by looking at jungkook’s distraught state

“yeah! just, uh, just —“

he’s back to being preppy in an instant but he can’t establish eye contact, swinging his arms by his sides and looking around just to look natural and gOD IS THAT YOU??

you’re you

you’re there, walking with felix and your backpack on hIS shoulder

.,., the same backpack that he’s bought you one birthday ago, on tHIS dude’s shoulder strewn as if he didn’t panic in between which variant should he buy for you

you look blissfully unaware that he’s cried himself just by thinking about you and your words and lack of actions just awhile ago

“nothing.” 

jungkook grits out and suddenly, he isn’t sad anymore :D

just uh

just a lil frustrated :D agitated :D or maybe feeling a little inadequate and outraged :D

this other mini breakdown going on his head doesn’t go unnoticed because here he is, so close to injuring his fist with how tight he’s clenching it

the guys, however.,.,

seokjin whistles and goes as far to squint his eyes intentionally that he looked like a distraught chihuahua, immediately grabbing jungkook’s actions as he nods his head to your direction

“y/n, right?”

jungkook froze and everyone is just waiting on him, mouths a little parted because they’ve caught on jin’s little plan and somehow, he might’ve struck a chord sO hard that-

“keep your fucking dick in your pants, seokjin.”

WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH

everyone’s reacting to his seething like a flock of seagulls to a piece of bread

yeah they’ve seen the youngest of their group mad, but not tHIS type of mad that he looks like he would’ve hit his hyung with a skillet upright if he had one onhand

everyone’s visibly offended besides seokjin, the man mentioned just amusedly shrugging his shoulders with a dimpled smile that unintentionally provoked jungkook even more

“told you,” yoongi gives up his last batch of cookies to namjoon, a long-winded bet finally coming to an end because of what was only supposed to be a harmless question by jin

“if y/n was your girlfriend, you could’ve just said so!!” 

jin ruffles his hair and it doesn’t exactly take a genius to see how he cares for you!!

jungkook looks out for you in ways he couldn’t even notice doing

he always had two umbrellas in his backpack and when it was raining, he’d leave one on purpose by the front of this specific locker

hoseok actually borrowed an eraser without permission from kook once, but then he found a combination of tampons n napkins that he grimaced because what :// those aren’t even the good brands!! he has a sister and now has a handful of knowledge about monthly visits, so he takes note to talk to jungkook about it some time

there’s even an extra sweater in his backpack that always remains unotuched

one time, jimin complained that he was cold and turned to jungkook, full-well knowing that the fucker had oNE more sweater tucked in his bag, who just plains-out ignore him and even tch!s him under his breath

they somehow had a clue all along and now that jungkook realizes, he may be a little dENSE

OH RIGHT

WHY WOULD HE HAVE KEPT YOU HIDDEN

that’s entirely stoopid of him

what was the reason lmao

this time, jungkook’s more than eager to make it up to you

eVEN if you’ve insisted that nothing was wrong!!

it was just the last day before christmas break so it went by considerably fast-paced because even the professors were a little antsy to come home!!

that didn’t stop him, because clearly, jungkook holds your hand tight this time and he’s looking straight ahead

he looks proud

he feels natural and giggly the whole day that you couldn’t stop either because it’s a complete 360 from yesterday

wouldn’t absolutely stop holding your hand and following you

even kisses the top of your head like a kitten repeatedly

eVEN SAT IN A CLASS HE DIDN’T HAVE TO BE WITH YOU

something’s up with jungkook alright

the two of you are back again on the couch — you knitting, and him buried and napping on your thighs

it’s a bit of a shock when he grabs your hand all of a sudden, a half-sleepy and full-on dreamy look on his face when he’s looking up at you from being laid down on your lap

a red silicone band :D

you’re still speechless when he’s sliding it on your ring finger, admittedly getting the wrong finger the first time which is why he’s sheepish and holding back a giggle

“jungkook....?”

unsurprisingly, it looks good on you

he seems to think so himself when he’s giving you another one, holding his hand out and you’re doing the same without even an explanation present

“it’s a placeholder :)”

a placeholder?? hold on ur heart is a lil fragile

your eyes widen and your lips downturn on instinct, making him giggle as he smushes your cheeks to just let him explain

“all this marriage talk just had me thinking-”

“are you PROPOSING right now??”

both the mix of panic and excitement stains you clearly, mouth dropping open as you try to fumble for atleast something to wipe your face with

hee-hee 

“maybe i am, maybe i’m not :)”

jungkook’s such a romantic it’s SICKENING

his mind drifts off and you can’t blame him!!

his family’s well-off so maybe he could cash in his next ten birthdays for a loan or maybe even a house to help ease the two of you in

maybe the two of you could even build it from the ground up

the two of you could also move into this nice apartment after graduation!! he’s been eyeing it for quite awhile actually

“you wanna get married early?”

