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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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is it new years yet? — nanami kento.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now." "Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different." “My darling, behave.” “No <3” ".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, secret coworker romance, co-workers to lovers, romance, fluff, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, creampie, p to v sex, stairwell sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my darling, babe, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, actor! nanami kento, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 6k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the first fic of 2025!!! this was specifically written because of a conversation between me and @midnight-138 on the afternoon of december 31st 2024. i started progress while on a bus on the way to my grandma's house and for a bit on the 1st. i still wanted to write more for it, but i had to stop because i caught a cold. i still have a cold. and i need a massage cause i feel my body hurt real bad, cause its working hard to save my life from this cold TT TT

but that being said, i shouldn't complain too much. good things have been happening to me despite my problems. i hope that good things continue to come!!! anyway, enough yapping, i hope you enjoy this little fic. happy 2025!!! may good things, good health and happiness come your way always this year!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN YOU AND KENTO GET TOGETHER. But it was to be expected, since you graced the screens since you were a child. Nanami Kento was like that too. Of course, it wasn’t something of a brag at all. It was just your normal.

You were lucky, you were favored like that. Kento was favored just like that. Both of you were so beloved. And especially so, in a way that they end up hoping that you both were together.

Ever since you worked with him on Jujutsu Kaisen all those years ago, it was just too strong — the chemistry between the two of you. It pulls people in for more. They wanted a story, they wanted something that could ease their days from the mundane boredom that it was to the fun, exhilarating excitement that comes with the tea in both of your private lives.

You didn’t mind, your company didn’t mind either. Neither did Kento or his side of the aisle. It helped that you were both good friends. You had met even before landing your roles on Jujutsu Kaisen, after all. So, the ‘will they, won’t they’ between the two of you really did help your careers.

But of course, just like in Gege–sensei’s scripts, some parts are sentences with too many blank pages. And the wholeness of your relationship with Nanami Kento truly only belonged to you and him. And you were not willing to expose it to the world. Not just yet.

Yet — this does not stop them from trying to do something about that.

The studio buzzed with activity as you adjusted the earpiece in your ear, stealing a quick glance at the veteran actor, singer, producer, writer and entertainment personality that is Nanami Kento.

He stood near the stage, his posture relaxed yet impossibly refined. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie a subtle but elegant shade of deep blue,everything about him just exuded a quiet confidence that made it hard for anyone to look away.

You, however, knew better than to let your gaze linger too long. You knew too well that those are reserved for just him and you to interpret and to see. No one else should. You were as possessive about your private moments as he was. But you would never say that outloud and neither will he.

“Can you believe these two again?” a stagehand whispered slowly, behind you. It was still, of course, loud enough for you to hear. “It’s like they were made for this. If they don’t end up together after tonight, I’ll lose faith in love. Really!”

You bit back a laugh, focusing on your notes. No one knew the truth, after all. That you and Kento were already together had been for a while now. Not even your publicists or managers — hell, not even your entertainment companies, knew that this was for genuine actuality, a real thing now. But you and him liked it that way.

You had let your fans go wild with their theories over the years of course. Every post, every comment, every little interaction, every collaboration, every press tour — almost everything seemed to spark a new wave of speculation and fan shipping.

For years now, the internet was rife with hashtags like #OurSecretLovers and #MrAndMrsNanami with fans pouring over every detail like it's an investigatory report they were doing, a documentary study. You had to admit, it was amusing at times, watching people try to connect dots they couldn’t see.

Nanami Kento had a reputation for being rather serious, because he gets roles in that league often. But he was a silly little man, well your silly little man. And he often had the knack for finding the most random, yet oddly endearing, posts about the two of you on Twitter. During your five-minute breaks between shoots, when you were in separate rooms or on different sets, his messages would pop up on your phone, accompanied by a link and a deadpan caption.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now."

"Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different."

“My darling, behave.”

“No <3”

".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

You’d giggle to yourself, your shoulders shaking as you tried not to draw attention. It didn’t matter how serious the production you were working on either. He had a way of making you laugh even from miles away. And that relaxes you a lot.

When it was your turn, you’d send him TikToks. Fancam edits of the two of you together had exploded in popularity as of late, especially since you both played a married couple who were spies deceiving each other recently. People thought he looked so good, especially when he had his shirt off. You loved teasing him about it. After all, he was really pretty hot in those scenes. And if you were being honest, they did in fact rile you up.

"Look at us, babe." you texted once, attaching a video with dramatic lighting, a love song playing over clips of you two stolen from interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. "We’re icons."

His reply came almost immediately: "Icons, sure. But I’m just a guy who got lucky enough to be yours, you know?"

Those words made your heart swell every time. He’d always been effortlessly humble, never letting fame or admiration inflate his ego, even as his star rose. After all, you were the senpai here—the darling of the Japanese screen since childhood.

You’d grown up in the industry, your name synonymous with household stardom. He, on the other hand, had been a late bloomer, starting as a teenager and building his career with quiet determination.

He never let the difference in your status get in the way, though. If anything, it only made him more in awe of you. He’d often remind you how much he admired your grace, how you’d navigated the pressures of fame with a poise that still left him speechless.

“You’ve been dazzling audiences since you were a kid.” he’d say, his voice warm with pride. “I’m just lucky to share the screen with you now and your life.”

And you’d roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kento. You’re a fan favorite for a reason.”

“Maybe.” he replied with a soft smirk. “But you’re my favorite. And that’s what matters.”

No matter how busy your schedules got, those small exchanges, be it a funny link or a sentimental text, every bit of this kept you connected. It reminded you both that beneath the glitz and glamour, what truly mattered was the quiet, enduring love you shared.

You were out of your bubble soon enough when Kento suddenly caught your eye from across the room, offering a small, reassuring smile and then a small gentle nod. You felt your cheeks turn red but lowered your head immediately before anyone was to notice. He was too good at making you feel like this. And certainly so, he was hiding his smirk under his cue cards.

“Alright, places, everyone!” the director called.

You finally stood up from your chair, taking a deep breath and calmed down. You gave yourself one more look in the mirror, trying to make sure that your cheeks were natural now. When you felt like it was, you smiled at your manager who handed you the mic and swiftly thanked them. You went to your position. Kento soon approached, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” you replied, flashing him a smile.

You were grateful for the reassurance. Even if you were already such a big name, you still did get nervous. And even more so, with such a big show like this — the New Year Countdown, of course you could feel yourself slipping.

The two of you took your positions on stage as the lights dimmed and the opening music swelled. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he fixed himself up, your pinkies touching. Even briefly, you could feel the warmth. He did that on purpose. You could see it in his caramel eyes.

You let a brief smile echo on your lips. You gathered yourself as the lift came up slowly. When you both were in the sight of the gathered audiences and the cameras started to broadcast it all live, you both slipped effortlessly into your roles. After all, you both were professionals.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to this year’s New Year’s Eve Countdown!” you began, your voice bright and enthusiastic.

“Thank you for joining us as we bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new.” Kento added, his tone smooth and polished.

Your banter flowed naturally, as always. That well beloved chemistry between you is still ever so undeniable. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him; he was your partner in every sense of the word. And that made your job tonight a little bit easier.

But of course, the real challenge was hiding the little moments that threatened to give you away that bit you kept so dear to you. You just can't help it when it comes to him. He has such a powerful pull on you and he knows it.

There were those little lingering glances, watching and feeling the way his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a card, the subtle softness in his smile when he looked at you. After all, this is the longest you could be together in your very busy schedules this year.

Still, you kept yourself in that cage. And so did he, despite his lack of patience when it comes to you and everything about you. As the night progressed, the energy in the studio grew electric.

Various music performances lit up the stage, and interviews with special guests kept the crowd engaged. Throughout it all, you and Kento remained the perfect duo—professional, poised, and completely in sync.

After nearly a few hours of composure, it came almost all too suddenly. In just a few moments, the final countdown approached, and the excitement was palpable. The two of you stood at the center of the stage, along with the other participants for this year’s event. In front of you, the crowd behind you cheering wildly, waiting excitedly for the new year.

“Here we go!” you said, your voice barely audible over the noise.

Kento leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing great, darling..”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your composure. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, babe.”

The countdown soon began.

You took a breath, looking at the screen.

You held your cue cards tightly to you.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The lights soon dimmed, and the giant screen behind you displayed the numbers as they ticked down. The crowd’s voices grew louder with each second. The emotions coming through you were indescribable. Another year had gone by. But he was still by your side, like this. And all you could pray for as the time passed into a new age — that you would always be together.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Confetti soon rained down, and the studio erupted in cheers. You turned toward Kento, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you disappeared. The look in his caramel eyes was unmistakable—warm, tender, and filled with a quiet pride that made your chest tighten.

But just as quickly, the moment passed, and you both turned back to the crowd, waving and smiling as the cameras captured every angle. People of course started to pay less attention to you both and the stage and more onto the fireworks now blurring the sky with its bright hues. You and Kento made a steady exit off the stage.

“Another successful project, isn’t it?” you said, breaking the silence as you leaned against the wall.

Kento smirked faintly, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to loosen his tie. “They’ll be talking about this for weeks, you know?”

“And shipping us even harder, hm.” you added with a laugh.

“They’ll never know, though.” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the simple gesture grounding you in a way nothing else could. “They don’t need to, babe.” you whispered, meeting his gaze. “This is ours.”

Kento’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Happy New Year, my darling.”

“Happy New Year.” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You had thought it would end there, sweet and innocent. You had thought you both were safe for one more year. But when you two are together after a long time…..it was a whole new animal. And nothing can stop such a wave in high tide from occupying something whole.

The next tithing you know is that the internet exploded the moment the photos dropped. Headlines blared across every platform, hashtags like #FINALLYOMG and #NewYearNewScandal trending within minutes after they were taken.

The pictures were pretty damning. They were blurry but unmistakably you, disheveled and wrapped in Nanami’s coat, your hair a mess. And him? A rare sight indeed.

It was none other than Nanami Kento, usually the epitome of composure, looking uncharacteristically undone. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the telltale bruises blooming on his neck left little to the imagination.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the coffee table as you buried your face in your hands. Beside you, Kento sat unbothered, calmly sipping his tea like the world wasn’t on fire—or at least your career’s PR team.

“I told you we should’ve been more careful, babe.” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palms.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips quivering into a teasing smile. “You were the one who couldn’t wait with it, y'know?” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down with an elegant clink.

His tone was infuriatingly calm, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Who was it again, begging me to fill you up? By round two, you were going—‘Kento, I need you. Right here. Right now.’ and I was happy to heed the request like always.”

Your scarlet blush was immediate, your head snapping up to glare at him. “Kento!” you hissed, glancing around the living room as if someone could overhear, even though it was just the two of you. “Not helping!”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with the air of a man thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’m just stating the facts about, I'm the same.” he said with a shrug, his smirk widening as you shot him another flustered look. "That's not a bad thing."

Your phone buzzed again on the table, your manager’s name flashing on the screen. You sighed, picking it up only to immediately huff and toss it back down. “This is really…” you trailed off, searching for the right word but settling on a frustrated groan instead.

“Chaotic? Consequential? Hilarious?” Kento offered, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You shot him a glare that was far more affectionate than threatening. “Horrible. That’s the word. This is horrible.”

He chuckled, reaching over to rest a comforting hand on your knee. “Darling, it’s not the end of the world. Scandal or not, we’ll deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say.” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Your team probably thinks this is great publicity for your brooding, mysterious heartthrob image. Meanwhile, I’m the one getting texts about how unprofessional it looks for ‘Japan’s sweetheart’ to be caught sneaking around with hickeys and wearing her boyfriend’s coat.”

“Unprofessional?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “It’s not like we committed a crime. We’re adults in a committed relationship. And in any case my darling....….” he added, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “You look adorable in my coat.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me. Very much." he quipped, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, instead letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh. “Next time, though….really.....” you muttered. “We’re finding a stairwell without photographer cameras.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Noted.”

As you leaned against your lover, the memory hit you both like a freight train, vivid and unrelenting. It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as it could between the two of you. The countdown show had gone off without a hitch, and the studio was still buzzing with post-show chaos.

You both talked for a bit, had a cute moment and then went back to your professional mode when everyone started to surround you both again. It was like a switch, and it was easy. No one suspected a thing.

You went ahead into the dressing room, you talked with everyone. You’d been polite and professional, thanking the crew and chatting with some of the guests. But the moment Nanami Kento had caught your eye as you left the green room, something in his caramel gaze had made your pulse quicken.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Between his packed schedule and yours, the countdown project had been the only excuse to be in the same room together. The public facade you maintained only added to the frustration. Every fleeting touch, every shared look—it all built up, an unbearable tension neither of you could ignore.

So, when he’d quietly grabbed your hand and guided you down a quiet, rarely-used stairwell in the building when no one was looking, you hadn’t protested. You were excited, happy even. This was the chance to feel him again this close to you.

And you were glad for that opportunity. You could feel his touch be so genuine and warm despite the heavy chill in the air, and the firm grip of his fingers around yours sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Darling, I missed you, really.” he murmured as soon as you were alone.

His voice low and rough, filled with a longing that made your knees weak. His hands cupped your face with a reverence that always left you breathless, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was searing, his lips melding with yours as though it had been an eternity since your last stolen moment together.

The cold winter air bit at your exposed skin, but his touch set you alight. His coat had slipped from his shoulders in a quiet, unspoken gesture, draped over yours as his lips moved to your neck. The kisses were hot, open-mouthed, and deliberate, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin before his teeth grazed your pulse.

“Kento, babe….” you gasped, your voice trembling from a mix of the frigid air and the heat of his attention. Your fingers clutched the lapels of his suit, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“Shh, just enjoy it......” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

His hands slid down your sides, firm but gentle as they gripped your thighs. Without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back against the wall. The rough texture scraped against your coat, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way his body pressed into yours.

His strength always caught you off guard, even after all this time together. Your eager legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he stepped between them, his body fitting against yours like a missing piece.

“Babe!” you breathed again, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He kissed you like a man starved, his lips leaving your neck to reclaim your mouth. The intensity of it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him. He was hungry, perhaps even more than you were. But you had expected that. He has a habit of yearning to touch you a lot.

“I hate not being able to touch you, with all the schedules we fucking had.” he muttered against your skin, the words tinged with frustration and longing. “Hated every fucking minute of it……”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you tugged him closer. “Then don’t stop, babe.” you whispered, the plea soft but desperate. “Cause….I need you badly too. I need you so bad in me—”

He growled softly, the sound rumbling against your throat as his touch shifted. One hand remained steady on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, while the other slid beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers were deliberate, pushing aside the delicate lace of your panties with practiced ease.

When his fingers slipped through your slick folds, a gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall. He groaned softly, the sound low and satisfied as he gathered your arousal, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“You’re already so ready for me, aren’t you, my darling?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers moved with precision, finding the spot that made you arch into him.

The cold air around you was a stark contrast to the heat building between you, the quiet of the stairwell broken only by your uneven breaths and his whispered praises. It was reckless, indulgent, and utterly intoxicating—just like him.

“Kento, babe….oh!” you whimpered, your voice trembling as his fingers continued their unrelenting rhythm. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as waves of pleasure began to build within you.

“Shh, darling.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing back to your neck. His voice was low and soothing, laced with a quiet intensity that only made your pulse race faster. “You’ll have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape as he added a second finger. The stretch was delicious, his movements slow and deliberate, coaxing you higher with every stroke. His thumb brushed over your sensitive bud, and your thighs instinctively clenched around his waist.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s my good little lover, hm? My only beloved darling.” he murmured, his praise sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “So perfect for me.”

Your fingers slid up into his messy blond hair, tugging gently as your body arched against him. The rough texture of the wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his touch, grounding you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Kento, please, b–babe….oh!” you breathed, the words barely audible as your head tilted back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. “M–more…..more!”

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient, aren’t you? Greedy too.” he teased, though his fingers quickened their pace, curling just right to hit the spot that made your breath hitch. “I missed seeing you like this, so needy for me.”

The heat pooling in your core intensified, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “I’m—” you began, but the words dissolved into a strangled gasp as he pressed his thumb harder against your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, pretty for me, so fucking pretty." He says, coaxing you like a pied piper. His voice was low and intoxicating. Everything about it just burns you as much as his touch did. "I’ve got you. Always.”

With one final stroke, the beautiful echo, that blossoming coil inside you just snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tensed, your thighs tightening around his waist as you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped your lips.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as your body shook with aftershocks. His other hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing soothing kisses against your temple.

When you finally relaxed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were soft, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and satisfaction that made your chest tighten.

“Better?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with affection.

You nodded, still too dazed to form words. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on you as he gently set you back on your feet. Your legs wobbled like jello against him, and he immediately steadied you, his hands firm but gentle on your waist.

“Careful, darling.” he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, babe.” you managed, your voice breathless but steady. “More than fine.”

His lips quivered into a soft smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

As the reality of your surroundings sank back in, you couldn’t help but glance around, the abandoned stairwell suddenly feeling far less private. “We should… probably get back, babe.” you said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s getting pretty late.”

He followed your gaze, his expression calm and unbothered. “Let them wonder where we went.” he said simply, shrugging off the concern as he adjusted his coat around your shoulders. "It's none of their business."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the mischievous glint in his eyes stopped you cold. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “After all… I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he was guiding you gently back against the wall. His lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, igniting the fire he’d only begun to stoke. His hands trailed down your sides, their warmth chasing away the chill of the stairwell as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“Kento, babe.” you murmured, a weak attempt to regain your composure, but he silenced you with a kiss that left no room for argument.

“I missed you, a damn whole lot.” he said, his voice low and filled with longing as his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly once more. "Like I always do."

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your heart pounding as the desire you’d both tried to suppress flared back to life. He pressed against you, the hardness of his arousal undeniable even through the fabric of his pants. The teasing grind of his hips against yours drew a gasp from your lips, and he smirked, his composure slipping just enough to show his need.

"Really....." Kento effortlessly whispered to you, his voice vibrating onto you like a wave crashing onto you at sea. "We shouldn't schedule much this New Year, hm? So we can be together."

"Hm.....Kento." You echo back to him, intoxicated by his touch. "'ake time....for me, okay? I'll.....I'll do the same."

“That's the plan already, you know?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he shifted, his hands tugging at the barriers between you. “Let me take care of you, like I always do.”

Soon after that, you could feel the wet, thick head of his member pressed against your entrance, the heat and pressure stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as he began to push in slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.

It was too good, too damn easy to fall into a high to. You could feel the stretch inside of you, it made you so full. Everything about it was intoxicating, your body yielding to him as he filled you inch by inch, your walls clinging to every part of him like he was made to fit.

It was like he was trying to make a home inside of it. Inside of you. And it just made you feel so good. A deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he buried himself deeper.

“Darling.” he muttered, his voice strained and low. “You feel so perfect.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support as your body adjusted to the delicious fullness. The sensation was overwhelming, the slight ache quickly giving way to a heat that spread through your entire body.

“Kento.” you breathed, the sound a mix of plea and surrender.

His large hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, the motion slow but unyielding. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and the friction only made you crave more.

“God, this is so…..you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with need. “You’re so tight. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go slow like this with you.”

“Don’t, babe.” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”

His carmel eyes darkened almost instantly at your words, a flicker of something primal overtaking his usual control. With a growl, he began to move in earnest, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the stairwell, a symphony of shared desire that neither of you could hold back.

The rough texture of the wall behind you only heightened the sensation, grounding you as he took you apart piece by piece. You could feel your back burn against the concrete wall as you throw your head back against it. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his body claimed yours.

“Darling, my pretty baby darling.” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged and desperate. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

“Yes, babe. Yours….O–oh…only! Only yours!” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as he kissed along your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

The coil in your core once more tightens with every spark you feel as he pushes deeper over and over in a fast pace. Everything about the pleasure you feel keeps building to an almost unbearable peak. It just felt too good. He felt too good.

His pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as his control began to slip. One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your sensitive nub and rubbing it in quick, precise circles.

You cried out, your body arching into him as the tension finally snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clenching tightly around him as your release tore through you.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m close!” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he shuddered against you, his body going taut as he spilled himself inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your shared, labored breathing, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. His forehead rested against yours, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your thighs and waist, grounding you both.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern despite the lingering haze of pleasure in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gently setting you back on your feet. His hands remained steady on your waist, holding you as your legs wobbled beneath you. You leaned into him, your breath uneven, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just transpired.

But that wasn’t the end of it, of course.

The hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded, and neither had yours. The raw desire that simmered between you was far from sated, and you both knew it. Kento’s hands lingered, his thumbs brushing soft, teasing circles against your hips as he studied your flushed face.

“I just think that I…..” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “I still want more.”

You barely had time to process his words before your lover’s lips were on yours again, roughly consuming you in a kiss that was as demanding as it was all encompassing. Your hands quickly found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Your body instinctively responds to the magnetic pull of his, over and over.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered between kisses, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s going to make people suspicious.”

“Probably not.” he agreed, his smirk returning as his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, trailing up your thighs. “But repercussions are damned when we’re hungry. I can’t stop. I know you won’t too..”

The wall pressed against your back once more as he claimed you all over again, the cool stairwell air doing nothing to cool the fire that raged between you. It was reckless, but neither of you cared. Not here, not now. Hunger demanded to be fed, and with Nanami Kento, you were always insatiable.

After a while, you were both removed from the plane of normalcy and you were both panting with joyous weariness. He presses a kiss against your jaw as you keep a steady bite on his neck. He grumbles against you as he gathers himself from seeing stars. You follow him soon after. You released his neck and started kissing his lips once more.

When you both found yourself satisfied, you both started to make yourselves as presentable as possible. Well, at least what remains presentable and salvageable for both of you. Kento ripped too much of your outfit as much as you did. Still, you both did not care.

“We should get you cleaned up.” he murmured, his tone tender as he placed his coat on your shoulders and adjusted it tenderly on you, to keep you warm. “I’ll call my car and then we’ll just hop in there. We’ll go to my hotel, okay?”

You nodded again, your cheeks flushing as the reality of your surroundings began to sink in. But as he laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the main building, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of contentment.

Of course, things too did not go the way you both wanted once again. You didn’t know that there were many SNS photographers and gossip journalists waiting to catch some other celebrity in that area where Kento’s car was going to be. And that’s just how you were caught, not thinking about the logistics of it all.

But how could you? It was New Years.

You just got mindlessly blown with really, really, really good sex.

And you were together once again with your lover.

How could you think about anything else after all that?

Now, back in the present, the two of you sat in the quiet of your shared apartment. Nanami Kento’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to your frazzled nerves. You sighed, looking up to your lover who presses a kiss on your forehead.

“You know this is going to be everywhere, babe.” you said, gesturing toward your phone.

He set his tea down and leaned back, regarding you with a look of quiet amusement. “Let them talk, darling. It was bound to happen eventually.”

You groaned. “Eventually I didn't need to include hickeys and a ruined coat. And oh god….. was I leaking your cum?”

You took your phone once again to inspect, but your lover took your phone with his free hand and put it away. You looked at him, almost sulky as one would look as a child. He laughs. He presses another kiss on your hair. Kento couldn’t help but smirk. Both acts had made your heart skip a beat.

“You look good in my coat though. I could hardly care if my cum was dripping out, darling.” he said simply. “I’m pretty sure I look just as ridiculous. You mauled my neck so happily after that first round.”

“You do look like you’ve been ravaged.” you shot back, though your cheeks burned at the memory. “I mean, it made sense at the time….I was hungry.”

“Hm, I don’t blame you.”

You sighed. “We’ll contact our PR and everyone later, okay?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm.” he said softly, his voice filled with the steady reassurance you’d always loved about him. “We’ll be fine, okay? I don’t care as long as I am with you.”

You sighed, leaning into his warm touch. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

He nodded, his gaze warm. “I don’t mind. As long as we're happy together, I say let them say whatever they want.”

You blinked at him. “You think so?”

“Hm.” He smiles at you. “Because no one will truly know who you are to me. That’s only mine. They’ll have a headline, but I’ll have the whole spreadsheet.”

You feel like your heart is melting with his tenderness. “I love you. So so much.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your lips, smiling wider at you.

And just like that, the storm outside felt a little less overwhelming.

868 notes · View notes

inseobts · 4 days ago

Note

hiiii! first of all, i love your fics sm!! i love the way you write Law 💙 can i request a fic with BIG LOSER Law? lmaooo like, maybe they go on their first date and he's so awkward and nervous. he has everything planned out but nothing is going according to plan so he's stressing constantly, or the crew is watching him trying to flirt w reader and they get second hand embarrassment (tbh anything you want to write is fine, just make him suffer a little bit bc i think it's funny)

Captain Loser

law × gn!reader

a/n: I tried my best to keep him in character — I hope I did a good job!

words count: 3.5k

tags: fluff, humor, awkward first date, loser law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Law is calm during battles.

Law is calm in surgeries.

Law is not calm when you say, “Sure, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

And now, he’s pacing in his room like a man being hunted.

“Captain,” Bepo says gently, poking his head into Law’s room “You’ve been… changing your coat for the past 15 minutes.”

Law stops, eyes wild “Which one makes me look more—” he stops. Then corrects himself “Never mind.”

Bepo blinks “More what?”

“…Like I’m not dying inside.”

Bepo nods solemnly “Go with the dark one, it's your color.”

The “date” starts with Law arriving twenty minutes early. Not because he’s eager, of course (he is.)

You show up with a smile, looking relaxed and easy-going, and Law immediately forgets how to stand like a normal person. He moves like someone’s remote-controlling him from across the street.

“You look good” he says.

You blink “Thanks! So do you.”

He dies.

Inside.

Law has a plan. It’s written in his notebook.

Literally.

He wrote a plan.

Phase 1: Get snacks from that café in town.

Phase 2: Walk by the docks.

Phase 3: Compliment them. Not weirdly. Normal compliment.

Phase 4: If going well, offer to take them stargazing. If rejected, die.

Simple.

Except that phase 1 explodes immediately.

The café is closed“Temporarily for repairs” the sign says.

Law stares at the sign like it personally betrayed him “This wasn’t in the plan” he mutters.

You peek over his shoulder “We can just get something from a stall?”

He hesitates. That’s not in the plan. That’s not in the plan.

But you’re smiling, so he nods “Right. Improvising. Yeah. I can do that.”

(He can’t do that)...

Meanwhile, across the street Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo are hiding behind barrels. Watching.

“He’s sweating” Shachi whispers.

Penguin squints “Can he even sweat? Is that medically possible for him?”

Bepo sighs “I don’t think he blinked in five minutes.”

Back on the date, Law is now trying to eat takoyaki. He stabs one with a stick, offers it to you, and then, mid-movement, panics.

“Wait—are you allergic to anything? Shellfish? Octopus? Gluten??”

You laugh “Nope. I’m good.”

“…Okay.” He hesitates “Do you want this one, or should I—”

“I’ll take it.”

Back behind the barrels, Penguin falls to the ground “I can’t watch this.”

By the time you’re strolling along the docks (Phase 2 is back on track!), Law is a wreck. Internally. Externally he still has that serious Captain face on.

“You don’t… date often, do you?” you ask, amused.

Law’s steps falter.

“…Is it that obvious?” he mutters.

You bump his shoulder lightly “Just a little. But it’s cute.”

Cute..........

You just called him........ cute.

Someone please sedate him.

He clears his throat “You’re… uh. You’re not bad yourself.”

You laugh “Was that a compliment?”

He looks away “Kind of.”

You grin “I’ll take it.”

Behind a stack of crates, Shachi is losing his mind “SOMEONE PUT HIM OUT OF HIS MISERY.”

“HE SAID ‘NOT BAD YOURSELF’—WHO EVEN SAYS THAT?!” Penguin wheezes.

Bepo watches calmly “I think it’s going well.”

“…Are we watching the same date?”

You’re sitting on the dock now, feet dangling over the edge, watching the sky turn orange. The date hasn’t gone the way Law planned.

Which is exactly the problem.

He stands next to you like he’s guarding treasure. Except he’s not relaxed. He’s tense. Like he expects an ambush.

From the moon.

“So…” you say, glancing up at him “You always this quiet?”

Law hesitates “I’m… thinking.”

“About?”

“…Phase Four.”

“Phase what?”

He freezes “Nothing.”

You narrow your eyes “Law. Did you… plan this date like a battle?”

He clears his throat “No.”

“…You definitely did.”

He changes the subject. Badly “Do you like… stars?”

Meanwhile, behind a crate about 50 feet away, Shachi has his binoculars out.

“They’re sitting. It’s happening. Phase Four is happening.”

Bepo nods, whispering, “Do you think he’ll kiss them?”

Shachi nearly drops the binoculars “No way. No way. He’d combust.”

Penguin has snacks now “What if y/n kisses him first?”

There’s a beat of silence.

They all go, in unison: “He’d die.”

Back at the dock, you lean back on your hands “Stars are nice. But I like hearing you talk about things you like.”

Law blinks. That wasn’t in the plan.

“…Like medicine?” he asks cautiously.

“Sure.”

“Anatomy?”

You raise a brow “Within reason.”

He exhales slowly “What about… the ocean?”

“See?” you say “You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t think so.”

You tilt your head “Are you nervous?”

“…Extremely.”

You smile.

That’s when you both hear it.

“PENGUIN, GET YOUR FOOT OFF MY HEAD—”

Law stiffens “Wait.”

There’s rustling. A loud clunk. Then “SHHHHHHH!! THEY CAN HEAR US—”

Law turns slowly. You follow his gaze.

A barrel tips over.

Three grown men—one bear, two idiots—collapse into the open like spilled groceries.

“…Oh my god,” you whisper “Were they SPYING on us?!”

Law’s eye twitches.

Shachi pops up “Captain!! Don’t be mad!! We were just—uh—moral support!!”

Bepo waves sheepishly “You were doing great until now!”

Penguin gives you a thumbs-up from the ground “You’re really cute together!”

Law looks like he’s going to murder someone.

You, meanwhile, are wheezing.

“They were there the whole time?!” you gasp, laughing “How long have they been WATCHING?”

Shachi: “Since before the takoyaki.”

Penguin: “Since coat number three.”

Law: “…I’m going to kill you.”

Bepo: “But gently, right?”

You stand up and tug Law’s sleeve. He glances down at you, still visibly unamused.

“I thought it was cute” you say “Your plan. The awkward flirting. All of it.”

He stares “Even this?”

You grin “Especially this.”

His ears turn pink.

Later that night…

Law storms into the crew quarters.

“Meeting. Now.”

They scramble to attention.

He points at each of them “You are banned from surveillance. No more binoculars. No more hiding behind barrels. If I see a single one of you during a private moment again, I will operate your limbs off and sew them back wrong.”

Shachi gulps “Got it.”

Penguin: “Totally fair.”

Bepo: “What about just listening—?”

Law: “Bepo.”

“…Okay. Sorry.”

He turns to leave, coat flapping dramatically—until Shachi calls out “Wait! Did you at least kiss them?!”

Law pauses in the doorway. Silent. Then closes the door behind him.

In the hallway, alone, he leans against the wall, covers his face, and mutters “…Next time.”

Breakfast on the Polar Tang is loud.

Penguin and Shachi are fighting over eggs. Bepo is carefully peeling an orange like it’s surgery. The table’s full—shoulders bumping, chopsticks clattering, someone laughing every five seconds.

You walk in, hair still messy, and Law is already seated at the end.

He looks up the second you enter.

“Morning” you say, rubbing your eye.

He nods, quietly “Morning.”

You take the empty seat beside him.

On the other end of the table, someone yells, “Hey—who took the last piece of cake?!”

You glance up. Sure enough there’s one perfect square of fluffy, cream-filled strawberry shortcake sitting on a plate near the middle. Or rather was sitting.

In one clean, lightning-fast movement, Law grabs it and slides it across the table.

In front of you.

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t explain. Just keeps drinking his black coffee like he didn’t just commit pastry theft.

You stare at him.

Then at the cake.

Then back at him.

“You like it” he says again, like that explains everything.

Which… it does. Kind of.

You blink fast and look away, trying not to smile too hard. He’s always the type to do something so sweet.

But then he notices your cup’s empty and, without saying anything, reaches over and refills it from the kettle. Still not looking at you. Still completely casual. Like it's just part of his morning routine.

Your brain short-circuits.

...And it gets worse.

A piece of hair falls into your face. You're about to push it back, but he does it first—absentminded, fingers brushing your temple like it’s nothing.

Like it’s normal. Like it’s just something he’s allowed to do.

You stop breathing for a second.

Law, meanwhile, is already slicing into an omelet, entirely unaware that he’s killing you one tiny gesture at a time.

You take a bite of the cake, cheeks warm.

It’s perfect...Of course it is.

Later, as you’re both standing up to clear plates, you bump shoulders.

“Thanks” you murmur.

“For what?”

“The cake. The tea. The hair thing. All of it.”

He looks at you for a second but then his gaze flicks from your eyes to your mouth and back again.

“…Wasn’t a big deal.”

“It kinda is.”

He blinks. Tilts his head a little.

You smile “You’re a lot cuter when you’re not trying so hard, y’know.”

He frowns “I wasn’t trying before.”

“Exactly.”

You pat his arm, grab your dish, and head toward the sink.

Behind you, he stands there, stuck in place.

Then mutters to himself “…Cuter?”

After breakfast you’re chatting with Bepo about the latest island rumors, sitting at the mess table again. Law’s standing nearby, arms crossed, pretending to read a report. But he keeps looking up every time you laugh. Every time you tilt your head, or say his name, or look like you might say something else.

He’s not subtle.

Not even a little.

You don’t call him out for it. You like it. The fact that he’s choosing to just be around you, even if he pretends he isn’t.

He’s calmer now than he was on your first date. Less fidgety. Less stressed. And way more dangerous because of it.

Like right now, he glances up from his report, sees you rubbing your shoulder absently, and immediately sets the paper down.

“You okay?”

You blink “Yeah, just slept weird.”

He steps behind you and before you can ask what he’s doing his hands are on your shoulders.

Firm, careful pressure. His thumbs move in slow circles against your neck, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. (He does. He’s a doctor, after all).

Your body goes very still.

The crew goes even stiller.

Across the room, Shachi drops a wrench.

Penguin inhales a peanut and starts coughing.

Bepo covers his mouth like he’s watching a sacred ritual.

Law doesn’t notice. Or maybe he does, but doesn’t care.

He just mutters, “Tell me if it hurts” and keeps working the muscle.

You swear you might dissolve on the spot.

Later that day, you're walking down the hall toward the storage room when you hear it “DID YOU SEE THE MASSAGE?”

It's Shachi. His voice echoes off the metal walls.

“That was intimate, right? That wasn’t just medical. That was spiritual.”

Penguin: “I choked on a peanut for a reason. That was fate.”

Bepo, calmly: “I think they’re in love.”

You peek around the corner.

They’re in a triangle of chaos. Whisper-yelling. Flailing. Dramatic hand gestures.

You clear your throat and all three freeze.

You raise your eyebrows.

“…We were just talking about the weather” Shachi says, very seriously.

“Peanut forecast” Penguin adds.

Bepo bows slightly “I fully support you and the captain.”

You blink “We’re not even dating.”

There’s silence.

Then, in unison “YET.”

You walk off, red in the face, trying not to laugh.

You don’t see Law leaning in the next hallway, arms crossed again, listening to the whole thing.

He exhales through his nose, quietly.

Then mutters to himself “…Idiots.”

But his lips twitch. Just a little.

Law finds you on the deck in the early evening.

You're sitting on a crate, swinging your legs, watching the lights in the distance as the town starts to glow with festival lanterns.

He approaches, hands in his pockets.

“Hey” he says.

You glance up “Hey. Festival looks nice.”

He nods.

There’s a pause.

You look at him, expectant.

He shifts his weight, like he’s debating something. Then “…You wanna go?”

You blink “To the festival?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, eyes on the horizon “Figured if I ask without writing a five-step plan first, I might not almost die.”

You snort “So this is you asking me on another date?”

He glances at you “Depends.”

“On?”

“If you say yes.”

You grin “I do.”

He exhales “Cool.”

You both try not to smile too obviously.

The festival is chaos but in the best way.

Kids dart through the crowd with candy in both hands. Music plays from a group of locals with hand drums. Lights swing overhead like constellations. There’s food everywhere.

You’re walking side-by-side, not touching, but close enough that your arms brush every now and then.

It’s comfortable.

It’s easy.

You pass a game booth, some kind of target shooting with cork guns. Law glances at it, then at you.

“You good at that?”

You shrug “Mediocre. You?”

“…Surgical.”

You grin “Prove it.”

Ten minutes later, he’s won you a stupid plush seal.

Not by being cool... no. He misses the first two shots, scowls at the gun like it insulted his ancestors, then mutters something about "cheap manufacturing" and *then* gets serious.

Tongue between his teeth. Narrowed eyes. Absolutely committed to this ridiculous task.

When he finally hits the last target, he looks so smug that you burst out laughing.

He shoves the plush into your hands “I said I’d get it.”

You’re still laughing “You’re so dramatic.”

He watches you, something soft in his eyes “…You like it though.”

You pretend to examine the seal “I mean, the craftsmanship’s a little off…”

He bumps your shoulder with his.

You both smile.

Later, you stop for shaved ice, sitting together on a low wall at the edge of the square.

You’re halfway through your dessert when Law quietly says, “This is better.”

You pause “Than what?”

He looks down at his cup “Last time. When I was trying too hard.”

You tilt your head “You were cute then, too.”

He huffs “I was malfunctioning.”

“You were. But it was cute.”

He glances at you, eyes a little narrowed “You call me cute one more time, I’ll—”

“What?” you challenge, grinning.

He leans in. Just a little.

You freeze.

“…I’ll get you a second plush” he says, flatly.

You burst out laughing.

He pulls back, lips twitching. He’s definitely not immune to how red your face is right now. And he likes it.

The sun dips lower, the festival softens. Lights blur a little more golden, music slows down, and kids start tugging tired parents toward "one last game."

You and Law are still wandering, side-by-side, when you pass a booth with a simple ball toss game, rings over bottles.

There's a kid already playing. Small. Serious. Determined.

Law stops. Watches.

The kid notices.

Their eyes lock.

You can feel the energy shift.

The kid slowly, silently, picks up another ring.

Law crosses his arms.

You look at both of them “…What is happening?”

Neither answers.

The kid tosses.

Hit.

Law steps up, drops a coin in the tray without looking away from the tiny opponent.

He tosses.

Hit.

It’s on.

The next few minutes are dead silent, deadly focused, and weirdly intense. Ring after ring. Perfect aim. Small frowns. No smiles. Just raw, quiet competition between a six-year-old and a warlord of the sea.

You’re trying so hard not to laugh you’re shaking.

Eventually the kid lands the final toss. Clean. The biggest bottle. Fireworks go off behind them (perfect timing), and they just nod like, obviously.

Law misses his last ring by a centimeter.

The kid walks over to the prize wall, selects a plush shark... huge, bright blue... and struts back to you.

Holds it out.

“For you, princess,” he says, with perfect, practiced swagger “I’m way better than him.”

You blink.

Law blinks.

The kid walks off without another word.

You look at Law.

You cackle.

Like, actual, doubled-over, wiping-your-eyes laughter.

Law is standing there in stunned silence like he just got outplayed in flirting by a child.

“Did he just—”

You nod, wheezing “He did. He called me princess. Did you hear that delivery?!”

Law glares at the shark plush like it insulted his honor.

You’re still laughing when he says, “It was rehearsed. He’s done that before.”

You lean against the booth, catching your breath “Oh my god. You should’ve done that on our first date.”

He mutters something about “not stooping to plush-based mind games” but he’s definitely not as grumpy as he pretends to be.

And when you nudge him, smiling, he just mutters “…I still won the seal.”

The walk back to the ship is quiet.

The streets behind you still glow with festival lights, but out here, closer to the shore, it’s all stars and sea breeze. A little cooler. A little slower.

You and Law walk side by side. No need to talk. No need to fill the silence.

You’re holding the dumb blue shark and the seal.

He hasn’t teased you about it since the kid incident. Maybe he knows you’d win. Or maybe he’s distracted.

You glance at him. His eyes are soft tonight, not sharp like they usually are. He’s not analyzing anything. Not overthinking. He’s just here with you.

“I had fun” you say quietly.

He nods “Yeah.”

You wait a second... “…That all you’re gonna say?”

He looks over “I didn’t almost die of embarrassment this time.”

You smile “True. Growth.”

A pause.

Then he says, voice lower “I liked being with you. Not just because it went better. Just… because it’s you.”

You stop walking.

He does too. Turns to face you fully.

The wind lifts his coat slightly. The moon lights the water behind him. His expression is unreadable for a second—then shifts.

Softer. Realer.

“I don’t really do this kind of thing,” he says “Dates. People.”

“I know.”

“But I want to try. If it’s you.”

Your heart stumbles.

You step closer “I was planning to kiss you tonight.”

His breath hitches, just a little “Oh.”

You grin “You okay with that?”

He nods once “Yeah.”

And that’s all you need.

You lean in. Your hands brush his coat. His breath catches. Then you kiss him. Slow. Steady. Warm.

He kisses you back like he’s memorizing it.

One hand rests on your waist, hesitant at first, then firmer, like he’s finally letting himself believe this is real.

When you pull back, you’re both quiet for a moment.

Then he murmurs, barely audible “…Better than a plush.”

You laugh against his chest.

He doesn’t say it, but he holds you a little tighter and that actually says everything.

It’s late, the crew mostly asleep, lights dimmed, the ocean calm. You’re in Law’s quarters now. It’s neater than you expected, but still has that lived-in look. Folders stacked in perfect piles. Books arranged by subject. A single mug half-full of cold tea.

You’re curled up on his couch. Shark plush tucked under one arm. Law’s sprawled next to you, boots off, coat hanging on the back of his desk chair.

His head’s resting against the back of the couch, eyes half-closed. He looks tired. In that good way. The kind that comes after laughter and a kiss and not needing to pretend.

You shift a little and his hand finds yours without looking.

Fingers laced. Easy.

“You’re quiet” you murmur.

“Still processing.”

You glance over “The kiss?”

“No. The shark.”

You snort “Jealous?”

He opens one eye “Of a six-year-old with good aim and terrifying confidence? …Yes.”

You laugh, soft and warm.

Law’s watching you now, really watching you, and this time there’s no hesitation. No second-guessing.

He reaches up and brushes a thumb over your cheekbone. Slow. Gentle. Familiar now.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs “I want this.”

You nod “Me too.”

He shifts closer “You staying?”

You lean your head against his shoulder “Unless you kick me out.”

“…I’d operate the door shut before I let that happen.”

You smile into his shirt.

The next morning you wake up warm.

Wrapped in a blanket, shark plush tucked under your arm, head resting on something solid. And breathing.

You blink.

It’s Law’s chest.

His coat is draped over both of you like some makeshift shield. One of his hands is still loosely around your waist. The other is on his face, like he's already regretting waking up.

You smile.

“Morning” you whisper.

He groans into his palm “No.”

Then there’s a knock... or more like a bang.

“CAPTAIN!”

Law tenses.

You sit up, hair everywhere, still holding the plushes like a shield.

“Captain, are you—” Penguin bursts in and freezes.

Shachi appears behind him, sees the situation, and gasps like someone got stabbed.

Bepo peeks in last. Quietly says, “Told you they were in love.”

Law is already covering his face again.

Penguin: “Are these TWO cute plushes?!”

Shachi: “DID YOU SLEEP IN THE SAME ROOM?!”

Bepo, sincerely: “Did you cuddle?”

You blink at them.

Law doesn’t move.

You clear your throat “Morning.”

Shachi leans in “Good morning to you, power couple.”

Penguin: “So? You guys kiss last night? You kiss? You totally kissed, right?”

Law finally lifts his head.

Dead-eyed. Voice flat.

“Out. Now.”

The crew flees like rats.

You’re left half-laughing, half-horrified.

Law exhales deeply “I should’ve locked the door.”

You lean against him again “I think it’s cute.”

He stares at you like you’ve said something illegal.

You grin, plush squished between you.

“You’re really soft when you sleep, y’know.”

He closes his eyes “I’m moving out.”

701 notes · View notes

marilynthornhilllover · 6 months ago

Note

*chants* Lady D size kink/tentacle kink! Lady D size kink/tentacle kink!

Kinktober fic #2

What eyes can’t see

Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader

Warning: smut, mommy kink, manipulative kink, cunnilingus, tentacle sex, skin marking.

A/n: this is a bit lengthy so I apologize, I’ve never written a smut fanfic on tentacle before so I hope you enjoy<3 happy spokey season👻

Dr. Alcina Dimitrescu was said to be the best gynecologist doctor in town. Everyone said that she takes care of every woman’s problems as if it were her own, and never failed to make anyone feel comfortable and every woman who ever went to her for treating left her office with what was said to be shaky legs. But the reason for this was never revealed. They all just said that she worked some kind of magic and now they feel fantastic down there and we’re able to perform their sexual duties as normal.

So there you sat, in the doctors office waiting for your name to be called, it was really late in the night and you were completely exhausted. You’ve been there since eight in the morning but the line was tremendously but since you weren’t going to be given other opportunity to be off work for a day you settled on the waiting game.

“ miss y/l/n?” Your head shot up in the direction of which your name was called and there standing was the doctors assistant. She was a short girl with an enclosed composure, a black pencil skirt with a fitted red blouse. Her hair was curled and tucked away neatly behind her ear as her green eyes smiled warmly at you but her lips didn’t mirror the action.

“ doctor Dimitrescu will see you now.” She spoke softly before retreating down the dimly lit hall. You quickly stood up, grabbed your purse with you then proceeded to follow her lead. Honestly the clinic wasn’t what you would have expected. It was small but gave off a warm and cozy vibe making everyone who entered feel safe and comfortable. The lady came to a halt infront of a big shiny black door with a gold plate that read “ Dr. Alcina Dimitrescu “ on it. She knocked three times in sync before turning the handle and allowing you to entire before her.

“ doc, this is your last patient for the night, she’s been here all more so I’d suggest rewarding her for her patience, and goodnight I’ll be taking my leave and signing out shortly ” the red head announced before she closed the door behind you. After a while you just stood there awkwardly, the office was just like the other parts of the clinic, dimly lit. Her desk took up half of the room even though it was huge. She had shelves with books and medicine and pictures on the wall of what seemed to be flowers with blood on them. Weird…. Maybe even creepy.

Her office was modern with a little bit of a historical background to it, it seemed more ancient like or maybe even European, you knew a European interior design when you see one.

The room was filled with the mixed scent of citrus and lavender but something old and sweet giving it a sweetened spicy scent. On the opposite side of the room was a bed with a sheet of plastic on it like all hospital beds but it was big and on each side had toys…. Sex toys to be exact. You saw vibrators, dildos, anal toys etc. you were too entrapped in your own world that you didn’t even notice that the raven hair goddess was now full on staring at you.

“ do they intrigue you?” A low husk voice asked, you were suddenly torn away from your trance and that’s when both your eyes met. The gaze lingered for a moment before you quickly looked away and swallowed thickly. Something about the way she looked at you made you wanna run away and never come back or even if the ground could open and sucked you in that would be nice. You could feel your face heat up and your breathing start to get shallow.

“ no need to be nervous darling….come take a seat” she spoke up again, her voice was low and dripped like honey but it had a certain roughness and firmness to it, like a soft command but you heard a little bit of exhaustion behind it as well. You found yourself obeying her order and move swiftly to sit in front of her on the chair provided, the quicker you got this over with the better. You didn’t know why you had decided to wear a short mini shirt that rested only above your upper thighs exposing your bare skin because for a moment you could have sworn that you saw her eyes lingering a little too long on your legs. When they caught your eyes again a shiver ran down your spine.

Alcina raised from her chair and slowly walked around her desk, as if she wanted to intimidate you. She carefully sat on the edge right infront of you and crossed her legs. Man she had legs for days…She studied your face for a moment before she allowed her eyes to wonder down your body. She watched how your fingers held onto your purse for dear life, how your chest heavied with every breath you took and of course you clenching your thighs shut tightly.A subtle smirk appeared on her face for a quick instant before it quickly disappeared.

“ so what brings you here today must be quite serious? My assignment says you’ve been here all morning, is that so?” She asked taking a step closer towards you, and soon you realized where the spicy smell was coming from, it was from her, her perfume was strong and it clung to you like a rope and was suffocating you. Her entire presence was intoxicating. Never once did you think an older woman could get under your skin like this….. a doctor to be exact. Well that’s a new kink unlocked for you….

Again you were broken away from your trance when a hand came in contact with your chin and pushed your head upwards.

“ what’s troubling you my dear?,you seem to keep getting lost in these thoughts up here quite often” She asked, but somehow you felt as if she already knew, obviously it was something sexual or else you would not be here. You would have gone out of town to see another doctor. You felt lost for words but you didn’t wanna seem stupid so you attempted to answer her question.

“ I—I um—I’m” you quickly became a stammering mess and quickly shut your mouth in embarrassment. She smirked and pursed her lips, shaking her head, either in encouragement or disappointment either way the gesture made your thighs clench tighter.

“ take your time darling” she interrupted, her grip on your chin tightening as her hand slowly creeped downwards to your neck. You swallowed again and squirmed in your seat.

“ I’m having trouble masturbating…..” you finally blurted out, closing your eyes shut tight expecting her to laugh or do something to match with your awkwardness but inside she just remained still and, now you felt even more stupid for closing your eyes. Alcina released your chin pivoted to retrieve a small note pad from her desk, quickly scribbling something down before putting it back down in it’s before position.

“ is that it? What do you have trouble with specifically?” She asked kneeling in front of you as her hand snaked their way up your calves then up towards your thighs, you almost jumped out of your body and her hands came to an immediate halt.

“ hey, I’m not here to make you feel comfortable ok? I’m here to help, you’re a bit tense I want you to relax ok?” She asked, almost like a whisper and you nodded.

“ use your words baby” she said firmly and you sighed.

“ yes doctor” you replied a little too loud. You cringed internally at your volume choice and hide your face in the palm of your hands. But Alcina quickly tore them away and placed them back down at your sides.

“ good girl” she purred. She gave you a pushing look which made you remember her question. You tried to think of a way to tell her your sexual problems without sounding weird but nothing was coming to mind.

“ I can’t explain it….” You whispered shyly slouching down into the chair. Alcina chuckled and looked up at you through her lashes.

“ it’s ok darling there isn’t anything I haven’t heard before and even if it is I’m sure I can find a way to work around it, I’ve been in this job for over 30 years I’m no stranger to anything, I’m a professional…..” she said, her tone of voice deepening on the last word which again caused you to shiver once more. You thought about it for a second and trust me her eyes are some of the most reassuring ones ever.

“ I can’t make myself cum….” You whispered. You didn’t even know if she heard it because it barely left your lips but regardless she better had because you wouldn’t be repeating yourself. She shook her head and smiled.

“ now that I can work with my love, now fill out this form and I’ll be right back, follow all instructions that’s there on the paper ok?” You nodded and she handed you a sheet of paper before exiting the room. You sighed a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding before looking down at the paper before grabbing a pen from her pen cup on the desk. You held the paper up close and began reading it’s contents. Some questions were quite reaching and definitely had some privacy concerns.

Some asked how you like having sex, where, toys or fingers, what were your kinks etc.But never the least you filled it out just in time for when the door opened again and alcina stepped through, you handed her the paper and she scanned through it with the best poker face you’ve ever seen before she hummed with contentment before she then proceeded to walk back to the door, locking it before returning back to her desk.

“ you can pull the curtains and take off your clothes, when your finished you’ll call me” she spoke, turning her computer back on as her finger moved swiftly over the keyboard. You stood still trying your best to process what she just asked you to do.

“ you need me to get naked?” You asked in slight disbelief and you watch as she nods but not looking up to properly confirm.

“ I need to do some tests” she replies when she realizes that you went quiet.

“ and what test require me to be naked?” You asked with maybe too much attitude, now you got her attention. She glanced up at you and for a moment you see her stern poker face crack and little and a glint of desire pass through her eyes, but she masks it well and cover it up with a twitch in her eyebrow.

“I’m sorry are you here to get help or ask me about my job because by all means continue I have all night my next shift doesn’t start until ten tomorrow…” the room goes quiet and the tension continues to rise until it becomes unbearable so you just comply and proceed behind the curtains and begin taking off your clothes. Then you were abruptly interrupted when alcina steps in and pulls a rollable stool infront of you. You quickly cover yourself and look away.

“ up on the bed and spread your legs” at this point you couldn’t even complain. You came here for something now you need to let her do her job. You hoped up onto the bed and pressed your back against the plastic pillow and slowly opened your legs shyly. You were honestly kind of embarrassed because you were damp down there and you didn’t know why, maybe it was the sexual tension between you both, or maybe it’s the fact that no woman has ever seen you down there before. Alcina drew her stool closer towards the edge of the bed and pulled you down by your ankles and you release an audible gasp.

She pulled out a box of gloves from her cabinet and put on a pair.

“ chose a toy and demonstrate to me how exactly you play with yourself” she hoaxed out, your breathing became more elaborated and it came out in shorten breaths, alcina sensed your hesitation so she gently caressed your ankles. You dipped two fingers down between your folds and started sliding them through your wet slits gasping quietly at the contact. You refused to make eye contact with her, she had something naturally sinful in her eyes. Your fingers took their time and dragged themselves up towards your clit, drawing out small circles around the small bud.

You eyes closes and you bite your lip as you dip two of your digits into you soaked cunt. A moan coarses its way from your throat as you slowly start pumping your fingers within yourself. You started off with a slow intense pace before you increased it going deeper and rougher, but no matter how fast you went you never seemed to reach a high or a climax, it was like walking towards something but the closer you got the further out you had to walk. The room was filled with the sound of your fingers slotting themselves in and out of your cunt and your gentle quiet moans. You fingers eventually got tired and you stopped with an exaggerated sigh.

You opened your eyes and you were met with the most lustful stare by alcina, you almost forgot where you were and seeing her lustful eyes made you tremble under her gaze.

“ ok, I can see you have a mental block mostly, your not thinking about the pleasure enough, your not touching yourself before or properly at all— have you ever had sex with anyone? Man, woman?” She asked emphasizing on the last word a tad bit too much. You shook your head and she nodded.

“ ok here’s what i want you to do, just lay back and close your eyes for me ok?” You nod and she flashes you a warm smile for the first time since you’ve entered the office and for once you had hope but you hoped you wouldn’t leave this room with a crush on your doctor because god knows that wouldn’t end well. You fixed the pillow behind yourself and layed down spreading your legs to the widest they could go. Suddenly alcina comes up to you and places a soft peck against your lips.

Your taken back by the sudden action for a second but soon enough you caught on to what she was trying to do. You kissed her back with more force and passion and she matched you in an instant. Her lips were soft but played a dangerous game, the heat of it all was getting to you. You moaned against her lips which gave her the perfect opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth without a fust. Her tongue fought against your in a battle for dominance but after a while you gave up and fully submitted to her. You loved the way her tongue felt roaming your mouth.

She then broke the kiss and began kissing her way down your neck and collarbone all the way down to your chest. She nipped at one of your nipples before pulling a bud into her mouth. She sucked gently on the bud before gently grazing her teeth on it before continuing sucking and pulling at it. You swore you felt a small thud or heartbeat in your pussy that you never felt before. She was making you feel things and it was intense. You didn’t know how to feel about it. You don’t know if you should run or hide or scream and jump.

One of you hands reached up and grabbed her hair pressing her mouth closer to you as your eyes looked down at her. As if she could sense you looking up at her eyes locked with yours. Alcina was a smart woman, skilled too, she distracted you for a moment and got you turned on so she could insert two fingers into your cunt with ease. Your eye contact with her came to an end as they now rolled back. The moan you let out was absolutely loud absolutely pornographic.

Your hands flew to something to cling onto but you ended up tearing the plastic on the bed instead, oops too that’s too damn bad. The stretch was brutal, but it felt so good, the way she filled you up was uncomfortable but you loved it. you’ve been fingering yourself for years and never once did you feel this good. It felt as if she was tearing your pussy apart but pleasure quickly subsided the pain. Alcina kissed your stomach as she continued her way down until she was face to face with your cunt. Her fingers slowly began easing their way in and out of you in a way that felt too damn good to be true.

You could feel your world spinning as your mind began to get clouded, ascending you to cloud nine.

You whimpered desperately as she slowly starts to thrust her fingers in and out of you, hitting that spot and nudging your clit every time. She’s so gentle but so rough making the pleasure build inside you slowly, burying deep in your gut and creeping up your spine. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible and you could feel a weird tingling feeling deep within your stomach and you try to shake it off as much as possible but it soon becomes unbearable. Alcina continues her work for a while before she releases her fingers and allows her mouth to take over. You feel her tongue move across your clit a few times teasing the small bud before making it’s way up and down your folds flavoring your taste.

What this woman was making you feel was nothing like what you’ve ever felt before and it was scary. Your hands flew to her hair as you tried to pull her away but she wouldn’t budge. Your back arches and you feel this overwhelming pressure building up in your lower abdomen and your entire body feels like it’s about to go up in flames at any given moment.

“ fuck— alci— doctor please i—I can’t do this, it’s too much” you breathed out before a moan over took you and your back arched again and your grip in her hair tightens. Her eyes flick up towards your and you swear you see her smirk. She’s chuckles softly and the vibration goes straight to your core. She pulls away and you feel something slimey creep it’s ts way up your thigh. You flinch and look down to see a dark tentacle submerging from alcinas back. Your eyes widen and you feel like running away for real this time but the fear feels good.

Sticky substance drips from your thigh area where it was before it makes it’s way further up your cunt.

“ I’ve always wanted to use my tentacles on someone” she purred sinfully.

“ I wanna make you cum on them til you break” she whispered. The tentacle makes it’s up up to your hole and hovers itself there for a while. It was huge, we’re talking big dick energy here, just in the form of a tentacle. It was fucking hot.

“ I want you to fuck me so bad, pleaseplease make me cum I wanna cum so bad” you became a broken record for her and you didn’t care. You needed to be stuffed you needed to be filled so good. It runs down your slit ,letting the slick suckers wake up your pussy, sliding through the sticky mess that was dripping out of your cunt. The tentacle suddenly gently slid it’s s way into your hole which caused you to prop yourself up onto your elbows and let out a soft cry of pleasure. It stretches you open so good it’s unbelievable.

You whine uncontrollably when he tentacle began thrusting fast and at a deep curved angle within you. Your muscles clench and spasm around it as the suckers brush hastily against all the best spots inside you.

“ that’s it baby I’m right here, be a really good girl and mommy will reward you” you manage to hear alcina say as another one of your whines overshadows the room. The tentacle fucks into your pussy at a fast pace and you feel your walls closing in. The squelching noise was driving you insane. The slithering slimey feeling of being fuck and stuffed by a tentacle was unmatched. Alcina used her finger to help you climax faster by rubbing your clit at a fast pace.

“ oh my fucck—feels so fucking good” you cry as you felt how the tentacle had now curved itself in you, kissing you cervix at just the right angle and pace, you looked down to see the most beautiful sight of alcina focused on rubbing tight circles around your clit to the little tummy bulge that was evident on you lower abdomen. Alcina spreads your legs a little wider getting the tentacle a deeper access in you and your eyes roll back as you grabbed the plastic. You feel your body spasm and trash against the bed as the feeling of what felt like cumming and squirting completely took over you.

You felt as your pussy clenched down hard against the tentacle causing it to flatten and squirm inside you. Your back arches a little when your juices shoot out from you as you squirted. You feel the tentacles release their own juices inside you before taking their time exiting you and disappearing. You looked up at Alcina who was smirking down at you.

“ you came here not knowing how to simply cum and now you just learned how to squirt naturally? Fast learner I must say” she gets up and pushes the stool away, she takes your hand in hers and sits you up on the bed.

“ I’ll see you on Thursday for a follow up session” she said with the smirk of the devil….. you walked out of the office with shaking legs and small bruises along your inner thighs but you couldn’t be more eager for Thursday to approach….

#lady alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #kinktober smut fanfic #kinktober fanfics 2024 #tentacle smut fanfic #tentacle smut

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saltynsassy31 · 2 months ago

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Full disclaimer, I have to read any of the fics written for Shockwave and the kids yet as I've been busy and off Tumblr for a bit for my own mental health lol

But I recently saw a photo of an abandoned carousel in some underground area filled with puddles and it reminded me of that one deleted scene from Detroit: Become Human where the Jerry's make a broken carousel work again for Alice and they all just watched her happily play on it as the world around them crumbled.

And, with that thought, it also reminded me of Shockwave and the kids and I simply HAD to write a small drabble fic of it. Sorry if it isn't accurate for the characters or the story already made, but I hope it's enjoyed regardless :3

And, I hope, with all the angst going on, this fluffy story will satisfy yall a bit XD

[This is the post I saw that inspired me to write this, if anyone wants a visual of the place: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DGog_W_vDiR/?igsh=b3FsYm50enJhM3ln ]

AU belongs to @keferon

Carousel

~☆~

As the days went by, the situation they all found themselves in was slowly starting to get far too real. It was fun, at first, running around abandoned buildings and scavenging for whatever they could find, spending time with their newly acquired aquatic dad friend who kept them safe and well fed.

But then things started to show up and it scared them. Shockwave tried to avoid the areas with the most floating bodies, the children having seen enough of that (and he hoped they hadn't seen any they would recognise), but every now and then something would float up and startle them. Other times they'd run into bigger problems while scavenging and they had far too many close calls for Shockwave's liking.

They tend to keep themselves entertained, for the most part. Shockwave only occasionally indulged. But, usually, he could simply gently float on the surface of the water and let the kids tire themselves out. However, they've become more quiet lately.

It was hard to tell what caused it. Could be a myriad of things, as listed before, maybe it was finally starting to dawn on them how the situation was far from ideal. Maybe it was the conversation they had with that Orca - Jazz, was it? Shockwave couldn't tell, and it bothered him.

He missed their lively chatter (it still happened, but few and far between). A part of him was starting to wonder if the humans who called him out on the fact that this wasn't normal behaviour for human children were right, a small pang of regret reaching the back of his mind.

But he shook those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. Nothing about their situation was normal anyway, he was already providing more than enough for them to survive this cruel world.

Shockwave was aggressively pulled out of his drifting thoughts by an ear piercing screech that immediately put him on high alert.

“Guys! Guys! Look!” He heard Skids say. Turning to look at him, he followed where the boy was pointing at.

It looked to be some kind of fair or theme part, it was a little hard to tell. Half of it was submerged, but there were some areas in which the water had receded. Shockwave relaxed once he deemed the situation safe, but still gave a small scrutinising glare at Skids for causing unnecessary concern - which went, of course, completely ignored.

“Oh wow, it looks pretty banged up, huh?” Tc noted, crawling closer to the edge of Shockwave's back to get a better look.

“But there might still be some things left over. You know how much they tend to sell in these places? And now we can just snag them!” Warp argued, already getting excited at the thought.

“Do we really need more useless things to carry around?” Trailbreaker argued, the bag he carried strangely heavier on his back.

“There are other things we could do there.” Skids quickly chimed in. “We could check out some of the games they have.”

“Would there be any still working?”

“Carnival games easy to fix, Soundwave up to the task.”

They all turned to look at Soundwave, seemingly to silently fall into an agreement.

Warp turned to face Shockwave, clasping his hands together as he pleaded. “Can we go there? Pretty pleaaaase?” Before he could even answer, the others had joined them.

He wasn't going to say no. This was the exact type of fun distraction they needed, maybe it would help them go back to their usual, energetic selves. So the theatrics were unnecessary. Still, he couldn't help the small amusement it brought him. He pretended to think it over, as if he didn't already have their answer.

“Hmm, I don't know…”

Those simple words were enough to make them all Start to plead harder, making their eyes as big as possible, throwing promises he knew they'd never actually follow through.

That broke the façade he was trying to play up, causing him to laugh. “Alright, alright. We can go.” The kids erupted into celebratory cheers, hugging each other and jumping on Shockwave's back. “But don't stray so far where I can't reach you, okay?”

They all nodded, but he only had trust in some of them to actually obey his orders.

Regardless, he swam over to the abandoned park and waited until they had slid off of him before crawling over onto land. The ground was still pretty wet, so it made it easier for him to slide around and follow them, keeping himself to the more deeper puddles when possible.

He watched as they all went to different directions with their own, small group. Tc and Warp, always tied to the hip, ran over to some of the stands that still had some prizes hanging. Windcharger and Trailbreaker followed Damus as he ran to play some of the games that didn't require power to work. And Skids and Soundwave went…

Where did they go?

Panic immediately followed the realisation. Shockwave stood up straighter and began to spin his head around in search of the two missing kids. The others didn't seem to have noticed their absence, too enthralled in their own activity.

He was about to start calling when he heard a familiar boisterous voice call from not too far. “Guys! Over here! Come see what me and Soundwave just discovered!”

Immediately, all of the attention was on Skids who had a smile so wide Shockwave was worried he'd hurt himself with it. The others looked at each other briefly before making their way over, Damus hesitating a bit before putting down the fishing rod he held and following the rest.

Shockwave did so as well, to the best of his abilities anyway. The further they went, the tighter the space became and less water reached the surface for him to easily slide around. He wanted to voice his complaint of them going too far, like he had explicitly told them not to before coming here (and really, he thought Warp would have disobeyed first before Soundwave. Skids made sense, but him?) But before he could even think of what to say, Skids noticed his struggle and seemed to remember something.

“Oh, right! Almost forgot.” He jogged over to the mer shark and gently grabbed at one of his fingers to guide him elsewhere. “There's an opening that takes you directly to the area we found. You have to swim underneath some rubble, but it should fit you.”

The boy took him to some dilapidated attraction of the park, it was too broken to tell what it used to be, but it did create an opening that allowed Shockwave to fit through perfectly fine. “Just swim straight ahead and it should take you to the area, we'll meet you there.”

Immediately, Shockwave didn't like that idea, and he didn't need to voice his thoughts for the teen to catch on, his glare doing the job just fine. “It'll be fine, don't worry! It's not that far. Less than a minute, probably less than a second for you since you're so big you'll just have to slide in and out. Besides, there's nothing here, the place is completely barren.”

Shockwave was still unconvinced.

Skids took to pleading. “Please! It'll be quick, I promise you. And worth it too! It's the exact thing we've been needing, and Soundwave put a lot of work on it. I know you don't like leaving us alone for even a second, but give it a chance?”

They stared at each other for a moment, Skids making his eyes as wide and innocent as possible and Shockwave hoping the stubborn teen would dispel this idea with his glare alone.

In the end, Skids guppy eyes were far too powerful even for a great shak such as Shockwave. And the kid was right, wasn't this what he wanted for them to begin with?

He let out a heavy sigh of defeat and reluctantly agreed to it. “Fine. I trust you, but if anything shows up–”

“We don't engage with it and call for you, yes, I know. Now go! Soundwave is waiting!” Skids ushered Shockwave to submerge himself into the large opening with the wave of his hands and only joined back with the others once he could no longer see the large mer.

One relief Shockwave had was that the tunnel formed was large enough that he could easily turn around and pop back out if he heard any of the kids in danger, though it also lacked any proper escape for him as it only had one direction for him to go. Straight ahead or backwards.

But Skids was right in saying the trip was short, he could already hear the muffled voices of his children. Soon enough, he found himself resurfacing, the lively chatter being the first thing his senses picked up on.

When the children heard the splash of water, they all turned to look towards the source of the noise, their excitement almost blindingly radiat in contrast to the dark, murky room they found themselves in.

The place was closed off by fallen buildings that created a sort of cave around them, plenty of fauna already making its home here. It was fairly empty as well, save for the large, round attraction in the middle of the room. It had horses stuck to poles inside it, a dim pink and gold decorating the whole thing, the paintings that littered it had long since faded and it was hard to tell what it once was.

“Okay, you're here, good.” Skids turned to Soundwave, who was standing next to what looked to be a control panel. “Soundwave, would you do us the honours?”

The other teen nodded, bending down to start pulling at some wires in place of pressing the buttons offered. Warp scoffed, crossing his arms and looking skeptically at his friend. “There's no power here, how in the world are you going to get it to work? I swear, if you brought us all the way here for nothing I–”

Before he could finish his sentence, a blast of music and light echoed loudly around the empty space, causing everyone to flinch back and cover their ears. Shockwave nervously looked around, worried that the loud noise might have attracted some unwanted attention. Once the shock faded, Skids ran up to Soundwave and gestured proudly at the now working carousel.

“Ta-da!”

“Wh…how is this possible!?” Warp questioned, looking at Soundwave for answers, to not only be ignored, but shoved around by the other kids who ran towards the attraction. “Seriously?! Is no one else even a little bit concerned on how this is possible?”

Tc placed a hand over his shoulder, bringing his attention to him. “Warp, just enjoy the miracle. When are we going to get another chance like this?”

Warp could only grumble. Tc was right, they wouldn't, not for a long time. That didn't mean he had to accept it though.

Shockwave watched as they all walked over and picked their favourite horse, Tc and Skids fighting over the same blue one before Trailbreaker broke their fight up and offered his to Tc, walking up to help Damus up and sit with him instead. Shockwave observed the way Soundwave continued to pick at the control panel and looked up at the other children, waiting for their confirmation that they were ready before clicking something and closing the panel. As soon as he did that, the carousel began to slowly move, the horses bobbing up and down in gentle motions, causing the kids to excitedly cheer.

Soundwave stepped on the moving platform while it was still picking up speed and sat on a random horse near Windcharger. Although not as vocal as the others, he was clearly enjoying it.

Shockwave couldn't quite get what was so entertaining about the thing. It was slow, even after it picked up some speed, and the music was painful to the ears. But that didn't quite matter, did it? They were happy, and they were having fun.

It clearly was something they knew about before the tsunami, before their civilization fell apart. A simple joy of life that they missed.

And, in a world dimmed by tragedy and destruction, where at every corner something threatens their very existence, isn't that all they could ask for?

So, in a small moment of peace, Shockwave let himself relax. He bent forward and rested his chin over his crossed arms and watched as his children sang along with the screechy music, bouncing on their fake horses and pretending they were in some high chase in their little imaginary world.

In this dreary reality, even the artificial light of a broken past could make it all worth it.

#fanfic #apocalyptic ponyo #transformers au #shockwave #skids #thundercracker #skywarp #damus #trailbreaker #windcharger #soundwave #dude i have no fucking idea what possessed me to write this #besides the pure power that that deleted scene in d:bh did to me all those years ago when I first saw it #literally like #i woke up. opened instagram. saw that post and IMMEDIATELY opned my google docs #i didnt even eat breakfast yet! just now did i leave my bed #i need the spirit that possessed me to write this possess me again because i have several fics i need to finish LMAO #also ugh i cant take the angst #i got physically ill at how sad i got i had to write something fluffy for this au XD

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lets-get-kraken-boys · 9 months ago

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Yandere Class 1-A X Reader — { PART 2 }: We’ve Got Company~

(Description: Titles are hard, okay? Please don’t shame me for how cheesy it is because I know it's corny LOL. But I make up for it with decent writing! I POPPED OFF with some of these parts.

We all know this by now, but it’s safe to say (Y/N) is too trusting of EVERYONE. The amount of people I keep making them blindly and wholly give their faith to is…concerning. I know you guys probably want them to fight back more, but it’s hard when I haven’t labeled them with a specified Quirk. I wanted to leave it up to you guys to give them the attributes they have in your minds without spoon-feeding you every single choice (Y/N) makes. Sooooo, it suffers a little bit with the repetitiveness of this constant back and forth getting pulled every which way. It’s also difficult when there are so many characters to cover.

I am not complaining about it though! I am extremely proud of this story and am very happy with the outcome. I just hope you guys love it as much as I do. Plusss, it’s kinda nice to imagine being a princess stolen away at every opportunity by handsome/gorgeous suitors teehee!)

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

Original Concept - [Mommabean’s OG Story] → Here

Part I - [My first addition] → Here

Part II → You’re here!

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Style of Story: Sequel Oneshot // This story is a continuation of Momma’s Yandere Class 1-A Purge short story. I have written a previous part to this, so please check it out to understand what is happening!; Yandere Purge! If you don’t know what that is, go take a look at @yanderemommabean’s original works of it on her page, all is explained there; Many of MHA’s adults are included here, but I don’t want to spoil who exactly is in the story, so that is all you get so far~!

Word Count: 24K

WARNING(s): Swearing; physical fighting and threats (threats aren’t made at (Y/N), nor are they hurt beyond bruising); there is a brief mention of rape and sexual assault—it is not gone into heavily or in detail, but you need to know it is there; mental and emotional manipulation to the reader; bending of MHA’s storyline and the events currently happening (mainly regarding the setting, timeline, and people’s aliveness LMAO) to fit (Y/N) into the story but bear with me; some unrealistic interactions are going to happen in this fic because to get everyone together in a setting like this is near impossible; All of Class 1-A’s students are aged up to third years & everyone is 18 or older // I AM WRITING THEM AS IF THEY ARE IN CLASS 3-A NOW FYI!

[PLEASE NOTE: I DO NOT SUPPORT YANDERE TENDENCIES IN REAL LIFE!!! Do not confuse my writing this subject as encouraging it, there is a difference between reading/writing yandere stories V.S real-life situations. Please, if someone in your life is behaving like a character(s) in this story (i.e. obsessive, possessive, controlling, abusive, psychotic, sociopathic, LIKE A WACKADOO, etc.) get immediate help! That behavior in the real world is not romantic, sweet, or NORMAL! Stay aware, stay safe.]

Unable to leave without one final gloat, Shinsou turns back to smirk at the students, “All of you were wrong earlier, by the way. It’s me, dumbasses.”

Suddenly, a cocky voice chuckles from behind the mind-controlling boy, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, kid~...”

As reluctant as Shinsou is to say this, a tiny shiver runs down his back. Coming from the busted-up entrance of the gymnasium, Aizawa’s voice rings out like a bell. Your current threat swivels around to face the intruder. Even though his recognizable voice is a dead giveaway, seeing him actually standing there in the rubble draws a sigh of relief out of you. You don’t know whether to cry, smile, or scream for his help; either way, it’s just a nice change of pace to see his usual disheveled appearance and relaxed stature. At least something has remained consistent on this hellish evening.

Though, something sensible clicks in your mind. Thinking back on all the strong-willed friends you lost in the fight against this disease, you realize there’s a strong chance that even your own teacher has fallen victim to its siren call. As much as you’d like to go running into his comforting embrace and wail about how horribly your classmates have been treating you the past few hours, you bite your tongue and stay complacent in Hitoshi’s arms. Not like you could voice many of your concerns with the makeshift gag still sat across your mouth.

“Damn,” Shinsou mutters to himself before perking up to meet his instructor's eye with a devious glint in his eye, “Mr. Aizawa. Good to see—,” Before the boy could finish his greeting, the stoic hero held up his hand, his palm facing Shinsou.

“Save the pleasantries. You’d think after all these years of one-on-one training you’d realize I can read you like an open book. Your expressions continue to give your intentions away too easily. So cut the crap.” Shinsou's false smile drops quicker than it appeared. Aizawa leisurely waltzes into the room, closing in on the both of you.

Aizawa continues his analysis with a sigh, “And I wouldn’t try that little gimmick with me. I’m not like my students over there,” he vaguely points behind the two of you to the group.

“I’m your mentor. All the tricks you have up your sleeve are hardly even interesting choices to me anymore. I should know, I taught them all to you, after all.” He chuckled to himself.

“Did you come here just to nag my ear off about how you’re so much better than me, or because you have something actually important to say? ‘Cause, if it's the former, I can’t stay and chat. I’ve got some pretty precious cargo in my hands at the moment.” Shinsou brags, hoisting you further up into his arms, forcing a garbled complaint from you.

“Watch your tone, brat.” Aizawa glares at the snarky comeback his student possessed. Hm. So, Hitoshi thinks he’s hot shit because he won against a handful of decently strong opponents? Well, that’s just fine. He’s used to putting cocky bastards in their place.

“I’ve come to offer you a deal of sorts. We can either speak about it rationally, or,” he shines a leering grin, “I can use my quirk on you, and you can say goodbye to the hold you have over your classmates right now. How do you think you’d fare against 19 pissed-off pro heroes?” This time, you can actually feel Shinsou shutter at the sinister tone your teacher leans into. His reaction makes sense. The idea of irrational, infected, superhuman, edgy teens hunting you down fighting isn’t a pleasant one. Not just one of them either, a whole damn fleet of them. You’d be shaking in your boots too.

“Since I’m nice, I’ll let you decide,” Aizawa has a bored look on his face again as he runs a hand through the inky mop of hair atop his head. A few seconds lurch by before Shinsou caves.

“Fine, old-timer. I’ll hear you out.” Shinsou reluctantly agrees. He knows he could take on a few of them at once in combat, but as soon as the heavy hitters join the fight—it’ll be over. He’d much rather join forces with his instructor than be betrayed by the greedy moochers residing in his class. Shinsou knows that if some of them had the chance, they’d steal you with no hesitation or regret. He’ll just have to sit and see what the idea Aizawa wants to propose is.

The two of them walk towards each other. A meeting held face-to-face in the middle of the gymnasium.

“I should honestly reprimand you guys for how shittily you’ve treated (L/N) this evening. It’s absurd how ragged you’ve been running them. Absolutely unacceptable. Maybe I should even expel the lot of you after the Purge ends.” Wait, Aizawa could see you too? What, is your peril being broadcasted on live television for the world to see or something?!

“Hey, don’t lump me with those barbarians,” Shinsou pulled back in a look of grievance, “I waited until everything was calm to strike. They were the ones who made (Y/N) run around like a headless chicken.” He tossed his head back to the hypnotized horde.

“Hm. We’ll discuss it as a class later.” Aizawa coughs into his fist.

“Fine. Now, what’s this deal you’ve thought up?” Shinsou prompts the conversation.

“Right. It’s about—,” Aizawa is interrupted by his cautious student.

“(Y/N). Am I right?” Shinsou jumps to the conclusion rather abruptly.

Aizawa glares, “Don’t interrupt someone while they’re talking, Shinsou. It’s rude.”

“But you did that to me not ev—,”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Aizawa purposefully cuts him off, “And yes. It’s about them.”

“Hmph,” Shinsou narrows his eyes at the mention of you, “what do you want with them?”

“Not quite the right question. Change that to more like what can we do for them,” Aizawa twists the words to better fit his narrative.

Intrigued, Hitoshi takes the bait, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is I don’t want to outright take them from you,” he shifts his weight to the other foot, “I want to make a deal to share them with you.”

Shouta continues, “Aoyama and his group had a good idea teaming up with Izuku’s crew. Working together, especially when the stronger piers can aid the weaker links, is a much more productive way of going about things. There’s safety in numbers.” Your body freezes up at his words. You connect the dots that he heard, or possibly even saw that whole ordeal. How? Where was he viewing from? Did he watch on a security camera? It’s a likely theory, the school is littered with them. You thought Denki killed the power earlier with his quirk. Or, with a more chilling idea, was he actually there? Physically in the vicinity? How was he nearby, could hear and see the whole event, and you didn’t notice him? Why didn’t he help you? Or, at least, intervene? Your mind is muddled with questions, but the two press on with their conversation.

“Sharing, huh? Thought you liked working alone.” Shinsou prodded, skeptical of the plan.

“Some missions call for an extra set of hands.” Aizawa cooly replied.

“I’m not sure. Not too big on the idea of letting go of them.” Shinsou pulled your bundled-up form closer to his chest. It’s like he’s a little kid—red in the face because of frustration, fighting to keep his stuffie all to himself as an adult asks him to share it with the other kids.

“I’m not asking you to fully let go of them, kid. Just enough so I can take care of them too. They’re a bit of a handful, as I’m sure you’ve no doubt figured out by now,” you whip your head to scowl at him and heatedly shout muffled curses at him, “Heh. My bad, kitten, but it’s true. The trouble your presence kicks up is a lot to handle, even for a pro.” You feel your face heat up in embarrassment at his words. Not that it wasn’t obvious before, but it’s safe to say he is infected as well.