“maybe i do, maybe i don’t :D”

jungkook’s faux nonchalance makes you grin yourself, the both of you knowing what answer he’d yield anyway

“as long as it’s you,” you declare surely, bending down to press a kiss on his nose that tickles him and makes his heart full

“as long as it’s me?”

jungkook smiles cheekily at your statement pressing kisses on the top of your thighs that’s got you fumbling at him to just embrace you immediately

he’s a little bulky with all the muscles he’s gained and worked on, a little pressured when he’s sitting on your lap upright and won’t absolutely stop kissing you sweetly

“you should start on knitting your wedding garter now :D”

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

[dracowars]

can i request an imagine im so sorry if it’s too long for your liking but could it be a pureblood slytherin reader x draco imagine where the reader and draco are dating but after some bad news from home (maybe she doesn’t have the kindest parents like draco) she distances herself from everyone and keeps zoning out and finds herself astronomy tower thinking really dark thoughts but draco has constantly been watching over her and is super worried and maybe they have an argument at the tower and draco gets stupid and says something mean or even is dumb to think to accuse her of cheating at the end in which the reader maybe either slaps him (for dramatic effect) or if that’s too much she just says it’s over between the two and she walks off and draco is shocked and tries to stop the reader but she’s already gone and she doesn’t show up to breakfast or lunch and maybe in their class they learn about the boggart again and since they’re older their fears have changed and maybe the reader isn’t paying attention and she’s brought up to test her boggart and it’s draco saying those same things and maybe her parents come out as well and it’s essentially that draco’s unkind words are her fear because it’s the last straw for her until everything breaks because she was holding onto him and she runs out of class and class is dismissed because no one wants to go after that and the reader skips dinner and can be found in moaning myrtles bathroom having a panic attack and she gets really frustrated and hits the the sink really hard to feel something and you can hear myrtle begging the reader to stop and maybe someone sees her and runs to draco to get help but draco runs to the bathroom she’s not there anymore and he finds her at the astronomy tower feeling numb and he overhears her talking to herself and it ends in fluff because he can’t lose her and he figures out it’s probably her parents pressuring her too much again and he can relate because of his and they get back together and it’s just really fluffy at the end maybe they sneak in the kitchen for a quick minute dinner since the reader didn’t eat and draco has to be really kind to the elves heheh

darkness | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,1k

summary: where y/n's parents make her life a living hell and draco doesn't really help

a/n: normally i do not write about things like this but i actually really liked the request so i wrote it anyway. i don't mean to offend anyone with this if i misrepresented something, i did my best to get familiar with the topic <3

warnings: angst, major mental health issues including dark thoughts and self-doubt, hints of su*c*de, mentions of blood, cursing, very sensitive topics in general

universe: harry potter

The cold wind blows through your hair and makes it swirl around the air and into your face, goosebumps spreading all over your body at the sudden coldness. To prevent your hair from flying around, you tame your hair with a hair tie, your gaze fixed straight ahead while your face is illuminated by the setting sun.

You really missed this place during the holidays. The astronomy tower.

Whenever you are stressed from doing a lot of homework or studying in general, this is the place you can hust go to and are somehow always able to relax. The view is breathtaking and you love to watch the sun - or the moon, depening on what time of the day you find yourself up here - shine.

And this special place also gives you the security that you so urgently needed.

The winter holidays were a living hell for you. You have extremely strict parents who see a great importance in your education, but that is basically the only thing that interests them about you. That you bring honor to your pureblood family. That they can proudly show you off to other pureblood families even though they know nothing about you and who you really are.

Until recently they did not even know that you are in a relationship. Unfortunately, one thing led to another and they found it out by an unlucky coincidence which consisted of them picking you up at platform 9¾ for the very first time since you have been at Hogwarts. There they saw you with a platinum haired boy, kissing.

This boy turned out to be Draco Malfoy, the son of the pureblood Malfoy family, who you parents cannot stand at all. To put it in other words, they loathe each other to death and that for probably no reason, at least you have not been able to figure it out yet.

So of course they were not very thrilled that you are in a relationship with a Malfoy, which they showed you straight away. They locked you inside of your room at home because you had to 'think about your actions and their consequences'.

However, when they realized that their behavior would not change anything, they began to put you down. They threw the worst swear words at you, wanted to force you to break up with him and told you what a terrible shame you are for your family. That Draco could never love you and that you are ugly, cheap and overall useless. That is how it went on for your whole vacation.

Your parents always treated you this way, it was not new to you. Nevertheless it hurts every time, even if you try to hide it. You would rather keep all the pain inside of you than to tell others about it, because they are not able to help you anyway. Unfortunately, you did the math without your boyfriend.

This morning at the Central Station of London, Draco immediately saw that you were not feeling well. Any attempts to get you to tell him what is going on with you had been useless though so he left you alone at some point, but you still noticed how he kept staring at you for the whole train ride to Hogwarts.

You would love to tell him, tell him about everything, but something inside of you is stopping you from doing so. An invisible barrier inside of your head, probably fear, that you simply cannot overcome. You know that Draco's parents are pretty similar to yours, but still you just cannot manage to talk to him and you notice how it slowly but surely destroys your deep bond with one another.

Continuing to look into the distance and watch the clouds encircle the beautiful setting sun, which colors the sky in reddish colors, your thoughts suddenly wander to gloomy places. Dark places where you usually only go to when you are locked inside of your own room at home.

But now they are even attacking you at your safest place.

You perfectly know yourself that you are not good enough for Draco. You do not deserve this incredibly great person as your boyfriend. You do not even deserve him as a best friend, no, you do not deserve him at all. You are worthless and for him you are nothing more than one girl out of many.

And still you keep on being selfish and do not end it.

Completely lost in your own dark thoughts, you do not even notice at first how the tears are already streaming down your cheeks like waterfalls. Sniffling, you rub your eyes, smeer your discreetly applied mascara, and wipe the tears from your face.

"Why am I still doing this to myself?", you sob and lower your head, looking deep down at the grounds of Hogwarts. The tears that are enriched with pain flow out of your eyes and fall into the dark depths, causing you to slowly close your eyes.

The sudden mention of your name from behind you makes you abruptly breathe out in shock and your head jumps up as you turn around. Your eyes lock with the gray, sparkling eyes of your boyfriend, who is currently looking at you with pity.

"W-What are you doing here, Draco?", you sniff and wrap your arms around your body in an attempt to hide from him so he does not have to look at you.