“Plus, what will you do when you can’t control the rest of the students? You and I both know that your quirk doesn’t last forever, and your control is slowly dwindling away, even as we speak. I could help you fend them off, if it comes to it.” Shouta observed. He has a natural way of being extremely persuasive, doesn’t he?

Shinsou isn’t exactly thrilled to give you up, he’d much rather stake his claim on you by himself. His company should be more than enough to fill your time! He doesn’t want time with you to be shared with others he doesn’t approve of. Though…Aizawa isn’t exactly untrustworthy. Hitoshi definitely trusts him more than someone as hazardous as Bakugo, or as miserable to be around as Monoma. He’s a great teacher, even though he’s kind of a hardass. Someone he looks up to. Maybe they could give it a shot? After all, if it doesn’t work out, there’s still plenty of Purge time left for him to find somewhere else to hide and drag you off to when Aizawa isn’t looking.

“Okay. We’ll give your idea a go.” Shinsou begrudgingly complied.

“Good choice, kid.” Aizawa’s lips twitch upward into a minuscule grin. Yet again, your own fate is taken away from you as the two of them close in, grasp hands, and shake to signify the agreement.

“Ooohhh~! What a touching truce, cuties~,” a sugary-sweet voice curls around the boys’ conversation like a hazy morning fog.

“Huh—!” Shinsou isn’t fast enough to react to the intruder as he feels all his senses numb. A dreadfully sweet smell, the same kind of sugary tang that was laced throughout the woman’s voice, invades his nose. It should be disgusting, it should make him sick to his stomach, but the candied scent is nothing short of divine. It’s like nothing he's ever smelled before. It honestly makes him want to inhale more. Which is an action he subconsciously commits, sealing his fate. Shinsou’s legs grow wobbly as he starts to lose feeling all over his body. As unpleasant as he wants it to feel, as he begs it to feel, all he can recognize is a cozy warmth clouding his better judgment. Through the mental and physical struggle, he remembers you’re still sitting prettily in his swiftly weakening arms. He panics, afraid he’s going to, or that he has already dropped you. He glances down.

Well…you used to be there. You’re not anymore.

Shinsou groans, crashing to his knees. He scans the surrounding floor, looking for any trace of you, but you’re nowhere to be found. Good news is he didn’t drop you like an idiot. Bad news is someone else has their disgusting hands all over you. That thought makes him want to pick off his own flesh cell by cell, but there’s nothing he can do except lay on the ground and reluctantly drift in and out of consciousness.

“Too bad you’re not as lovely as our sweetheart here. Otherwise, you’d be my plaything too~,” the woman giggles, “But, oh well. Pleasant dream, honey~,” she coos at the purple-haired boy. You’re beyond floored at how quickly Shinsou was subdued, considering the quick work he made of the other students. Curious as ever, you shot your head back and forth to identify who stole the show this time.

The owner of the saccharine voice turned out to be none other than Midnight, your art history and overly-sexual pro hero mentor. She giggles to herself, watching her prey twitch and squirm in retaliation against her quirk on the floor, “While struggling normally is my favorite part of the foreplay, I wouldn’t advise it this time, dear~. Somnambulist isn’t easy to win against. It’s a much more potent sleep agent than your little quirk could ever dream of being.”

“Love that energy, Midnight! Smooth work,” a boisterous voice slices through your eardrums. You cringe at the volume, recognizing that borderline shriek. The person who is now capturing your body is Present Mic! What the hell are all three of your teachers doing here?! Shouldn’t they be like normal people and hide from the Purge?

As if reading your mind, Aizawa coughs to grab his coworkers’ attention, “That was completely unnecessary of you two. A little excessive too. I told you both I could handle the situation on my own. What’re you doing here?”

“Jeez! So cold!” Mic’s voice danced up and down in pitch, “Don’t be so frosty with us, Eraser! We just wanted to help!”

“Yes,” Midnight purred, the click click of her skyscraper-length stilettos stabbing the shellacked ground echoed across the rubble-covered floor, “you think us so shallow! You act as if we thought you couldn’t take care of this, dear. All we believed was it’s nice to have some support on the field, yes~?”

Aizawa, always as sharp as a knife, caught onto their plan effortlessly, “You two just couldn’t wait to get your grubby hands on them, could you?” The two opposing teachers choked on the air in their lungs as he saw through their lies. They fumbled the next few words that streamed out of their mouths, trying desperately through the stutters to justify their cause and deter his wit.

“I see. Hmm…whatever. Either way, you two never fail to overdo it,” Aizawa grumbles to himself, his chin sinking further into the comfort of his scarf, “I guess I’ll need some assistance dealing with the rest of my students over there. They won’t remain hypnotized for much longer now that Shinsou’s down—I’d rather not have to start a physical fight when there’s no need.”

“Oooh~,” Midnight purred, slinking over to the slowly reawakening crowd, “leave this to me, loves~!” The woman proceeded to unleash another plum of her drunkening quirk right as the class snapped out of their haze. You watched as they fell one by one to the floor in sudden exhaustion. Even the strong-willed one couldn’t escape the fate of her noxious gas, dropping limply to the floor in a dreamless slumber.

“Aww, they’re so sweet when they’re not getting in our way.” Mic snickered.

“Mic. Watch it,” Aizawa’s laid-back indifference swiftly shifted into his scary steely gaze as he warned his rambunctious coworker to stop his prattling.

“Whaaaat~??? You gotta admit, your hooligans sure made our night a lot harder!” Hizashi pouted in frustration.

‘When am I gonna catch a break from these…these…wait. What…the…,’ your thoughts slowly lose their path in your head, your mind-numbing and slipping away from coherent ideas. Your limbs feel like the thickest cement in the world when you try to move them. It’s too tough, too much work—and sleeping sounds like a fantastic idea. You’re just so tired. You start to heave for oxygen as if your lungs can never get enough air inside of them. You’re trying so hard to stay awake because you know in the back of your brain as delicious as stopping your fighting to rest sounds, something doesn’t feel right. You can’t remember why. Eventually, it becomes too difficult to keep your head up on your own, so you rest it against Mic’s open shoulder.

Hizashi immediately stops bickering against the stoic man in front of him as he feels your head plop onto his shoulder. Now that his attention is drawn back to you, he realizes you weren’t squirming around as much as he’d expected you to. He knows even past the lingering virus flooding his veins you wouldn’t give in to their advances so easily—as nice as that would have been—so he devotes all his attention to your slumped frame.

“Hey, you alright, doll?” he cranes his head down to catch your unfocused eyes. He jostles the shoulder you were resting on a bit, trying to reel you back from wherever your mind had floated off to, and that seemed to help a little. You tried to talk, but the gag prevented any words from coming out. Catching the barrier, he beckoned his partner in crime over with a quick tilt of his head and a quiet, “Help me get this thing off their mouth, Shouta.”

Without hesitation, your concerned homeroom teacher stepped over and peeled off the tape as gently as he could. Your mouth now freed, you let out an unconscious whine of relief, showing a small bit of happiness at having some bit of freedom back.

“What did you say, sweets?” Mic pressed yet again.

“Mmhn…I…uhm…mmm…nnh,” you mindlessly babbled in a soft voice.

“Come on, (Y/N). How do you feel right now?” Aizawa coaxed, his worry over you hiking higher at your unresponsiveness.

“Hmmm…just…tired…I think…mnnn,” Your eyes couldn’t stay open. They opted to flutter close every time no matter how much Mic shimmed around in an attempt to keep you conscious.

“Tired. Hizashi—Midnight’s quirk.” Aizawa said as he caught Hizashi’s fear-filled gaze. Both of their anxiety floated back down at the deduction. You must’ve breathed in too much of the secondhand smoke of the pro hero’s quirk. After all, it is quite potent against those who haven’t experienced it much before. Mic’s jostling changed into more of a rocking motion, trying to lull you further into that blissful rest.

“Ohhhh. Honeycakes! That’s okay—it’s perfectly fine if you need some rest. It’s been a tough day for our snuggle bunny,” he uttered, affectionately nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

“I heard you say my name, Eraser. What’s…oh!” Midnight stopped her sentence when her eyes fell on you. Then, all she could do was squeal at the sight of your sleepy state. She shoved Aizawa out of the way, bent down to your level, and squeezed herself as close to you as she could. She was giggling and chirping in delight at how “adorable” and “absolutely, irresistibly, undeniably cute” you were.

“Awwwwhn~~~!!!” her voice curled up in pitch, her fingers smoothing your loose hairs behind your ear and stroking down your warm cheek, “You are just the sweetest lil’ thing~!! Mommy’s precious angel~. What’s happened, Zashi?” Midnight tilted her gaze up to the blond for an explanation.

He grinned, “Just breathed too much of your quirk in, s’all.”

Midnight loftily snickered, “I see. Glad we were here to take care of them!” In all honesty, she’s beyond pleased that out of any one of her coworkers, her quirk affected you the most. In a way, she saw that as she had the most influence on you—or, in other words, the most power over you. In her eyes, she saw it as you giving yourself to her. Willingly and unafraid. Midnight’s heart is cartwheeling and running laps because she sees this as you caring about her so much that you’d serve her in such a magnificent way. She could eat you up and still be searching for seconds. You’re just perfect for her in every way, shape, and form. Aizawa’s nagging drags her out of her less than innocent desires over you filling her head.

“You need to be more careful about how much of your quirk you release in the future, Midnight.” Aizawa scolds, but scorn is practically nonexistent in his voice. It’s hard to be angry at the effects you’ve been put under when the outcome makes you look so helplessly cute. He’d never admit it, but he’s envious of her quirk, when it can turn you so easily into this version of yourself. The dilated, doe-eyed look your eyes hold as they drift up to see him makes the words die a little in his throat. Perhaps the lecture he was going to give her can wait a little.

“Ahh, I will, Eraserhead. But first, we should head off for that safe spot we arranged with the others.” Midnight commented towards the men while still keening over your dopey state.

“W…Wait,” you grumbled out in a meek voice, “noo…no. I d-don’t…,” your words fell off into babbling mumbles again. It was torture to try and evade her quirk’s effects like this, but you were steadfast in wanting to fight. To flee their unwanted embrace and be alone. But all they did was coo at your brave efforts. Oh, they knew just the perfect things to say to make you feel like you were a mere baby to them. How inadvertently insulting.

“Ssh shh shh~. Awh, I know, honey~. You just feel so tired~,” Midnight sang in a baby-talk tone of voice, brushing the top of your head with the palm of her hand. It was weird, you couldn’t figure out if she saw you as her child or prey. Maybe both. That scares you. Maybe you don’t want to find out any more.

“Don’t worry, sweetie! We’ve got you,” though less scary than the woman currently pinning you, Mic’s mischievous lilt of tone didn’t skate by your observative nature. His eyes seem…darker than when you’d looked at them during one of his happy-go-lucky lectures. Like he was hiding the truth of his words behind a cobweb-like veil of deceit. In fact, Mic was resembling a conniving spider—which made you the ditzy butterfly falling for his web of a trap.

Lethargic and thoroughly worn out from both her quirk and all the running you’ve done, you finally give up. Your body feels warm and tingly, making sleep all the easier to give in to. As darkness flooded your vision and your consciousness finally dove away, Aizawa’s voice filled your ears, “See you soon, (Y/N).”

~ Timeskip ~

Sick. That’s all you felt as the darkness that consumed your thoughts and vision slowly faded. Sick to your stomach. Aching all over. You felt like you were a flimsy shirt thrown into a clothes dryer and left to spin over and over again for three cycles too long.

You tilted your head a bit and promptly groaned at the wave of nausea that swamped your brain. Such a subtle movement caused your whole world to crash sideways into an abysmal painscape. It was like you were zipping around on the shittiest, most rickety roller coaster you’d ever rode. You wanted nothing more than to get off.

All this to say—ow. What the fuck, brain? Why do you hurt me so? That’s all your mind could conjure up at the moment—insults to your own organs—because it hurts too much to think rationally. That was one hell of a shitty rest. It has to be one of the top five worst naps you’ve ever taken. You’ll have to whine about it to Denki after class today, maybe you’ll get some sympathy candy for your brave efforts. Denki…why does it feel like something important happened that he was a part of? Hmm…you can’t put your finger on it right now. Everything’s too drowsy at the moment for logic to be considered. Your eyes are still begrudgingly shut as you twist your torso around, trying to get comfortable again.

That’s the moment you started to become more aware of the outside world around you. Noises of chatter hung in the air like a nagging mosquito. The more you paid attention to the continuous sounds, the more irritating they became. Who was talking so damn much, and why were they making it your problem? Couldn’t they see you were a sick person in need of some goddamn peace and quiet? But, that’s just Class 3-A life, you suppose. None of them ever know when to shut the fuck up. Well, this time, they’d learn! They’d get a piece of your “hungover” mind.

“Oi…,” you grunted out, a snarl vehemently leaking into your tone, “Can’t you guys pipe down?! I’m sorta in the middle of trying to sleep off a nasty headache.”

Maybe your words stung the culprits a bit too much as you heard the room slow to a deathlike silence. No blistering insults were flung back at you from the resident hellhound of Class 3-A Bakugou, no chortles from the jokesters of the bunch, no profuse apologies from the worrywarts—nothing. Just…silence. I mean, you guess that’s the result you wanted; but the tense atmosphere you created is rapidly making you regret your flippant decision.

The encroaching fear made your mind real back to the very moment you woke up. You began rational plotting out the questions that swarmed your mind like hornets to their nest. Wait, where were you again? What time is it? Why do you feel so ill? Why can’t your brain remember what the date is? Something really important was happening before you passed out related to time…passed out. Hold on—that’s right, you passed out!

What the fuck.

You passed out due to what—no…due to who?

Unease finally getting the better of you, you peeped up again, but presenting a much meeker tone this time, “U-Um…guys? Look, I’m…God, I’m sorry for lashing out. I just—my head hurts like hell, I’m sore all over my everywhere, and I don’t know what’s—haannhh…ow, ow, ouch.” As you spewed out the poorly constructed apology, you steadily sat up from whatever hard surface you’d been resting on. The stiff rest stop made you all that more unnerved; it sort of felt like you were on a metal autopsy table. Cold and jarring. As if you were a poor little frog being dissected for all the insatiably curious students to see. It made you want to be swallowed whole by the floor just to escape the distress of the situation. God damnit, why is it still so hard to open your eyes?! They felt like the heaviest slab of lead welded over your eyelids. You forced them open.

Overlooking the blurriness of your vision, you could immediately tell by the general shape of the people standing in front of you that you weren’t in the presence of your beloved classmates like you thought you were.

There were multiple people in the darkened room, all with varying heights and sizes. There weren’t twenty people like how many there are in your class; their numbers were closer to ten or so. Plus, the colors of their outfits didn’t match with your friends’ hero suits you’d come to be extremely familiar with. However, you did recognize the colors and remembered who they belonged to. The answer chilled you to the bone.

You didn’t speak up again in the presence of most, if not all of, your mentors. Yes, your mentors. The adults you interacted with practically every day; who taught you every tactic you knew, who helped you to become a capable hero in the pro world. In fact, you didn’t just not talk, you slumped into yourself a bit. You were afraid. Scratch that—you were beyond afraid. You’d seen, and fought, firsthand against their wrath before. You’ve watched their fights broadcasted on the television, through shaky personally caught videos on the Internet posted by petrified civilians. You’ve worked alongside a few of them through missions and treacherous situations. Hell, you actually battle against one for the right to earn your hero license! That was a tough day, but you’d made it by the skin of your teeth—more than likely only winning because of the unimaginably heavy weights that shackled them as handicaps. In short, they were barbaric beasts on the field. Now…you’re face-to-face with their rage.

Let’s all send a brief prayer for yourself. Maybe your death will be swift and your afterlife pleasant if you beg hard enough.

“My, my, my~,” a sultry voice sang in your right ear, making you shriek at the intrusion of your personal bubble, “such a naughty-mouthed little pet~! Tell me, what brute taught you to speak to your superiors in such a disrespectful way?” It was Midnight again. She was always one to breach your boundaries, whether you wanted her to or not.

She cupped your jaw with one of her hands, pinching and squeezing your gooey cheeks with the other for her pleasure, “Ooooh, precious! How’s your whittle head~?” she cooed while smushing. She wiped away a small bit of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth, making you feel that much more like a ditzy baby. The way she played with you really did remind you of a child messing around with a delicious treat of springy mochi. Perhaps that was what you were to the ravenous woman, a delicacy to be devoured whole. You shivered in fear again.

Another person from across the room let out a high-pitched whistle, one that indicated astonishment or feeling impressed, “Wow! Brat’s got some spunk to ‘em! Good to know they haven’t switched up since we last spoke.” You weren’t as familiar with that voice as you were with your homeroom teachers, but it did strike a chord in your memory. Their youthful cheer didn’t resemble the dread-filled boredom Aizawa’s held, but they didn’t sound crude enough to be another student. Your vision clearing further was the only thing that gave their mystery identity away. It was Power Loader! It feels like forever since the two of you even acknowledged one another. Either way, he’s here now and fully decked out in his hero gear. The heavy equipment gave you a unique foreboding feeling that his abilities weren’t just all that meets the eye.

“Midnight, step aside, please.” A mellow voice takes control of the conversation. Midnight looks over her shoulder in disdain, as if the very notion of her being politely asked to leave your side is the most disrespectful thing someone could have asked her to do, but it seems that whoever popped the question meant real business. She stepped aside with a huff of frustration, mumbling under her breath curses, and something along the lines of ‘the gall’.

Once she moved, the requester hopped onto the table where you sat. They pushed into your personal space as well. You opted to lean back as much as the encroacher would allow you. From the astronaut-resembling helmet that donned their head and the puffy jacket they wore, you came to the obvious conclusion that this was 13, another member of the faculty here at UA.

She moved your head—left to right, up and down, and in a full circle. She checked all around the front of your body, and basically anywhere that you allowed her to get close to. 13 looked back deeply into your eyes before twisting back to face the bunch, “They don’t appear to be physically hurt on the outside. No scrapes, cuts, sprains, or anything broken. All that I could really deduct was their dilated pupils, meaning the effects of Somnambulist are still present,” 13 whirled forward to you, “Feeling at all hazy, woozy, or tired, (Y/N)?”

You simply stared back at the expressionless black mask 13 wore. You didn’t know what to say—half because you were uncomfortable at how close she was, and half because you were still bracing yourself to get your ass beat by the less merciful of the teachers. Your mind is drawing to blanks as you’re frozen with your jaw left hanging open.

“(Y/N)?” 13 snaps her fingers in front of your face, semi-dragging you out of your tizzy, “Hello? How are you feeling, dear?”

Ignoring the uncalled-for nickname, you wobbled your head about to snap out of whatever stupor you were stuck in, “Aaaah…um…good. I think. Still…vision’s still a bit blurry, head’s kinda fuzzy, but it’s okay. I can’t really feel my legs yet, I guess.” You tried kicking your feet back and forth, and while you could see them sway, you didn’t feel the sensation of your tendons pulling the limbs.

“Alright, that’s okay.” 13 dismounts the desk to face the crowd, “They’ll be fine. Just give their system time to recover from the grogginess. Next time, Midnight, go easier with how much of your toxins you release! They could’ve gotten severely hurt if they inhaled too much.” 13 scolds the tall woman.

Midnight scoffs, “Ugh! Why, I would never intentionally hurt my love bug like that! I swear, you act like I haven’t been controlling my quirk for my whole life!”

“Midnight, we have to set an example for our students, and lying isn’t how we do that. You should acknowledge you do go overboard sometimes,” craggy words tumbled through Midnight’s attempt to save her ass. Off to her side is the stony fortress of a hero, Cementoss, the one who spoke against her. While he is a man (or is he a rock? You’re not too sure even after all these years being a student under him) of few words, he does have the occasional snarky comeback in his vocabulary when he isn’t prattling off haikus and other unheard of analogies for life’s troubles you haven’t heard before. You’re pretty sure that half of what he says is made up on the spot, and you’ve occasionally tested how far you could push his knowledge before by asking him tough questions like “What is the meaning of life?” or “How did the universe come into being?”.

Before Midnight could pulverize the stone man into pebbles, the final guest you could see hanging in the back of the room piped up, “Can we please stop fumbling around like nimrods and get back to the matter at hand?” Inky, sludgy, and methodical in his dialect, it was no shock that its owner was the shadowy hero known to you as Ectoplasm. You’d interacted with him even less than the others, but you weren’t oblivious to his strength. You’d seen the fight between Tsu and Tokoyami against this predator, and you are happy to admit that he wasn’t your enemy on the field that day.

After briefly scanning the room once more, it seemed that everyone who was there had spoken up. Well, except for Aizawa and Present Mic, they seemed to be having a private conversation with themselves. Glances they threw in your direction, no matter how embarrassingly obvious Mic was being or the tenuousness of Aizawa’s, made it hard to ignore their scalding stares. It was borderline disturbing to see Mic so stationary. You wished he’d stop freaking you out and start yelling in your face like he always does. At least that would be one thing that hadn’t changed with the Purge.

“Precisely. Where were we? Please remind us, Ectoplasm.” Cementoss, equally over the distractions going on, encouraged the conversation forward.

“We were talking about our options. What to do for the rest of the Purge. How to proceed with the plan.” he spoke as if it was the most obvious thing that could have been explained. Plan? What plan was he talking about?

“‘Listen, we’ve gone ‘round and ‘round with these ideas for over an hour now,” HUH?!?! EXCUSE YOU, BUT WHAT DID HE SAY?! There was no time to stop their conversation to ask if Power Loader was or wasn’t exaggerating the time that had passed as he pushed on, “Why can’t we just go? I’m starting to get claustrophobic in this room.”

“What, and storm out here with no strategy? Yeah, that’s the best idea we’ve heard tonight.” Aizawa finally tossed his opinion into the ring and—surprise, surprise—it’s another gripe.

“We do have a plan—and a solid one at that! I just said it’s all we’ve been discussing ever since we stepped foot into this bloody room!” Power accused.

“No,” 13 cut in, “the plan you’re talking about is the one we’ve fine-tuned to get out of the school. What Eraser’s referring to is what we’re going to do once we leave the school grounds.” She stepped over to you while giving her speech and wipes your face down with a damp, cool towel. You’re not sure where she dispensed it from, but you supposed that since she specializes in search and rescue missions, she’s bound to have supplies of the like to help in stressful situations built into her hero suit.

“Easy! We run and gun our way out until we find a safe spot! A simply perfect plan. Okay? Let’s go.” Power said with finality.

“For being a seasoned pro, you’re much too antsy. You’re rushing this operation. If you keep sprinting through the important discussions, there will be major consequences.” Cementoss threatened. Power scoffed at the man’s slightly pretentious behavior.

“Think about it,” 13 tried to reason, “There are hundreds of pro heroes out there. Half infected, half not—give or take a handful. For however many pros around out there, there are at least six times as many civilians out there who are either running for their freedom or others who are trying to take that from their darlings. It is too risky to bring them out into a world like that.” Them? Hold on, do they mean you?! No way in hell are you being taken out into the shit storm that the big city has become! You’ve seen how the Purge demolishes the city in years prior. You saw what the news predicted it would be like tonight. Chaos. Pure chaos filled with dangerous, virus-infected people and villains simply trashing the place because they are able. You came into the school to seek shelter in one of the safe rooms to avoid the city, and they want to bring you into it? They can’t do this to you! Have they completely lost it?

Well, you knew that much, but still!

“He’s right, though,” Present Mic finally spoke up from his unusual voicelessness, “We can’t stay here all night waiting for some miracle to spring up. We’ve gotta take some action.” His shoulders buckled inward to show his agitation.

“And no one is saying that we will stay, Mic.” Cement’s sensible attitude never fails to shine through the stress of a tough discussion.

“But you are saying that. You know it…because you’re afraid. We all are afraid.” Mic grabbed everyone's attention because of how softly his words came out.

“I mean, we all know who exactly is out there,” Mic somberly stood and walked over to your side. You wanted to shimmy away from how close he got, but you chose to sit still to hear what else he had to say, “It’s not an if or maybe situation—he is looking for them. Maybe staying in the school has some perks. At least here he can’t get to them without breaking down a few thick walls.” At Mic’s dreadful outlook, everyone’s prepared responses fell into stifling silence. Who is he talking about? Why do you feel a shiver scaling up your spine at the faceless adversary? All this anticipation is going to make you go insane for real this time.

“It’s true. But UA isn’t safe either. We’re not alone and we aren’t the only ones in this building who’re interested in them. Those confounding kids of yours are still around, Aizawa.” Ectoplasm countered. Finally finding the place in the conversation where you can speak, you took your chance.

“Are you talking about the rest of my class?” you breathed out. The teachers spun their heads to give you their full attention. It creeped you out—their devotion to hearing you speak as if it was gospel—but you guess this virus is handy when you need to grab the attention of a bustling room.

“Glad you can still find your voice, sweets.” Mic praised you with a gentle pat on the top of your head. A total switch up from his gloomy personality just prior.

“And, yes, we are.” Ectoplasm sighed, sending one of his clones to your side. The clone didn’t do much except lay their hand on your head and brush your hair back, “They've proven to be quite…driven in their resolve to keep you by their sides.”

“Meaning they’re being a real pain in our—,” Mic’s interrupted by Aizawa’s scarf strangling the bottom half of his face to cease the loud man’s babbling.

“Hmmn, you guys take everything so personally,” Midnight bemoaned, propping her spike-heeled shoes against the side of one of the many desks around, “the children are just playing together, ‘is all! In fact, they’re making this night much more fun for me hehe~.” You cringed, and the only word running through your mind was ‘creepy.’

“Yes. Be kind, Mic. They haven’t been a bother for some time now.” Cementoss spoke with a grateful tone of voice.

“Well, it’s no wonder they haven’t been.” Power Loader huffed while resting his body back onto a nearby table.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You shifted up further to give the conversation your full attention. Once you were up, a slight tightness on your wrists captured your distracted brain. You glanced down and saw binding on your wrists. They were bound with tape. Tape…oh! That’s right! You were taped up by Sero before this shit show happened! You scanned your body up and down and didn’t see any of his tape around anything but your hands. It’s gone from your mouth too since you can speak to the teachers. You guess you’re thankful that they at least gave you the freedom to wiggle your legs around. Nonetheless, you’re still unforgivable-level mad at them for being dicks and holding you hostage.

“He means that ever since Shinsou caught them under his hypnosis, and Midnight leaked her Somnambulist to put them under, they’ve been sound asleep in the gymnasium.” Ectoplasm’s words curl up like a snake wrapping around its helpless prey. You feel less comforted by Ecto’s clone lovingly stroking your head now. That means no one else has been looking for you ever since Aizawa, Mic, and Midnight took you. Goody gumdrops.

“Yea’,” a new, twangy voice plucks into the conversation, “and it seems they ain’t rearin’ up again for some time.” It echoed from the entrance of the room a few feet ahead of your spot by the windows, so you craned your neck to the side to see past the teachers blocking the way.

His foreign accent was a big hint, but if there was any confusion as to who exactly was speaking, his masked appearance confirmed his identity. Snipe was perched against the door frame, slacked back against the wooden frame, and bending his knee to rest one of his spurred cowboy boots on the frame as well. Since when did he get there? You don’t recall seeing him when you scanned the room earlier. What was even more surprising was that on the other side of the doorframe rested Vlad King, Class 3-B’s homeroom teacher. You watched him side-eye his coworkers and, opposite to the rest, he stayed silent. Quiet, analytical. You haven’t interacted with him as much as you have with the others since he’s not one of your main teachers, but you’re certain from the way he and Aizawa have this sort of one-sided rivalry going on between them that he’s not one to be taken lightly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” barked Present Mic, “what are you two doing in here? You’re supposed to be guarding the door!”

“We decided to come in when we heard you lot yappin’. Wanted to see if our blossom was alright.” Okay, these corny nicknames were getting to be a little much—and it was becoming hard to not laugh at them when Snipe’s Western country-ass voice tried to say it so seriously.

“Yeah, right. You just wanted to see them.” Power Loader grumbled on his lonesome. Jealous much?

“Great, the peanut gallery’s all here.” you chuckled to yourself. Honestly, it was a smartass remark that was only meant for your ears to hear, but you should’ve known better than to mutter in the presence of such high-profile, analytical, pro heroes.

“Watch your tone, (L/N). I’ve taught you better than to speak to your superiors like that.” Aizawa’s steely gaze came to life, an intimidating red glow directly pointed your way. His mop of bushy, black hair billowing up to dangle in midair. It drifted about like a bed of kelp swaying with the brush of the ocean’s currents. All the built-up energy you didn’t realize was coursing through your veins came to a staggering halt, The strength permeating your limbs immediately drained. You’ve been under the influence of Aizawa’s quirk before when you were caught in the mix of his frustrations at the pranksters of your class, so this wasn’t an unexplored feeling, but it was still jarring to be stripped of all your powers you so flippantly take for granted.

As you looked around, you realized your statement was wrong—not all of the teachers were there. Not apologizing for telling the truth, you continued your comments as though Aizawa had never threatened you, “Ixnay that—not everyone's here. Where’s the rest of them?” Aizawa sighed and released you from the hold of his power when he realized you were simply ignoring his wrath. Honestly? He tips his hat to you for the response. Avoiding confrontation is sometimes the best course of action.

“Huh? Oh! Ha ha, you’re so clever! We brought it up briefly to the other staff members but—,” Power Loader had begun, but he was soon interrupted.

“They either had no interest or were busy with other plans for the Purge.” Vlad finally spoke up from his dark corner. Right, you remember why you don’t speak to him all that often. He scared the living shit out of you. At least you can have a somewhat decent conversation with Aizawa. With Vlad King, it’s always cold-shoulders and overdramatic frustration to simple questions you ask him. Those brief few words reeked such deadly poison, as if saying that anyone could ignore you was a crime against humanity. His facial expression showed his irritation, a frown stretching down his worn features and a frustrated crinkle cut between his eyebrows.

“Thanks. I was in the middle of getting to that.” Power snarked at the behemoth hero.

“We asked All Might if he wanted to come along with us,” 13 chirped, “but he declined as well. We don’t know exactly where he is, but he’s around.”

“Yeah! Not to mention how he responded! Something like,” Mic made his voice stretch lower into his register with a profound, macho gusto, and a large smile—an All Might smile—grew on his lips, ""HA HA! I appreciate the offer, friends, but I will be alright on my own! Good luck to you! I am off!”, and ran off to who knows where. Weird!”

“You guys never let me say the important parts of the stories.” Power scowled to himself.

“Gotcha,” you acknowledged the length of explanation, “So…what happens now?” you prodded.

“Now,” Midnight coos at a distance that is yet again too close for comfort, “we get to have fun with you~.”

“WHAT?! I’m not some class pet. Find a guinea pig somewhere else!” you wriggled away from the dastardly woman.

“Endearing how much control you think you have over the situation,” Aizawa smirked. You hated his comfort in the idea of a fictional complacency, one that was only caused by your own fear of speaking against them, “Stop playing naive, (L/N).”

In an effort to distract yourself from his stare, you pressed, “What’s the big plan after all this then?”

“After what, dearest?” Midnight mused. She reached a hand to your hair and softly massaged your shoulders. Quite done with the games they played, you shook her lingering touches off.

“After the Purge is over. What do you plan to do with me?” You wanted to add a sassy ‘obviously’ somewhere in that question, but you held your tongue for now. We’ll see how long that lasts.

“Sweetie~, we plan to have you as ours!” Midnight purred, circling around you like a beast going in for the kill. You rolled your eyes—how vexing can this woman be?

“Wow! That’s so funny, I forgot to laugh.” You threw out a half-assed pity laugh for the pro. You looked at the other pros for some kind of confirmation that Midnight was just being her usual lofty self, but when no comforting gaze reached your eyes, you felt your grin crumble.

“Eh…heh. Alright, that’s how we’re playing this. All the unfunny jokes aside—Hell freaking NO am I letting you lot take me anywhere. I’m not going willingly! I kick, I scream, and I do bite. I’m feral, bitc—,” You managed to squirm hard enough that you actually broke away from whoever was holding you the tightest in the ball of limbs. You slid off the glossy table and slunk back a few feet. It was just spacious enough for you to finally get a deep breath in from the overwhelming physical affection but you were nowhere near a safe distance from the psychos of UA.

“Willingly isn’t an issue. Plenty of us have quirks that can make you submit easily. Resistance will only produce failure for you. I don’t want to be forced to hurt your miniscule feelings.” Vlad gruffed out. He truly reminded you of an English bulldog—grumpy and hard-headed to the extreme.

“Oh, be sweeter, Vlad! Don’t scare the poor thing before we’ve had our fun.” 13 tried to reason with the ice-cold man.

“I am being sweet.” Vlad defended.

“No, you’re being a wet blanket,” Mic advised with a casual whistle.

“Shut up.” The white-haired man huffed out a pointed wind of air. With tusks as sharp as nails protruding out of his mouth, harsh huffs of breath that escaped his nose, and rising anger visibly seeping from his form, it made the image of him in your mind morph from cute, grumpy bulldog to a ravenous warthog.

“No, you shut up!” Power Loader lept on the chance to start bickering with Vlad King as he was still irritated at him for stealing his thunder.

“Girls, girls! You’re both pretty. Now, can we please get back to the much more pleasant person of interest?” Midnight tried to get the boys to back off, but her joke only made them that much more infuriated.

“Who’re you calling pretty?!” Vlad whipped his head over to the purple-haired sex fiend.

“Fix your words, Midnight, or I’ll give you something to be sorry for.” Vlad reared in, sneering at the woman something fierce.

“Here we go,” Aizawa muttered while shrinking further into his tall scarf tower.

“Nice one, Nemuri.” Hizashi bumped her with his elbow.

“I apologize…for you being a whiny BITCH!” You could practically see the overexaggerated sweat drop slip down the rest of the teachers’ heads as the beast of a man went off the rails from Midnight’s claim. He started stomping around, bellowing and nearly tossed a table across the room. You stood there and just…watched the man go from a professional, stoic, respectable instructor to a crybaby throwing the most dangerous tantrum known to mankind.

Guess he didn’t appreciate being called pretty.

Would he have preferred gorgeous?

That joke, while absolutely hilarious and should have been told for at least someone to hear its magnificence, you held in your throat so you didn’t get bitch slapped by a heavy office chair and receive a one-way ticket, all-expense-paid trip to God’s doorstep. You used the teacher’s being distracted with trying to calm the raging boarman down as an opportunity to scan for available exits. They were currently blocking the only door in or out, so that way out was an absolute no-go. You looked behind you and saw another door, but it didn’t look like it would provide a fruitful escape. By process of elimination, it would most likely be another closet that had no exit—and you DID NOT want to be stuck in one of those again. It was a miracle that the one earlier tonight had one! You do not want to try your luck again with much more threatening opponents in your way.

Inspecting further, there didn’t appear to be any other doors around to scamper out of. The last option you had was the large pane windows facing the outside, normally providing you with quite a beautiful bird’s eye view of the city. While it was an escape route, the task of escaping after exiting would be less than ideal. You were currently at least six storeys off of the ground, and you couldn’t guarantee that your quirk would save you from that high of a drop. Plus, the roof was still at least a few floors upwards, so you couldn’t hang out of the window and easily grab a railing. Not that you’d be sneaky enough to do that without alerting the bickering party of adults in front of you. You weren’t sure where else you could turn to avoid a serious temper tantrum.

Shatter.

A window to the side of where you were standing abruptly splintered away. A rush of the chilled night air flooded the room with one thorough sweep. The infiltration was not caused by the window simply breaking due to a strong gust of wind or a tree branch breaking the surface. No—it turned out to be a rather unwelcome intruder.

“Heyo~,” a certain bombshell blond’s lilting tone filled the thick tension in the boardroom. Your eyes zeroed in on the hero’s iconic ruby-red wings and instantly knew who it was. Hawks! You’d seen him in the field before from a distance, even captured his attention for long enough to have a brief conversation. A certain twist in your chest wrung out the breath filling your lungs when you thought about his suave nature that day.

You were there with your three main boys the day you’d met Hawks. You had just started working at Endeavor’s agency because of the generous offer provided to you by Todoroki during the Holiday party. It was certainly kind of him to extend his hand to you, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You tackled him in a hug, and you watched obliviously how he nearly short-circuited at the affection. Though the day you all met up to head off, Bakugou had been acting a little salty around Shoto that afternoon after discovering that he had reached out to you too to join them, but you figured it was just usual Bakugou. Always waking up on the angry side of the bed. Izuku didn’t have the heart to tell you it’s because none of them wanted to make fools of themselves in front of you. Him especially. You are quite oblivious to the “more-than-just-friends” affection they had for you, but Deku was happy keeping it that way. After a bit, the four of you had settled in together and met Shoto’s father.

No thanks to Bakugou’s “stellar” introduction with the pro, Endeavor had put his foot down to deny taking on other interns, other than his own son. Thankfully, hero work is never finished, as a villain attacked then and there. All of you sprung into action despite Endeavor’s denial, and that is when you saw it. Or, rather, him. Red spears descending from the sky like Valkyries swooping in to protect the weak. You saw soon enough that these weren’t spears, they were feathers. The winged hero, Hawks, aided Endeavor in taking down the crazed terrorizer effortlessly. No hesitancy or mercy. Not so much as a bead of sweat lining his forehead either. After recuperating, you and Izuku practically tackled the man in an effort to meet him.

In the staggeringly casual meeting, he was pleased to say he already knew about you from your close friend, Tokoyami. However, he pretty much overlooked the green-haired puffball as he stuck you down with his unnerving amber pools. Hawks suavely shared that he was especially excited to meet you specifically. We’re these most likely only sugar-coated words to get your heart racing for the notorious playboy? Rationally, absolutely. His ego knew no bounds—he’d do anything to get the fans swooning for his flippant affections. Yet, you fell for it nonetheless. You hopelessly played the perfect giddy fan as you devoured all his teasing remarks, his infatuation with your quirk, and his cocky winks. A peck of his lips strategically gifted to the back of your hand was given to no doubt solidify a good relationship, but you nearly passed out. You gushed at the attention before, and you probably would again. You were no different from any faces in his crowd of fans that he interacted with. Or so you thought.

He soon took off after meeting with Bakugou and Shoto briefly. You’d geeked out about the interaction afterwards to the boys. An blatant envy to Hawks’ ease at impressing the masses, you as well now included, made them stumble at their advances. Izuku buried his own jealousy at the hero by directing your attention back to what the rest of the day had planned, and it distracted him from the negative feelings too, thankfully. Shoto had crossed his arms and stood as a silent watcher to walk alongside you. You did catch that he was standing rather close to you. Bakugou only spat insult after insult about the bird brain and the hot-headed waste of a father, hoping that tarnishing the memory of Hawks in your mind would get your mind off of that loser and onto him. He soon cooled off, and became a bodyguard beside you, like Shoto, mumbling to himself about how “pointless” it was to chat with the likes of that douche.

You knew that this meeting was no accident. Hopefully, the hero is here to save you from this awful nightmare. Though, he didn’t show up alone.

“Hawks,” Snipe grumbled a rugged greeting, quite obviously ticked off that the snarky bastard was ruining their sanctuary, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh, not here for any particular reason. Flyin’ around, stopping to smell the roses…,” he lolled his head to look right at you, a devilish smirk lining his strikingly handsome face.

“Inspecting suspicious activity in the area.” A velvety smooth voice strikes up from behind you. You jump and whip your head to the side to see the culprit. Laying a gentle, yet comforting, grip on your shoulder was the famous Rabbit Hero: Mirko. You hadn’t really gotten a chance yet to interact with her in your journey as an aspiring hero. You’d heard about her competitive nature through various interviews you’d seen her in. You’d never felt more like prey than now, underneath her sight. Nonetheless, she was even more stunning than the media could convey. Her white locks draped along your shoulder as she peered down over you, the faint scent of lavender and earthy rubble wafting into your senses. Rumi’s piercing blood-tinged irises looked down upon you with a satisfactory expression. The lingering glint of fire locked within her gaze guided you to understand that whatever was driving her on this mission to confront your captors was far from fizzling out.