"Why are you crying?", he asks, ignoring your question, and before you can realize, he is already standing right in front of you and gently places his hands on your tear stained, puffy cheeks. Gently wiping away your tears with his thumb, he searches your eyes for answers that can explain your current terrible condition. He cannot bear to see you like this, so fragile and deeply hurt.

Whatever happened, he will make sure you know that he is and always will be here for you. And he will not let, whatever it is, continue to hurt you so badly.

"If you do not tell me, then I cannot help you", he softly whispers and brushes the strands of hair behind your ear that have escaped from your ponytail in the wind and then carefully lifts your head so you have to look him in the eyes.

"It's nothing", are the only words you get out, your throat thightening, but all you would like to do is to just finally tell him about everything.

"Do you even realize how worried I am about you, Y/N?! It is killing me!", Draco suddenly raises his voice at you, causing you to flinch and take a step back, your back now touching the railing. Noticing the power of his words, he sighs and looks to the ground in shame.

Your head processes his facial expression and his gestures and again makes you believe that his sadness is your fault. By not being able to control your stupid feelings, you hurt him.

"I-I really have to go", you stutter out and quickly run past him, pressing your coat around your body.

"Have fun with Blaise then", you hear him say and you abruptly stop in your motion. Not fully understanding the words he just said, you turn to him.

"What?", you ask with not more than a breath coming out, hurt evident in your expression as he suddenly stomps in your direction furiously, a disgusted look on his face while he looks into your eyes.

"Don't act stupid now, Y/N! You hardly speak a word to me anymore, you avoid body contact, you are totally dismissive in general and you can't even look at me anymore! Why do you not just admit that you are cheating on me?!", Draco accuses you out of nowhere, not knowing what he is even saying himself, and you could swear that at this very moment your heart has finally burst into a thousand splinters and your last hold has now completely disappeared.

Losing the control over your body for a second, your hand lands on his cheek with full force. There is a dead silence before you just turn and leave, leaving him behind on the astronomy tower. You can hear him say your name after you, but you block it out and run down the stairs, crying, your vision blurred.

Missing one of the last stairs in your hurry, you fall down onto the cold floor. You get up again as quickly as possible when you hear steps behind you and you run. You run for your life while you disappear into the endless corridors of Hogwarts, making your way to your dorm.

The next morning your eyelids stick together from all the crying and you have a aching headache. You did not close one eye that night and just laid there crying in your bed silently until at some point there were no more tears.

In front of the door of your prefect dorm room, you can hear how the other students are leaving your house on their way to breakfast, but your stomach makes a flip when you only think about food. That is the reason why you decide to stay in your warm, safe and comfortable bed a little longer and to skip breakfast, which is unnecessary anyway. Avoiding other people seems like the best idea for you right now.

Just in time for the beginning of your first lesson of the long day, you made it out of your bed and are now sitting in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape.

Your thoughts are whirling around in your head and you do not understand a single word Snape is saying in front of the class, even if you are really trying your best to understand him. Furthermore does it not help your concentration that you see how Draco keeps staring at you from across the room out of the corner of your eye. However, you do not have enough strength for this anymore after a while and therefore focus your gaze out the window at the rising sun.

At least you are distracted until all of the students get up from their seats all of a sudden and you only watch them confused until you notice that they are only waiting for you to join them and you quickly walk, almost stumbling, to them. Ignoring the looks and laughter of everyone, you play around with the hem of your grey Slytherin sweater and ignore them while doing so.

"Well then, let us begin. Ms. Y/L/N, would you please do us the honor and start", Snape clears his throat as you look at him in shock, noticing by the expression on his face that he definetely knows that you did not listen to him at all and have not been present with your mind.

Since you do not have a chance to defy yourself anyway, you nod and go to the position he points at in front of an old, dusty closet. With confusion all over your face, you switch between looking at Professor Snape and the cabinet as he suddenly opens the door and you take a big step back, startled to death.

"Have fun with Blaise then", Draco spits in your face disparagingly and is now slowly walking towards you after stepping out of the cupboard, increasing your pulse. The tears find their way back into your eyes right away while you just keep looking at him petrified, frozen in your spot.

"Why do you not just admit that you are cheating on me?!", he yells at you again and your vision becomes more and more blurred, your ears start to beep while he shouts at you, bringing back the painful memories of yesterday.

"No! Please don't leave me, Draco!"

It is like you are back on the astronomy tower again, your hair blowing in the wind as he steps towards you. In the next moment he is gone all of a sudden and instead of him, two other people are now in front of you.

"You are a shame for our whole family, you stupid brat", your father insults you and you fall onto your knees, holding your hands against your head in pain.

"Stop it! Please!", you beg them, but of course they do not stop, they only make their words worse.

"Draco can never seriously love someone like you. I mean, look at you! You are less worthy than dirt", your father tells you and your entire body is now trembling when you finally see a black cloak in front of your eyes and your parents vanish into thin air.

"Please stay with me", you choke through your tears, words addressed to Draco who had to watch the scene in front of him with pure horror in his eyes.

Breathing heavily, you look up at Professor Snape, who looks at you in disbelief, but as your eyes wander around the room to see everyone staring at you, your legs automatically carry you out of the classroom in the next moment, unable to bear their burning glances.

You run down the empty corridor with a faint vision in search of a safe place to hide until you arrive at one of the girls' bathrooms and rush in, not thinking about someone possibly being in there.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you stumble to the sinks with trembling knees and support all of your weight with your hands on either side of one sink as your legs fail beneath you. Clinging to the edge of the sink, you cry bitterly. The cold walls of the bathroom echo your crying several times, allowing you to hear your own pain.