You’d heard some about personal interactions with her from Bakugou and Midoriya when they worked with her in the field. Deciphering Bakugou’s turn of phrase you’ve come to be fluent in after all these years, you gauged that she wasn’t too bad of a coworker. He’d said she was strong and that she had a kick that was no joke. When Bakugou remembered something about the people he fought alongside, you knew they left some impression on him—good or bad. He did make a point to reiterate that she only “gets in his way”, but he regards everyone that way, so it’s not a huge concern. Midoriya mostly info-dumped about her quirk and every fighting tactic he’d thought up to either aid her or counter her, but you didn’t mind his ramblings. Animal-based quirks like hers were always intriguing to learn about, and you’d appreciated him taking the time to tell you all the information he’d drug out of the woman. They both agreed (shockingly) they would like to work with her again.

You asked some of the girls of 3-A what they thought of Mirko before, and were surprised when they all nearly trampled you in their freak-out fangirling over the woman. Hagakure gushed over how much she loved what Mirko was doing for the community of women in the pro hero society. She adored how Mirko showed the world that women weren’t just damsels in distress; that the power and strength they hold mentally and physically is one to behold. Mina giddily hugged your arm as she declared the hero gave her confidence to not hide any of her more eccentric or “out-of-the-norm”, as she put it, features. Momo allowed herself to become vulnerable as she shared how Mirko taught her how if others don’t have confidence in your abilities you have to be your own advocate. Perfectionism was rampant in the poor girl, and she had such high expectations for herself. Seeing Momo learning to be more gentle with herself was comforting.

Jiro and Uraraka explained all the ways she really was a fantastic figure for women, not simply aspiring heroes, to look up to. Strong, snarky, never afraid to throw a quick insult or punch to any ignorant when she needed to. Mirko was not known to be a passive presence; she made sure you know exactly what her opinion on any matter is when she gets in your face to tell you it. Since she wasn’t attached to an agency, most would think she’d be an outcast, but they’d be wrong. The girls told you how she was a lone wolf type, that she’d rather handle everything her own way. You admired her for that. Mirko’s belief of not fitting in with the crowd to instead be at the front lines of encouraging others to break the mold society says you should fit is one to be coveted.

“How’s it going, (Y/N)?” Mirko warmly asked you. You froze when you heard your name fall from her lips. How did she know you? You’d never met face-to-face before in your life! She’s even prettier than the photos snapped by her paparazzi could try to convey.

“Are these guys giving you any trouble~?” Hawks ruffled your hair as he sprouted up next to you like a daisy in a sunny meadow. You felt your face heat up at their actions, not getting used to the unwavering attention of such prestigious members of the Hero Agencies. Also, they’re two of the most gorgeous people in all of Japan. Even a sparse glance in someone’s direction would be enough to make anyone crumple to their knees—nevermind that they’re actually addressing you. You were having a hard time standing up on your own, knees wobbly and jittery, your eyes bouncing back and forth between the two in a fumbling manner. All you could think about was not making a total fool of yourself in front of your heroes. That’s about when you realized you hadn’t responded to them, leaving everyone listening with bated breath at your silence.

You wanted to slap yourself for the silly star-struck reaction, “Oh! I–um…,”

“They’re fine, thank you very much.” Surprisingly, Cementoss’ usual composed tone took a frozen turn. Guess he didn’t appreciate the two of them being here. In fact, it looked to be that most of the teachers in that room didn’t care much for the pros being present, all of them having a crinkled up forehead and scowles dotting their lips. That, or the frustration is from the broken window. Whoops.

“They’d feel more fine if you’d back off.” Vlad King, who had finally calmed down, cautioned the duo. Though he’d cooled off his ramage, you could see the irritated vein popping out underneath his skin, so another outburst was sure to loop back around. Whether it was expressed in a hunched posture, snippy tone, or the expression on their faces; the teachers all agreed on one thing. These two were trouble and had to be escorted away from their darling now.

“Yeesh! What a tough crowd, Mirko!” Hawks overdramatically threw the back of his hand over his forehead. He leaned his body backwards, grasping his other hand over his chest where his heart lies, and wailed out in a helpless maiden-like tone. Oh, yeah. You forgot that he’s such a drama queen. It’s silly, but also somewhat charming, in a way.

“Ha! Seems so, Hawks. Hey, chill out, we’re only here to play babysitter, old timer.” Mirko snickered to herself. Hawks joined in her light-hearted teasing with a bright chortle of his own. His laugh formed from a cluster of tiny clicks rattling through his teeth.

“...What was that, little lady?” Vlad’s temper was never one to back down as he cracked his knuckles. You felt Mirko’s hand clasp tighter around your shoulder at Vlad’s choice of words. You could tell she wanted to go off on him and rip him to shreds both verbally and physically, but held her tongue. Now was not the time to start a war.

“Eh, don’t take it so personally, King! She was just pointing out the obvious~,” Hawks egged the man on. Seems to be Hawks didn’t agree with the “no war” idea. You were beginning to get a bit nervous with the pros’ language. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the boar man’s tantrum, as previously mentioned, so why were they purposefully lighting his fuse?! At least move you out of the way first before digging their own grave! Though, you might get pushed into it with them when you can’t dodge their crossfire.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 13 sneered at the shade.

“You’re all…wise from all your experiences,” words posing as carefully chosen by Hawks no doubt fired up the two more.

“But (Y/N) needs protection from a fresher-faced cast. If you catch our drift~,” Mirko finished for her quick-witted partner.

“That is why you’re all gathered, right? For the Purge?” Hawks anything but innocently asked the group. Those who weren’t lost in their own rage showed a glimpse of hesitation in the answer. Hawks, willing to take a mile from the inch they gave him, ran with their slip-up.

“So, it is true. Judging by the switch in your behaviors, and from that out of the ordinary hue in your irises, seems to me like this lot caught the illness. Probably from those students bulldozing through the school. Can you believe it, Mirko?” Hawks swiftly closed the little distance between you two by slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“I can. They’ve been in such close proximity, it’s no wonder they caught it. I’m just disappointed. They’re supposed to protect people like our lovely (Y/N) here from these incidents. Instead, they’re fueling the catastrophe Hmm. You must’ve been so scared running away from these shit excuses for teachers.” Mirko brought her hand to your cheeks and pinched them together to make your lips pout outward.

“Hey! You know that’s bull—,” Power Loader barked as he leaned across a nearby table.

“What were you sickos planning to do with them, huh? Make them your slave after this night,” Hawks unapologetically interrupted the man, a silence washing over the room at the question being sprung, “Force them to be at your beck and call for everything? Splay their body out to satisfy your needs whenever and wherever you wanted? Disgusting.” Hawks veered his body in front of yours to shield it with one of his huge red wings. The more he talked about what your captors would do to you after the Purge, the more fear reeved up to course through your veins. While thinking about the possibilities of what would happen after the Purge if you were caught, Hawks’ accusations had crossed your mind, but you tried to ignore them earlier. They wouldn't…they’d respect your wishes even if you…belonged to them after all this! They—not your friends, nor your teachers—wouldn’t do those horrible things to you.

And yet, based on everything that’s happened thus far…

You’re not sure anymore.

You shrunk into Mirko’s side deeper, wishing to disappear from the conversation of your fate entirely. You felt her wrap an arm around your waist, and you felt safer with the basically strangers than you had all night long with your long-time partners. You wanted to cry from the relief of finally having somewhere safe to turn. You held the tears back to see where their confrontations would lead.

You felt Mirko lead your stiff body with fleeting strides. She was obviously trying to give you an out, so you went willingly. Just let them do as they please. Anything to get out of this suffocating mess. Hawks caught on to her.

“How dare you try to make those foolish claims against us,” Aizawa began, rage climbing high in his heart. He reached for his infamous scarf and pulled the end piece out, preparing for his attack. Screw playing nice. Screw relying on others. Fuck letting these idiots walk all over him. The nerve of this flashy waste of space dictating him to be the kind of monster that would take advantage of you. You’d been in his life for so long now that he hardly even tries to remember the times without you and his other students. So many tough challenges your class has faced, and yet, each hurdle was leapt over with no hesitation. Your entire class had brought him such joy over the years through the sorrow. His kids. However, you and Shinsou undoubtedly claimed the prize to share the number one spot on his favorites list. You’d been so attentive and caring over him when he’d left you to flounder for air. Late nights powering through boring essays, countless assignments completed only an hour before they were due, the weekend study sessions that almost always turned into game nights or gossiping over snacks that he’d seen you participate in with your other friends. You work so tirelessly to be a good student and attentive friend. That effort wasn’t unnoticed by his watchful eye.

There were many more less impactful moments shared that, dare he say, mean even more to him than the death-defying acts you’d survived together. Chats over the positive current life events with him drinking his standard cup of muddy brown coffee and you casually sipping your own beverage. Walks around campus with him, Midoriya, Tokoyami, Ojiro, and you. The sky gleaming a dazzling aqua blue with the sun sparkling overhead, but not in an overwhelming glare. Puffy clouds dancing in the air. A pleasant, flowery breeze twirling past you. One late night in the common room when he was making his last round to make sure everyone was securely in their dorms, he found you sitting on the couch brushing off the aggressive tears slipping down your cheeks.

When he’d made his presence known that night, you’d shot up like a fired bullet off the comfy sofa, scrubbing your puffy eyes in an attempt at covering up the residual cry session. You’d greeted him warmly with a laughing cough to hide your choked up throat, but he shut down your plan of concealment by hinting that he’d already seen your sadness flowing. That night he sat beside you and talked. Talked about what you were upset about, talked through your doubts, fears, and resentment over how you didn’t know what you were going to do now. Gave you a sorrow-filled look when you broke down into a fit of violent sobs again. He even sat with you in a lingering, but reassuring, silence after your sobs faded.

Only then did Aizawa release a sliver of his own castle walls to give you a hug holding as much love as he could spare from his withered and beaten heart. He told you many ways how your class had changed him to be a better man. How you inspired him to keep pushing himself to look ahead to what beauty the future could hold. Aizawa promised you that night that no one was going to abandon you like you’d feared. He promised to always be there for you whenever you needed his support. All he needed was for you to reach out, and he’d claw up any bit of strength he had left to come rescue you like the hero he promised Oboro and Hizashi he would become. Today was no different from back then.

These fakes weren’t going to tarnish his cherished memory of that night with you. That night, when you’d smiled back up at him with a wobbly grin and soggy eyes, now glistening with hope from his words, you should have known he wouldn’t let some nobodies crush your heart. These wretches didn’t stand a chance.

Power Loader cut Aizawa off to continue, “We would never. Stop trying to scare them like that!”

13, back to her reasonable self, even tried coaxing you, “(Y/N), they are lying. We would never betray you. Now, if you’d please come back here—,”

Feeling bolder with allies at your side, you forced your lips to move to stop their rambling lies, “Why should I believe a single word that comes out of any of your mouths?!” The room fell into stillness. It was as if the whole world had shut itself up to give you the stage to speak your mind.

Fed up and running off of pure adrenaline, you continued, “None of you have asked for my opinion on anything that has happened tonight. You don’t care what I have to say; all you give a shit about is doing whatever the fuck you want to me. You didn’t tell me what you were planning. You spied on me, you kidnapped me, and kept me stuck in this hell as your little hostage all night!

“Even if you did care about me, it was only to find out what you could gain from me for your selfish desires.” You downcasted your eyes at their knife-like glares.

Tears welled up and this time you couldn’t stop them from dragging down your tired face. You took a shaky breath to fill your deflated lungs, “I…I understand this virus has…changed you. I understand whatever you’re going through isn’t easy to fight against. But I don’t know. I don’t know what is happening to any of you. I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing. I just…can’t know. I’m too scared to even try to begin searching for the answer. My classmates have become the same as you—completely changed from who they are. They’ve been hunting me down. And now this thing has taken my teachers too?” Your lips wobbled at the realization of your loss.

“Ha…it’s like one sick joke the world is playing against me,” an exasperated laugh bled from your vocal chords, “I don’t know how it’s making you feel, but I know what it is making you do to me. You’re scaring me. I don’t feel safe. Around any of you. It isn’t crazy to consider you’d force me to do…other things too.”

You caught Aizawa’s eyes when you looked up. You turned away to save yourself from the heartbreak of his torn expression.

You curled into Hawks’ back, shrouding your emotional husk of a body in his fluffy feathers. You allowed the last few dying words left in your quaking heart to wheeze out, “Please. Leave me alone. Please.” Whether your teachers were mad at you for speaking against them, or if they wanted to get on their knees and beg for your forgiveness, you had no clue. All you know is that Hawks whips around, gathers your trembling form in his arms, and takes a couple of steps back from Mirko.

“Hang on tight.” He gently whispers to you. Unconsciously, you obeyed, and securely held onto the fizzy collar of his iconic jacket.

“We’ll be watching over them for the rest of the Purge.” That cold, nonchalant jab to the teachers was the last fleeting acknowledgment Mirko threw at them. Hawks spread his wings.

“Next time, before you go destroying the mental and emotional well-being of your students, get a grip on reality.” The finality of Hawks’ tone was filled with all the venom that he felt you lovingly held back. Your kindness is not what this lot deserves. With that, he flapped his humongous wings a few times to kickstart his ascension and took off with you pressed tightly against him. He soared up and out of the broken window, making sure to cover you properly so you didn’t get sliced or stabbed by any broken glass. You watched Mirko clamber out of the rickety window from over his shoulder, land on the edge of the concrete window sill, and use her legs to jump as high into the air as she could.

You watched in awe as she practically flew up several storeys, confidently grasp the edge of the railing atop the roof, and gently sling herself onto the roof without so much as a hiccup. Judging by the trajectory of where Hawks was flying, he too was aiming for the roof. Not like you cared at this point. As long as you were away from them, you’d be fine to go anywhere they took you.

“We at Air Hawks thank you for flying with us on this gorgeous evening, esteemed passenger. We have now reached our destination, the rooftop of the illustrious UA High. The weather outside is clear skies at a balmy 75°, so you may see a stunning view of the city tonight. Please take care and follow your charming, ever good-looking pilot as he will guide you towards the exit.” Hawks cracked a light joke to try and pull you out of the dark headspace you were currently dwelling inside. You spared him a half-hearted giggle for his attempt, allowing him to release the hold his hands had on the backs of your knees. You plopped your feet down softly to the ground just as Mirko had made it over.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Mirko held out her hands, her gaze trained on Sero’s tape that was still wound snugly around your wrists. Wow. You’d entirely forgotten they were still there. You lifted your wrists to the admirable woman and merely watched as she took your already reddening wrists into hers.

“Honestly. What barbarians. To leave you bound like this? Complete bullshit.” Mirko muttered insult after insult under her breath as she wasted no time in destroying the binding. She took your wrists up to her mouth and carefully chomped down using her steely, rabbit-esque front teeth on the strips to make a sizable cut through them. She gently pulled your wrists apart and the tape effortlessly split. Free, at last.

Using your fingers, you tore away the remaining severed strips with a wince, and threw them to the ground. Battered and bruised, you saw that your wrists were nearing raw from how much struggling against the tape’s adhesive you’d done. You gave a quick massage to stimulate blood flow back into your numbing fingertips.

“There! Feel any better?” Mirko prodded.

“Much. Thank you for getting me out of there. I seriously couldn’t have asked for a cooler getaway than two of the top pro heroes in Japan being my saviors.” you tossed a light joke in along with the gratitude. You yanked the two pros into your chest with a tight hug to further show your thanks, taking a deep breath against their chests. They were rigid at first, but they both allowed themselves. However, while being this close, they couldn’t help but notice the sweet smell drifting off of your clothing. There was little the pros could do to avoid the intoxicating aroma, but before they could delve further into what it was, they heard a tiny sniffle sound from your buried head.

With an alertness to you that he hadn’t felt before, Hawks pulled you away from his chest with a concerned look on his face. “Hey, what’s up, baby bird?” Hawks were much more determined than he had been all night to get you to open up about what was going on in your brain.

Not looking up from the ground to respond, he placed his fingertips underneath your chin and tilted your bent head up. You had a thread of silvery tears lining your lower lash line and a wobbly lip that made both Mirko and Hawks’ aggravation boil their blood.

“Hon, tell us what’s wrong.” Mirko commanded. She could barely contain the loathing that spiderwebbed throughout her heart. When she gets her hands on those measly heroes who mistreated you, she is going to make them wish they’d never bothered you with their worthless existence ever again. Lousy maggots. Just as Mirko’s mind was going to float off the deep end into disturbing plans of vile and ruthless methods of punishment, she caught herself.

Woah. That’s new. That was aggressive.

No, the aggressiveness was not new. She’d always had a bit of spark to her. Her wild thoughts are what made her such a great hero; that’s how Mirko became widely recognized for her prowess. It was who she was having the ruthless feelings against that surprised her. She’s worked with those pros, her coworkers and friends, for years. She barely knows you at all. Yet, she’s planning every possible way she could make the insolent, ignorant gang pay for their mistreatment.

Although, why should that fact matter? Why shouldn’t they pay? Sure, they’re her friends, but they abused an innocent. They forcefully used their quirks and position of power over you to make you suffer! It’s despicable. It’s dishonorable. They should face the punishment of the law. But…that isn’t enough. Her rationality slips, drifting further away the longer she feels you warm her. It fuels a fire within her, and that fire sets the marrow lining her bones a light. She doesn’t want to toss the aggressors off to the police like a spineless coward. You deserve better than that. You deserve more. You deserve justice. She is justice. Technically, she is the law. She will make them pay. Yes, that’s a wonderful idea!

God, she hasn’t felt this warmth in a long time. Too long. You’re wonderful.

Hawks isn’t faring any better. He’s wild-eyed—his mind deep sketching out the framework of delusional fantasies of him taking you on as his trainee, showing you all the tips and tricks he’s learned in the harsh world of hero life, and quite literally taking you under his wing. Maybe you two become more after you get closer. Keigo isn’t unfamiliar with the desire of wanting companionship in his life. He often finds himself daydreaming of a partner by his side, on and off the field of battle. Never a specific person, just a faceless, nameless being, fluttering through his desires. Smiling, laughing, enjoying each other's time together. Cute stuff. Hawks yearns for that small sliver of normalcy. Keigo wants to feel human—to feel whole again after everything he’s been stripped of in his miserable existence.

With you, even though your interactions have been brief and you’ve endured some light flirting of his that is barely considerably mentionable, you’ve brought him nothing but a comforting and loving feeling. He feels indebted to you for simply being you. Not lying to him, or trying to pretend to be someone you’re not. He’s constantly surrounded by deceptive and cruel human nature. He truly couldn’t tell you how many thousands of googly-eyed newbies have introduced themselves to him, praying for even a small flicker of his fame to rub off on them. Hoping to use him to spring them up into the actually noticeable charts. It’s so easy to read them too. They’re open, flimsy magazines. Bright, colorful, eye-catching, and full of back-stabbing and strategically fabricated lies. Spread wide and pleading for him to flip through their pages. They always hiss lies through their teeth, grinning and bearing the once-in-a-lifetime interaction. But no matter how much sucking up they commit to or how well they try to veil the truth of their intentions behind sugared words, he never fails to see through them.

Guess the training he went through as a child was good for something. If you don’t open up to people, you can never get hurt. Sure, that tactic has worked wonders…up until meeting you.

But he’s just so tired. He just wants to lower the railing and find something worth all the fight he puts up.

You might be his outlet.

“It’s…it’s just been a long night. I’m sorry—,” you tried to cover your face with your forearm, desperate to conceal the embarrassing honest showing on your face. Mirko gently removed your shield with a comforting smile.

“Oh no, hon, it’s fine—,”

“Never ever apologize for your feelings—,” both pros stumbled over each other’s words. When they realized they were getting anywhere by interrupting the other, they shared a look. After a small nod shared, they wrapped their arms around you again.

“You’re okay,” they both said at the same time, cradling you against them once again. You snuggled deeper, taking that chance to breathe deep and avoid spiraling into a panic attack.

While your arms were around the two, you accidentally brushed against Hawks’ wings. That is when you noticed his wings had puffed up in size, similar to how any bird does when they want to appear bigger to a threat they face. He had been very tense at the beginning of the hug, so maybe he was only nervous, so you chose to not question it. Plus, you’d just let a room full of deadly pro heroes! Yeah, it’s alright. However, the light thudding taps of Rumi’s foot against the concrete roof was something you couldn’t explain. Is it normal for hybrid rabbits to emulate this characteristic from their bunny counterparts? You’re not too sure.

You tried to pull away, but their tight grips didn’t let you. Oh. Well, maybe they’re both in desperate need of a hug. You’re very familiar with your classmates coming to you for hugs during their rougher days. They always said you had the best hugs, and you take great pride in that fact. Come to think of it, maybe you should ask them all about their mental health more often, just so no one spirals off the deep end and punches another classmate (thank you for that, Bakugo).

OH! Your friends! Maybe Hawks and Mirko can help them! Yes, that’s a great plan.

Peeling further back, you tilted your head up to look them in their eyes. You let out an airy chuckle, “As much as I enjoy the hug, I need some more of your help.”

They instantly lightened their steely grips. Not too much to let you slip away. Mirko held a smug look, as if knowing you’d come crawling back to her for her aid. SHe’s the only one who can provide for you properly, afterall. Don’t worry, let her handle everything for her darling. No task is too big for her. Hawks resembled that of a grinning puppy, excited and warm. Eager to perform any task for praise and treats. Yes! Anything you want, darling, they can provide! What do you need?

They didn’t supply you with a verbal answer, but the looks they carried spoke loud enough, so you continued, “My classmates. I don’t know what happened to my friends, but they’ve got the same thing the teachers do. I think everyone’s infected. I have to help them, but I don’t think I can do it alone.”

As soon as they heard you utter the word “friends”, their bliss was shot and struck the ground like a wounded songbird. Their brains shut off to stop the nonsense you were suggesting. Friends? You need people other than them?! And what’s worse, is you want them to help those idiots?! Last they checked, they were public enemy number one for making you run yourself ragged up and down those endless halls! No, that can’t be right. Those fools don’t deserve their help. Not for what they made you go through.

“No.” Rumi snapped with a frigid simper.

The rest of the sentence you were sputtering falters. You gaze up at the rabbit hero, “...What?”

With a second look-over, Mirko appears a lot scarier than she did only minutes beforehand. Have her eyes always been this clouded? Her unrelenting gaze exudes a darker inkling than when you’d faced her way. Rumi’s eyes stuck on you like gum bonded to the bottom of your shoe.

No. This wouldn’t happen again. They said they’d be better than this—better than them.

Hawks obnoxiously cleared his throat to brush the eerie vibe away from the floundering conversation, “Ehh…haha! What Rumi means is not right now. It’s too dangerous to go searching for your friends now. Finding help for them after the Purge settles down is the safest strategy.” Hawks smoothly saved Mirko’s ass with the perfect excuse, served up on a shining silver platter. You didn’t appreciate how obviously strained Hawks’ tone became at “friends”.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe. Preferably away from this shithole.” She mumbled the last portion, keeping the snark to her own chest, but her contempt for the institution was blatant. Mirko’s eyes were laced with flaming venom as she fleetingly paid attention to the concrete walls. A sneer broke out on her lips, as if just the idea of standing on top of the building was a sin itself.

“Ah… okay.” You tried to leave the hug again. They persisted.

“Mirko—,” Hawks’ voice twisted into a demanding tone. His blown out, puppy-like pupils cinched into vicious slits, staring down the woman.

“Hawks, I don’t want to hear it. Back off.” Mirko gnashed back at the blond. The two began an all out war against each other, both tugging against the other’s advances. A tug to the left, a drag to the right, both parties were unrelenting. Neither wanted to allow the victory of having you in their arms.

“You’re holding them too tightly!” Keigo whined.

“Well, you’re not holding them tight enough.” Mirko argued back. You’ve seen this before. It reminded you of two children fighting over who got to play with which toy, always bickering how the other was “doing it wrong”. It reminded you of Ochaco fighting the guys. It reminded you of Denki and Mina struggling over who got to hold you. Childish squabbles.

Liars, the lot of them. They didn’t want to help you. If they did before, not anymore. They’re infected, there’s no other answer for their behavior.

“Keigo, just stop it! You and I both know that you can’t protect them.” Mirko snarked. That caught the bird’s attention judging by the way his eyes dug into her, all emotion scrapped from his expression. A grim look stole the spot, one that told of violence and mayhem running rampant in behind his eyes. An expression usually reserved for the villains he so often made easy prey of. This is awful.

“And what is that supposed to mean, rabbit?” Hawks’ eyes looked wilder than before.

“I think you and I both know what I meant.” She snarked back, ruffling his feather figuratively and quite literally.

“Be honest with yourself. When was the last time you were able to save something that you actually cared about?” Mirko hatched a devilish plan. She took the chance of his loss of temper to clutch you against her. She took a couple spacious leaps back, creating a sizable distance between her friend turned enemy. Hawks plucked two giant feathers from his wingspan that sharped out into duo blades resembling two scimitars.

“I’m done being—,” just before Hawks could spiral off the deep end into whatever hell he had planned to put Mirko through, a disturbance crashed the party.

“Enough, you two.” A formidable voice shook from the shadows. Those few words are all it takes for the two beside you to back off from tearing out each other’s throats. Whoever it was had the ability to command total control of a room in an instant. You couldn’t see them, but you knew the voice came from the other side of the stairwell exit.

“Great,” Mirko scoffs, tilting her head to look the other way with a cross of her arms. You couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or the shame from being caught. Judging by her scowl, it’s probably the latter.

“Endeavor…how long have—,” Hawks sputtered out. You swivel your head to the gap at the birdman. No fucking way it’s the number one hero. He’s gotta be wrong. The number one pro hero showing up to participate in the Purge is unheard of. Guess you’d be wrong. Though, you suppose that even the number one gets a pass during today. It’s just jarring since All Might had not once in all his years of being the symbol of peace even be seen during the Purge hours. He probably just didn’t want to be caught up in a scandal with the news or social media if he were to ever be discovered converting to be a player of the Purge’s game.

Sure enough though, the one who rounds the corner is in fact Endeavor. He shut Hawks up with a simple raise of his palm and an unforgiving glare. The once cheery hawk tucks into himself and shields his frustration away from the number one.

The first thing that shows you the reality of the situation is his overwhelming stature. You severely underestimated the way this man takes up a room. Seeing him in TV interviews on the news and fighting against villains is one thing, but it is a completely different beast to be face-to-face with him stalking towards you. It made sense why he was deemed the top—with such a suffocating aura, it was hard to believe that any villain even tried to oppose the behemoth. You should know, you’ve met him before.

During your training with him alongside the boys, it had been quite the feat. You’d mostly done in-field training with the boys, but the one time you did have one-on-one training with the pro was unnerving, to say the least. Endeavor had watched your every move, his eyes never straying too far from where you’d displayed the extent of your Quirk’s usefulness. You knew you were as capable, even more so since you could control your emotions, as Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki. Let’s face it, all three of them had a tendency to act out far too irrationally due to their urges and feelings, and they weren’t shy about expressing it. Although, your self control put you in a favorable light with Endeavor, so it wasn’t strange that he gave more of his attention to you.

Instead of bickering and combating everything the pro said with a harsh glower like Katsuki had, you listened intently and gave Endeavor undivided attention. Instead of ignoring the man who actively tried to give pointers and choosing to walk faster ahead of the group like Shoto had, you hung back and asked questions about what Shoto had done wrong in his approach and how to improve his strategy. You became more agile, better aware of your surroundings, and able to predict some of the moves villains would try to throw at you. You understood that the opportunity that Shoto had given to you all with training under his father for the work-study was not something to be taken lightly. Was the man a little too much of a hardass for your taste? Yes. But he was not a pushover. He had valuable lessons to teach you all from experiences he’s faced during his years in the field. If you wanted to actually place in the hero charts one day, you knew you’d have to get past your own opinions on the man and try to cooperate.

If someone asked your opinion of Endeavor, they’d understand he’s not your favorite hero to grace the charts. You’d believed him to be startlingly cold for the fiery nature of his quirk. It was easy to say you’d originally thought him to be nothing but an ass with too hot of a head on his shoulders, and while that was still the truth more often than not, he had his moments of clarity. The media did have a knack for stringing up the moments of his ill temper caught on film and making them the headline of every social media platform. What you had learned during your trainings held at the crack of dawn was that he was extremely precise. There was never a lack of communication or any doubt held within his words whenever he instructed you. Swing a right hook into the dummy’s torso. Sweep your leg to the left to knock the opponent over. He was straight to the point and earnest in the compliments regarding your physical improvements.

He’d even let you spar against him one day. Endeavor had taken the four of you and one of his many sidekicks, Burnin, to the rooftop during one of the few freetimes you’d actually had. He asked you to step across from him and get into your fighting position. He instructed no quirks be used, that it be purely a hand-to-hand combat session that balanced skill and strength together. With Burnin as the referee, you’d begun. He thankfully didn’t go easy on you as he views not giving his all into any task as a “halfass lazy excuse”, so you’d fight with your entire being against Endeavor. He educated the four of you through commentating on all of the things you did wrong; how you’d left yourself open to a couple of jabs from him, turned your back to him often enough that he’d seized an opportunity to lunge and knock you over, and such. Though you were outmatched in a number of categories, you soon understood why he was putting you to this impossible challenge. Enji wanted you to get creative with your tactics to take down your foe. You needed to outwit his strength.

With the newfound spark of inspiration, you struck. You made a move imitating that of one you’d tried against him earlier. A simple left hook. He knew he could easily deflect the punch, so he took the bait. You’d noticed before that he was much more sturdy with his right side, which left room for error on his left, so you took the chance. You sidestepped into his peripheral and closed in behind him. You kicked in the back of his right knee, forcing him to stumble to the ground. You knew you couldn’t tackle the man over from this position, nor could you keep him pinned there due to how much force you had to use to kick his knee alone, so you went with the quickest option. You needed to hit a weak point, but since his body was covered in mostly muscle, you only had a few options. Since kicking him in the groin seemed like too cruel for a simple sparring session, the spots above his neck would have to do. You jumped up onto his back, shimmied up enough to hang onto his shoulder, and threw a hard punch right into his throat.

You left him choking on his air and wheezing. He grasped at his neck, steadying himself on his other arm. Leaving him no hands to defend against your assault. You then shoved your hands into his hair, pulled on the strands tightly, and swung your body forward over the man’s shoulder. You let gravity handle the rest. Your body weight pulled his unstable torso forward and he hit the ground with a hefty SMACK! You bent your knees to land sturdily on the ground with minimal impact to your footing and let his face take the brunt of the fall. You then placed your knee hard on the middle of his shoulder blades to pin him and Burnin deemed the match completed with an impressed grin lilting on her face. Admittedly, for the rest of that day, you gloated the pride you felt at taking down the mountain of a man a little too obviously.

You knew that day he most likely wanted to make an example out of you when he presumed you wouldn’t win the fight, but you’d made sure he understood not to fuck around with you or your generosity again.

Zooming back to the present, you caught his eyes goring a hole right through you. Brilliant aqua blue irises stuck out like a sore thumb against his smoldering flames. No matter how much Shoto tried to deny the fact, he truly was Endeavor’s child. That striking blue color kept locked down within the Endeavor lineage and fiery red hair that draped over half of his head was unmistakable. Features that, however much wasted on the shitty attitude the man possessed, would make many and most fall head-over-heels for their stunning effect. Though, in your opinion, Shoto wore the beauty better.

Enji’s gaze was harsh towards you, but it was kind compared to the one he shot at Mirko’s arm wrapped around you. Perceptive, the woman held you closer, as if trying to defy his silent demand of releasing you. She was dead set on not going down without a fight. Before she could hope for one to begin, Hawks laid a hand on her shoulder as a soft hint to not involve you in Endeavor’s unrivaled wrath. Mirko knew he was right. Dammit it all. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she relented, back off of you. She left you to fend for yourself against the beast, cast you aside to the big bad wolf who wouldn’t spare you. It reminded you of the tale of Odysseus facing off with Polyphemus—only you were unarmed and lacking a foolproof plan of escape and this giant won’t allow arrogance to be his downfall yet again like the monster from the epic had.

Finally, Endeavor was right in front of you. If you had any bravery left from the night, it vanished wholly with him staring you down. Endeavor hardly even spared a tilt of his head to gaze down upon you, opting to stare through a half-lidded examination. The only indication that he was human and not some freaky Terminator cyborg from the future coming to hunt you down was the ever-present scowl he’s so fond of sharing.

Without ever taking his sight off of you, he glowered dryly to an unidentified listener, “Why are they scratched up?” You see now the question is not for you, rather it's dedicated to the duo in charge of you. You peered down to see what he was referring to, only now understanding what he meant from the bruises beginning to bloom along your wrists and the miniscule scratches littering your forearms and neckline. None of them were deep enough to lance more than a couple drops of blood, but they were still oozing fresh from the night’s escapades.

“That wasn’t from us! The students were dragging them back-and-forth between the halls before the teachers got a hold of them. You know how rough kids are with their toys.” Hawks quickly presented to the man. Smooth as ever. He strolled over to Endeavor to lean his elbow against the man’s bulky side, as if casually resting against an alleyway’s grimy brick wall. Although, with how stocky the pro was, you’re sure the feeling was probably akin. You watched Endeavor roll his eyes at the blond.

“I’m sure hurling them through a window had nothing to do with the scratches.” Endeavor’s sarcasm hung heavy in the air like too much icing on a dry piece of cake. It was obvious that his comedic side hadn’t been brushed up on in awhile. He took the chance to use an unexpected gentleness to grasp your forearm and hold up the damaged skin to the duo as all the evidence he needed. You, not taking too kindly to being an item for presentation, pulled your arm away from him and held it close. Endeavor shot you a look of disappointment, but held in the trembling Armageddon he had planned. Hawks gave a weak chuckle, no doubt scrounging for a way to veer the conversation off them scaling the side of a building with you.

Endeavor decided to spare you for now, choosing to cross his arms and acknowledge only Hawks, “What’s their status? Who in the school is infected? How many are after them?”

You were starting to get sick of him completely ignoring the fact that you had your own voice to speak for your own wellbeing. “You know I can speak for myself, right? Or have you forgotten that since we last hung out.” Hawks shot you a look that yelled “shut up” like a parent two seconds away from scolding their child who is screaming in public. You didn’t cower. You pressed on to challenge Endeavor’s authority.

“I’m aware. But I understand if I speak to you, you’ll probably end up whining like a child to me. Wasting my time.” Endeavor threw no more than a half-hearted stern crinkle of his brows, and you pretty much could no longer hold back the bubbling anger swelling up in your chest.

“Excuse me! It’s not ‘whining’, it’s called ‘being a sane person with reasonable concerns’. Also, no shit I would complain! Your little underlings were literally just fighting over who was going to kidnap me! That is a perfect reason to yell.” You waltzed your way in front of him to be a human barrier to get in the way of his sight being fixated on Hawks. You will make yourself heard against this bully. Screw it if he trained you, you don’t just ignore someone you’re actively talking about when they are right in front of you! It’s incredibly rude.

“I don’t have time for this,” Endeavor rubbed temples with one hand. You wanted to rip his head off and shout from the rooftops into his eardrums. Maybe that would get your point through his thick skull.

“Wow. First of all, fuck you,” That certainly caught his attention. His head snapped to look down at your defiance. His eyes bore that same look he’d struck Mirko’s arm with before. Boiling hysteria and bitterness. Even though you physically felt the warmth of his internal temperature rise, and you recognized the panic Hawks held in his gob-smacked expression, you couldn’t stop your big mouth from prattling on. Shoto probably would have laughed his ass off at your opposition to his father. That small support in the back of your mind made your confidence soar.

“Second of all, you can’t seriously think that I am going to be chill with anything you wei—,” you couldn’t finish your sentence before you were all of the sudden no longer touching the roof. The collar of your shirt had been snatched by Endeavor’s strong hand with no warning and hoisted high. You were now dangling limply a few feet off the ground. Keigo was squawking figuratively and literally, yanking on Endeavor’s arm to lower the leverage he held your body at. Rumi took a turn for the worst. Threats cranked out of her mouth as she reared up to kick him as hard as she could square in an area where the sun didn't shine. Maybe give him a taste of his own brutality. With an unyielding and unforgiving hold, he lifted you even higher with no strenuous effort. You yelped, swinging and writhing around to try escaping the brute strength of your foe. He brought you in close to look at you eye-to-eye, making sure your darting gaze has nowhere to turn to other than locking in to meet his own icy pair.

“You will not speak to me like that again. Your attitude might be cute to the rest of these weak links, but I won’t let it go without correction. You show me respect, or we will both have to go through a punishment for you that neither of us will enjoy. This is your first and final warning.” Every word was uttered with nothing but truth. No twist of a joke in his tone, no shift in expression, nothing. Only a foreboding aura and the gravely tone that demanded full cooperation.

Every snappy response died on your tongue. You wanted to fight back, to sass all of them more, to tell him exactly what you thought of him to his stupid, scary face—but nothing came. You felt tears line your waterline, and you couldn’t despise them more. Crying when faced with any kind of opposition…what kind of hero does that make you? You couldn’t explain why your mind drifted to Midoriya in this moment when all hope was lost.

You suppose it’s because you recall a day when the boy had tried to deny his waterworks and his friends carried his tears with grace and love. Deku had been sent off to his work-study with the man he’d called ‘Sir Nighteye’. You didn’t know much about the man, in all honesty, but you did know that one of the strongest students at UA had been training underneath him for some time. The sweet boy named Mirio who had come to meet your class and then single handedly swept you all in a twenty-to-one match. He was quite impressive, so the fact that Midoriya had been taken on to work alongside him was quite the honor!

However, Midoriya came back rather…startled, to say the least. He hardly participated in conversations held around him, didn’t speak up during the lectures, and could barely choke down the food placed in front of him either. His eyes were clouded, a scrunched up twist pulled on his eyebrows like he was stuck in a maze of his own thoughts. He looked far into the distance yet couldn’t process what was in front of him. It was scary. Where did the boy always eager to learn and help everyone drift off to? You wanted him back.

The situation came to a head one day at lunch when you were sitting across from the green-haired boy, Iida, and Shoto. You’d all tucked into your meals when you noticed Midoriya had no intention of even attempting to stomach the spread. Shoto had shockingly tried to crack a very dry joke, and that seemed to wake the distant boy. After brushing off all of your concerns for the nth time, Iida finally challenged Deku’s false reassurance. He’d offered an ear to listen to the boy’s troubles. A simple gesture, most would assume, but it hit the boy hard. Midoriya had tried to keep it in, but the boy just couldn’t hold back his emotions—a fact of which you admired to this day. He tried to claim that heroes don’t cry while he actively swiped away the drips trailing from his evergreen eyes, but you watched as Iida and Shoto shut down that statement quickly. It’s such an easy thing to say but a hard skill to execute. Of course heroes cry! Anyone who doesn’t when facing the nightmarish terrors that they do on a daily basis is lying or too stone cold to be considered human.

You watched as the boys bonded over the spilt emotions and a grin overtook your face the entire rest of the day. No one at that table knew what Deku was going through with poor Eri and the vile Overhaul situation. You hadn’t a clue the true reason Iida had extended his hand to the shaken boy that day. But it didn’t matter. Izuku let his tears and strength glow bright that day. Tears are a symbol of actually giving a shit in this world. Tears you shed are the wordless tale you share with the world. Speaking a thousand words in all different orders. A labyrinth that can be solved or failed, depending on how your own soul understands the riddle. You’re still scouring that maze to comprehend your own salty snivels.

“Understood?” The three heroes stilled, waiting for your response. Wordlessly, you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling, looking away from the man to not give the satisfaction of his actions actually scaring you, and nodded. He gave a satisfied grunt of contempt and lowered you back down to the cement. Hawks flitted over to your side, checking you over. Mirko didn’t exactly come running to you but she did make a point of standing in between Endeavor and you.

“You’ll see why we must do this soon, (Y/N). This life is just too risky for someone like you,” he looked like he wanted to say more to you, but held his tongue. You wished he’d just crawl back to whatever shithole he climbed out of and fester there for the atrocious attempt at playing the “comforting” father role.

He meant it, you know. Enji sees you choose to not look beyond his past. Much like his sons. Not that he can blame any of you. But, for some reason, the abandonment of trust hurt more from you than it did Shoto.