"What is wrong, Y/N?", you hear a soft voice next to your ear and when you look up it is none other than Myrtle. Apparently of all places you ended up in her bathroom and are not as alone as you wished for.

"I am fine", you say with a monotonous voice, forcing yourself into an upright position, but literally everyone would see that you are definetely not fine, even a ghost.

"Y/N. You look anything but okay. Can I somehow help you-"

"Just leave me alone!", you angrily yell at her and lose control of your body, only seeing a thick, red substance running over your hand when it is already too late. Broken pieces of glass lie around you on the floor, which flew through the air when your fist hit them and inflicted small wounds on your face.

"You need to stop, Y/N!", Myrtle commands, but you do not listen and let yourself fall onto the floor, kicking your foot against the sink and thereby unintentionally loosen one of the old pipes. The sound of flowing water fills the room, surrounding your body on the floor.

On the edge of passing out, you lie in the cold water and stare at the ceiling while Myrtle has disappeared without a trace.

What you do not know, however, is that Myrtle is already on her way to find help and comes across Draco, who is running back and forth through the hallways while searching for you.

It takes Draco a moment to understand Myrtle's fast explanation, but when he does he runs into the direction of the girls' bathroom without hesitation. He rushes through the door into the flooded bathroom and all he sees is the broken mirror and the slightly reddish puddles in the water.

But he does not find you in there and realizes that there can only be one place where you could be.

Walking through the corridors of Hogwarts at lightning speed, he finally reaches the staircase leading to the astronomy tower and goes them up in no time. Once he arrives at the top, he abruptly stops when you come into his field of vision.

There you are, completely broken, leaning your head against the railing, your knees closely drawn to your body while your painful crys echo through his ears.

"Why did you not listen to your parents, you disgusting piece of daughter", you talk to yourself, not noticing that you are not alone any longer. With your already injured hand you hit the pole of the railing once, immediately regretting it as the pain spreads through your body.

However, your gaze lands on a person standing directly ahead and your eyes widen, but unfortunately you lack the strength to stand up, to yell at him, or to resist as he slowly sits down next to you.

Neither of you say a word, but it does not take long before he gently takes you into his strong arms, providing you with the support you needed so badly, so you can cry while he strokes over your hair. He whispers repentances in your ear over and over again. That he regrets his words, that he takes them back and that he was such an idiot.

"You are so wonderful", he confirms and gives you a kiss on the forhead, careful not to scare you away, continuing to stroke your upper arm with his hand.

"Do not believe in what your parents told you, angel. I will stay with you", he shakily breathes and has to pull himself together to not let a tear slip out of his eyes at any moment. "I am sorry that I let you down."

His last few words pull a trigger inside of your head and suddenly everything pours out of your mouth at once. Your fears, your worries. Everything your parents ever said or did to you. You finally tell him about all of it now, even though you should have done it much earlier.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N. You are my world and the reason I live. Never let anyone make you think that I do not love or deserve you, especially not your parents", Draco explains to you sincerely as you stare at him, exhausted but happy.

You slowly put your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, letting the good and bright drown out all of your dark and bad thoughts. Meanwhile, Draco carefully examines your injured hand before scooping you up into his arms while standing up.

"No matter how much you hate me right now, you have to eat something", he tells you, but you do not answer and just enjoy his close presence while you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, letting him carry you away.

If he had known how terrible you were feeling earlier, he would have done something much sooner. He should have been more pushy and not let you get away with a simple 'i am fine'. But now that he knows, he definetely learned from it.

And Draco would have never forgiven himself if he had let you just go like that.

[forever-rogue]

Can you do one where reader (who's partners with them) goes on a date and Javi happens to already be at the same bar the date takes place and at one point the reader doesn't feel good so she seeks out Javi and he quickly realizes she's been roofied?

I love protective Javi, but then again, don’t we all?

Warnings: drug mention, mention of violence, mentions of sex but nothing descriptive, language, 18+ only!

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier was a lot of things. A walking contradiction as much as he was steadfast in his ways. When you’d first met him, you’d been severely tempted to punch him right in his smug handsome face with that stupid charming grin, and that singular dumb dimple that already made your heart flutter.

It was your first day on the job, a fresh, brand new agent and the bastard had the nerve to ask you to fetch him a coffee. Not only that, but the way he had the balls to end the request with a slow, drawn sweetheart.

You’d exchanged a wry look with Steve, the golden haired man you already decided you liked much better. He had shrugged innocently and turned back to his papers with what you were positive was a smug little grin on his face. Back then you’d been annoyed, but looking back on it now, several years later, you realized it had been a sort of pseudo-test; to see if you’d meld into Javi’s advances or hold your own.

“No,” you’d told Javier firmly, watching as surprise look slowly crept into his features, “go fuck yourself and get your own coffee, old man.”

You’d never seen Steve laugh harder or Javier more in shock than that morning. To say you had proven yourself to both men was an understatement.

To say you ended up developing feelings for that stupid, dark haired, motherfucker was a gross understatement. Fallen in head first and through stuck in lust love with him was a much more accurate sentiment. Although you would never admit that to him or anyone else, let alone yourself.

Instead you settled on other things.

I love your cock. I love when you fuck me like this. I love when you use your mouth on me.

Yeah...it had quickly turned into that.

But Javier reciprocated in kind.

I love your pussy, just like you were made for me. I love when you get on your knees. I love how you look covered in my cum.

It was a lot of lust turned into love, but neither of you would ever admit that. Besides, it was never going to amount to anything; it was just some stress relief between two coworkers that understood each other more intimately than anyone else. No one knew the horrors of what either of you when through on a daily basis. But the two of you knew, and took solace in that fact.