Enji could tell you how many sidekicks he’s experienced come and go throughout his career. Does he remember the plebeians' names? No. Why should he? They left, so that must mean they didn’t meet his standards. No big deal, another will take their place eventually. It’s not his job to care about them or to remember them. However, he does remember you quite well. Truthfully, much to your surprise, before even your work-study together.

The first time he’d even sparred you a passing glance was during the Sports Festival in your first year. Truthfully, he didn’t give a single damn about any students in the arena other than his son. Enji really only went to see if Shoto would finally stop this little rebellion of his by only using that wretched ice his doe-eyed wife blessed their son with. He wanted to see Shoto crack under the pressure and give in—finally admit that the fire portion of his power was the stronger, more reliable half. He managed in his obsession to give some half-assed attention to the other one-on-one duels.

One of the fights he watched over was you against the ditzy girl from the Support Department, Mei something. Initially, he was going to walk away at such an uninteresting sounding fight, but he chose to linger. He saw you willingly agree to Mei flaunting her inventions to prospective buyers by using you as the demonstration device. You’d effortlessly almost danced around her gadgets’ tactics; playing the part of challenging foe, but never let her pin you in a dicey position. You’d ended the fight by running her off the boundary line before time ran out, and both of you shared a hug as you parted ways—both satisfied with you being the victor moving forward in the chain of fights and her having interested eyes witnessing her skill. Normally, a blatant show of mutual benefit would have him running for the hills. That wasn’t a fight, neither of you put any effort into crushing your opponent to a pulp, which is what a real show of power was to his image of winning. Yet, he stayed. Not to watch anything that pink girl offered, only examining you bounce around with both your own strength and the might of your quirk. He wanted you to slip up. He wanted you to make a mistake so he could justify ditching the patetic battle, but you never did. You stayed light on your feet and still struck at your opponent a few times to show examples of the defense her “babies” could provide to heroes.

Intriguing, is all he thought. He then stood and sauntered off until the second round.

The second round he watched Shoto, not as easily as he had hoped, defeat Midoriya. While he was filled with both gratification at Shoto caving into his carnal fire and enragement at that Izuku pest for giving his son the unwavering support to defy his hold over his son, he hardly realized your next battle had begun. It was against the vine girl from the Class B—first losers, rather, to him—Ibara. Unlike Mei’s challenge, you basically wiped the floor with the poor girl. You shot around the court, darting like a bat through an inky full-mooned sky, making sure to not give Ibara a chance to get the one up on you. You hardly let her breathe during the showdown, striking at her again and again from all angles. She was safe nowhere, even when hidden behind the viney defensive walls sprouting from her hair. You’d ended it neat and clean with a swift shot of your quirk, landing her out of the arena. Triumphant, you’d moved up again, but you still remained humble while helping Ibara off of the ground with a bright smile and gifted her a sincere handshake. You’d no doubt made a spectacle of yourself to the crowd and everyone watching at home, the loud cheer of encouragement erupting across the venue said just as much. Enji even hashed out a couple of light claps for your impressive display.

Your last battle was the nail in the coffin for Endeavor. You were finally fighting against his son. Of course, he was obviously rooting for Shoto to crush you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to a nail-biting fight. He got just that. You two dove for each other—ice flung around the court in jagged peaks with you racing around the boy and firing off precisely aimed jabs of your own quirk. Blustering rushes of glacial wind flushed across the landscape. You two waltzed around in a deadly dance of effort and skill. You’d make sure Shoto knew that you weren’t to be cast aside like overlooked trash. You had grit, a will to make a name for yourself in the competitive world of heroes. You managed to last around two minutes in the ring together, which is phenomenal, considering his other battles didn’t last more than a handful of seconds. In the end, Shoto had been the victor when he caught you off guard by using his ice on the floor. He swiftly created a haphazard ice rink and slid you out of bounds. You were too exhausted from abusing your quirk so much that afternoon against your other opponents that you couldn’t stop your body from spinning out. Enji didn’t miss the way Shoto practically dashed over to your side, helped you stand up, and offered his arm for you to hold as you shakily shuffled off the slick floor to a safer spot.

Though you lost, he hadn’t forgotten how you gave his son a run for his money. You were very capable. Which is why he didn’t hesitate allowing you to become a work-study of his under the guise of helping you and your other friends out. This plan he has is not only for the benefit of his own gains, but for Shoto’s as well. He knows his son cares for you, but he has to help you see that after all of the Purge nonsense. You two would be perfect together—the perfect marriage of quirks. Of course, he tells himself that he’s not in this for the sole reason of having another powerful quirk added to his ranks. But it certainly helps him like you more.

You kept your eyes lowered, the lingering sting of defeat simmering behind your eyes and in your heart. You wanted to have an unwavering confidence like some of your classmates. You would never say this to Bakugou, but you truly did admire his “never back down” style. You had seen countless times how he barked in the faces of higher-ups, challenging their morals, their reasons for becoming heroes, and plans. It was as if he never agreed with anything they presented. The blond always had to shove his opinion into every decision made. You wanted to stare Endeavor straight in the eye as you stomped on his foot and make him see what you really thought of all their bullshit. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have it in you to ignore his authority. Guess that’s why you’re still stuck up here on this stupid roof with people you don’t want to be around, huh?

Hawks brushed back your hair, trying to examine your face for distress or injury, but all he could see was you not meeting his gaze. He wants to tell you he knows firsthand how hard this decision is—hell, even he has doubts relying on Endeavor and Mirko. He wants to say he’d be able to make this escape on his own with you. Hide you away alone so no one else has any clue where you are. That sounds like paradise to him. Alas, with so many high profiles after you now, there isn’t a chance of him making it out with his head. If he broke the agreement he resentfully made with the two, then others would certainly turn against him.

Later. He’ll strike later. Don’t you see? That’s why he’s playing the perfect little stepping stool. No one deserves you but him—not even his idol. His hero. He’ll make sure you know that too by the end of this night. Only a little longer of bearing the pretending and game of dress up, then he’ll slip away with you in tow.

“Hawks.” You heard Endeavor call out for the winged man. Daddy’s calling.

Hawks tilted your chin up so you were forced to look into his amber glow, and offered a caring smile. He hoped you could see the promise behind his eyes. The disgust masked behind a beaming smile was perfected for meeting delusional strangers and other worthless heroes. He gave Endeavor that smile, but not to you. You hoped the scowl you shot ripped his lungs out and left them rotting in a pile of maggot-riddled filth. How dare he give you such a carefree look after telling you he was going to steal away your entire life.

After Hawks walked over to converse with Endeavor, Mirko closed in. Not much was said between you two, but she did bump her hip against yours to knock you out of your own head. You turned to give her an offensive side eye, but she only fronted an unbothered look. You went to ignore her again, turning to face towards the men. However, you didn’t get far as she decided to make her personal mission to annoy you. You felt a gentle poke into your side, ticklish and fleeting. You jumped, falling for the trap and glaring at her again. This time, she had a mild grin on her face. It was obvious your displeasure fueled her joy.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to look mad,” she snorted, leaning back on her heels. She couldn’t stop looking at you, and you saw her stare through your peripheral.

You scoffed, “Trying?” You faced forward to deny her yearning for your gaze.

“Of course. I’ve seen mad before, and you’re not at that level. You’re just…peeved. Disgruntled. Ew, no, that word is too ugly to describe you.” Mirko shook her head and stuck her tongue out at the mention of the synonym. You took a deep breath and settled in to focus on the men discussing back and forth.

She circled you like a shark lunging on for her prey, but you simply turned your head the opposite direction of where she was to avoid the confrontation.

“Where you going, grumpy~?” Mirko easily caught on to your aversion. You noticed how her grin truly did resemble something shark-like. The thought crossed your mind if she was really half-bunny, or actually some predator in disguise masking the innocence of a rabbit. A wolf in sheep’s clothing

“I’m actually very interested in that bird over there. Would you look at that, it’s pretty far away.” You apathetically mused at the distant dot in the sky. You brushed her prodding away to daze off into the horizon, Mirko’s words slowly being tossed into the heaping bin of memories you wouldn’t document in your brain. Gazing across the landscape of the dark treeline surrounding UA and the few standing buildings nearby, your eyes scanning the moonlit metal of the nearby rooftops. But something else glistening on the roof caught your eye too. Something moving.

You watched it shift and reflect the moon’s rays from across the neighboring rooftop. You squinted, trying to catch exactly what was skulking around in the dark, but it strayed just beyond your sight. Whatever it was, it wanted to stay hidden.

“Absolutely not.” Endeavor’s thunderous voice startled you from your scouting. Hawks turned his head to see if you had noticed the man’s tantrum—no shit you’d notice that barbaric yell from the brute—and, in seeing your alarm, sighed. He scooted closer to the mammoth of a man, turning his back to you. You strained your ears to hear the mumbling.

“You don’t have to tell me it’s not ideal—I know that—but what other choice do you think we have?” Was all you could hear before Hawks’ voice became too faint to make out comprehensible words.

You then remembered your little “friend” in the shadows. You shot your head back to its previous position to confront the adversary. Nothing. You searched and searched the silent building, but nothing. You wanted to tell yourself that it was just your mind playing tricks in the dark, but on tonight of all nights, you knew better than to downplay your concern.

Finally acknowledging Mirko, you questioned her, “Do you see anything on that roof over there?”

She gave you an unimpressed deadpan, “Seriously? You're trying the ‘oh my gosh, what’s that over there!’ trick?”

“Wha—no!” You looked offended, but you felt a cold sweat on the side of your forehead. Inside, you knew you’d probably have tried that trick sooner rather than later, and you've got to hand it to her. She knows you well.

Before you could try to explain your reasoning, a raging flame shot to strike Hawks and Endeavor.

Miraculously, Hawks’ reflexes were quick enough to shove Endeavor and himself out of the way of the surprise attack before someone was set ablaze. The smell of burning hair permeated the area although, and you looked over to catch a glimpse of a portion of Hawks’ right wing being singed into charred black wisps. Mirko reacted nearly faster than Hawks did, grabbing your waist and maneuvering you back from the fire. It was you and Mirko parted from Hawks and Endeavor far on the opposite side of the roof.

“What the hell?” Mirko grit her teeth at the attack. Psychos getting in the way of her time with you, what a joke. Such a waste of time. She just wants to run off and find somewhere to keep you for the rest of the Purge, yet these shitty obstacles just can’t seem to get enough of you. She was going to rip them limb from limb for taking her attention off of you.

You stood with no complaint in her arms, not minding her taking the lead of your protection. You still couldn’t see who caused the disruption, but you would soon wonder no longer.

“You’re slow today, Endeavor. What? Off your game or something?” A seedy voice echoed across the way. Male, deep, commanding. You watched as the foe came to stand at the edge of the railing. Your eyes dilated at the sight. Your breath caught in your throat. You’d only cared to remember this man as the one who, with the rest of his party, ruined your training camp over the summer and kidnapped your classmate, Bakugou.

You’re shot into the past as you recount that horrible night. It had been such a great start to the day. You’d been working hard with all of your friends, aiming to better improve the longevity and resilience of all your quirks. You’d nearly tuckered yourselves out when the hero Pixie-Bob said you all had one more challenge to face before bed. The Test of Courage. It began as traditionally as any silly game teenagers played in the dark did. Then it all came crashing down at the faint, then quickly overwhelming, scent of smoke. You remember being there in that midnight-black forest, you remembered how excited you’d been at the started of that stupid game you’d agreed to play, you remember the fire that infested the trees and burnt the pretty flowers and bushes to wisps of charcoal ash, you remembered the terror and fear of being lost in said woods before Deku found you wandering alone. You remember locking eyes with the man who stoked the fires. A spearing turquoise. You’d seen a blue so vibrant like that only once before. You’d found that hypnotic color in Shoto’s left eye. Though, Shoto was a much kinder soul than the monster these captivating eyes were attached to.

In the present, you’re wrung back into that same terror as you watched his black leather trench coat gently sway in the breeze, a glinting bicep catching your eye. The metal cuffs shone from the full light of the moon along with the many staples running up and down the sleeves. He was too far away to discern an exact facial expression, but you could blatantly see the large patch of marred, burned flesh dominating the lower half of his face. The leathery substance was roughly connected to what remained of his skin untouched by flame, stitched up with bloody staples. The way it was sutured made his face forever appear as if strung upwards to mimic a sickening Cheshire grin. You wanted to say he was only generally looking around the roof, but you knew better. The villain was practically drilling daggers into you with how much he was staring. No, you couldn’t just say he was any old random villain; you knew his name. Dabi.

More bodies moved out from behind him to occupy the opposing roof. All you heard from them was laughter and unflattering comments nagged at the pro heroes.

“Wow, they’re even cuter this close~! Much better than in the crappy photos you guys took, Shiggy~,” A much higher pitched voice exhaled in an almost loving sigh. Their blonde hair was cinched up in two tangled space buns, but the mess was an intentional look. The loose strands were slicked into spikes. Cutesy and feminine, a happy aura surrounded her, but you knew better. She draped herself over the railing as if in her own ditzy world. You would have believed it was a fainting couch with how dramatically she had laid over the scenery. Much like Dabi, the girl couldn’t take her gaze off of you, but she made her presence known.

“Hiiii, (N/N)~~! Are the big, scary pro heroes getting in the way again? Don’t worry, cutie! I’ll take care of ‘em, hehe~!” Himiko Toga, you believe that’s what Aizawa said her name was, called out to you like she was the Romeo to your Juilet. You’re sure she believed that too. You’d heard Ochaco talk about her to you guys after the training camp. She told you about how the girl tackled Tsuyu and used these specialized needles to draw out blood from her victims. Uraraka experienced the threat head on as the girl had jammed one of her needles straight into her thigh with little apprehension.

Uraraka told you how obsessed the girl was with blood, a crazed look in her eye when the red substance came about. She said she loved her, loved her so much that she wanted to turn into her! Deku even chimed in and said the girl shouted to him delusional fantasies of wanting him to be her boyfriend. At the time, all you could do was shiver and brush off the fear the conversation brought by claiming she was “just another crazed lunatic”. Well, now that the girl is staring you down with her own redden irises, you felt your tongue shrivel up in your throat.

“Bloodied and carved up is the only way any of these nobody pro heroes could ever look cute. Though, the one daring to hold onto my darling definitely won’t be leaving here alive.” She sneered, completely flipping her personality into one of seething hate and disgust when she gazed upon Mirko. Toga’s rage could be felt from a mile away, and you felt Mirko hold onto you tighter.

“Toga, knock it off,” the green lizard man with the draping red scarf hollered at her, “we’ve got a job to do.” Though it was hard to see, you noticed the way his eyes would drift to you and quickly look away. Like he was nervous. Shy? The large clump of weapons taped and glued together as his arsenal seemed deadly but ineffective all in one. However, he moved rather quickly on his feet despite the added weight.

“Wow, such a beauty! Ugh, what an attention-seeker!” The same voice shouted two opposing sentences from across the way. You looked over and saw a man wearing a black and gray spandex suit, clutching the railing while waving his arm around. After yelling, it looked like one of his arms had a mind of its own as it grabbed his neck. It appeared to be he was trying to strangle himself with one hand, while the other hand sprung into action to stop the strangling. It was an odd battle of each arm trying to wrestle each other, as his head kept whipping back and forth shouting insults at…himself? You’re not entirely sure what’s going on there, but you hope he won’t start to try injuring himself with weapons next.

“Hmm, I agree with your first sentence, Twice. Do try to not scare our guest away so soon.” A regal tone stood out through the other members’ silliness. You wonder how much backup did these guys bring as a tall figure in a creamsicle colored jacket walked to the edge of the railing. His height was enhanced with a dark brown top hat he donned and the fancy cane held at his side. The most notable feature of his was the mask he hid behind. Marble man. You couldn’t remember his name, but you certainly remembered the way he trapped Tokoyami and Bakugou when he tried to run away with them in his grasp. You felt bubbling heat rise in your chest. Betrayal and resentment all wrapped into one swirl of hurt leaving a suffocating dead weight on your chest.

“Dabi, keep your shit under control or go back to the base. Get your asses moving. We’re here to take and leave, so don’t fuck this up for me.” An unseen voice was heard from further back on the roof. However, whoever it was got the lot of them hurrying off. Groaned complaints and witty remarks were heard, mostly from the black-haired male, but they soon fizzled out. You kept looking for where they were going, but soon you couldn’t see anyone anymore. It was silent yet again.

“Sorry, darling, but we don’t have time to stay and find out what happens next.” That is all Mirko said to you before she bent down to pull you up into her arms. Though, she didn’t move that far.

“MIRKO, BEHIND!” You heard Endeavor yell out to the woman in concern. You heard it before you saw it. A goopy, unnatural, burbling sound came from behind your form. You didn’t have a chance to turn around before a platform leather boot kicked Mirko’s crouched body away with little effort. She skidded across the cement, nearly all the way back to where Hawks and Endeavor were standing. You wanted to call out for her, ask if she was okay. As much as you’d felt unapologetic rage for how they’d decided to take your life away from you, you still cared about them. You probably gave them too much of your heart, but they’re still your mentors. The people you've looked up to for years in your training to become a hero. Right now, you didn’t want to be alone, as much as you’d begged for it in your mind tonight. Not with the threat of the League of Villains being what you’d have to face on your own.

You heard a sinister giggle from over your shoulder, and felt a calloused hand grasp your shoulder. Without warning, the memories you’d vaulted away with lock and key of the horrible training camp incident came flooding back with greater force than before.

That night, Izuku had found you. Tears dripped down your face as you hacked up a lung from the smoke in the air. If he’d found you any later, you’d probably have been passed out from the lack of oxygen. You ran alongside him, trying to find your way back to the rest of the class, toward any sign of a familiar face. After fleeing, you’d soon found the little boy who originally came with the Wild Wild Pussycats, Kota, with a villain in tow. Deku fought against the mammoth of a man who went by Muscular while you protected Kota from the falling rubble and terrain. After nearly getting thrown a million miles away, Izuku finally got the upperhand on the man, and knocked out the behemoth villain. You fled into the forest again, and after dropping Kota off with Mr. Aizawa and fending off Spinner to save Mandalay, you soon find Shoji and Tokoyami. However, Tokoyami could have been in better shape, as he was now overtaken by Dark Shadow’s power. Shoji explained that he and Tokoyami were attacked by a villain named Moonfish, which resulted in Tokoyami trying to use Dark Shadow to protect them, but Dark Shadow’s desire to take the reins was too great. Dark Shadow was destroying the forest in their rage, but Izuku was quick on his feet to think of using Dark Shadow to your advantage to help protect Bakugou from the villains as well.

You three lead Dark Shadow through the woods, and end up running into Bakugou and Todoroki who are facing off against the villain who tried to attack Shoji and Tokoyami before. Dark Shadow descended and made easy work of clobbering Moonfish, and the boys used their fiery quirks to release Tokoyami from Dark Shadow’s control. All of you hurried off in the direction of the facility, running into Tsuyu and Ochaco who’d been fighting off Himiko before she fled, and your large group prepared to get back safely as “Bakugou Protection Squad”. You didn’t get far as you finally noticed that Bakugou and Tokoyami were missing. The marble guy revealed himself and the League’s plan to take the boys hostage. He flew off, but the girls helped you, Shoto, Shoji, and Izuku fly to catch up to the villain.

You tackled Compress out of the sky, and fended off Twice alongside Shoto when the League fought against you. As you tried to run off as Shoji had yelled for you and Shoto to do, the warp user, Kurogiri, had stopped your escape. When Compress had shown the marbles of your friends being trapped, you saw red. You couldn’t let them be taken, you just couldn’t. It was the miracle that Aoyama’s precise shot of his Naval Laser to Compress’ face that gave you the chance you needed to save the boys.

Shoji had successfully nabbed Tokoyami’s marble, and now it was up to Shoto and you grab Bakugou’s. You were so close, just inches away, before he was ripped from you again. It was the scarred hands of the fire user that flooded your vision. You fell to the ground, empty-handed and desperately looking up at the man searching for any weakness in his grasp to steal the tiny blue-tinted glass ball from him. But it was too late.

It was an extra bit of torture—one that Dabi made sure you guys knew was on purpose—to release Bakugou from the marble so he could watch your failure. You saw the fear swimming in his red irises as he looked at you, the stiffness in his stance, the slight shake of his hands. He looked so…helpless. You’d never seen the boy in such a state of despair before. It was haunting. You stood on shaky fawn-like legs, ready to tear that villain apart with your bare hands, no Quirk needed. You wanted to make him pay for the suffering he put not only your class, but what he put everyone at the camp through tonight. But you were stopped with a gentle embrace.

Shoto had looped his arms around your midsection in a cage. You twisted back to yell at him to let you go, to let you save your friend, but his gaze gave his answer to your plea. He knew you couldn’t win. One eye filled with a harsh, cold steel of an unforgiving bind and the other swimming with a depth that rivaled even the ocean’s own fullness, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You thrashed and screamed against Shoto, not believing you wouldn’t come out victorious in this suicide mission. You unconsciously looked at Bakugou for aid, and it was a cruel reminder that he could save you no more. Both of you being held against your will, both of you screaming for help—one screaming bloody murder, one silent as a moonless night. The savior trying to go where the victim was being taken, but the victim commanding them to stay behind.

You’ll never forget the emptiness after Bakugou was fully snatched through the portal. You’ll never forget collapsing to the dirt beside Deku, Shoto’s arm still chained tightly around your middle, and wailing your heart out.

You’ll never forgive the satisfied gleam in that evil man’s eye. Never.

Except it wasn’t Dabi’s hand this time. You looked at the pale flesh, graying and roughed from years of neglect and self hate. The fingernails were chipped and appeared to be chewed with anxiety-ridden coping. Beneath the nails looked like they’d been clawing at a cement wall, dried blood caked underneath the unmanicured bits. The twitching pinky finger dangling frivolously above the target of your shoulder made your blood run cold.

“Miss me?” Tomura Shigaraki mumbled into your ear with a snarl. You’re sure you were shaking, but you couldn’t feel anything other than the stuttery breaths you took in and out. You could only focus on the lone finger judging the worth of your entire life. One movement too erratic and you’re nothing more than a pile of ash sitting in his rotten hands. You saw Endeavor’s mouth moving, he was definitely addressing the villain, but neither of you were paying attention to the fuming man.

“Staying to chat would be fun, but I think I’ll let them do the talking for me. I would rather spend my breath talking to (Y/N) than you losers.” Shigaraki rolled his eyes. He guided you to step aside, and you reluctantly shifted. A sloshing sounded as Kurogiri’s portal grew to be much larger. Once the portal stretched high enough, a figure swished through. They shouldn’t be here. How can they get onto UA’s premises? Doesn’t this place have some kind of security measure to protect the kids, damnit?!

As if he could read your mind, he chuckled to himself, “So nice that UA’s defenses are down for the Purge. So much easier to ransack this place when I can toss a couple of these guys onto the front lawn. Makes this boss fight a clean sweep.” Out from the portal stepped a massive monster you’d come to know as one of Shigaraki’s playthings, a Nomu.

You’d seen a couple before, namely at the USJ when All Might defeated the beast nearly single-handedly and during the time you saved Bakugou from the League and All for One, but you had never been so close that you could reach out and touch it. As it lumbered past you, you could almost taste the horrifying aura it carried. The violence just itching to break out of its skin. Its body was barely keeping the violence it desires at bay. It was easy to tell how badly the creature wanted to claw the heroes to shreds, the short gasp-like breaths it took, and the stomach-turning visual of its exposed brain and nerve endings. Its unblinking eyes held no emotion. No malice, no joy. Nothing. You’d think it was an impressively realistic Halloween animatronic if it hadn’t just shambled past you.

Then, as if this situation couldn’t get any better, a second one appeared from beyond the portal. A carbon-copy of the first, just as horrifying, just as deadly. Then a third. Three of those monstrosities stood in front of you like an impenetrable wall. The barrier of such an evil force left you feeling light headed. This can’t be happening.

“Have fun, heroes! Don’t come looking for them, unless you’re looking to free up some space on the Hero Billboard Chart. Would be a shame if some of Japan’s finest didn’t make it through the Purge, huh?” Shigaraki called out to them with a scratchy cackle. You watched the three pros prep their Quirks and bodies for the fight to come, you then heard banging from the doors of the rooftop. The doors must have been locked as you heard a hell of a ruckus behind it. Though it was a multitude of voices, deep and high pitched, and lots of them. You wondered who it could be. Your teachers? Had they chased after the pros and were intent on winning you back? Or could it be…

Oh no.

Wait. They shouldn't come up here. Please. Not with these things here, not now. The Nomus had no remorse, no moral compass. They’d kill your classmates right where they stood.

“No…wait, my friends are still here. Please—,” this was the only sliver of argument that you posed against Shigaraki, with a shaking lip and a strip of silver tears lining your lower lash line. He revealed in your fear to oppose him.

“Really? Hmm. Perfect.” Shigaraki smiled a repulsive grin at you, his wrinkled red and slightly pink eyes filled with more bloodlust than you’ve known before. He began pulling you back by the shoulder, but you chose to fight. Yanking yourself forward before a different set of hands gripped your arms, your other shoulder, and your waist. You wrung your body left and right, and you felt closer to Bakugou than you ever have before. Trapped and alone, with no foreseeable aid.

Doors banged and the yelling grew louder.

Slimy drool dripped from the blood-thirst Nomus’ mouths onto the cement floor. Frothed mouths itching to latch onto body parts and tear them off.

Hawks, Mirko, and Endeavor had looks of pure panic as they could only watch you getting dragged away. Not because of the threat of the Nomus, but because they were losing you yet again.

Your screams for mercy were only acknowledged by a calloused grasp, minus the pinky, clamping over your mouth.

And just like that, you were gone.

~ To Be Continued… ~

Far away from the light of the outside world, a dark figure resided in the shadows. A large television took up nearly the entire landscape of their wall, illuminating their body with its harsh glow. A smirk lined their lips, entertained with the events unfolding on that fateful rooftop. Multiple cameras showed all angles of the fight, of their disobedience, of their foolishness.

Not you! Heavens no, not you! Never you. You were perfect, always. Always the perfect little damsel in distress. Always the most entertaining morsel. Delicate and bold at the same time. A real palette cleanser from all the other despicable acts they’ve seen before. They’ve had a lifetime and then some to experience the tiresome, dreadfully boring reality they’ve come to unwilling terms with. However, you certainly add a wonderful zing of sweetness and spice to the otherwise flavorless mush they’ve known life to taste like. They want more.

They watched the despair fill your mind, how distraught you became over the mess they’d created. They saw your beautiful eyes, so teary and wide. So much innocence and hope for this crumbling world held inside them.

They stood, brushing off the dust from their clothes, and walked towards the door that caged them inside. Oh, how wonderful it will be to meet you again. Properly, this time.

<3 — Tag List — <3

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gracieheartspedro · 1 year ago

Text

No One Fucks With My Baby

pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller (based on established back story from my oneshot Who We Are)

description: everyone now knows that you are joel's girl. when you're working a busy night at the bison, a newbie stirs up a bit of trouble. joel handles it the only way he knows how and you thank him the only way you know how.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, drunk old men who harass reader, joel fucks them up, mentions of blood, glass breaking (?), voyeurism, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, pet names

author's note: this fic is dedicated to the birthday girl @ilovepedro !!! happy birthday sweet nini, I love you so much! thank you for helping me edit this, but more importantly, thank you for being a wonderful friend. you make the world a better place. love you always <3

after the amazing love I got on "Who We Are", I decided to add to the universe. let me know if y'all want more! xoxo, gracie

“Didn’t know they made jeans that low cut!”

You were used to stupid comments made towards you by drunk men. But now that Joel has made it known, you are his, a lot of the men in Jackson kept their advances to themselves. The gentleman at the end of the bar must not know that your big ole’ scary boyfriend was positioned in a booth with Tommy and your father across the room. His eyes had been locked on you for most of the night, and every time he and the guys needed more drinks, he’d be the one to grab more.

You turn to the drunk man, who had to be your father’s age. He’s practically drooling at the sight of your ass in your favorite jeans. The summer air was not a good combination to a normally humid bar, so you had been wearing less and less clothes behind the bar. You were sporting the jeans and a tighter tank top than usual, mainly because you knew Joel would be around and you loved driving him wild when the shirt rode up on you.

“You’re gonna catch flies if you don’t close your mouth,” You joke, pouring whiskey for another patron, “Don’t think you’d like the way that would taste.”

The man slams down his glass which causes a couple people to look down at him. You don’t even glance in his direction, knowing if he’s mad, he can take it up with every man in the Tipsy Bison.

“I don’t take too kindly to sarcastic little sluts.”

Your heart stops. You calmly place the whiskey bottle down beside the shot glass you were pouring into and glance towards the red faced prick. You hear the conversations subside around the room while you lock eyes with the guy who’s bold enough to talk shit to you.

You know Joel’s already standing up from his spot at his booth, but you move quicker. You position yourself in front of him, leaning over the bar, your eyes raking down the pathetic boy in front of you.

“Pardon?”

He swallows, realizing how quiet his surroundings got. “I s-said I don’t take kindly to sarcasm.”

You click your tongue, a newfound confidence surging through your body, “I don’t think that’s all you said. Somethin’ about me being a slut?”

“Listen, girl-”

His boots are loud against the hardwood as he approaches you and the man. He stands scarily close to the barstool where the man sits. You don’t break eye contact though, wanting to handle this situation yourself.

“It’s ma’am, to you,” You cut him off, “I think it’s best if you leave.”

“I haven’t finished my drin-”

Joel reaches around the guy and grabs the whiskey glass from in front of him and slams it on the floor. The guy immediately starts to tremble, shaking like a little leaf. You crack a smile before whispering one final thing to him.

“Think you’re finished, buddy,” You flick your eyes up at Joel, who’s fury is written all over his face, “Mind walkin’ him out, baby?”

Joel grabs onto the guys shoulder with a bruising grip, “Would be my pleasure, sweetheart.”

He rips the guy from the stool, not even making sure the guy finds his footing. You ignore the shuffle outside and return to your pouring. You feel like your heart may beat out of your chest, but you’re relieved it was handled before Joel got even more handsy with him. You grab the shot glass and hand it to the fellow that was sat by the drunken fool.

“You got Miller wrapped around your finger,” The guy, who’s name you think is Aaron, says. He was a regular and frequently stopped Joel to talk about morning patrols. You smirk before snatching a rag off your shoulder.

“Yeah, he’s so wrapped around my finger that he’s gonna clean up all that broken glass.” You joke, wiping down the condensation ring the glasses left on the wooden table top.

You hear some footsteps approaching and when you look up it’s Tommy. He’s shaking his head, a grin playing on his lips.

“Where’s the broom? Joel seems busy putting that guy in his place.”

You furrow your brows as you reach for the broom, “What do you mean?”

“I just sent your Dad out there because it sounded like some rustlin’,” Tommy explains, grabbing the stick from you to begin sweeping up the shards, “I’m sure they are handlin’ it.”

Before you can get nervous, you hear the front door swing open quickly. Your Dad and Joel walk in and you can tell Joel is pissed and a bit rattled. You navigate your way around the bar and glass, reaching their booth as soon as Joel sits down. He’s cradling his right hand in his left, hissing in discomfort.

“What did you do?” You say, reaching out for his hands. There’s two gashes that litter his knuckles, only bleeding slightly. You shake your head when he pulls away from you.

“Nothin’ baby,” he mumbles, “Just taught the guy it’s not nice to talk to ladies like he did. He walked off with a bloody nose and busted lip when he started talkin’ shit back.”

You roll your eyes, catching your Dad’s glare.

“Did you break it up?” You press, wanting more of an explanation.

He shakes his head, “Nope. Joel can handle himself. I did tell the guy when he was walking away that if he talked about my daughter like that again, he’d wouldn’t be able to walk away cause he would have a bullet between his eyes.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms under your chest. “I swear to God…”

Tommy approaches the table, his task of cleaning glass finished. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, “You okay?”

“I’d be better if the men in my life weren’t insane,” You joke, nudging Joel’s arm as he inspects his knuckles.

Tommy laughs and sits back down across from your Dad and Joel. While he makes jokes with your Dad, Joel is silent and stirred. You can tell he’s bothered by something more than handling some asshole who called you a name. You decide against pestering him more, allowing him to settle back into conversation with Tommy and your Dad.

You give him a quick peck on the cheek and return to slinging drinks.

“Thanks for staying while I lock up,” You say to Joel as pushing in the last barstool, “And thanks for earlier.”

He is propped up on one of the middle pillars, his shoulder resting on the wood while his arms and legs are crossed. He was still being quiet, not giving into conversation. You approach him, your eyes trained on his arms. He was wearing a t-shirt for the first time all summer, which made you feel some type of way. His arms were tanned beautifully and toned. His biceps were perfectly outlined by the thin fabric of the gray t-shirt.

“Anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

You glance up at him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Tell me what’s got you all bothered.”

“It’s nothin’,” He uncrosses his arms and reaches out for you. You know it’s not nothing, so you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him forward. He looks a bit surprised.

“It’s somethin’, so you better tell me what happened.”

He huffs, fanning your face with his breath, “That asshole said some shit about us and it set me off.”

You squeeze him a bit, “What did he say?”

You can tell he does not want to repeat it, but you were not going to let it go.

“How I’m an old man with a young girl. How I’m old enough to be your dad.”

You feel sick to your stomach at the idea he had to hear some asshole say that. You look down between you, shifting your weight onto your other foot. You started to feel clammy, unsure of a good response that would reassure Joel.

“He’s just some asshole. What does he know?” You manage to sputter.

Joel’s shoulder’s sag, “He’s not wrong, though, baby girl. I’m an old man with a younger girl.”

You push away from him, scanning him up and down. You are pissed that he’s even bringing this up again, after all this time.

“I’m a grown ass woman, Joel. A grown ass woman with a grown ass man. Just because there’s time in between us doesn’t mean we aren’t old enough to make decisions for ourselves.”

His lip curls, “I know baby, I am just saying that sometimes we get odd looks cause of the age difference. I really don’t care anymore… Just caught me off guard, is all.”

You fold your arms, “You put him in his place, right? He’s not gonna come around here sayin’ shit again?”

“He’d be stupid to come near you again. Think I got my point across.”

You feel like you owe him something. You had a couple ways you could repay him, ensuring that he never thinks about those stupid comments again.

You use your arms to press up your bra a bit, your cleavage more highlighted with the gesture. Joel’s eyes trail down, the scoop neck giving away your suggestive movement. You step closer again, wanting to be in his space.

“My man…” You trail, your eyes falling to his agape mouth, “Makin’ sure everyone knows I’m his.”

He nods slowly before his hand creeps around your waist, “What are you tryin’ to do, girl?”

“Nothin’,” you click your tongue. “Just thinkin’ of how I could repay you for handlin’ that for me. You hurt yourself defending my honor. I owe you.”

“Don’t think of it that way. You don’t owe me anything,” His fingers start to creep down to the curve of your ass. “But, I would love to see what you had in mind.”

“Oh, you would,” You hum, your arms unfolding to wrap around his neck. “Let’s start by walking back to your house.”

Instead of responding, he dips his head and peppers kisses down your neck, taking his time letting his fingers wander around the skin on your lower back and hips. Your skin feels like it’s on fire with every press of his lips.

“Fuck,” You sigh as you try to bring him closer to you, but he’s not letting up on your neck. He’s suckling spots near your collarbone, groaning as you react to his every move. You knew at this point, this whole situation was in his hands and not yours.

He lifts his head slowly, letting his bottom lip drag across your skin, “How ‘bout this… How ‘bout I take you right here over this bar? Maybe that asshole is nearby and he can hear how well I give it to ya.”

His proposition sends you into a spiral. You and Joel have had plenty of sex in different places, but the bar? And he wants others to hear? Usually he’s telling you that your moans are for his ears only, and while he wants you to be loud for him, you’re usually too timid to actually vocalize your pleasure.

You place your hands on his expansive chest, “You want to fuck me here?”

He beams down at your question before he whispers, “I want to fuck you everywhere. Here, your bed, my couch, the shower. Hell, I’ll take you at this bar while people watch.”

“Jesus, Joel,” You huff, almost dizzy from the statement.

He brings his hand up to tilt your head back so you look at him. When your eyes meet, he brings the hand up around your neck and to the nape, right where your spine starts.

“God, I need you, sweet girl.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can speak, Joel brings you in for a passionate and eager kiss. He’s feverish, his hands now wandering down to your ass. He starts to walk you backwards towards the now abandoned bar top. You knock into a couple chairs, but his arms keep you from tripping. His hands are propped on your ass, navigating you to the edge of the bar top. When your back is pressed against it, he starts to shove his thumbs under your waist band. He pulls away from your lips to push down your jeans, letting them pool on the floor.

“Spread your legs,” he grumbles, “I want to taste you.”

You do as you’re told, shaking your jeans off your ankles and spreading your legs. Joel falls to his knees like a man starved. You note his devilish smile when you do as you’re told.

“I thought I was repaying you,” You choke out as his hands roam over your flesh. He chuckles darkly before pressing a kiss to your right inner thigh.

“Lettin’ me get between these legs with my tongue is repaying me,” He clicks as pulls at your panties. He slides them to the side, getting a great look at how wet you are already. Your knees feel like they may give out any second just from the anticipation, so when his mouth finds your entrance, you rest your elbows on the freshly wiped down bar.

Joel exploring you in this way was nothing new, but every time he went down on you, it was thrilling. He was simply so fuckin’ good at it. You never had a man take his time eating you out, desperately wanting you to cum straight on his tongue.

The vibrations from his groaning sends shockwaves down your legs, causing them to shake. Joel’s hands are the only thing keeping you stable because even your elbows are slipping from the bar top. The suckling noises coming from him are obscene, especially because you’re standing over the bar at your work. You cannot help but try to balance yourself so you can grind yourself down onto his eager tongue. Before you can really get started doing that, he pulls away, his wet lips glistening under the overhead lights.

He sticks his pointer, middle, and ring finger into his mouth, slathering them in his own saliva. You watch him carefully as he brings them up to your slit, adding to the slick that’s already there.

“I want you to cum all over my fingers before I bend you over this bar,” He practically moans. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

You can barely speak as his fingers slowly slip in and out of you, “Y-yes.”

“Yes what?” He adds another finger, curling them as he pumps in and out. Your head is spinning, watching his other hand spread over your lower stomach to hold you against the bar. You know what he wants, but you can hardly get the word ‘yes’ out, let alone the name he loves you calling him. You try to breathe in and center yourself, but the fire in your tummy burns bright.

“Y-yes, Sir. Please m-make me cum.”

He latches his lips around your clit as he speeds the strokes of his three digits. You grab onto his dark curls to hold him there to ensure that he doesn’t stop putting all the pressure right there. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and you cannot help but scream out in pleasure.

He grabs your hips, not caring about your recovery. His dick is rock hard in his blue jeans and it makes you giggle in satisfaction. Joel has fucked you in so many different ways, but you do not remember a time he fucked you over counter.

Your upper body is laying flat against the wooden bar, your hands gripping onto the other side to steady yourself. You hear his zipper go down and then his hands are back on you. Your panties are stretched to hell already, so he practically tears the fabric off your lower body without any resistance. You chuckle at how vehement he is. He spreads your ass cheeks as he slips his cock between your closed thighs.

“Gonna need you to spread some more for me, sweet girl,” He mutters, smacking one of your cheeks lightly, “God, you’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn, “Yes, Sir.”

You do as you’re told, spreading your legs for him. When you do that, his dick prods at your clit, before easing into your entrance. You and Joel fuck raw, so when he opens you up, you feel every vein and ridge against your walls. He’s thick and it always takes you a minute to adjust to the feeling.

“So fuckin’ tight.”

He retracts back and inches forward again, letting you take in every inch of him. You grab onto the edge of the bar harder, your grip growing tighter with the action. He rests his grip on your hips, using them as leverage as he sets a steady pace. The moment his pace picks up, it’s like the motion pushes all the air from your lungs and you huff out louder. It only encourages him, but instead of keeping you in that position, he grabs onto your shoulders and lifts you up. You are lifted up to his chest, flush with his clothed upper body. He reaches around your arms and grabs onto your breasts through your thin v-neck.

“J-Joel,” you nudge him with your free hands, “Let me take it o-off.”

He slows his thrusts and lets you pull your shirt over your head. Instead of unhooking your bra, Joel takes the liberty to do it himself. The straps drop off your shoulders and you peel the padding off your chest. His hands instantly cradle your breasts, kneading them as he jolts forward to continue fucking you. His thumb and pointer pinch and tug at your pert nipples.

“Mmm,” He hums, “Only I can fuck you this good, huh?”

You whimper at his actions, “Only you, Joel.”

“That’s right.”

With that, he slips himself out of you, causing you to whine at the empty feeling. He moves you around like a rag doll, turning you around to face him.

Joel’s eyes are dilated and his hands are moving quickly to lift you off the ground and press your lower back into the bar. You place your hands on his shoulders, knowing exactly what position he wants you in.

He picks you up so seamlessly. It’s like when he’s horny or angry, he’s super strong and practically indestructible. He will probably complain how his back hurts later.

Your knees fold over his forearms, perfectly spread open for his taking.

You are so wet that he slips right into you. He uses the bar a bit for leverage as he fucks up into you, the angle completely sending you into a spiral. His eyes are perfectly trained on your chest, watching your tits jiggle as he drills into you.

“Most perfect thing I ever did see,” He remarks between strokes. Your nails are digging into his shoulder, right above a scar he got a couple years ago when he was out on patrol with your dad. You remember it was the first time you saw Joel shirtless. He was sitting next to your Dad in the infirmary, getting stitched up from getting caught on a sharp tree limb. You remember thinking how tan and beautiful he was back then.

Now you’re gripping onto his shoulders years later, his dick ramming into you and hitting you in all the right places.

Life is so mysterious and wonderful.

He bites his lip, putting all his focus into making you cum before he does himself. He’s a giver and for that, you’re extremely grateful. No man has ever put in as much effort. Before Joel, you did not know you could cum more than once in a single session. A couple months ago, he could not help his insatiable taste for you and made you cum 6 times.

His thrusts begin to falter when he feels you clenching around him, the fiery thrill building in your stomach. Your legs feel like jello, but as soon as the orgasm hits you, they stiffen in his grip.

“F-fuck Joel,” You whimper, stuttering at how good your body feels as your come down unravels. This orgasm is way more powerful, making you practically vibrate in Joel’s arms.

He fucks you through the feeling, his finish quickly approaching. When he’s finally finding his own release, he slips out of you before he can cum inside you. You two had an agreement that he could only cum inside you if you explicitly say he can. Since you didn't even think about it, you watch as his seed spills all over your pelvic bone.

When you two catch your breaths, he gently places you down on the ground. He steadies your wobbly legs by holding onto your naked waist.

You realize you are smiling like an idiot, completely blissed out on how good Joel made you feel. You find your footing, picking up your pants nearby. You don’t even bother with the material that used to be your underwear.

You hear Joel behind you fixing himself up, zipping his dick back into his jeans. You pull on your pants, leaving them unbuttoned. You grab the material on the ground and ball them up. You prance over to Joel, his eyes raking you up and down.

“You can keep this,” You joke, pulling at one of his front pockets. You tuck the panties into his pants, smiling widely.

“‘M just gonna add them to the collection,” He replies, gripping onto the point of your chin.

When he tilts your eyes up to meet his, your heart flutters at the action. He’s so beautiful with his fine lines and wildly untamed peppered curls. His eyebrows are furrowed as he contemplates your expression.

You finally say it. Those three words that you had been meaning to say for months. The words that you had never said to another man ever. There was a distinct moment about 2 months ago, after you had dinner with him and Ellie, where you almost said it while helping him with the dishes. It was that steadying of your heart, a moment you felt most at peace with someone. He made you comfortable. He made you feel safe.

“I love you, Joel.”

He drops your chin, his eyes soften at the statement. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Your anxiety starts to creep up your throat. Maybe you should not have said that. Fuck.

“I-I…”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” He says in almost a whisper before he takes your right hand, rubbing the top of it with his thumb. “‘M sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

Your body relaxes, reassured by his answer. You did not have any doubts about your feelings for Joel, but your mind could not help but over analyze every little thing he ever said to you, forcing you to assume he may not feel the same way.

He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a long kiss onto your knuckles.

“Let’s get you home, sweet girl. I gotta get up for patrol tomorrow.”

#joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel last of us smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #gracieheartspedro

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

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fictional boyfriends (e.m.)

summary: eddie gets jealous of your newest fictional boyfriend from a game he got you into.

warnings: kinda sweet. kinda cringe. eddie is jealous of astarion. twilight reference jumpscare. not edited. biting and vague mentions of sex at the end.

wc: 2.5k+

a/n: this is the dumbest, cringiest thing i have ever written. but on this side of town, we embrace the cringe <3 happy valentine's day, enjoy me combining my current favorite fictional men (astarion and eddie) for my own personal delight. maybe one day i'll write a serious fic regarding the biting kink

It’s not that biting had ever been off the table with Eddie, per se.

Nips between kisses, using a little more teeth when he’d kiss across your neck, a joking sinking of your teeth into his shoulder when you were vying for his attention — they were all normal occurrences between the two of you. There was just never much discussion about it. No conversation explicitly had in which the two of you said, “Why, yes. This is something I’d like to bring into the bedroom.”

Until that damn game.

When Eddie introduced you to Baldur’s Gate 3, the last thing he expected was to watch all your free time you used to spend pestering him suddenly handed over to some fictional vampire. He thought it’d be a game you tried, grew tired of, lost interest in, and that was that. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t expect a sudden competition for your goddamn affections.

“Baby, please come to bed,” he all but whines as he drapes himself over your shoulders, trying to nudge off your headphones. He could feel just how warm your ears had grown beneath them. He swears he can feel your back crack from the slightest bit of his weight on your shoulders. And, sue him — he was tired and he wanted to cuddle.

“One more minute,” you mumble the same phrase to him that he has used a million times on you; he instantly knows it’ll be far more than just sixty more seconds if he agrees, “Let me just finish this-“

“No,” he’s still whining, but it’s more stern now as he properly removes your headset, earning a glare from your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been playing this game all afternoon, sweetheart. I think I might die if you don’t offer me some immediate attention. Truly.”

For emphasis, he lays more of his body weight on you, your chair creaking from holding up both of you now.

“Eddie,” you moan out, wiggling beneath his dead-weight, “I swear to God, get off of me-“

“I’ll get off of you if you come to bed.”

You pause. Your hands hover near your keyboard and mouse, but you’re no longer walking your avatar across the world of Baldur’s Gate, and he knows he has you considering it.

More weight. More groans. At this rate, he’s questioning if your chair won’t break from his outrageous method to get your attention.

“Fine.”

The small yes he lets out only earns him a punch to the shoulder. But it gets you off the game, and that’s still a win for him.

He doesn’t even care about appearing over eager as you follow him back to the bedroom. He’s gone as far as preparing the bed, pillows fluffed and comforted pulled back while awaiting your arrival. He’s already washed his face and brushed his teeth (something he usually fights you on as you nag him before bed), and the moment he’s got you in the room with him, he’s dragging you right onto the mattress with him.

“You’re gonna hurt us!” you yelp as he wraps his arms around you and flops down, dragging you with him, but it’s through a laugh. He knows you really couldn’t care less — he’d never deliberately injure you, irritated about your newest fictional boyfriend or not.

“Oh, no,” he mocks, rolling so you’re laying on top of him, “What ever will you do if I injure one of your precious wrists, and you can’t use it to flirt with your new boy toy tomorrow?”

“Astarion would be devastated,” you giggle into his chest, not moving off of him despite all your protests. It’s nice — to feel the full weight of you, to just get to bury his nose in the crown of your head as he shamelessly inhales the sweet lingering scent of your coconut shampoo, “He’s even needier than you.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you serve as his functional juice box.”

“I do not!” you wiggle against him, and it only makes him tighten his arms, “He’s needy because he loves me.”

“Well that makes one of us.”

Your head lifts off his chest in an instant, faux offense shadowing your features, “You tryin’ to say you don’t love me, Munson?”

He smirks, pressing his lips together tightly, making you huff in frustration.

Of course he loves you. There wouldn’t be a ring in his sock drawer that he’s terrified of you finding if he didn’t.

You pout, subtly and adorably so, starting to lift off of him, “If you’re going to be mean, I’m just going to go back to someone who appreciates me-“

“Mean?” he scoffs, enjoying himself far too much. He’s missed your attention, your affection. The effect it has on him is similar to a high, making him dizzy on serotonin as he rolls over and pins you between him and the mattress, “Oh, baby, that’s not me being mean. I can show you mean, if you want.”

He’s always thought you looked prettiest like this. Under him, eyes wide as you look up at him as if he’s the only thing in this room worth looking at. Worth more than your prized bookshelf, more interesting than all the various posters the two of you have hung on the walls. You look at him as though he’s the greatest thing to exist in these four walls, and he doesn’t take it lightly when your favorite albums and candles are right there.

“You don’t have a mean bone in your body, Munson,” you whisper softly, face going soft for him. The two of you are still surely joking around, the playfulness of it all thick in the air, but there’s something genuine in your words that makes him even more enamored with you.

He should have predicted you’d fall for Astarion when he showed you the game. You had a thing for people who put up the tough front, but who really just needed a little extra softness and patience under the surface. He was living proof of it.

Unlike your fictional vampire boyfriend.

“Yeah?” he taunts, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushes yours. His hair works like a curtain, messy as ever as he shields the two of you from the outside world. One of your hands have crept up so that you palm rests against his cheek, and he can hardly remember that flare of jealousy that had gnawed at him when you’d spent your entire afternoon absorbed in the game instead of him, “I bet I could be meaner than Astarion. Although, I’m not sure just how mean that man has ever been to you, given all the war crimes you commit for his approval-“

He’s cut off when the thumb of the hand cradling his face trails up, pressing on his bottom lip. It only makes him grow even closer to you, pressing in, drawn by your touch.

You squint your eyes at him jokingly before cooing, “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Damn right,” he doesn’t even try to deny it, caught in the web of your trap with ease, “Does your pixelated lover even know what a catch he’s got?”

You snort adorably at that. He pulls away to see the full force of your laughter, lifting up into his elbows to admire how your face scrunches with your smile. He bets Astarion would make some sarcastic comment about it — about the crinkles by your eyes that he aches to pepper with kisses, about the indents in your cheeks when you smile this wide, about the sound of your genuine laughter when you unrestrained and entirely comfortable like this. But there’s not a single joke forming on Eddie’s tongue. He’s all but hypnotized.

God, he fucking loves you. So much so he’s jealous of a video game character.

“I’m not sure I’d consider this,” you lift the hand not holding him carefully still to motion at your current state of being, “A catch, my love.”

He has to disagree. Messy hair or not, wrinkled pajamas or not. You’re the greatest catch of this entire existence; not just Eddie’s, but the Universe’s. Nothing you could say or point out would deter him from this belief. He loves you, mess and all.

“My love?” he chooses to tease instead, all the words of affection threatening to choke him if he so much as considers letting them pour out, “I like the sound of that. If that’s the Astarion effect, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.”

His elbows are sinking deeper into the mattress. With every passing second, his face is dropping closer to yours, and he’s not sure if it’s by instinct or choice. But when his lips finally brush yours, he decides it’s all the same — it doesn’t really matter what sort of gravity is at work here, as long as it keeps bringing him down closer to you.

“Shut up about the game and kiss me, Eddie.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

The kiss is as sweet as ever. A comfortable dance that still sends shivers down his spine. If either of you looked closer at his arms bracketing your shoulders, you’d see the goosebumps raising as you eagerly returned all his affection.

You taste like the chocolates you’d been snacking on during your gaming. You taste like the greatest gift ever given, and he doesn’t care if he’s exaggerating or not. You’re divine — his favorite good morning and his only goodnight.

And he’d say all that, but you’d probably accuse him of trying too hard to be like Astarion. Probably bring up that ridiculous line the character once said about you being made by the Gods, just to ruin him.

You were, though. Made by the Gods, specifically to ruin Eddie. Fuck the game.

“You know,” he whispers against your lips, breaking for air as he adjusts positions. Your thighs open up and welcome him home, letting him slot right between your legs comfortably. He’s not trying to seduce you, but he can’t even be mad about it. He feels like a starved man now that your attention has been divided as of late, “If you wanted a lover who bites, all you had to do was ask, darling.”

If you weren’t so wrapped up in the kisses he was pressing down your jaw and along your neck, you would have ripped him to shreds for the awful impersonation.

But you’re already far gone, lost in his touches and his adorations. You let the half-assed attempt at a British accent slide, and you even bare your neck to him at the minute threat.

Biting had never been off the table, per se, and Eddie was really fucking glad for it.

When he presses one, two, three greedy kisses to that sweet spot just below your ear, he has one intention in mind. Not his usual sucking and nipping and soothing, not leaving behind one of his ordinary love bites. No, he lets himself get caught up in the moment, and when he catches that quiver of excitement the moment he drags his teeth over your neck carefully, he’s fully committed to his decision.

He bites.

Not hard enough to draw blood, or even be terribly painful. He knows it’s nothing like the game or any of your subsequent fantasies you might have had from it. His canines are fairly dull, even as they dig carefully into the skin of your neck, holding for a moment for effect. But your legs tighten around his hips, and he almost wishes he was a damn vampire, able to actually pierce your skin in the moment. Drink your blood. Whatever the allure was with the origin companion.

You let out a soft gasp which has him keeping your skin between his teeth a few extra seconds, and then he’s letting go. Lifting his head and looking into your eyes, a silent exchange of is this okay?

If the glazed over look is anything to go off of, it’s more than okay.

He returns with reckless abandon, switching between his usual desperate kisses and the newer, sharper ones. He has one goal in mind: to mark you up as his, to the point in which you’ll be scolding him in the morning. It’s like a drug, to feel you writhe beneath him as he paints the picture.

Love notes of freshly born bruises, the imprints of his teeth – a letter across your delicate skin that reads, he was here, and he loved you, more than anyone else in this Universe may ever be capable of.

“If I had known how much biting would rile you up, I would’ve started doing it ages ago,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, finally pausing his assault.

He settles for softer presses of his lip, peppering the affection where he had been a bit more violent.

Your hands that had taken to tangling into the curls at the nape of his neck have gone more relaxed, no longer tugging but instead just lingering. Pulling him closer. Touching him with softer hands than he’s ever felt deserving of.

“Guess you’ve got a certain vampire to thank for that,” you tease, but he can hear just how breathless he’s left you. He had sworn he could feel the pulse of your facing heart beneath his lips, even if just for a moment. Even if he just imagined it.

“Please. Astarion is not getting the credit for that,” he scoffs, lifting up onto his elbows again to just look at you. His lover, his favorite person. It’s nice to see your face when it’s not washed over with the cast of a computer screen. “That was all me. And even if it wasn’t, I won’t forget that you had a Twilight phase.”

Your hand quickly drops between the two of you, only to smack at his chest. The thump holds no weight as you whine, “I told you that in confidence.”

He dips down, capturing one last kiss, “It’s okay, baby. It’s good to know that you have a type.”

“I do not-”

He cuts you off with a more playful bite to your neck. Less about marking you, and more just to make a point.

“Just,” another nip, “admit,” another graze of his teeth, “it.”

You’re fighting a smile when he looks down at you again, impossible to hide behind your mask of annoyance. “I am not admitting that I have a thing for broody, pathetic vampires.”

“Well, I’ve got broody and pathetic down-”

“Eddie,” your thighs still bracket him, one hand still clinging to the back of his neck. When you say his name, the game is over. “We can spend all night bickering over the fictional men I love, or you can give me a reason to forget their names. It’s up to you.”

His eyebrows jump up his forehead, and he’s just about to give up the bit, but not before one last snide remark.

“Kind of hard to do that when I share a name with one of them, but as you wish, sweetheart.”

Another bout of beautiful laughter from him. Another smack on the chest from you. It’s good – it’s everything Eddie has ever wanted, and it is good.

He does, of course, make you forget their names. And if you find it difficult to get out of bed the next moment, dramatically unable to make the walk to your gaming computer, well – he won’t try to hide his smug smile in between the soft rays of morning light.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

join my taglist!

#my writing #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #this is truly the dumbest thing i've ever written #i almost made it into proper smut but couldn't take the end seriously i'm sorry

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mywifealhaitham · 1 year ago

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boothill with a sick!reader!

i think I'm a bit hyperfixed on him.... and fiending for content so expect some more small fics of him lol. bc immokkosan on twt

gn!reader, written prerelease with like 3 leaks available lol, possibly ooc we wont know for awhile I fear, he calls u dollface (swoons), very very minor leaks

none fiends off crumbs like I do. ok anyway

- if you happen to get sick gets probably a little lost because I'm assuming he doesn't get sick anymore because he's mostly robot i think. (im assuming) obviously there was a time we're he was human and sick so he knows some simple things like needing rest and probably needing foods easier on the stomach but everything else he's clueless in. don't worry because if you tell him to get you medicine or get you something specific for your illness then he's literally SPRINTING for it. boothill to the recuse he says running out the door so fast to the nearest store or clinic. if you truly don't need anything else then you know damn well he's by your side idly talking to you or maybe just holding your hand or playing with strands of your hair.

you don't know how long it's been since you've gotten up or really moved from your bed and honestly you're not complaining on bit. so far your day has just been a mix of sleeping and entertaining your boyfriend who also hasn't moved from the chair he's been sitting on, his upper half leaning against your bed idly picking at your blanket.

"didya hear? apparently that penacony planet is hosting some big festival. might go since I've had my eye on some fellow attending" Boothill says, his eyes locked on your face. it's flushed a bit from sickness yet paler than normal and your eyes are drooping, clearly you're tired and he needs to stop yapping. with a small sigh he stands up and walks closer to you leaning towards your face. he brushes back any hair you have on your forehead, the cold metal of his hand soothing your burning face as he plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

"get some rest dollface, im goin' out to get us something to eat. wouldn't want you to starve now, yeah?" he says with a cheeky smile and a chuckle before softly leaving the room allowing you to get the well needed rest you desperately needed.

#kiana☆posts #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #boothill hsr #hsr x you #hsr fluff #boothill x reader

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becausebuckley · 4 months ago

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michelle's buddie fic recs: week 1!

happy new year, everyone!! we're kicking the year off with a slightly shorter rec list than usual - i've been spending a lot more time with family, and a lot less time reading - of lovely, lovely fics. enjoy!!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

all i want for christmas... | Tizniz/@tizniz | 3.4k | GA

“So…I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for Christmas.” Buck closes his eyes and takes a breath, letting the full impact of Eddie’s words hit him for a second. “Y-yeah, man. Of course. I totally get it.” He swallows, “Your family is there, anyways.” i am still thoroughly enjoying a few more holiday fics and this one was an absolute highlight this week!! so soft and lovely <3

'cause i took the long road to find you wanting me | BekkaChaos/@bekkachaos | 6k | T

Buck can't bring himself to act normal around Eddie in the days after he reveals he's looking for houses in El Paso, he knows that Eddie leaving will be one of the most painful things he'll have to endure, but he refuses to tell him that he shouldn't go. After a few days, Eddie comes to Buck's loft unannounced to confront him about it, and everything becomes even more complicated. i LOVE this fic's characterisation of buck so very much <3 so good!!

every corner of this house is haunted | justhockey | 2.5k | GA

And now that love is everywhere, is in everything. It’s worn so deeply into the grooves of his skin that it’s changed the very structure of his fingerprint - is burrowed so deep inside of him that it has rewritten his DNA. His love for Eddie and for Christopher is carved into his bones - etched onto his heart like an epitaph: love lived here. Love left here. the excitment i feel whenever i see a new justhockey fic <3 i mean seriously, do you need to read more than those two little summary paragraphs to be convinced to read this gem of a fic? i don't think you do. click the link, you know you want to <3

honey came in and she caught me red-handed | lizzybizzyzzz/@lizzybizzyzzz | 9.3k | E

buck accidentally sends eddie nudes; they fuck it out. so hot so good so them <3 oh how i love buddie accidentally sending each other nudes, and this fic is right there among the very best of them!!

if only in my dreams | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 9.2k | GA

Eddie moves to El Paso a month before Christmas. Buck goes a little bit insane about it. at this point a michelle rec list isn't a michelle rec list without a fic by songbvrd on it lol. what can i say, i know what i like, and this author happens to write a lot of it! i love buck going a little bit insane over eddie moving and his decorating and the buddie and just everything <3

pluto is not a planet. | gooondocks (happyhauntt)/@happyhauntt | 3.2k | GA

buck finds out that pluto isn't a planet anymore and takes it very personally. this fic is so so gorgeously written. the most beautiful character study introspection buck fic. genuinely just that good <3

with all the clouds around (it's never been clearer than now) | seachanged | 2.4k | T

It happens on a Saturday. Or, it starts on a Friday that turns into Saturday, the easy joy of the night tipping over into the pale, vulnerable light of the morning; dazzling in its inevitability. the buddie dynamic here is so so good, a little teasing and a little flirty but mostly so very soft <3 lovely fic!!

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 fic #911 fic rec #michelle's recs #fic rec list

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qveerthe0ry · 11 months ago

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Naked in Manhattan

Summary: Marcus has never slept with a man, Dieter's willing to remedy that - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 3: Sex/kissing Word Count: 7,730 Pairing: (college aged) Marcus Pike x Dieter Bravo Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: coming out, discussions of sexuality, brief mentions of homophobia, oral sex(m), (lots of) hickeys, frottage, cum eating, armpit stuff Betas: OBVIOUSLY @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar the loves of my life 💖A/N: I highly suggest listening to Naked in Manhattan by Chappell Roan before/while reading this. Totally got the vibes of this entire fic by listening to it on a walk one day

Dieter’s learned a lot in his five and a half years of college. Not really much about statistics or geology, but about people. He’s been around long enough to know that the sad little guy on his front porch steps, avoiding the party, and chain smoking cigarettes is having a rough go of it.

“Hey buddy,” Dieter says, quietly, as not to startle the slumped figure.

Marcus looks up at him through misty eyes and a cloud of stale Winston smoke.

“Hey.”

He’s not crying, but he’s definitely crying for help.

“You okay?”

Dieter takes a seat on the step below him.

“Yeah, fine. Just needed air.”

Marcus gestures with the cigarette in his hand, then huffs out a laugh at the irony.

“You’ve been getting drunk a lot lately.”

Maybe Dieter shouldn’t pry. It’s not unusual for his rented house to be filled with students coming and going at all hours of the day, between classes on weekdays or all day on the weekends. The cheap beer just shows up, as does the weed, and he doesn’t usually question it.

But he’s closer to Marcus. So he notices more. He usually only sees him here on weekends. During the week he’s commonly found in the library or the student union, books sprawled out in front of him. He’s driven, pre-law, and has a better head on his shoulders than most people he hangs with.

But Marcus has been at his place every night this week, either stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning or sleeping late on his couch or floor. It concerns Dieter in a way that surprises him.

Usually it’s none of his business.

“I haven’t had a sip,” Marcus tells him.

And his voice doesn’t have that sharp, defensive tone Dieter was expecting. It’s more defeated than anything.

“Yeah but what about last night?”

Marcus shrugs.

“And the night before? And every other night this week?”

“Just having fun,” Marcus mumbles through another drag of his cigarette.

Dieterlooks around at his empty porch.

“Are you?”

Then Marcus laughs. It bubbles up out of him in an almost terrifying way, and damn near immediately turns into sobs hidden behind his hands.

“Fuck, dude, are you tripping?”

Marcus shakes his head. Dieter didn’t think so. He’s strictly an alcohol guy, won’t even touch weed. Something about the FBI and polygraph tests. Dieter finds it charming if not a bit manic.

He keeps crying though, so hard he has to flick his cigarette out onto the dimly lit street so he can rub at his eyes.

Dieter’s not sure what to do. Normally he’d offer someone drugs, but that won’t work.

His hand hovers over Marcus’ shaking back for a few moments before he rests a heavy palm between his shoulder blades.

He can feel the way Marcus’ breath shudders out of him, and tells him to start taking slow breaths. When it works, Dieter’s kind of amazed at how great he is at damage control.

“That’s it man, just breathe.”

Marcus nods, finally removes his hands from his face. He’s always been pretty in a very preppy way, with his perfect hair and teeth and his little dimples. He looks even prettier now, as much as Dieter kicks himself for that thought. His face is red and wet and his brown eyes are wider than they’ve ever been before.

A few deep breaths in through his nose and out his mouth later, Marcus is sufficiently calm enough to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

Dieter waves him off.

“Don’t be. Looks like it felt good, I might have a cry later too.”

Marcus lets out a wet chuckle and shuts his eyes as one last salty little droplet brushes past his long eyelashes.

“Everything okay at home? You’re not failing a class, are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s stupid.”

“Girl problems?”

Marcus laughs again, and Dieter startles a little, afraid he’s going to start back up sobbing at any moment.

He doesn’t though. He’s quiet and avoiding Dieter’s gaze as he frantically gets another cigarette from his pack and lights it up.

Dieter thinks he’s hit the nail on the head until Marcus takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales.

“I’m fucking gay.”

Dieter opens his mouth in shock, or understanding, or maybe to try and say something, but Marcus continues.

“This whole time I’ve been gay. I don’t even— I’ve had so many girlfriends. I think they’re just nice. I’ve never— I fucking hated sleeping with them. I thought it was because it was awkward, and we’re all inexperienced? It sucked, Dieter. And I thought all guys were curious about other guys, you know? They all talk about their dicks with each other, since middle school. I just thought— and then there’s this guy… in my intro to psych class. And he’s so nice and handsome and I just always want to hang out with him. And I didn’t know why. But I want to kiss him. And I never felt that way about any of my girlfriends. And now I realize I’ve just— I’ve just been gay this whole time.”

He’s out of breath when he quits talking, but he sucks down more of his cigarette anyway. Dieter isn’t quite sure what to say to him. Usually when someone comes out to him, it’s in a less… frantic manner, more proud than anything. But this poor freshman has been on a gay crisis bender all week and is more than a little traumatized by all of it, and it’s just different with Marcus.

“That’s um… Sounds like you’ve been going through a rough time with it.”

Marcus sniffles and nods.

“Been through all five or whatever stages of grief already. It’s been a long week.”

“Are you… Upset? That you’re gay?”

Marcus’ head lolls back to thump against the porch railing.

“No… I’m more upset that I didn't figure it out until now.”

“You’re still plenty young, Marcus. You’re what— nineteen?”

“Eighteen. Skipped a grade.”

Jesus. Dieter feels even worse now about thinking he’s pretty when he cries.

“See? You’re a spring chicken, dude. You figured it out plenty quick.”

“When did you know?”

Dieter chews on his lip, considers lying just for Marcus’ sake, but decides against it.

“I pretty much always knew, honestly. But I mean— I was weird anyway, you know? Never really fit in or felt I had to play a certain part or be a certain way. It just made sense. Also, my dad always said I was as queer as a three dollar bill so… that helped.”

Dieter steals the cigarette between Marcus’ fingers to take a drag himself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nothing to be sorry for, man,” Dieter tells him.

Marcus stares at where Dieter’s lips wrap around his cigarette for a bit too long, and Dieter hands it back, if only to try and stop whatever it is that’s bound to happen next.

But Marcus takes another drag himself, and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip, and Dieter has never been called strong-willed.

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

“To be with a guy? What’s it like?”

Dieter shrugs.

“Depends on the guy.”

Marcus sighs.

“Are you uh— how do you like… it?”

“Are you asking if I’m a top or a bottom?”

Marcus’s face flushes a cute color in the yellow of the porch lights.

“Both,” Dieter shrugs, “but I haven’t really done that with a lot of guys. Kind of a hassle, you know?”

Marcus nods, but then his brow quirks up in question.

“What do you mean? What do you— what do you do, then?”

Dieter chuckles.

“All kinds of things, babe.”

He watches Marcus’ breath catch, the little stutter of his chest.

“Would you show me?”

Dieter rolls his eyes to distract them both from the fact that he really, really wants to.

“C’mon, man. You don’t wanna fool around with me. I’m a loser. Go find a pretty finance boy to shack up with.”

Maybe he’s less weak-willed than he thought.

Marcus’ shoulders slump again, and christ, though, is he supposed to just let him leave like a kicked puppy?

“There’s no intro to psych guy.”

It’s quiet, mumbled around his cigarette, and his eyes won’t leave his feet.

“What?”

“It’s you, okay? You’re my— gay awakening, or whatever. Why do you think I’ve been here all week?”

Dieter’s heart is hammering against his chest at that admission. This was not how he figured his Friday night would go.

“Free beer?”

His joke doesn’t land. Marcus rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like… I’m not like in love with you or anything. I just… always wanna see you. And you’re— well, you know. You’re hot. And you’re really nice to everyone. And I get this… I feel so weird when I’m around you, like, nauseous. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Marcus flicks yet another cigarette to the curb and makes to get up, but before Dieter can think better of it, he grips him on the shoulder to keep him seated.

“That’s… actually really sweet, Marcus.”

He scoffs, hides his face in his hands, and it’s so cute Dieter can’t help but smile.

“Really— Usually people just want to fuck me, or use me for drugs.”

Marcus groans a little, mortified, and his hands run back to mess up his pristinely styled hair.

“Buddy, I’m serious. You’re a little charmer.”

Marcus looks up from his lap at that, scratching that neatly buzzed hair on the back of his neck, and his eyes are a little less embarrassed and a little more twinkly.

“You’re just saying that.”

Dieter shakes his head grinning.

“No, it’s cute. Being genuine is never a bad thing.”

And the thing is, Dieter’s not lying. It’s possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him. But he’s toeing a very very fine line here, with himself. Because Marcus is so pretty, and so smart, and he’s soft and kind and he’s real but he’s young.

And Dieter’s just a Super Super Senior, a total burnout, on his way to holding the world record for The Longest College Career. He’s 23 and he’s still undecided and he probably won’t even get a college degree after all is said and done.

But Marcus is looking at him with those big brown eyes, watching, calculating.

“I just— I feel like you wouldn’t judge me. If I did the wrong thing. You know?”

“I wouldn’t. Anyone who would isn’t worth your time.”

Marcus huffs. Maybe Dieter can still save this.

“Would you… tell me? What you’d do? What I should do?”

And just like that, Dieter is hopping right over that line with both feet.

“Kiss me.”

Marcus’ eyes grow even bigger.

“Like, right now? Here?”

“If you want to. That’s what I’d want you to do, to kiss me right here, like you couldn’t help yourself.”

And Dieter will be damned if he doesn’t do just that, surging forward to grab the sides of his face and press their lips together.

His lips are so soft, and his face is smooth, and he’s eager, a bit too much, but it only adds to that coincidental charm. Dieter’s left to catch up, as Marcus swipes his tongue along the seam of his mouth and groans.

Dieter pulls away. Marcus’ mouth gapes open, and his shoulders heave with his fast breaths.

“You’re so… scruffy.”

Dieter chuckles, wipes Marcus’ spit from his lips and straightens out his mustache.

“Not good?”

“No, god no, it’s really good.”

And then Marcus smashes their lips together again as a pathetic little sound escapes his throat. Dieter opens his mouth this time, lets Marcus slide his tongue around, a little violent, and this is all a bit too much for some front porch steps, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Dieter says softly, pulling away.

Marcus’ brows draw up in confusion.

“Sorry. I’m not a good kisser, am I?”

Dieter sighs, grabs one of Marcus’ hands on his face to link their fingers together.

“It’s not that,” he says.

He turns his face to kiss the center of Marcus’ palm and smiles when his breath hitches.

“You really wanna do this with me?”

Marcus is nodding before Dieter even finishes speaking.

“Only if you really want it, too.”

Dieter squeezes his hand.

“I do, really.”

Marcus smiles the sweetest little smile, and they both stand up, and Dieter doesn’t let his hand go.

There’s music on in the house, and it smells like weed, and a few people are playing Nintendo in the living room. They don’t pay any mind as Dieter pulls Marcus up to the second floor, down the hall, and into his dimly lit bedroom.

At least he’s kept it semi-tidy, he thinks, as Marcus looks around while he shuts and locks the door. His bed isn’t made. He’s sure Marcus makes his bed every morning before class. He hopes he doesn’t mind.

He seems like he’s too nervous to mind, a jittery little thing standing next to his bed. He’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring holes into the stained carpet, when Dieter moves to stand in front of him.

“Are you nervous?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Dieter grabs both of his hands, and Marcus finally meets his gaze.

“It’s okay to be nervous. As long as it’s good nervous.”

He smiles and nods, but the worry in his brow is still there.

“We won’t do anything you don’t wanna do, okay?”

That seems to soothe him more.

“Can we kiss again?”

Dieter chuckles.

“Of course we can.”

Marcus tips over into him, landing at the side of his mouth but quickly correcting course. He licks, but Dieter keeps his mouth shut, goading him to calm down. And he does, slotting his lips around Dieter's bottom one, and everything else slips into place with a soft, satisfied noise from his own chest.

He lets go of Marcus’ sweaty hands to grab his hips instead, lithe and a little bony. He twitches at the touch, sighs, and presses his lips harder into Dieter’s. His hands search around frantically, jostling them both, until he finds the hem of Dieter’s sweatshirt and gets his hands underneath.

“Slow,” Dieter mumbles.

“Hm?”

“Not a race, Marcus. Take your time. Enjoy it.”

Marcus nods, but gapes at him, like he’s not quite sure what to do next.

“You wanna get comfy? Take your shoes off, sit down?”

Marcus nods again, but with a little direction, takes his shoes off and sits on the bed, criss-cross applesauce like the cutest fucking thing Dieter’s ever seen.

“I want this to be— I want you to have a good time, feel good. So tell me if you don’t feel good… or if there’s anything you wanna try. Communication is like, super sexy, right?”

Dieter sheds his shoes and his hoodie as he speaks, thinks he catches Marcus’ eyes staring at the spot between his signature pajama pants and his shirt where it rides up.

“Yeah… like, dirty talk?”

Dieter huffs out a laugh as he sits facing Marcus, crossing his legs, mirroring him to make him as comfortable as possible.

“Could be dirty talk, yeah. But just normal talk, too. It can be hot to talk about things like… how do you like to be touched? Where?”

Marcus clears his throat and scratches the back of his head with a puzzled look on his face.

“My— my dick?”

Dieter wants to laugh, but he can’t blame the guy. It sounds like the only experience he’s had so far is rushed fucks with high school sweethearts.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good start. So, for me, I like being kissed. Everywhere. I like feeling lips on my jaw and my neck and especially my nipples. You can bite, too.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise, his plush lips forming a circular shape that Dieter tries and fails not to focus on.

“Oh, yeah, okay. I— I like that too. I like when it’s… sloppy.”

Dieter hums, smiles, and nods.

“Anything else you like?”

He watches Marcus bite his bottom lip and trace shapes on the bedsheets between them.

“I don’t really know.”

“That’s okay. Maybe we can figure it out together, yeah?”

His long eyelashes flutter as he blinks real slow, and he smiles.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

Dieter does chuckle then.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you.”

Christ, Dieter thinks, if his face gets any more red he might burst into flames.

He kisses him, to save him from a fiery death. It’s a little awkward, with both of their legs crossed in front of them, but it’s easier to take their time like this.

Marcus keeps it slow, so Dieter can finally lead. He licks into his mouth to feel his hard palate, and the way he whimpers and shivers in response is so delicious that Dieter can’t help but to do it again and again.

He feels long fingers grip his thighs, soft at first, but squeezing harder when Marcus returns the favor and scrapes his tastebuds along Dieter’s sharp canines.

There’s twin sighs when Marcus pulls away, only a little, eyes still shut.

“You’re really fucking good at this,” he mumbles.

Dieter hums and pecks his lips again, soft and wet.

“Could kiss you all night.”

It’s true, even though there’s also a million other things he wants to do with Marcus. He tries to push those wants down by kissing him again, getting that plump bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling on it. The noise Marcus makes has his cock filling steadily with blood, and he knows it’s very obvious in his pajama pants, and he hopes Marcus doesn’t freak out.

Like he’s reading Dieter’s mind, Marcus’ hands slide so fucking slowly up his thighs. The movements are jerky, and he hesitates when just the tip of his finger brushes his cock. His inhale is audible, but his curious touch proceeds, just the lightest ghosting across his shaft.

But then he’s pulling away, and Dieter feels on edge, bracing himself for the worst.

“Can I touch it?”

Dieter exhales his relief.

“You can… Are you open to suggestions, though?”

Marcus nods, his slick mouth hanging open.

“You could get on top of me, let me feel how much you like this, too. Drag it out, make me really want it.”

He smirks as Marcus curses, closing his eyes and pressing his palm to the front of his jeans. But he nods, and uncrosses his legs, so Dieter does the same.

And then, he’s got a lapful of Marcus, and he’s staring up into his glassy, beautiful eyes.

“Like this?”

His hips shift, and his pert little ass grinds against Dieter’s cock while his own presses against his belly.

“Just like that. Is this still okay?”

Marcus doesn’t answer him, just devours his lips again as he rocks his hips and supplies them both with heady friction. His little whimpers are muffled, and his teeth are sinking into Dieter’s lip a little too hard, but in a way that makes his cock throb and pulse against the tight ass against it.

Dieter’s hands find those lithe hips again, this time under his shirt. His skin is scalding to the touch and so fucking smooth. He digs his thumbs into his hip bones, drags little circles into them that make his hips jolt and stutter.

Fuck. He likes this a lot. Maybe too much. He pulls himself away to reel it in a bit, maybe to check and make sure this is still alright—

“I’m so fucking hard,” Marcus breathes, “I’ve never felt like this.”

And as he speaks, he’s ripping his t-shirt over his head and flinging it elsewhere.

He’s gorgeous. A little scrawny but smooth, everywhere, just miles of tan skin that’s paler here where it gets no sun. Dieter wants to bite, and kiss, and suckle on every fucking inch of it.

For now, Dieter uses all of his brain power to mumble a distracted ‘me too,’ as his hands moved upward to splay across all that hairless skin.

Marcus’ stomach tenses and relaxes under his hands, and his chest heaves as Dieter cradles his ribs and brushes his thumbs over his nipples.

“Does this feel good?”

He circles them, flicks them a little bit, and wants to curl up and live in that little gasp Marcus makes.

“Yes.”

His head is leaning back between his shoulders, all raised and on-edge. That’s not what Dieter wants. He wants him relaxed, wants him all gooey and loose.

Slowly, gently, Dieter tips him over, a hand on the back of his head until it lands on the pillows. The look in his eyes gets a little squirrely, and his breath picks up, and his nails scrabble at Dieter’s bicep.

“Is this still okay?”

Marcus nods quickly, but he’s slower with the verbal response.

“I think so… just nervous.”

“Still good nervous?”

As if to prove it, he cants his hips up into Dieter and he’s rock hard against his thigh.

“Still good nervous.”

Dieter’s own prick throbs and twitches as he hums. He lowers himself even more over Marcus, finds his racing pulse point and plants a hot, wet kiss there.

“Can I kiss you here?” he whispers.

His chin brushes Dieter’s cheek when he nods, and Marcus relocates his hands to reach up the back of his shirt. His palms are sweaty and hot as Dieter trails a wet line of kisses down to his prominent collar bone.

His skin is so salty, and the heat from his body is making his cheap cologne smell even stronger, and Dieter feels high even though he hasn’t smoked in hours.

“How about here, Marcus?”

He looks up at the younger man as he hovers his mouth above one tiny, pebbled nipple. He watches as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and smiles and impish grin when Marcus nods again.

The groan he receives when he closes his mouth around it has him pressing his hips to the mattress for relief. One of Marcus’ hands finds Dieter’s hair and grips.

“Ah fuck.”

Just like that, the fingers loosen and leave his head and Dieter actually whines at the loss.

“Sorry!”

“No, no, that was a good fuck. Love getting my hair pulled.”

Dieter glances back up at Marcus and watches as his wheels turn.

“Oh… really?”

He chuckles as he places a sloppy kiss on his sternum, delighted at the way the muscles twitch under his lips.

“Mmmhmm.”

Marcus sighs as Dieter finds his other nipple.

“My ex-girlfriend hated it.”