You weren’t sure when the lines became so blurred, but you were almost positive it was around the same time that Javier made your relationship trysts an exclusive thing. No one else, just you and Javi. And damn. You liked that more than anything else.

But it wasn’t going to last forever; no, you knew that well from the start. What started out a one time thing that slowly stretched into more was never going behind that. You were sure of it, despite how good, how alive and protected and safe he made you feel, it was never going anywhere besides your dirty secret. Even the brightest stars burned out at some point.

Which is why when an agent from another department, a non-noteworthy average man, asked you out for dinner and drinks you said yes. It wasn’t an enthusiastic yes by any means, and the way your eyes had flicked to Javier before you agreed to go wasn’t lost on either of you. But he remained still and said nothing while you offered up a small yes.

Before the end of the day, you’d wandered over to his desk, ready to explain yourself, but he was quick to cut you off, not even looking up from his papers. You’re free to see anyone, Dulzura, he insisted in a gruff tone, have fun.

The part that hurt was the most was the fact that he didn’t bother to stop you as you walked out, even lingering for a moment at the door. The light bit of foolish hope you’d clung onto was for no reason after all. But at least you had an answer now. Javier was nothing more than a release.

»»————-　♡　————-««

All this nodding and smiling was going to give you a sore face and a headache, you realized. For a man that seemed so unassuming, he sure did love talking about himself. At one point when you drifted off from the conversation and let your mind wander, you’d looked across the crowded bar, and noticed him.

Of course he’d decided to come here to unwind after a long. Typical. Part of you momentarily wondered if he’d overheard you making your plans in order to come and watch you, but you weren’t going to flatter yourself that much. Chances, coincidence, mere happenstance. Besides that, it was a popular bar, and not an unsurprising place to find anyone on a Friday night.

But when you’d caught his eye, he offered you only a stiff little half smile, and you could visibly see the muscles in his neck stiffen as you raised your glass lightly in a mock salute. It didn’t a genius to figure out he was in a bad mood.

After some time, when you’d downed your greasy bar food, and finished off yet another drink, you still found yourself unable to handle your date. You couldn’t just sneak out, no that would be too obvious and awkward, especially come Monday when you were all back at the office. Instead, you settled on excusing yourself to use the restroom, hoping that if you spent long enough there he would take the hint.

Slipping off the stool, you almost dashed to the bathroom, making your way through the crowd and brushing against past Javier. He watched you bolt away with a curious expression, wondering what had caused the sudden escape. Internally sighing, he studied the man that was your date and frowned. You could have chosen anyone in the world, preferably him, but you’d chosen David of all the people. The man was a joke, a downright fool, and yet you’d said yes.

Fuck. But he could only blame himself. He’d never made a move, and every time he wanted to, especially after you started falling asleep in his arms, he talked himself out of it. It was just sex and companionship, he was sure of it. And now? Well, he been a fool and missed his chance. He narrowed his eyes at your date, wishing it was socially appropriate to go and beat the shit out of him. But he had reason to, and didn’t need to stir up anything. Instead, he decided to silently simmer, and told himself that he’d cut things off with you soon.

It was the right thing to do. Or so he thought.

He watched as you slowly flounced back and downed the rest of your drink, pretending to be engaged in conversation. He knew that face anywhere; the one you used when you feigned interest. Usually it made him laugh, but no? It caused a pit in the bottom of stomach.

But Javier was determined to stay, to keep an eye on you. Something in his gut was telling him that was something was off. And although he knew his instincts were clouded by his overwhelming feelings for you, he always knew that his feelings were rarely wrong.

So he stayed, long after his own companion had left and watched. Watched as you started acting more odd and more strange as you consumed another drink. It was a dramatic shift from your previous demeanor but your date was unphased. At one point, you swayed dramatically in your stool and almost fell to the floor.

Javier almost jumped to his feet as you straightened up and excused yourself again. He could see you mumbling something as the asshole man in question nodding, giving you a grin not unlike that of a wicked wolf.

Slowly stumbling through the crowd you knew something was off. Nothing felt right and the world seemed woozy and far away. You did however, recognize one thing...well, person. Javier. You wobbled over to him on unsure legs as he leaped to his feet, large, strong hands going to your waist to steady you.

“Javi,” your mouth felt heavy and dry and his name came off more than a whimper, a pathetic plea, as you met his dark eyes. His expression was somewhere between intense concern and furious anger as he helped to sick you down in the both, shoving a glass of water at you, “I don’t feel good. Feels weird...wrong. I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Look at me, Dulzura,” he gentle took your chin in his hand as he tried to study your face, but your head kept wanting to lull around. He gritted his teeth as he quickly put two and two together. A growl, primal and instinctive sounded deep in his throat as he look back at your date. Your date that was suddenly mysteriously disappeared.

The rat bastard had made a hasty escape as soon as you saw go to Javi.

He was a dead man.

“Javi,” you mumbled softly, “can you help? Please? I know you hate me now, but I dunno what to do.”

“I could never hate you,” he insisted as he held up the water for you to drink. You made quick work of downing it, feeling slightly less parched than before but still as miserable. Javi easily scooped you up in his arms, clutching you tightly to his chest as you mumbled incomprehensible things, “we’re going home. I’ve got you now.”

“’s okay Javi,” you managed to get out as you buried your head in his chest, “‘iloveyou.”

He stiffened at your words, unsure if you’d actually said those words, or if he was just a hopeful fool. Either way, that wasn’t his name concern at the moment. Getting you safe and into bed was top priority.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“J-Javi?” your voice cracked on his name as you realized just how dry your throat still was. Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you studied your surroundings, only realizing after a few moments that you were in his bedroom. A tall glass of water was on his bedside table, along with some pain killers. You took both without hesitation.