Dieter nips at the hard bud in his mouth and smirks when Marcus’ hips jolt up.

“I like a little pain with my pleasure,” he explains.

“I— can you bite me again?”

Dieter curses and obliges immediately, sinking his teeth into the meat of his pec this time.

“God, I like that.”

He even earns another tug at his hair, and Dieter knows there’s gotta be a damp spot on the front of his pajamas.

“That’s so good, Marcus. Keep telling me what you like.”

Marcus squirms under him as he alternates a string of kisses and licks and bites down his torso. His nails scratch Dieter’s scalp in between tugging on his hair, and this is the most fun Dieter’s had in the bedroom in a long while.

Marcus has a tiny bit of hair below his belly button, and it’s so fucking cute and whispy when Dieter runs his tongue along the path. But before Dieter can get the fly of his jeans unfastened, Marcus holds a hand over his.

“Can I try on you now?”

Dieter’s gaze flickers up to his face, and he looks so sweet, pleading with his big puppy eyes.

“Yeah, yes, of course you can.”

Marcus smiles, and it’s sure, like he’s finally settled into this, and it makes Dieter’s apprehension fall away.

It also makes him that much more horny, hard as ever when he lies down with his head on the pillows. He reaches down to readjust and watches Marcus clock the movement with a heady look.

“This is good for you, too?”

His voice is breathy when he asks, when his hand slips under Dieter’s t-shirt.

“Marcus, I’m loving this. I feel like a sexy experiment. Poke and prod me, babe.”

And through all of this newness and anxiety and apprehension, Marcus laughs. It’s music to Dieter’s ears, watching his eyes light up as he chuckles.

“Take this off then,” he instructs through his laughter.

“Yes sir,” Dieter purrs, “bossing me around also does it for me. You’re a natural already.”

“Y-yeah? I don’t— I’ve never been like that.”

Dieter fumbles to back track at the way Marcus’ confidence falls away.

“It’s okay, that’s an advanced lesson. My bad. Just— Just do what you want with me. Explore. I’m all yours.”

He talks as he sheds his shirt, and when the damned thing finally pulls free, he feels a little scrutinized under Marcus’s wide eyes. And he kinda really likes it.

He settles back against the mattress, one arm above his head while the other reaches out to encourage Marcus to come closer. He does, only a little timid as his gaze rakes over every inch of his body.

He settles between Dieter’s spread legs, one hand dipping the mattress next to him while the other lands hesitantly on his flank. His warm, sweaty palm feels the skin there, draws upward toward his chest, but takes a completely unconventional detour to his armpit.

Dieter’s cock throbs. This is so fucking weird and so fucking hot.

Marcus’ jaw drops slack as his fingers card through all of his armpit hair, and it tickles a little bit, but mostly it just makes Dieter’s arousal grow heavy in his groin, burning.

Before Dieter can really assess what’s going on, or encourage him, or tell him how fucking hard he’s making him, Marcus leans down to capture his lips in his own.

Dieter groans and scrabbles to grip his waist, arching his hips for any relief and finding it against the front of Marcus’ jeans, a hard line wrapped in denim that twitches against his own. He moans, low and long, as he twirls the thick hair between his finger and thumb.

And then his hand is gone, and Dieter’s quite disappointed, but he can’t just say that, can he? He weighs the pros and cons of telling Marcus not to stop as the other man trails his lips down the patchy stubble on his jaw, and bites the sensitive skin on his neck.

Maybe he should tell him. That’s a good lesson, right? How to take feedback, good or bad. But ‘hey keep stroking my armpit hair’ is a bit startling, isn’t it?

He’s so distracted by the inner turmoil that he doesn’t realize the path Marcus’ has taken until hot breath ghosts that bit of fat between his tit and armpit and then he sniffs, and groans, and licks up all the hair while he presses his cock down into Dieter’s own and Jesus Fuck—

He quickly finds purchase in Marcus’ hair and curses, grinds his hips back up into him with what he hopes is encouraging words. But forgive him if his brain is a little bit completely scrambled.

Marcus bites just under his patch of armpit hair, burying his nose in it once more, and these primal sounds he makes are vibrating through Dieter’s chest. All he can do at this point is lie back and take it and succumb to the fact that this is definitely altering his brain chemistry for the rest of his life.

It all stops rather abruptly, though, and two hot hands grab Dieter’s hips hard, pushes them down into the mattress as Marcus arches away from him.

“I might— I might come.”

Dieter blinks his bleary eyes open to look at the panicked man, who’s squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip.

“It’s okay if you do. You can have me all night.”

“Fuck— Shut up, Jesus Christ.”

Dieter huffs, scratches at his wet armpit, and patiently waits for Marcus to settle down. He could probably come that way too, to be honest, with that pretty boy’s tongue lapping at his underarm and their cocks grinding together.

Marcus’ eyelashes flutter open, and Dieter smiles at him softly, careful not to move or touch. He looks like a hair trigger, sweaty and panting already, with a really fucking hot damp patch soaking through the crotch of his jeans.

“Sorry. I think I’m good— wait, sorry, was that weird?”

Dieter allows himself to place one of his hands on Marcus’ own, where it’s still gripping tight to his hip bone.

“It was weird in the hottest way possible.”

Marcus shakes his head at himself and closes his eyes again.

“I’m dead serious. I didn’t know how sensitive I was there. You’re teaching me things. That’s super hot.”

Marcus sighs.

“It’s just… I like the hair. And your deodorant smells nice.”

He pries his eyes open, like he expects Dieter to be disgusted, but his confession only makes his cock jump very prominently in his pajamas.

“Doesn’t taste very good, though.”

And now Dieter is laughing, and tugging Marcus back down, mumbling ‘prove it’ and shoving his tongue into his offensively chemical-flavored mouth.

It’s okay though, he just licks and licks until the taste has dissipated and Marcus is letting go of the death grip on his sides. His mouth follows a much more predictable route, this time, and Dieter watches his every move as those pretty lips wrap around his nipples, one and then the other, until he’s biting and Dieter is whimpering and asking for more.

“You can leave marks. I like ‘em.”

Marcus curses against his sternum and obeys, so fucking obedient, suckling Dieter’s skin and rolling it between his teeth. Looking up at him, his eyes look so determined, all dark and heavy, especially when he pulls away to admire the bruise he’s left.

“More. Want to see you all over me in the morning.”

“Fuck, Dieter. How’d you get so good at— at talking like that?”

Dieter chuckles, then hisses when Marcus sucks the skin on his belly into the sharp edges of his teeth. He’s looking up with an expectant quirk of his brow.

“I just say what’s on my mind,” he answers.

Marcus hums, and Dieter places his hand on his jaw to feel it working, a third mark blooming bright red on his hip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks.

A fourth mark, this one deeper than the rest, right above the waistband of his pants, as Marcus thinks.

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

Said cock jerks wildly, disrupting the tent in his pajamas, and Marcus has the audacity to smirk. Dieter lets his thumb trace that wet, swollen bottom lip and doesn’t miss the little whine that Marcus tries to hide.

“Will you teach me?”

It’s now that Dieter realizes he’s created an absolute monster, with Marcus looking up at him all wide-eyed, batting those long eyelashes. He knows what he’s doing, and it just makes it all so much worse. Or better. Both, really.

He clears his throat to try to gather his bearings before he speaks.

“Yeah, I’ll teach you. Pull it out for me.”

Dieter watches as his breath hitches, and he eyes the tent in Dieter’s pants with an array of emotions washing over his features. There’s hesitation for sure, as he toys with his waistband. But he’s licking his lips, and taking a big deep breath as he tugs them down Dieter’s thighs.

And then he’s staring at his cock, swaying in the breeze, and Dieter thinks this would be much less intense if penises weren’t so offensive and in your face.

“Pretty,” Marcus mumbles, and it makes him giggle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s— I like it.”

“Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

Marcus rolls his eyes but smiles.

“I can touch it?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything you want. Go at your own pace.”

Maybe it’s cliche, but as soon as Marcus’ hand wraps around his cock, Dieter is done for. Fuck, it feels so good, the way his movements are gentle and calculated, the way he’s being so attentive for his first time, exploratory. His free hand cradles Dieter’s sac, his thumb tracing the seam, and it’s alarming how close this is getting him. It’s so intimate, and genuine, and it’s so hot that he gets to be here for Marcus’ first time.

Marcus squeezes him tight and strokes, once, from base to tip. He thumbs at his frenulum, slippery with pre come, then lifts that to his lips. It’s like slow motion when he watches him poke his tongue out to taste, and he closes his eyes and hums.

“Better than the deodorant, for sure.”

And Dieter’s cock bobs as he laughs.

“That’s a relief.”

“I’ve never tasted my own before,” Marcus says.

“No?”

“Mm-mm. Seemed… gay.”

And he laughs at himself, but his face inches closer, and in an instant his tongue is flicking out to lap up more of it, straight from the source.

Dieter gasps at the contact, so sudden. His taste buds are rough against his slit, in a good way, and he has to cradle Marcus’ neck to reel himself in.

“That’s so good,” he whispers, “keep doing that.”

And he does, little kitten licks to the sensitive head of his cock, looking up at him from under those long eyelashes. Dieter groans and closes his eyes because if Marcus keeps looking at him like that, he will come before he can have any fun with him.

Then, in an instant, he’s completely enveloped by warmth and wetness, too fast, and he opens his eyes at the same time Marcus gags and coughs and pulls off of him.

“Jesus, Marcus, take it slow.”

He coughs more, with brow all furrowed and frustrated, and Dieter smooths his hair off of his forehead.

“Are you alright?”

Marcus clears his throat as he nods.

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t— I thought that would be easier.”

Dieter huffs, sits up a bit and leans on his elbow so he can see him better. His eyes are watery and not in a sexy way this time. He pets Marcus’ hair a bit, hoping to soothe him, but the redness doesn’t fade from his cheeks.

“You don’t have to take it all, that’s no fun, choking like that,” he says, “are you sure you’re okay? We can stop.”

“No! No— I don’t wanna stop. I’m just embarrassed.”

God, he’s so fucking sweet.

“Don’t be embarrassed. We’ve all been there. I threw up on the first dick I sucked.”

“Gross, dude.”

“I’m just saying, it could be way worse. Nothing to even be embarrassed about.”

Marcus sighs and hides his face in the crease of Dieter’s hip.

“Seriously, I’m still so hard I could shatter diamonds. You’re so fucking hot, it doesn’t matter if you choke a little.”

He feels Marcus’ teeth on the skin of his hip before he sees his jaw moving. He bites and sucks and it’s another beautiful piece of him he’ll get to take from this experience.

“That’s it. It’s all about the recovery. Fuck, Marcus, your mouth feels so good on me. Everywhere.”

Dieter lifts his hips up to encourage him to bite more, mark him up all over. He follows eagerly, until there’s little love bites scattered across the thin skin over his hip bone and his cock is weeping for attention.

Marcus looks up at him, finally, as he hovers just above his prick.

“Can I try again?”

Dieter hums and cards his fingers through his thick brown hair.

“Play until you win, babe.”

He’s much more careful, this time. He takes the head into his mouth and sucks, lets his tongue lather and swirl around it as his hand keeps his dick in place. He’s gorgeous, with his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes shut in concentration.

“Yeah, just like that, fucking perfect.”

Marcus whimpers around his cock, and drool is starting to leak from the corners of his mouth and drip down Dieter’s shaft.

“Move your hand a bit, jerk me off while you suck on it.”

He follows the direction so well, letting his hand draw up to meet his lips, then back down, over and over, and Dieter can feel his gut growing hot and tight. His tongue is working him relentlessly, and he’s never really had a partner use theirs so much, but the frantic swirling and flicking has his head spinning.

“You’re amazing,” Dieter breathes, “making me feel so good.”

At the encouragement, Marcus braves another inch of his cock. He starts to bob his head up and down, following his lips with his fist, and the breaths through his nose get heavier. Dieter babbles a bit, just encouraging words as Marcus works him dutifully, trying with all his might not to thrust up into his hot, sloppy mouth.

But then Marcus looks up at him with his pretty brown eyes and groans around the cock in his mouth and it’s too much.

“Fuck— fuck, Marcus, let me go.”

Marcus does, as quickly as he can, panting when his mouth is finally free.

“What’s wrong?”

Dieter huffs.

“Nothing, you’re perfect, gorgeous, beautiful. I just don’t wanna come yet.”

“Oh.”

The little cock drunk smile he gets is too cute, and Dieter tugs lightly on his hair to get him to crawl back up for a kiss. He tastes like pre-cum, and his nails bite into the heated skin of Marcus’ back for purchase.

“How are you feeling? Still gay?”

Marcus laughs against his lips.

“The gayest I’ve ever been.”

Dieter collapses back on the pillows to look up at him.

“Really though, are you still into this?”

Marcus nods, presses his hips into Dieter’s thigh to swipe away any last remaining doubt.

“Alright, next and final lesson. Get those tight little jeans off.”

He’s so quick to obey, and Dieter tries not to gawk at how much bigger that wet spot has grown just below his fly. He shakes himself out of it and gets his pajama pants completely off his legs.

Marcus is so fucking hot, jesus, Dieter feels like he’s pushing his luck having him here in his bed. So lean and long, and his cock is uncut and curves a bit to the left, and he’s still so hard.

“Get beside me, face me.”

And Marcus looks right at home like this, laid out in his bed, with his bicep bulging from propping his head up on his hand.

“What’s the lesson?”

Dieter smirks at the eagerness.

“I’m gonna jerk us off together.”

Marcus raises his brow.

“Like, at the same time?”

Dieter hums his affirmative, reaches a tentative hand out to cup Marcus’ pert little asscheek, and chuckles when he twitches.

“Don’t worry, we’ll save that for another time. If you want.”

“Shit, yeah, okay.”

And isn’t that gonna be fun? The thought makes Dieter’s cock throb and jerk and he shuffles to close the distance so their pricks line up together.

“Is this okay? Like this?”

He looks up from their cocks to watch Marcus’ jaw go slack.

“Oh god, ‘m not gonna last at all.”

Even as he says it, he’s wrapping his own hand around both of them and squeezing, groaning at the feeling and bucking his hips so they slide together.

“I don’t want you to last, I want you to feel good.”

Dieter lets his hand join the fun, covering what Marcus can’t, and his cock jumps in their combined hold when Marcus whines.

“I do, I— fuck, I really do.”

“Kiss me?”

He’s cut off by Marcus’ lips, all swollen and hot against his own. Marcus moans as soon as their tongues meet, and he starts shaking like a leaf. His hand squeezes harder around their pricks, works them faster, and Dieter can feel each and every twitch of his dripping cock.

He’s so frantic with it. His breathing whistles fast through his nose, panting into his mouth, and every other exhale is a desperate little noise. It only takes a few dozen strokes for Marcus to fall apart.

“Gonna come— I’m coming, Dieter—”

He gasps as it washes over him. Dieter feels his hot, sticky cum splash over his own hand and his cock and his stomach. Marcus hides his face in the crook of Dieter’s neck and bites as it courses through him. It sends a hot white spark down his spine, and what little filter he’d maintained throughout the night completely short-circuits.

“Shit, that’s it. So fucking good, coming all over me— Fuck, Marcus, you’re hot when you come. You feel so fucking good.”

Marcus whimpers through his aftershocks as Dieter fills his ears with whatever filth he can muster. When it’s too much, and Marcus has to slide his spent cock from their joined hands, he doesn’t let go of Dieter. He helps, with the slick aid of his cum, and Dieter topples over the edge with a growl and Marcus sucks another mark into his overheated skin.

It’s blinding, it’s his favorite orgasm he’s ever had for sure. Marcus gasps when the first streak of his spend shoots all over his smooth stomach.

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, exerted but intrigued as Dieter fucks their fists.

His cum mixes with the stains Marcus already left on his blanket, slowing to a trickle just as Marcus’ grasp loosens. Even when he’s empty, Dieter can still feel the orgasm buzzing through his body as he tries to regain his breath.

Marcus finally looks up from the scene of the crime and Dieter wants to take a picture of the fucked-out look on his face, his messy hair, his spit-slick lips and flushed face. But he can’t, so he kisses him instead, closing his eyes so maybe he can burn that image into his memory for eternity.

It’s lazy, so much slower and softer than the way Marcus kissed when he was all keyed up.

Shit.

Dieter’s in for it. He’s always had an addictive personality, and having Marcus in his bed has been stronger than any fucking drug he’s tried before.

He whimpers when Marcus pulls away, chasing his lips just for a moment before he reels himself back in.

He looks down at the mess he’s going to promptly ignore, thinks about how far away the bathroom closet is with all the towels. But then one slender finger is swiping through the cum puddle between them, and lifting to his face, and Dieter devours.

Marcus chuckles at the desperate noise Dieter makes as he swirls his tongue around to lick up every last drop.

“How do we taste together?”

Goddamn, Marcus is much more suave after an orgasm.

“Like we were made for each other.”

Christ, he needs to get himself together. His brain is just so fucking fuzzy and light.

Marcus doesn’t run for the hills, though. He giggles, and dips that same finger into their mess again. He brings it up to his own lips this time, sucking it inside his mouth and pulling it out clean.

There’s a slight grimace as he rolls it around in his mouth.

“Not as sweet as you were earlier.”

And Dieter laughs, brushes his two cleanest knuckles against the skin of Marcus’ hip.

“It’s an acquired taste.”

Marcus nods, and looks down between them, and some of that lightness in his features fizzles out.

“Hang on— here, use these.”

Dieter hands him his discarded pajama pants, and they use one leg each to tidy up their hands and stomachs and cocks. Then Dieter balls them up to swipe at his sticky blanket as best as he can. And it’s all so quiet, as their breathing has evened out, and fuck, what if Marcus has some crazy post-nut clarity after this… heavy situation?

He’s staring at the bedroom door when Dieter looks up to face him.

“Should I uh… go… now?”

Dieter sighs and finally gets his freshly wiped hand on Marcus’ skin, colder now where all the sweat has cooled.

“Personally, I would like it if you stayed. Cuddling after sex is… well, I like it a lot. Some people don’t… it’s okay if you don’t. Whatever you’re comfortable with. This was probably a lot for y—”

Marcus cuts off his rambling— thank god— by burrowing his face in Dieter’s chest and tangling their naked legs together. They both release two huge twin sighs, and Dieter’s instantly soothed by the weight against him, and the lithe fingers stroking his back.

Dieter can’t help it, he tucks his chin and plants a kiss to the crown of Marcus’ head. He drowns in the scent of sweat and cheap shampoo and feels so grounded for the first time in a very long time.

Marcus hums, and Dieter pulls him in tighter, swipes his palm over the curve of his tiny asscheek.

He clears his throat.

“I don’t have any plans tomorrow…”

Marcus lifts his head, and he looks so sleepy but so satisfied.

“So we can stay up all night? You can— could you show me more things?”

Dieter chuckles and kisses his lips to hide how relieved he feels.

“Was gonna see if you wanted to catch a movie or something. But I think I like your idea better.”

“Oh— a movie sounds good! I mean, it would be chill.”

Dieter huffs.

“Split the difference, we’ll watch a movie here while I eat your cute little ass?”

Dieter actually feels his limp cock twitch against his thigh, and tries to hold back a self-satisfied smirk.

“Yep. Yeah, let’s do that instead.”

Dieter kisses him, this time just because he can.

“Get some sleep first, okay? I’ll be right here.”

The look of comfort on Marcus’ face makes his chest burn and ache. His droopy eyelids close as he smiles, and his head drops to Dieter’s splayed out arm.

He just watches, for a little while. Lets himself count the deep, even breaths Marcus takes and feels them on the skin of his bicep.

His arm is gonna go numb in about two minutes tops, and he’ll cherish every pinprick until he drifts off.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #marcus pike x dieter bravo #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024

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unhappy-sometimes · 4 months ago

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a 2024 writing retrospective (for sxf fanfic)

ignore the fact that i’m a few days late. i’ve been unbelievably busy the past couple weeks.

in this post i’ll go over the fics i wrote in 2024 think of it as an extremely extended author’s notes. i love to talk and will do so when given the chance.

i’ll start from my latest fic and work my way backwards. spoilers for everything i’ve written in 2024.

(Very) Stupid

Something that I try really really hard to maintain in my writing is believability, specifically when it comes to writing characters. Characters acting out of character is one of my biggest fanfic pet peeves: if I wanted to read about someone’s oc, then I would’ve read a regular book. That being said, I think a lot about how Twilight would actually act like if he were in love. I had an interesting conversation with @cantareincminor forever ago about how he’s so emotionally constipated that it’s kind of difficult to write Twilight in love without making him a bit ooc. Right now in canon it’s hard to imagine him falling head over heels for anyone (in my opinion, anyway).

That being said there are moments in canon where he acts flustered in situations that could be interpreted as romantic. So, for right now, my hypothesis is this: if and when Twilight falls in love, he’s going to be an absolute fool. He’s going to do his usual overthinking and overanalyizing, so much to the point that he starts hesitating over the smallest things.

(Very) Stupid is how I imagine all of that unfolding, although for the sake of comedy I did push things to the absurd. Sometimes Twilight does things in canon with such certainty of “Yes, of course normal people do this, I’m nailing this normalcy thing” that he fails to realize he’s being kinda ridiculous. I also wanted to take that element and incorporate it into a fic.

I also wanted to try subverting expectations (ooh fancy literary term) by having them do romantic things that lead them nowhere. I tried to cram in as many tropes as I could—feeding each other with a fork, only one bed, first kiss—but do so under the guise of Twilight completely missing how dumb he’s being the entire time. He only realizes his feelings until after their first kiss, specifically when Yor surprises him with a quick peck on the cheek. This, of course, was deliberate. I figured that it’d make the most sense if Twilight would only realize his feelings in a situation where he wasn’t the one initiating a (somewhat) romantic gesture because he theoretically wouldn’t be overthinking it. Instead, Yor just sneaks in when his guard is down <3

Endings are usually the hardest things for me to write and (Very) Stupid was no exception. I almost had Twilight pass out at the breakfast table when he kisses Yor but then I realized I’d made him faint in almost every fic I’ve written this year and that felt like a cop out. But I figured it out and I don’t mind the way the ending turned out :D

Also, kind of a random reference, but the title is slightly inspired by VERY NICE by Seventeen lol

Holy crap I’ve written so much for only one fic so far. My apologies in advance.

21 Eden Street

I won’t go into too much detail for 21 Eden Street because it’s still ongoing, but I just wanna brag about how fun it is to write hehe. It’s really enjoyable to write pure crack and come up with stupid and insane ideas with Cantare. You don’t need to have seen either iteration of 21 Jump Street to understand what’s going on. Honestly, we’ve taken very little from the source material and treated it more like a loose guide and a basis for brainstorming.

Don’t worry, we haven’t abandoned it! Cantare is waiting on me to finish writing my chapter (hehe sorry, Cantare!) and soon it’ll be back up and running.

Seeing things

Ah, Seeing Things, my beloved <3

This fic has the least amount of hits out of everything I’ve written (which is not surprising to me) but I hold it very dear to my heart. There’s not a specific reason why other than I just really enjoyed writing it. I also spent a ton of time making supplementary drawings and a whole hype campaign for it, too, so I kinda am obligated to feel some sorta way about it.

Anyway, the way this fic came about is simple; I just had the things I am most afraid of happen to Twilight. Yes, I’m scared of serial killers and my loved ones dying like everyone else, but something I am absolutely terrified of are hallucinations. That and doppelgangers.

Not being able to tell reality apart from fiction activates the flight or fight senses in me. Real life can be scary, yes, but reality is bound by the rules of reality. Literally anything can happen in fiction. The most horrific, awful things are possible in fiction and if those things suddenly become possible in reality???? Girl I am GONE. Passing away. Curling up in a fetal position in the nearest corner. I don’t know if that makes any sense. If I ever start seeing things that I can’t be sure are actually happening or not, I am choosing to die right then and there. Doppelgangers as a concept are also really scary to me. It’s like stranger danger but times a thousand because you can’t tell who the strangers are anymore.

In my initial draft, there wasn’t nearly as much of a tension between Twilight and Yor. If I recall correctly, by then I’d written to nearly the end and realized that for Yor this whole experience has been Loid acting just a little more weird than usual. It might’ve been Cantare’s suggestion (just assume everything after Guy’s Night has been beta’d by Cantare and you’ll be mostly right) but I realized that Twilight probably would start to suspect the people around him were screwing with him. I added the scene where his room was messed up and it all fell into place hehe.

I don’t like writing gore or the like because I feel like typical gore quickly starts escalating into levels of pain that the average reader has no possibility of comprehending and it loses its efficacy. Instead I tried feeding into Twilight’s paranoia, adding things that in isolation are just weird but when put together are unsettling. I shamelessly stole the fourth room hallway from Impossible Landscapes, a Delta Green campaign that I highly recommend you check out if you enjoy surreal horror. I purposefully kept some things vague, like the things Anya sees in Twilight’s mind, the way Handler’s face gets warped, or the description of “the watchers” because I felt like going into detail would lose the unknown-ness of it all. That and I’m lazy heehee.

In some way, canon Spy x Family does deal with ideas of doppelgangers and paranoia. Spies are constantly afraid of being listened in on, they don’t know if they can trust anyone, and they always have to keep an eye over their shoulder. For someone who is always a little scared of being spied on (I cover my phone and laptop cameras for that exact reason), that kinda sounds like torture. Seeing Things was a fun way to crank that paranoia up to a hundred. It was especially fun writing the museum scene because I tried thinking of things that are just ever so slightly off, things that theoretically could exist but clearly don’t.

I also threw in other things I’m scared of, like being watched, being followed, the dark, and the bathroom at night just to be extra mean to Twilight <3

Anyway, I’m rambling and this analysis post will be a novel if I keep this up.

Guy’s Night

I do recognize the insane tone shift going from Seeing Things to Guy’s Night.

What is there to even say about Guy’s Night? I got the idea from Psych (the Last Night Gus episode) who got the general basic from the Hangover movies. I wrote it all out in a few days, one of which I was sick in bed. I don’t know what to say.

Looking back on it, I don’t love the way it turned out. I’m glad I wrote it but where I usually don’t mind rereading my stuff for fun I do kinda cringe at Guy’s Night. It relies on a lot of contrivances which I tried masking with humor but it’s still a bit obvious. If you make a timeline of the previous night’s events, it only kinda makes sense.

It doesn’t help that I went into it with no plan whatsoever. I just sat down and said what happens happens. When I wrote in chapter one that something had happened between Loid and Yor, I didn’t know what that was. When I wrote Loid saying “we need to see what’s on that camera film” I was right there next to him saying “buddy, so do I because I have no idea.” When wrote Franky saying that his friend Marko might have answers, I was hoping he would too because I, like everyone else, didn’t know what was going on either.

The ONE thing I DID know was that Twilight got a tattoo the night before. That was it. That’s all.

I don’t typically plan out everything when I write but I usually have a good idea. For Guy’s Night, I had a bad idea in that I had no idea. It kinda shows. Sorry.

That being said, it was incredibly fun writing their drunk shenanigans and banter. The dynamic between Twilight, Franky, and Yuri was so goofy that I’ve seriously debated writing a sequel of sorts. However that’s incredibly unlikely. If I ever do write a sequel, it’d be a Girl’s Night with Yor and a combination of female characters, probably Sylvia and Fiona.

After Peace (and Glimpses of Happiness)

A quick heads up: I don’t go into detail but I do discuss mental illness in this segment.

I am incredibly proud of how After Peace turned out. Not only did it receive a really good reception for being my first fic ever, but it also helped me work through some things in my own life. It’s important to give some context.

I wrote After Peace shortly after graduating college. I won’t go into specifics, but college was really, really difficult for me. I had been so excited for this next step in my life after graduating high school but instead it turned out to be one of the hardest experiences of my life. Depression came out of nowhere and stomped me into the ground.

I used to have very high expectations for myself; I had a clear vision of what I wanted to do with my life and I was taking steps to work towards those goals. Then my mental health tanked and suddenly everything just felt so difficult and pointless. I’d sleep all day and then hate myself when the sun started to set because that meant I’d wasted an entire day doing nothing when I was supposed to be working towards something. But I just couldn’t do it anymore.

That’s something I’ve noticed that a lot of media gets wrong about depression sometimes. It doesn’t always make you feel sad. Sometimes it just sucks everything out of you—sadness, happiness, anger, everything. I stopped drawing, stopped listening to music, stopped eating, stopped exercising, stopped doing everything that I enjoyed because it felt like the equivalent of doing the dishes. Everything was a chore, even the things that I liked.

What really changed things around was when my poor roommate, who was sick of me sleeping for twenty hours a day, dragged my sorry self to the free counseling services on campus. It’s doesn’t fix everything, but having someone who cares about you and you care about can really help your mental health.

Anyway, let’s not forget I’m talking about an anime fanfiction here haha.

After Peace really did start out as a couple of doodles but as I started to write it, I noticed that there were a lot of similarities between myself and Loid. No, I am not a former spy turned grumpy hermit, but I did once have great aspirations and now have to settle for what reality offers me. Realizing that worth comes from simply existing was something that I had to understand in order to begin my recovery process.

I’ve always found it kind of sad that if you took away the goal of world peace from Twilight that you’re basically left with nothing. He doesn’t really have hobbies, no real friends, and he never takes a day off. That’s hardly sustainable. Would he really be happy when there’s nothing left to do? I’d like to think so, but I wanted to see what would happen if he wasn’t.

I mentioned this in the end note, but After Peace was also influenced by this comic I was working on years ago that had the similar premise of “grumpy man learns to enjoy life with the help of a young girl” (very original, I know). I doubt that I’ll ever release that comic in the capacity I once intended, but it does live on in my secret second tumblr account of you ever manage to find it.

Anyway, I was worried about writing After Piece because Anya plays a big role and I am Not Good at writing children. It was hard striking a balance between making Anya likeable but still realistic. I don’t interact with children often and, as a youngest sibling, I don’t have much experience with them. Anya has so many layers—being a test subject, being a telepath, being a child—that it was hard managing them all. But I’m okay with how she turned out.

There is a slight problem in that she basically disappears once Yor shows up D:

I debated having Yor in the fic at all but then I realized that without her the emotional climax would have to rely on a four year old’s emotional intelligence and then decided right then and there that Yor had to be in it haha.

Yor’s whole deal with accidentally killing the wrong person was kind of a last minute addition. I do wish I was able to explore that more, but I also feel like she’s emotionally mature enough to forgive herself more quickly than Twilight would. She ends up serving a bit of a role model to him. It was also nice to be able to write them interacting with the truth out on the table and for them to be honest with each other.

Pacing was something that I was very concerned with. Looking back on it now, I’m still worried that things move along a bit quickly. However, I am reminded of some advice my graphic design professors gave me: “Good design is when nothing more can be take away.” And, because I was writing this as fast as possible, you best believe I was taking things away if I didn’t need them. I didn’t want to fall into the trap of dwelling on Twilight’s thoughts for too long so I instead opted for showing him progressing through experiences instead. I think it worked out.

However because I took so many things out I decided to start Glimpses of Happiness, a supplementary fic to After Peace that fills in the cracks, so to speak. I wanted to have more moments between Twilight and the other characters, like stargazing with Anya and growing close to Yor. Right now there’s only one chapter, but I have plans for at least a few more. I also thought it was important to highlight that mental health recovery never truly ends. Just because Yor and Twilight had a nice chat on the roof doesn’t mean that things are suddenly okay. It’s a long process that sometimes never ends and I wanted to show that.

Of course, I can’t talk about After Peace without addressing the Midwest allegations. As I said, yes, this fic was inspired by my childhood in the American Midwest, even though I was nowhere near any mountains. The Midwest is a silly place full of nothing to do but go to your local Walmart for fun, but I think it served a good enough setting for Twilight to chill out and slow down. If I really wanted to do full Midwest, I’d have Twilight watch a tornado touch down on a cornfield from his truckbed, but that feels sort of out of place.

I feel like there’s more to say but I can’t think of anything and I doubt anyone’s actually gonna read all the way down here anyway. But yeah, that’s After Peace.

Oh, and the A.M. AM by Damien Jurado Youtube video currently has nine comments that mentjon falling from a five story building, which I think is really funny.

So now what?

Against my better judgement, I’m still writing. I have a couple projects in the works, especially one big big big one that hopefully I can start publishing soon. Keep an eye out for that.

In the meantime, thanks for a great year! I hope 2025 holds more great things in store for us all!

-unso ^. .^<

#i am so sorry about how long this is #i will proofread this for typos later #it is 1:30 in the morning and i have work in less than seven hours #good night #sxf #spy x family #loid forger #spyxfamily #yor forger #twiyor #anya forger #spy x family fanfiction #unso lore

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weixuldo · 2 months ago

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Allow me// ch 18

a/n: ok pooks- I have obviously not written in a hot min so im so so sorry if my style and writing are not as good as they once were :( I hope you still enjoy but ik how badly written fics can impact hte experience so i hope it hasn't gone too downhill lol- ive also just been speaking german for like 3 months so that also isnt helping my already bad grammar

Desire is just within reach.

warnings: Smex, cursing?, Vaders big-scarred dick, body worship, afb!reader, mention of pussy lol, p in v, oral (m recieving), fingering

_____________________

You shivered at the cool tile under your feet once you got out of the shower. The bathroom was foggy with soothing steam as you dried off.

Today was long and you were feeling a little tense after the odd interaction with Vader earlier. Thankfully you were able to push that thought to the back of your mind once you felt the warm water cascade down your tired body.

Once you were finished drying off, you walked to your room and dawned one of the silk nightgowns Vader has (secretly) gifted you. It was sage green with soft lace along the bottom hem and low halter neckline.

You sat down on your bed and brushed your hair as you hummed a soft melody that was stuck in your head.

__________________

Vader’s new found determination and willpower coursed through his veins as he signaled for his bath to be drained.

The cooling liquid slowly drained as he hung over the platform, waiting for his legs to be lifted to his ports.

He hadn’t felt so self assured since his last days as Anakin…

So he took in every moment he could- he felt powerful… worthy.

Once his limbs were all attached, he flexed his hands and arms to check everything was in place. His bionic appendages attached to his body seamlessly- nothing felt excruciating today.

His body felt different, for the first time in a long time it felt like it was his once more.

Like he was in control.

He was dizzy with adrenaline- he wanted to take his X wing and go find Palpatine at that very moment. But he couldn’t, he needed to think about this, he needed a plan.

Was this all eventually going to happen? Would he have found himself again eventually? Or were you the catalyst?

You.

You with your wit and bright eyes. You with your tender touch and lovely soul.

His muse.

You were his reason to live.

Soon his determination was diverged from its original path of destruction- now, what he needed was something he could have.

Something within reach.

He tensed and looked down to see his usually dormant member proudly erect and throbbing with desire.

His yellow eyes widened- he wasn’t even sure it could get that hard anymore. He worried if he touched it, he would come undone on the spot- but he couldn’t help himself.

Reluctantly he wrapped his cool digits around the pale and scarred shaft- he sucked in a sharp breath from the cold sensation before giving himself two long pumps.

He groaned and his metal knees shivered. It felt good- so good, but not enough.

He needed warmth…

He needed you.

_____________

You yawned as you finished reading over your schedule for tomorrow getting ready for bed.

As you were about to pull back your sheets, you felt a compelling force exerting pressure on your chest- a shiver ran down your spine as you felt overwhelmed with a new (but good) sensation.

Suddenly you heard the oh so familiar sound by your door… that breathing.

Vader was here.

Before you knew it, you had moved towards the door and opened it in anticipation.

In front of you stood Darth Vader, but not in his normally composed state- instead, he seemed a bit disheveled; his armor was askew, his breathing was ragged, and his cloak wasn’t quite fastened correctly.

Your first instinct was to ask what was wrong, but before you could, Vader stepped into your room and slid the door shut with a simple movement of his fingers.

“V, I didn’t expect to see you tonight” you said in surprise as he stood in the entry to your room.

Without words he advanced towards you and the sensation in your chest grew.

Was it his doing? Or simply a side effect of his domineering aura.

“I…” he began, his mechanical voice sounding as if it had dropped an octave (if that was even possible).

“Have been thinking about you” he finished as he gently brushed your exposed shoulder with one of his gloved hands.

You closed your eyes and whimpered at the cool sensation of the leather before opening them again to see your lover’s masked face peering down at you from his lofty height.

“H-have you?” you squeaked out as he ran his hand up your shoulder, over your collarbone, and finally resting on the side of your neck.

The sensation…the pressure was becoming all too much- you felt your desire pooling underneath your nightgown.

You knew he was a bold man, but when it came to you, he usually seemed to like for you to set the pace during these sort of endeavors.

Not that you minded, this.

It made everything all the more exciting as your anticipation for his next moves grew (much like the bulge under his codpiece).

You leaned into his touch and he ghosted his thumb over your plump lips before gently positioning his gloved hand around your neck as if he were going to choke you.

Instinctively you grasped his forearm, the strong metal under the glove, fixed under your touch.

“Vader” you breathed out before running your hands down his torso.

He choked back a moan from the sensation of your fingernails running down his chest. Without another word he lifted you onto your bed and positioned himself between your legs.

His strong hands traversed your body as he gripped onto your soft flesh; he desperately wished he could feel your skin, your warmth.

“Vader, what’s gotten into you?” you asked, trying not to sound like you weren’t practically on the verge of ripping his codpiece off.

He continued kneading your breasts through the thin fabric as he lowered his helmet to your ear, “I need to feel you- we’ve waited long enough…” he whispered.

You put your hands delicately on the sides of his mask to bring him up to your face. Vader felt his heart racing as he looked into your big beautiful eyes, your lashes batting as you waited for his next words.

“I need you,” he admitted breathlessly.

Without a second thought you looked behind the large man and flipped on the switch that pressurized your room.

“Then have me” you responded.

Vader groaned behind his mask before shoving up the bottom of your gown so that your red lacy panties were on full display for him. His cock throbbed at the sight- the color was the same color as his lightsaber, he had them custom made for you and set them in your drawer a while back.

He didn’t know if you ever actually wore them, but now he made a mental note to get more designed.

“Let me see you”

Your voice brought him back to you and without any hesitation he obliged, allowing you to take off his helmet. He was about to lean himself back over you but you pressed a hand against his chest.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his unmodulated voice a bit raspy.

“All of you” you said, unclasping this cape and removing his armor.

Again, he allowed you to remove whatever you wanted until he was down to just his robes.

He softly laid you back down onto your bed with labored breaths as you guided him on top of you. His exposed silver digits made you gasp as they sunk into your sides. Vader softly planted his scarred lips on your stomach before slowly making his way towards your neck.

The juxtaposition of his cool touch and warm mouth made you dizzy. His kisses to your neck became deeper and you began to think that they might leave marks.

You clawed at the robes on his back as he nibbled at your earlobe.

“You are mine” he declared in his true voice.

“I am” you confirmed before pulling him in for a kiss.

Your tongue explored his mouth as his hands explored your body more.

Vader felt like he could burst at any second, but he needed to keep himself under wraps a bit longer.

It had been quite a long time since the sith had done anything this explicit. It wasn’t that he forgot how to, it was more so he wasn’t quite sure if what he would normally have done would still feel good.

Despite the doubt, he opted to test it out.

Cautiously, he pushed himself back up and slowly drew his fingers down between your legs. His intense eyes never left yours as he pulled your panties off and experimentally swiped a finger over your clit. Your face scrunched at the sudden feeling before he inserted a digit into your warmth.

You gasped and he added another.

His fingers reached further, making you cling on to his shoulders with a gasp.

He felt a spurt of precum shoot out of his dick at your reaction.

“Oh dont stop” you moaned as he began to touch your breasts with his free hand.

In your ecstasy driven state, you quickly attempted to pull his robes off (not quite understanding how they were tied). After a few attempts, Vader understood what you wanted- it was then, and only then- that he paused.

He withdrew his digits garnering a whine from you before he stood to his full height with a furrowed brow. He hadn’t shown all of himself to you yet, you had seen his body and the damages he had withstood, but you had never seen his whole body.

He had never shown himself willingly to anyone since his accident.

Insecurities began slipping back into his mind- what if you were appalled, what if you didn’t want him like that anymore-

Vader was drawn back to you once more as your hands found his hips. He looked down to see you on your knees, staring up at him through thick lashes.