On cue, almost as if he could sense you were awake, a soft knock came on the door before he slowly opened the door. He let out a long exhale of relief when he realized you were awake and seemingly okay. Your eyes were wide and worried with your lips pulled into a small frown.

“How are you feeling?” he came in and sat at the foot of the bed, studying you with those eyes you swore you could see right into your soul. You shrugged as you set the glass down and tried not to cry.

“Alright I guess,” you sighed, feeling like an idiot, “I’m a fool. I can’t believe I let that happen. I don’t know I didn’t see it last night...I’m a fucking DEA Agent and I can’t tell when I’m getting drugged. I should be fired and sent right back home.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he reached over and gave your knee a gentle squeeze, “it could have happened to anyone. Please don’t blame yourself for it. That guy was a fucking asshole.”

“Javier,” you leaned forward and reached for his hand, taking it gingerly in yours as you studied it. His dominant hand, as well as the other was covered in cuts and bruises, all sorts of colors already and swollen. He made a small sound in the back of his throat as your mouth dropped open, “what happened....Javi. Oh, Javier, please tell me this isn’t what I think it is...”

“He had it coming,” was all he said as he held your hand in his, holding onto it protectively, “he’s lucky I didn’t kill him. I thought about it...”

“What if he tells-”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Javier-”

“Listen,” he stopped you gently, “I had been thinking about doing it all night. From the moment I saw him with you. This just gave me a reason to do it.”

“What do you mean?” you bit your bottom lip as you met his eyes, the two of you watching each other with a silent intensity as you tried not to let your hopes get the better of you. Javier reached up and gently touched your cheek, brushing his fingers over your soft skin and stopping at your lips, “please don’t say something you don’t mean. Please.”

“Why do you think I won’t mean it?” he asked as you dropped his gaze, playing with your hands as you tried to keep your heart from beating out of your chest, “god, I’ve fucking meant it for years. I just can’t ever say it, but when I saw you with that piece of shit, I knew. I should have just-”

“I love you,” and just like that those three words the both of you had danced around for years were out in the air. And it had been so easy, so simple - effortless. But it didn’t stop the nerves, the fear of rejection, the fear of the unknown. You chanced a peek at him, watched as a look of sheer panic crossed his features before settling into the softest expression you’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a slight nod of head, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, “that’s what I’ve been trying to say.”

“Say it then, asshole,” you laughed lightly, feeling your heart settle as your normal rapport started to bubble through, “or you can kiss my ass.”

“I’m not opposed to that-”

“Javier,” you jokingly groaned as he pulled you forward, but just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips, “some things never change, huh?”

“Nope,” he laughed, “but it’s true.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Baby Just Say Yes

Relationship: 12th Doctor x Reader

Warnings: brief mention of drowning - but not graphically described, and some spoilers for War and Peace (the book, although I suppose it would apply to the TV show as well, since they're the same story)

Word Count: 2,704

Summary: When you, Bill, and the Doctor debate the merits of how many doughnuts are too many, it accidentally leads to a revelation on an event you hadn't actually known had happened. 

Request: Bill finds out that the reader is "married" to Doc and at some point Bill jokes calling the two her grandparents

A/N: I took the route of reader knowing the Doctor for years and years, just so it was easier to justify the nature of the Doctor and readers relationship. As a result, it's got some implied past 11 x Reader. Hope that’s okay!

Your finger trailed along the spines of the collection of books on one the shelves in the second level of the console room. You paused when your eyes landed on a familiar novel, one you had yet to crack open, but really wanted to. If so you could boast to the Doctor that you'd read it.

War and Peace.

1,225 pages. The Doctor had never had the patience for it. You took the novel out from the shelf, only for a plume of dust to pool into the air. It tickled your nose, making it itch.

Then you sneezed.

You rubbed your finger along the base of your nose in a vain attempt to scratch it, and narrowed your eyes at the dusty bookshelf. The Doctor had said he was going to dust it.

A muffled voice spoke from below, it took you a moment to place what was said, but you were pretty sure it was ‘bless you’.

You were on a planet the Doctor and you had discovered in his last face, back when he had been younger, had a longer chin, and was far more obsessed with sweets. It was famous for its doughnuts, the best in the galaxy, the Doctor had decided.

And that decision had stuck, since, when the Doctor had told Bill about the planet, she had decided that they absolutely must go.

You poked your head over the bannister and locked eyes with Bill. She was holding a doughnut in her mouth, and her hands were full balancing two trays. You realised it must have been Bill who spoke, because the Doctor was only now coming in, holding a near empty tray of doughnuts in one hand.

“Hey,” you said, and you placed your book on one of the chairs before hopping down the stairs. “You two get enough?”

Bill snorted, dropping her boxes onto the console and taking a bite out of her doughnut. “Not even. He,” she nodded towards the Doctor. “Has already eaten nearly every single one out of that box.”

Your eyebrows flew into your hairline, and you snatched the box out of the Doctor’s hands. You waved the Doctor away when he protested, and instead eyed the boxes contents. There was a single doughnut left. Out of nine doughnuts, and only one was left. It was round, with no hole in the middle, and a good layer of icing sugar sprinkled on top.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Feeling sick yet?”

The Doctor raised his own eyebrow at you, and you knew, instinctually, that it was more effective than yours. “You do not get to lecture me on health.”

It was a weak rebuttal.

“You’ve had eight of them Doctor,” you took the final doughnut out of the box. “Eight.”

He snatched it out of your hand, and your face fell. “Timelord,” he replied, and then took a large bite out of the final doughnut. The Doctor immediately winced, then hissed. He pulled the doughnut away with a frown, and you saw the remnants of hot jam on his lips.

A swell of vindication ran through you, and, under the guise of wiping some of the jam off, you took the doughnut off of him. You let the air cool the jam slightly, not wanting to burn yourself too. “Eight,” you said again. “Is more than enough.”

“The very basics of my physiology are different,” he gestured to both his hearts for good measure, then tried to reach for the doughnut, you were ready though, and you held it out of reach. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just because you've got two hearts,” you said. “Doesn't mean you've got two stomachs. At the very least you'll get indigestion.”

And with that you took a hungry bite out of the very doughnut he had just stolen from you. It was good, they’d made it with raspberry jam, and the stark taste of the sharp raspberry against the sweet sugar warmed you. You gave him a satisfied smirk, and turned to Bill. “What about you, what’s yours?”

Bill had been watching you both, her head swinging between you like she was watching a tennis match. She had just bitten into her doughnut, and she looked slightly stunned that you had spoken to her.

“It’s really good,” she said, but her mouth was full so it sounded more like ‘ts r’lly gud. She swallowed, then continued talking. “Can’t remember what they said this one was,” and she turned to the Doctor, holding the doughnut up so both you and the Doctor could see its contents. It was filled with a rich purple paste. “What’s supposed to be in it?”

“Ube,” the Doctor said coolly, and he shuffled over to your side. You sidestepped him, taking another bite of the doughnut. He wasn’t getting it that easily. “It’s from the Philippines, traditionally.”

“We should’ve gotten more,” Bill said. “I think these are my favourite so far.”

This was the beauty of this planet, they were obsessed with Earth doughnuts, so they’d preserved every culturally significant recipe that Earth had, 1,893 – the Doctor had counted. They even had cronut’s, of all things, though you’d yet to try them.

The Doctor scowled at the other two boxes, and you stepped carefully in front of them.

“I chose a new book,” you said, which was a blatant redirection of conversation, but you powered through. “One I’m sure you haven’t finished.”

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed Bill was watching the pair of you again, as if a spectator of a sport.

The Doctor studied you carefully, and you knew he was humouring this new conversation. “That’s an unlikely assumption.

“War and Peace,” you said, with only a small hint of pride.

The Doctor cocked his head to the side, considering it. “You’re right, actually. I got bored once the Anatole and Natasha affair got going. Couldn’t visit the opera for a couple decades either.”

Your face fell.

Bill spluttered. “Did you just spoil it?”

The Doctor waved a hand. “The book's over 150 years old. If Y/N doesn't know about the ending by now then that's not really my fault.”

You vaguely heard Bill breathe out an Oh my God.

“That's one of the most arrogant things you've ever said,” you said, still processing the shock of how he had so simply said what he had. “And I once listened to you drone on for an hour on how you choreographed the macarena.”

“I did that in a different face though, younger, more nimble. I’ll have to tell you about how I taught Claude Debussy how to shred.”

“Like, on the guitar, or in the ocean?” Bill asked.

“Yes,” the Doctor said, and then he went to grab for the rest of the doughnut in your hand.

“Oh no,” you said, side-stepping him. “No more, especially not after you spoiled the book for me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “It’s not like I told you how Andrei dies in a gruesome battle against the French, and Natasha coincidently finds herself by his side as he dies on his deathbed, even though they’d long parted. Honestly.”

Your eyes bugged out of your skull, you could feel it, as though they were ready to up and roll away.

“Is Andrei an important character?” Bill asked slowly, and then, she meekly added. “I haven’t seen the show.”

You spoke very slowly, your voice low. You narrowed your eyes to the Doctor. The death of a major character was a pretty big spoiler. “I cannot believe you.”

The Doctor winced slightly. “I just rambled like I was 900 years old again, didn’t I?”

“At least,” you breathed. You swallowed your exasperation, and then, suddenly, you sneezed. It was loud, like it had to announce itself to the world, and you rocked backwards slightly. You sniffled.

“Bless you,” Bill said again, but her mouth was full, so it sounded like ‘bleshooo’.

You gave her your thanks, then turned to the Doctor, your mind going to the reason why you were sneezing in the first place. “Dusting,” you said. “You haven’t dusted yet. You said you would.”

The Doctor waved a hand. “I will, I’ll get round to it.”

“You offered, Doctor,” you continued, and in the back of your mind, you wondered if it sounded like you were nagging him . “No one asked you to do it, Nardole didn’t even ask. You offered.”

“You’re in a mood,” The Doctor said suddenly, and he leaned forward, so his big nose was almost against yours.. “Are you sick?

“I – what, no, I’m not sick,” you said, and you stumbled back suddenly. His eyes were so large, so close, and it was momentarily disarming. “You can be so infuriating sometimes, you know that?”

“You tell me constantly.”

Bill’s face grew into a large, delighted grin. “Oh my God,” she said. “You're like an old married couple.”

You turned to her, stunned. Or course, you were with the Doctor, but the idea of being married to him… well, he had done it, you knew he had, you’d been there, several years ago now when he’d had a different face with a long chin and an affinity for custard.

It certainly hadn’t been to you, though.

Of course, time had been broken and you’d been wearing an itchy eyepatch, but schematics.

You’d also seen the Doctor, a much younger face, one you had never travelled with, marry Queen Elizabeth the first. You’d been a ring bearer. It had been too fun teasing all three of faces of the Doctor that day for it.

But no. You had certainly never married him.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to, quite honestly, the thought had never crossed your mind. You had been so content in your relationship with him, how sure it felt, how right it was, that you’d never thought about anything more.

The Doctor, too, gawked, but for an entirely different reason. "You called me old.”

Bill glanced up and down the doctor's frame, which was enough to make her point.

“Fine,” the Doctor grumbled. “I'm old.”

“How are we like an old married couple?” You pressed, because the Doctor was not getting the key part of Bill’s statement.

“The bickering,” she said. “It's totally what couples do.”

You gaped and turned to the Doctor for some sort of guidance. You waited for him to shut it down. To laugh and just say it was because you were comfortable around one another. Instead, the Doctor only shrugged. "I mean,” he said. “Technically we are married'

You did a double take. Married. You were, apparently, already married to the Doctor.

What?

Bill gasped. “What - no, since when? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Yeah,” you said, finding your voice. “I'd quite like to know too.”

Bill turned to you. “Wait what do you mean?”

“This is news to me,” you continued. “We're married? Where was my something old and something blue?”

The Doctor gestured to himself, then around the console room - the TARDIS. So those were, apparently, the something old and something blue. A bit on the nose.

He raised an eyebrow, and you wondered if your expression was as confused as you felt. “On the foreshore of Tralite,” he prompted. “With the Arhkor embassy.”

That... that hadn't been a wedding. Had it?

You mind went back to that evening, so many years ago now, back when you had been travelling with Clara, back when the doctor knew who Clara was. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn't think about those times often. You felt alone in those memories, like you were the only one who held them, could cherish them.

But you remembered, quite clearly.

Here's what had happened:

Every decade, the Arhkor would sacrifice a person with renowned intelligence to the foreshore of Tralite, a beach that was more pebble than sand. The sacrifice would sit in the water until they drowned, and their memories would be recorded into the water. Living memory, the Doctor had said.

But the sacrifice that year, a young girl named Ardiel, whose bright purple hair had matched her purple scales, had been so young, and she hadn’t wanted to die.

So the Doctor, in all his foolish martyring glory, had marched out into the sea himself.

And of course, you couldn’t let him do that, so you followed.

“That wasn’t a wedding,” you said. “You were trying to sacrifice yourself to an ocean.”

You remembered it, your hand clasped in his, and the water settling over you both. You hadn’t been scared, which, in hindsight, terrified you. You should have been scared, but you weren’t. You had felt calm, at ease, safe even.

You couldn’t remember exactly why you had both been spared, but the water washed away, leaving you both wet and cold – but alive. And the water had never asked for another sacrifice since.

“It was a marrying of the minds,” The Doctor said, enunciating the words like he was trying to drill the meaning into your brain. “The water had been the officiant.”

“This is so weird,” Bill said, and she took another bite out of her doughnut.

You found yourself agreeing with Bill. “Doctor, that makes exactly zero sense.”

“The water had found something worth more than intelligence,” the Doctor continued. “It had found love. So when it copied and pasted our minds, that’s all it found. It unified us. It was a wedding.”

You rubbed your forehead with your fingers, trying to process this.

“I gotta say,” Bill commented, and she’d finished the doughnut she had been eating and was now fishing another out of a box. She pulled out a brown doughnut that was an oval shape with a silt down the middle. “I dunno how many people can say their grandparents got married by an ocean.”

“Ox-tongue,” the Doctor said, and he nodded to the pastry in Bill’s hand. Then, he considered her statement. “And that’s true, you should use that. It’s a good pick up line, should impress a girl or two.”

Bill scrunched up her face. “Okay, one; Ox tongue? Seriously? That can’t be right.”

The Doctor shrugged. “It’s Cantonese. A friend once told me about it. Apparently it references the shape of the dough. That being said, it might also be horse ears.”

“Okay,” Bill raised a sceptical eyebrow. “I’ll maybe half trust it, because it doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough to prove you wrong,” she paused before speaking again. “Also, two; I don’t think those two can get mixed up. Three, I’m never, ever using that as a pick up line. Not ever. It’s terrible.”

Thankfully, the Doctor was so focused on Bill’s last point, that he disregarded what she had said earlier. “It’s an excellent line! You’ll get to teach the girls something new!”

“Sorry, circle back,” you said, because your brain wasn’t computing. You weren’t even sure what you needed to address first. The marriage comments? The grandparents comment? The ox tongue?

Both Bill and the Doctor looked to you expectantly.

You pointed to the Doctor. “First of all, still wasn’t a wedding,” you then pointed to Bill. “Second of all, grandparents? I know he’s old but I’m certainly not.”

“Yeah but you’re with him,” she said, after swallowing part of her doughnut. She took another eager bite.

“He is sitting right here,” the Doctor grumbled. “But alright, if it wasn’t a wedding up to your standards, we can always do something different,” he stood up. “We can arrange it.”

Your brain short circuited, and you had to reprocess what the Doctor had said.

We can always do something different. We can arrange it.

Had the Doctor just proposed to you?

You were so stunned you didn’t even protest as he plucked the remaining doughnut from out of your fingers, wandering out of the console room. “Let me know,” he called out. “And we’ll get to reading that Tolstoy.”

You sat there, bug eyed, and turned to Bill. She was wearing a similar expression, she’d dropped her own doughnut, which sat dejected on top of one of the doughnut boxes.

“Did what I think just happened, happen?” You asked, your voice only slightly shrill.

Bill nodded. “I – uh, yeah. I think so.”

You stood up, and sprinted after him.

A/N^2: I gotta give huge thanks to the ever-sweet @phxntxmx​, who pointed out there was a bit of confusion in how I described one of the doughnuts here. I’ve tried to clear it up and make it a bit more consistent, since it’s not something I know about for sure.