Maker.

What he wouldn’t do for you.

“It’s ok V”

Your assurance comforted him enough to begin removing his robes. As each layer came off, the more you wanted him.

The texture of his damaged skin may have deterred others, but you saw him as a masterpiece. Every burn, every scar, every ridge told his story.

Soon he was down to only his underwear, making it hard for you not to shamelessly stare at his member straining against the thin fabric.

You busied yourself by running your hands along his taught muscles- all that time lugging around that monstrous suit definitely strengthened the body he had left.

His muscles bulged as he crawled back on top of you slowly pressing his clothed erection between your legs with a groan. He dragged his length up your pussy and bathed in the sensation of your wetness dampening his underwear.

It wasn’t often he could actually feel something.

Especially something so magnificent.

He moaned softly into your ear as you locked your legs around his waist, rutting his cock against your sensitive bud. His eyes were shut in bliss as you rocked him back and forth against your core.

That was until he felt your hand slip under his waistband.

With a choked cry Vader’s yellow eyes shot open as you gave him a few slow pumps.

“shit“ he cursed as his arms wavered.

“That’s it, let me please you” your voice rang in his ear.

No longer were insecurities surrounding his mind- you were taking charge.

You wanted him.

You guided him onto the bed and began to pull his briefs down his legs until you successfully discarded them onto the floor with all of his other garments.

Now.

Here he was. The mighty Darth Vader. In all of his glory- his pale member standing proudly.

Just for you.

The sight alone was enough to get you there.

You raked your nails gently down his stomach, over his ports, and finally rested at the base of his dick.

He was heavy and quite stiff. You took a moment to look him over; he was big (of course he was), there were veins running up the sides with a rather prominent one running from the left side to the tip. As for the head, it was puffy and angrily red (yearning for release no doubt).

Just like the rest of his body, his member was littered with old burn scars.

Vader was about to apologize for the sight, but before he had the chance, you had him half way down your throat.

The sith shuddered beneath you as his hips unintentionally bucked up at the sensation. You groaned as you tried to take more of him; the vibrations of your noises made him see stars. It was when you reached a sneaky hand around to cup his heavy balls that he knew he was done for.

He let out the most pornographic moan you had ever heard before pulling you off of him and switching positions so that you were under him once more.

You wiped your mouth before he plunged his lips against yours and gripped his length with his right hand. Breathlessly he rested his forehead against yours as you cupped his face with your hands.

“Are you alright Vader?” you asked as you noticed he was wheezing a bit.

He nodded before shutting his eyes for a moment. Quickly, Vader called upon the force to assist him in temporarily regulating his breathing so that he could finish- he was almost there.

“I want to be inside of you” he managed through ragged breaths.

You nodded vigorously before wrapping your arms around his neck, bracing yourself for his length.

In one swift motion he pushed himself into your aching cunt with an exasperated sigh.

Holy shit, you were tight. Your gummy walls sucked him right in and he swore that you were made for him.

“Oh Maker, y/n. Your pussy is going to make me cum” Vader grunted as he slammed his hips into yours.

Never had you heard him talk so vulgarly…

Pussy? You expected him to say anything but that. For some deranged reason, his words only turned you on more. Soon you were meeting his thrusts with your own as he hit all the right spots.

“Say it louder” you demanded, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Maker, your pussy was made of me- I'm gonna- I’m cumming! I’m-” he babbled as he feverishly slammed his aching cock into you before releasing a primal cry.

Soon his warm seed flooded your insides as you felt your own climax wash over you like a tsunami. Your legs shook around his waist as your walls clamped down on him, begging for every last drop.

Vader’s hips stuttered as his bionic legs began to tremble before he collapsed on top of you with a sigh. You gasped as his length was pushed back deep inside of you, before soothingly running your hands up and down his broad back, helping him come down from his high.

Once the debilitating sensation passed, you coaxed him off of you and helped him lie down on the bed beside you. He whined as you pulled yourself off of his spent dick- it twitched and pulsed as the cool bedroom air hit it after being in your warmth for so long.

You handed Vader one of the extra oxygen tubes you kept in your room for him before he reached for his cape to clean you off with.

“You are so beautiful” he whispered, looking at you with his magnificent blue eyes.

You sleepily smiled and caressed his cheek, “and so are you, my love”.

Vader felt his heart swell and his expression soften as he found his place next to you; blue eyes mapping your features as if he would never see you again.

This is all he ever wanted.

And he would protect you with his life.

***

a/n: okiiii soooo yea, idk- bro wasn’t gonna last long 😔- hope it was good! thx for reading :)

taglist: @vadersassistant @sxoulohvn @khaleesihavilliard @kashasenpai @darling-murdock @beautifulbearpolice @salvatoresister1 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @blueninjablade3 @jujuba096 @missmannequin @jellydodger @mirastark @wyvernthekriger @duckyhowls @monada43 @lauriidoesstuff @vienettacream @ray-rook @itswhatever06 @ilovenielperry @icequeen8043

#darth vader #darth vader x reader #sw darth vader #darth vader fic #darth vader x you #darth vader x y/n #sw fic #darth vader fanfic #allow me #vader fanfic #vader smut #darth vader smut #sw smut #star wars smut #burnt vader x reader #burnt vader

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lowkeychenle · 2 years ago

Text

Like We Just Met [ZCL] (M)

Description: Everything else about the day is completely normal when Chenle realizes he wants to marry you. It hits him like a tidal wave, and he's itching to tell you just how much he wants to love you forever.

Genre: Fluff (literally SO MUCH FLUFF we love Chenle in this house go away if you don't) // Smut

Content Warnings: Explicit unprotected sex (it's actually sweet this time am I feeling okay), talks about marriage etc etc. Nothing really dark or upsetting in here.

Word Count: 11,292 (y'all I have no idea how this happened...)

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat. the rest of the Dreamies)

ISTJ 7Dream Series Masterlist

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests/Tell me what you think of this plz <3

Tag List (open for ISTJ 7Dream Series): @kunvibing

Author's Note: Lowkey? This was so fun because it's from Chenle's POV...or it's supposed to be haha. This is probably my favorite fic I've ever written catch me crying in the corner...also this gif don't mind the real tears in my eyes

Nobody questioned Renjun when he said he’d invited his friend to dance practice. They brought friends in every now and then, so it wasn’t anything new. Chenle was having a bit of an off day. He kept screwing up the choreography (that he’d done seven hundred times probably in the past week alone) and even accidentally elbowed Jaemin.

Renjun’s friend had yet to show up. Chenle was beyond frustrated with the way things were going, so he let everyone know he was taking a break. He grabbed his water bottle and stomped out of the practice room.

He ended up a bit down the hallway, resting his back on the wall with his eyes closed. All he needed was a break. That had to be it.

“Are you okay?” a soft voice asked.

When he looked at you, he recoiled a bit. He’d never seen you before—he’d definitely remember—but something about you felt familiar. Like a warm aura surrounded you and infiltrated him in the best ways.

“You’re Chenle, right?” You tilted your head at him. “I’m Renjun’s friend, (Y/N). I was supposed to watch practice, but I got lost. This building is pretty big.”

“Yeah, I’m Chenle.” He blinks at you a couple more times. “Um, we’re always in the same practice room. I’ll take you over there.”

“Actually, is there a place to get some water? I forgot mine at home.” You scratched the top of your head and scrunched up your nose. “It was really hot outside.”

“It’s on the way.” He gestured down the hall with his head.

You followed him without hesitation. He was acutely aware of every step you took, of how there was only a few feet between the two of you. Even though he had no clue what to say to you, you didn’t mind walking along in silence. It was unlike him to be shy. Next to impossible for him to be starstruck.

“How long have you known Renjun for?” he asked. And why the hell had you not come around sooner?

“Oh.” You took a deep breath and pursed your lips in thought as Chenle stopped to grab you a water bottle from the kitchen. “Four years now? Five? His family knows mine, so when I came back here, his parents told him he had to help me find my way around.”

“Well, today’s pretty laid back,” Chenle explains. “We’ll probably practice for another hour or two and then go home. We’ve been at it all day.”

You hum in response, opening the cap and taking a sip. “Thank you for this. Sorry to keep you from practice.”

“Don’t be. I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” Chenle chuckles, gaze drinking you in when you’re distracted by your water. “And…they can be a little…much at first. But they’re all great people, so you’ll be fine.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m nervous.” You narrowed your eyes at him playfully.

He bit back a smile, pressing his lips into a thin line instead. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Renjun has given me plenty of warnings,” you tell him.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken you to the practice room yet. The two of you stood in the kitchen, but he knew the second you were with everyone else, the conversation was over. He didn’t want to stop talking to you, and that odd feeling of warmth settled into his chest.

“Like what?” Chenle raised his eyebrows.

“He said you’re cranky and mean.” You smiled at him, and he swore he was almost knocked off his feet. There was something about you that drew him in.

Chenle made a mental note to scold Renjun later, but he’s not necessarily wrong…he was cranky until he saw you.

“Well, in that case, what he said about everyone else is probably accurate, too.”

“You don’t look cranky,” you interjected. “You’re not mean either. Mean people don’t get strangers water bottles.”

“I’m mean to Renjun. And Jisung.”

“They’re your friends. You get a pass for your friends.” You slid one of your hands into the back pocket of your jeans, rocking on the balls of your feet as silence befell the room.

“They’re waiting for me,” Chenle says. “We should go.”

You nodded in agreement and followed him. He sulked a bit when the other members were introduced to you. They were all nice—because they always were—but when it came time to get back to practice, he found himself gravitating toward you several times.

Nearly every time he looked at you, you were already looking at him, too. Maybe it wasn’t just him that felt the weird tug. He hoped it wasn’t.

After they wrapped everything up, Chenle sat against the back wall, feeling so heavy as if he could fall asleep right there. He was exhausted.

Jaemin, Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark were already on their way out the door, leaving Jisung to slump next to Chenle and Renjun to talk with you. Jisung noted how he was watching you, but he didn’t say anything right away. He drank his water and stayed quiet.

You said something to Renjun, who smiled at you and nodded. He headed for the door and waited for you outside. When Chenle realized you were coming over to him, he shot a worried glance over at Jisung.

“Would you look at that?” Jisung cleared his throat. “Time for me to go.”

Before Chenle could even grab him, Jisung was halfway to the door. Once you were in front of him, you sat down and crossed your legs.

“You did really well today.”

He chuckled. “I think that’s the worst I’ve done this comeback season.”

“Then you’re in pretty good shape.” You shrugged, picking at the seam of your jeans. “I wanted to thank you. For helping me earlier.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” he said. “You’re Renjun’s friend. Of course, I’d help you.”

“Right.” You brushed your hair over your shoulder and prepared to stand up. “I should go—”

“Will you be coming back?” The question shot out of his mouth, sending a blush to his cheeks in response.

“I’m not sure,” you told him. “That’s up to Renjun I guess. It was really cool to see how passionate you guys are.”

“Let me give you my number.” Chenle grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Um, just in case you get lost again. And need help finding the room.” He cringed at himself, hoping he wasn’t going to get rejected.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You gave him the tiniest smile, but it made his heart flutter anyway.

He handed it to you with the contact app open. You didn’t even hesitate to type in your name and number. After, you sent yourself a text, and Chenle heard it ring in your back pocket. You gave it back to him, grinned, and left him sitting there in shock.

He couldn’t choose between staring at you as you left and looking down at your contact open on his screen. His stomach twisted with nerves, but the second he saw the smiley face emoji you’d put next to your name, he already knew.

You were going to be someone to him.

Mark drops something in the kitchen, snapping Chenle out of it. He looks at you, and you smile back at him. With you pressed into his side and your legs over his lap, he can’t help but grin right back.

His hand rests on your thigh, thumb sliding gently back and forth as he presses a kiss to your temple. He’d never get used to this.

After returning from the kitchen, Mark allows the game to resume. His nose scrunches as he glances between you and Chenle. “That’s a weird ass question.”

“Not weird.” Chenle shakes his head. “Critical thinking, Mark, you should try it.”

“Oh, be nice.” You shove his shoulder.

For a while now, Chenle has felt his feelings growing more than he thought possible. He’s already in love with you (thankfully, since you’ve been together almost a year now), but something about you lately has him on a whole other level. Even then, he’s not sure what it is. He decides he’ll ride it out for a while and see where it takes him.

“Why would you ask your girlfriend what year she’d take a time machine back to? Shouldn’t she be like…happiest now?” Mark asks, sipping on whatever mixed drink he’d prepared in Chenle’s kitchen.

“You’d think.” Chenle snorts, leaning back against the couch and throwing his arm around you.

“He asks me questions like this all the time,” you tell Mark. When you steal a glance at your boyfriend, his breath catches in his chest.

What the hell is going on with him lately? He can’t concentrate around you (even more than usual) and every tiny thing you do has his heart hammering against his ribcage. Soon enough, he’s sure you’ll both hear the bones crack.

“Has anyone, by chance, ever told you two that you’re gross?” Mark chuckles to himself and leans back in the recliner. “Some of us are single and lonely, you know.”

“Some of us will never be that again,” Chenle shoots back.

“Oh, you two are the worst.” Your laugh echoes pleasantly in his ears, and he subconsciously leans closer to you.

“I am curious what your answer is, though,” Mark interjects. “Since Chenle’s so sure.”

Chenle takes a sip of his own drink, nearly cringing at the bitter taste dragging down his throat. He’s not much of a drinker—social at best. But he can still appreciate the buzz and the hazy happiness that comes with it. You take his hand that dangles over your shoulder, twirling the friendship ring wrapped around his middle finger. The action is so, so simple, yet it makes his stomach turn.

If he doesn’t figure out what the hell’s going on with him soon, he’s gonna have to separate himself from you.

“Well, you’re right.” You shrug, shuffling closer to Chenle. “This part of my life has definitely been the best. But if I could go back to any time, it would probably be when we met. You only get to meet Zhong Chenle once in your life, dude. I’d do it over and over again if I could. The second I saw him, I knew he would be important to me.”

Chenle thinks back to the moment he first saw you. The way he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you like an actual child or the way he took in every detail of you to store in his mind forever—just in case he never got to speak to you again. He pauses, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he analyzes your answer.

Mark groans. “That doesn’t count! That was last year.”

Grabbing the pillow next to him, Chenle throws it at his friend. “Leave her alone, it was a good answer.”

But when he contemplates that thought, he’s not sure he understands what you mean. His ears burn, the tips of them turning red as he recalls how embarrassingly nervous he was around you all the time. How awkward all of your firsts together were. Everything now is so much better than back then.

Not to mention he’s looked at you the same way since that first night. His feelings for you have grown, sure, but those butterflies he used to get still torment him just about every time he sees you smile.

“Why?” Chenle finally asks.

“You were so cute,” you hum, shifting closer to him. “Everything made you nervous. You almost keeled over in embarrassment when you asked to hold my hand.”

Mark laughs, and Chenle sends a glare his way. No part of that is even anywhere near funny.

“Okay, it's your turn.” Mark gestures at you.

Chenle resists the urge to reach over and touch your face. Usually, he’s so much better about being so clingy in front of his friends and, while he would prefer Mark not seeing this side of him, he couldn’t care less when his gaze is locked with yours.

“Cool.” You nod, taking a sip of your drink. “Both of you. Hypothetical situation. Let’s say you’re drunk. You walk into a room and everyone you’ve ever loved is in there. Like…loved. Who are you going to?”

“Dude.” Mark’s jaw drops. “That’s such a shitty question for me.”

“You’ll live,” Chenle replies. “Just romantic love?”

“All of it. Platonic, romantic, family.” You purse your lips in thought.

Chenle doesn’t have to think about it. Not really. He’d rather get struck by lightning and then hit by a bus right after before admitting that so easily in front of Mark. In this case, it’s always been you. From the second you spoke to him for the first time, he was irrevocably yours.

“You.” Chenle watches your eyebrows raise.

“Be serious,” you say. “Your parents are included in that.”

“I’m serious. You.” Chenle chuckles.

You give him a pointed look, but that’s when Mark cuts in.

“No, he’s for real. Like…that legitimately happened.” Mark leans forward, elbows digging into his thighs as he rests his head in his palms. “Do you guys not remember?”

“What are you talking about?” you ask him, frowning.

Chenle remembers. Barely, and it’s a bit foggy, but it comes back like a baseball bat upside the head as Mark starts telling the story.

Chenle’s birthday party last year. The night was barely halfway through and he was drunk enough to be stumbling over his feet. He’d heard you were coming, but he had yet to see you. Even when every other feeling was numbed by the tingling sensation the alcohol left behind, his craving to see you was all that remained.

Mark walked next to him, having a full conversation with himself since Chenle was so fog-brained. As much as he loved Mark, there was only one person he wanted to see. Everyone he knew and loved was here—his parents, the rest of his group, and Jisung had somehow forgotten to uninvite Chenle’s ex.

He only ever dated one person before you, but he wasn’t sure he ever loved her. Regardless, there she was. Even with her standing across the room from him, he kept waiting like a lost puppy.

When you walked in, he swore the whole world stopped around him. Everyone but you was moving in slow motion before they eventually faded into nothing, darkness that was emphasized by the light you were. His breath caught in his throat, and he stopped walking.

Chenle couldn’t form a coherent thought while he stared at you, drunken stupor making it so much easier to forget the embarrassment. Mark watched him curiously as Chenle made his way over to you. He refused to waste any more time when he knew you were the one he wanted to talk to.

You had always been more confident around him than he was around you. Your face lit up when you saw him, wrapping your arms around him. He secured you in his grasp, breathing in the scent of your hair and the perfume you wore.

“Happy birthday.” Your voice is muffled a bit by his T-shirt. “Sorry I’m late, took a bit longer to get ready than I thought it would.”

He knew he should’ve let you go. People were starting to notice the way he was clinging to you, and not even being drunk could excuse that behavior. He was about ready to tell everyone except you to leave. Nothing else mattered. If he could spend his birthday with you, it would be the best one yet.

It’d been two months since Renjun had introduced you to the rest of them. Which means, he’s only known of your existence for two months, and you already command so much of his brain matter that he can’t think of anyone but you. Great.

He finally (reluctantly) let you go and led you over to the rest of the group. Nobody said anything when he made Mark scoot over so you could sit next to him. Nobody questioned it. His parents would ask him about it later, but until then, there was no reason for him to worry. After all, his crush on you was the most obvious thing in the world, so it was only a matter of time before you found out about it.

By the end of the night, he hadn’t spent enough time with you. People were starting to shuffle out, but you stayed, chatting with Renjun until only four remained. Chenle’s parents had gone to bed long ago. You were almost caught up to him on drinks, your laughs longer and your movements slower.

Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have been as brave as to walk up to you and ask you to stay the night. He didn’t mean it in a suggestive way, either. He just didn’t want you to leave yet.

“Chenle,” Renjun scolds, swatting his shoulder. “You can’t ask something like that so casually.”

“You want me to stay here? With you?” Your voice was higher than normal. Chenle accredited it to the alcohol raging in your system.

“I like when you’re here.” Chenle nodded. “You make everything calm.”

Renjun scrunched up his face, slamming his forehead into his palm. “(Y/N), you should probably go home—”

“No, it’s okay.” You brushed him off. “I’m okay with staying.”

Oh, he was in love with you. There was no other explanation for the way his heart skipped a beat when those words came out of your mouth.

Chenle doesn’t remember the rest of that night, but he does recall waking up next to you in the morning and freaking out. Alcohol made him brave, but it didn’t save him from the red-hot embarrassment of the next day.

“I didn’t even realize…” you trailed off, a small smile forming on your face. “You picked me.”

“I’ll always pick you,” Chenle responds easily, like second nature.

Mark decides it’s time for him to leave, but Chenle’s mind is still reeling with memories. With all of the firsts you said you wished you could relive. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t figure out what the fuck this feeling is. As the two of you climb into bed, he’s so distracted, he can’t fall asleep, even with you curled into his chest.

“(Y/N),” Chenle groaned when he saw you in the practice room mirror. “You gotta stop showing up here if you don’t want me to fall in love with you.”

It was a joke. Sort of.

“Right, and let you forget to eat? I think not.” You fought back every time, unphased by the way he so casually admitted he’s starting to fall for you.

At least, that was his idea of admitting it.

You walked over with the bags in your hand, sitting down on the practice room floor next to him.

“I haven’t even been here that long,” Chenle defended himself. “I would’ve eaten after I left.”

You unloaded the contents, opening boxes. “I can go if that’s what you want.”

“Not what I said.” For some reason, he felt a sudden burst of courage. He’s known you for four months at this point, and something about today felt…right. “I was serious, you know.”

“About what?” You grabbed the drinks from the carrier.

“You.”

“What?” You recoiled, looking at him in confusion.

He contemplated telling you to forget it. That it didn’t matter, and thank you for the food instead. If you didn’t feel the same way for him, he’d be devastated. And then you’d leave him for good and take all the food with you. He was starving.

“If you keep doing nice things for me, I’m gonna fall for you.” As if he hasn’t already.

You paused, but Chenle didn’t miss the blush on your face. Clearing your throat, you looked away from him and took a deep breath. His fists clenched as he awaited your rejection, but the longer the silence stretched, the more he felt you might want him to.

“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it,” you finally said and brushed your hair behind your ears. Reaching forward for the food again, you gave Chenle a shocked look when he grabbed your wrist.

“You’re right. I’m not going to fall for you. I already did.”

Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as his words settled in the air around both of you. With his heart racing, he released your wrist and intertwined your fingers instead.

“I really, really like you.”

“You should really eat your food before it gets cold.” You pulled your hand from his and pushed the box closer to him.

He stared blankly at the wall, noting the sudden chill on his skin that you left behind. A sinking feeling encapsulated his chest, and he knew he ruined everything. You looked like you were ready to run.

“Forget I said anything,” he told you. “I’m sorry if that was weird.”

“Eat,” you commanded again. “I’m not talking about this with you until I know you’ve eaten. If you don’t, we’ll go off on a tangent and you’ll be starving all night.”

“Does that mean you—”

“Yes, Chenle.” You interrupted him. “Yes, I really, really like you too, which is why I want to make sure you eat.”

At that moment, Chenle realized that if he walked outside and randomly dropped dead, he’d be okay with it now that he’s gotten that confession out of you. There wasn’t a damn thing that could top that. Everything else in life would be subpar to today, so there was no point in trying.

You and Chenle ate in silence. He kept stealing glances at you, catching you doing the same to him. If all he had to do in order to get you to talk about your feelings with him was eat, he’d do it, albeit probably a bit too fast for his own good.

Chenle runs his fingers through his hair, his thumb tracing gentle shapes against the bare skin of your arm. These memories have no business popping up in the middle of the night. He has practice tomorrow. He’ll be so off his game, the other members will want to kill him.

Usually, he has no problem falling asleep, especially with you right beside him. Over the past year, you’ve probably spent more nights with him than you have at your own place. He teases you for it all the time, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Closing his eyes, he listens to the soft sounds of your breathing and allows himself to feel the way your body slots with his so easily. Everything about you is perfect. About the two of you together. He would toss and turn, but no way is he going to disturb you. Even if he can’t sleep, he’d never screw up your schedule on purpose.

“It’s so pretty.” You were in awe, staring at the sunset from Chenle’s backyard. He’d set up a picnic date for the two of you, and afterward, you were watching the sun fade below the treeline while lying on top of a red blanket.

His fingers were intertwined with yours, something that had become so normal for you. Two weeks since his confession, and it was the second date he planned. He wondered, obsessed over, even, what your thought process was on all of this. Were you happy? Did he make you happy?

He wanted to kiss you when he confessed to you. And while he came close to it on your first date, he decided against it. It had to be perfect. Nothing was good enough for you in his mind, especially when all he wanted was to make sure you knew just how he felt about you.

How was he supposed to tell you that?

He’d already said he fell for you, but that didn’t begin to cover it. Not really. You made him want to put in effort, made him crave your happiness like it was the very oxygen he breathed. At the same time, he didn’t want you to think he didn’t want to kiss you. Hell, he’d already dreamed of it, for fuck’s sake, so that definitely wasn’t the issue.

Lost in thought, he’s only snapped out of it by the way you rolled over, lying on your stomach so you can get a good look at his face. You rested your head on your right palm, your left finding his bicep.

“You’re so perfect,” he hummed, twirling your hair with his fingers. “Could look at you forever.”

“Some people might have an issue with that.” You laughed.

“We’re the only ones that matter,” he responded.

Your smile slowly faded, a look of longing replacing it as your gaze softened.

God, he wanted to kiss you. He needed to.

All thoughts of the perfect moment have fled from his brain. Any moment would be perfect as long as it’s you.

He sat up and you leaned forward, and before he knew it, his nose brushed yours. Your eyes fluttered shut in preparation. The heat of the sun sank into his skin. Your perfume wafted from you, intertwining with the air and suffocating him in the best ways. If he could pick one scent to smell for the rest of his life, it would be yours.

Was it normal to have these thoughts so early?

Why was he thinking of that right now? Literally the worst possible time.

“Can I?” he whispered, scared to ruin everything.

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left your mouth, he kissed you. Everything about you was soft, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised to find your lips the same way. His hands shook as he touched your waist.

He was already in big trouble. There wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to stop there. His heart thudded so loud, he was halfway sure you could hear it, too. It felt like sparks flew between you two, absolute electricity coursing through every single one of his veins, heating up his bloodstream and making the thought of pulling away from you the absolute worst case scenario.

You moved away first, gasping for breath. Chenle craved tugging you back to him. His body reacted to you in ways it had never reacted to anyone else. He didn’t want to take it too far, but he sure as hell didn’t want to stop, either.

He couldn’t describe the way you felt. The way you tasted. Everything about you was so heart-achingly perfect, he wanted to experience you all the time. He wanted to rewind time so he could kiss you again for the first time, and he’d do it over and over and over again.

Something about first kisses set him on fire. He was absolutely sure he’d kiss you more. In fact, he was seconds away from it. But the adrenaline coming from the very first brush of your lips on his wasn’t something he’d ever be able to recreate.

“Again.” You leaned in once more.

He met you in the middle eagerly, hand finding the back of your head before he turned you so you were lying on your back. Half of his weight pressed against you, but he did his best to keep himself lifted up so you weren’t uncomfortable.

Unforgettable heat swarmed him, the sun caressing his skin as your fingers gently traced down the back of his neck. Goosebumps formed, but he could hardly pay attention to them. The entire world was gone, and you were everything, the only person remaining in a sea of nothingness. He wanted you. Needed you.

This was technically your second kiss, but in his mind, it was still the first since they happened almost at the same time. He hadn’t stopped to take a breath in much too long, but he’d rather suffocate than separate from you.

He stopped when your breath hitched, completely lost in the sound. When he wasn’t focusing on your mouth anymore, he realized why—his hand had somehow found its way to your upper thigh. His face burned as he removed it.

“I didn’t…” he trailed off, scanning over your face for any hint of what you were feeling. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

You chuckled at him, pushing his shoulder. “You wish that excuse would work on me.”

The sky faded into a beautiful lilac color, the kind that only appeared when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Clouds drifted effortlessly, stars beginning to shine.

“Should we go inside?” Chenle asked. “It’ll get cold without the sun.”

Whenever he looked at you, he knew you were different. He couldn’t place how, but nobody else had ever made him feel the way you do. Like his heart was going to burst out of his chest while simultaneously stopping and also skipping every other beat. He didn’t even know how he was alive anymore.

In the last two weeks since his confession, the boys had told him how much happier he was. How he was striving with more effort lately and trying his best at any given moment of the day. You were his motivation. You made him want to be the absolute best he could be, and even as new as the relationship was, he’d already known you for months—he was nervous about you deciding you wanted something else. Someone who wasn’t him.

The moment before replayed in his head, and he heard that breath hitch on repeat while he awaited your answer. He did his best to stop thinking about it, but nothing worked. All he wanted to do was kiss you again, over and over and over until the literal end of time.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Let’s go inside.”

His cheeks redden just thinking of that memory. The first time he ever kissed you, and he royally fucked up because his hand didn’t know how to stay put. At this point, it’s clear he’s not going to be able to fall asleep. He hates the idea of leaving you in bed alone, but he’s only going to disturb you if he doesn’t plan on sleeping.

Sliding away from you carefully, he quietly gets up and heads into the kitchen. He runs his fingers through his hair. His hands down his face. He must be sentimental today, because he can’t stop thinking about you for the life of him. Every memory from the last year pokes at his head, and he has no clue how to handle it.

Patting his cheeks, he heads over to the fridge to grab a water bottle. Photos of the two of you are framed up on the wall. There’s one picture in particular he always says is his favorite, but he refuses to tell you why.

The two of you were sitting on the floor, and you had the cutest glare on your face. He sees the adoration gleaming in your gaze even though you look about ready to strangle him. In your defense, you probably were. He lets out a tiny laugh, tracing over the frame.

There’s even one with Chenle between you and Jisung, and a group picture with you and the boys. Chenle loves his friends dearly, and the way they’ve welcomed you with open arms says a lot about both your relationship with them and his potential future with you. Everyone in his life loves you. You’re the one they call when Chenle’s upset or if he’s off his game, and no matter when or where this is happening, you show up to make him feel better.

He could be having the worst day of his entire existence, and a simple ‘I love you’ passing from your lips has him forgetting everything shitty about the world. Looking back at the pictures, he’s drawn back into memory.

He heard the birds outside his window before he saw the gleaming sun. His eyes fluttered open while he groaned quietly at the sudden change of brightness. Your body was like a fireball, your skin searing hot against his, but it did little to bother him. His groan turned into a sigh of content, and he wrapped his arms around you tighter. Fingertips trailing down your bare spine, he kissed your forehead.

Three months together, and every night spent with you made him fall deeper in love. He’d never known peace as he did at that moment. No interruptions, just the two of you basking in each other’s embrace.

He could’ve stayed like that forever—he wanted to, but glancing at the clock, he realized how close it was to noon. Jaemin would be there soon, and the last thing Chenle needed was him in his house when you were naked in his bed.

He reluctantly got up, dressing himself before grabbing some clothes for you. You have a drawer, multiple, actually, but he picked his own T-shirt for you to wear. When he made it over to you, you were stirring.

“You got up.” You pouted at him, staring at him through half-closed eyes. “And you have clothes on.”

Chenle laughed. “Sorry, love. Jaemin will be here soon.”

“It’s that late?” you asked.

Chenle nodded, setting the clothes down next to you. He kissed you softly, gently, a kiss so barely there it left you leaning forward to try to continue it. Cupping your cheek, he brushed his thumb along your skin.

You didn’t need help getting dressed, but he did it anyway. He loved the way you looked in his T-shirts, and even though it’s long enough to cover you, no way he’d risk it. Once you were finished, the two of you got ready for the day. You brushed your teeth together, he watched you brush your hair, and by the time you’re done, Jaemin was walking in the front door.

The three of you sat on the floor around Chenle’s coffee table, playing a game. He can’t remember what the game was anymore, only that you were terrible at it and that he loved winning.

Jaemin teased both of you the whole time, ruffling Chenle’s hair on multiple occasions. As much as he’d love to deny it, Chenle enjoyed that Jaemin liked the two of you together. It was almost like an affirmation, even if he didn’t need one.

Being the professional picture-snapper he was, Jaemin took the picture now hanging up on Chenle’s wall. You, with your arms crossed over your chest and a big pout on your face, and Chenle, smiling widely at you with such adoration in his eyes it should’ve been impossible.

“Lele?” Your soft voice breaks him away from his memory. He turns to you quickly, heart instantly halting in his chest when he sees his shirt on you.

“What are you doing up?” he asks.

“I was gonna ask you that.” You rub your eyes, feet shuffling on the floor as you walk over to him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies and takes you in his arms with ease. “Didn’t want to bug you, sunshine.”

You don’t respond. All you do is bury your head in his chest and breathe him in. He runs his fingers through your hair, kissing the top of your head. With all the lights off, the only illumination is the full moon outside as it casts shadows on the ground. The faint blue makes you that much more ethereal to him.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mm,” you hum in response. “This is nice.”

Chenle smiles. “Yeah, it is. Always is.”

After a bit of silence and rocking you gently, an idea sparks. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, finding the playlist he made specifically for when he thinks about you, and sets it on the counter. You stare at him in tired confusion, but when one of his arms wraps around your waist, you catch on.

“What are you doing?” Humor is laced in your voice, but the sweet look on your face tells him his actions are making you happy. That’s his goal, constantly. All he wants is to make you happy.

“Checking something off the bucket list,” he replies, slowly turning you to the soft beat.

“Something’s missing,” you say as he twirls you.

He steals a glance at the way his shirt rides up your legs, showing just a peek of your panties beneath it.

“What?” he asks, pulling you back to him.

“Sing to me.” You place your hand on his chest.

His heart betrays him at that moment. It rages, and he knows you can feel it. Chenle sings in front of thousands of people all the time, but something about you is different. Something about you right now is different.

“What’s going on up in there?” You run your fingers through his hair. “You’ve been all weird today.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits. “Everything. From the moment we met up until this…it keeps repeating over and over again.”

“Welcome to my world,” you replied, grasping his shoulders. You massage them gently as you sway along with the music.

The confession from you makes him smile. At least he’s not the only one doing constant circles in his head. He calms a bit, and when a new song plays, he sings to you. Your body immediately relaxes into his, as if every stress you’ve ever had has left you without hesitation.

Chenle loves to sing. He does it all the time, and he only wants to keep getting better. To have someone like you as his partner, someone who supports him endlessly and genuinely loves his voice…it’s unparalleled.

He’s not sure how long the two of you are like this, or how long he’s singing for, but song after song, all he knows is that you’re smiling. You’re looking at him with unmatched adoration in your eyes, pure love. Nobody else has ever looked at him in this way, and he doesn’t want them to.

He wants to stay here with you and watch you love him in ways he’s never been loved before.

He stops. His singing fades out, and he furrows his eyebrows as he finally, finally realizes what’s been happening to him. You tilt your head, able to ask him questions without saying anything. His chest feels like it’s going to burst.

You’re it.

You’re everything, and he’s going to marry you.

He’s going to spend the rest of his life striving to make sure you love him as much as you do right now, if not more.

It seems like you feel it, too. Your face softens and you reach up to trace along his cheekbone. He leans into your touch, chasing the warmth like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel it.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“I know.” You grin so wide, Chenle almost thinks it’ll split your face in two.

“Good.” He brushes your hair behind your ear. “I hope I’m doing a good job in showing you that every day.”

You pause, hands trailing down from his cheeks to his shoulders. “I have never once doubted that you love me, Lele. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“I promise you I’ve never felt better,” he replies. “Just checking in with you.”

“You do so much more than you realize. No matter how busy you are, you text me to tell me you love me or that you’re thinking about me. You practice non-stop with the boys but you still make an effort with me when you could easily use that as an excuse. There is not one thing I could ask for that you don’t already do.” You press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll never doubt you.”

“Sometimes I worry,” he admits. “You make me…want to be better. In every way possible. In my career, in my life, with you. And if I’m not being better every day, then I don’t deserve you.”

“Chenle.” You give him a pointed look. “When I think back to the first day we met, I remember how…how you acted from the first time you spoke to me. At the time, I really thought I was crazy, but I knew you’d be someone to me. You didn’t even know me, but you were so kind. And now that we’re here like this, you haven’t changed. There’s no getting better. You’re already the best.”

“How do you do that?” He chuckles, kissing your forehead.

“Do what?”

“Know exactly what to say.”

“That’s my special talent,” you tell him.

“We should get back to bed,” Chenle says, sleep weighing on him. “Meeting the boys tomorrow.”

He grabs his phone from the counter, his heart full and warm as he leads you back to his bedroom. This time, as he’s lying with you pressed to his chest, he’s able to fall into his dreamland.

Despite his lack of sleep, Chenle is full of energy the next day. He wakes up and makes you coffee just the way you like before sitting on the edge of the bed by your sleeping form. When he sets the cup on the nightstand, you stir, turning over to face him.

“You’re gonna be late,” you mumble, even though you have no idea what time it is.

Chenle chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay? You can stay here if you want. Wanted to tell you I love you before I left.”

“Love you, too,” you say with a tired smile, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Drink your coffee before it gets cold. I’ll grab dinner for us on my way back.”

Walking away from you feels like someone’s trying to rip his heart out of his chest. You’re an extension of him at this point, and after his sudden realization last night, all he wants to do is spend the day curled up with you.

Luckily for him, his day passes by pretty quickly. He got a lot done today, and he was proud of that. You’d be proud of him, too. He’s itching to get home and tell you everything that happened. Staying true to his word, he picks up your favorite takeout.

He’s going to be honest with you about what was going on with him yesterday. It’s the right thing to do—and in a perfect world, you’ll feel the same way he does. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he admitted his feelings for you. Even though that side of him feels worlds away now, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

But the restaurant isn’t the only stop he makes.

He’s shaking by the time he gets back. Is a year really enough time? It is for him, but what if you think he’s insane?

When he arrives, he’s not expecting what you’ve done at all. The main lights are off, but a dim golden glow from the strips along the wall and the candles illuminate the room enough. He sets the bag down on the table, completely forgetting about the food as he searches for you.

“(Y/N)?”

“You’re earlier than I thought you’d be,” you tell him, walking out of his bedroom while still putting in an earring.

His throat dries. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words could ever justify the way you look right now. You put on a dress, one of his favorites, and he’s in jeans and a T-shirt.

You kiss his cheek. “I figured you deserve something nice to come home to.”

“You’re my something nice.” He wraps his arm around your waist. “Should I change?”

“We’re not going anywhere.” You shake your head. “Just relax and enjoy your gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Oh, I can get on board with that.” He allows you to lead him back to the table.

Once he’s taking the food out of the bag, he keeps stealing glances at you. You put in all this effort for him, and he knows how much work it must’ve been to hang up all these lights. The golden glow looks ethereal against your skin.

“Before we eat, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” He clears his throat to stop it from collapsing in on itself, but it doesn’t work.

“What’s up?” You set your elbow on the table and rest your head on your palm. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s perfect, actually.” He takes a deep breath, reaching to grab your free hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You bite back a laugh.

“You can’t make fun of me for what I’m about to tell you.” He gives you the most serious look he can muster, and you nod.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you reassure him. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I…I want to love you forever.” He gulps. “And when I think of everything we’ve gone through and been through together, I seriously can’t imagine ever trying to have anyone else fill this spot you hold in my life.”

You perk up a bit, gaze staring into his. God, he loves how interested you are in what he has to say. How you’re listening to him so intently. His thumb rubs over your knuckles as he tries to think of the words he wants to use.

“I want to marry you. Call me crazy if you want, tell me you hate the idea, that’s fine, but I had to tell you. We obviously can’t get married now, or probably any time soon because of my contract, but I want you to know that it’s what I want. It’s what’s going to happen if you want it, too.”

You clear your throat and cover your mouth with your hand, eyes welling. Chenle’s heart aches seeing this reaction, knowing you feel as strongly as he does. He reaches into his pocket and puts a small box on the table in front of you.

“It’s not the real thing. Not yet. But I want you to know how serious I am, because if I was able to marry you, I would’ve done it yesterday.” He opens it, revealing a simple band in it. “Subtle enough where people won’t ask questions, but we’ll know.”

“Chenle, are you being serious right now?” You sniffle. “This is a very cruel prank.”

“The guys and I sat down together today to write a song. I think you’ll love it, so when we record it I’m sneaking you a copy. Anyway, we were there for twenty minutes, and words were just flowing out of me. I wrote about you. About how you make me feel, and I think anyone who knows about us will understand that when they listen to the song.”

He pauses to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“I want you. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life proving to you why I deserve that. Let me put this ring on you, and this can be the start.”

You quickly wipe your face as you nod. He takes your left hand, grabs the ring out of the box, and slips it on your middle finger.

“One day, this will be real.” Chenle catches another one of your tears. “I love you. There is not one thing in this world that could change that.”

His heart pounds in his chest as he watches your reaction. He wants to touch you and kiss you after pouring his thoughts out to you, but he needs to make sure you’re feeling the same way. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you.

His palms are sweaty and he can barely sit still. You groan, giving one last aggressive swipe below your eyes before you launch up from your chair and end up in his lap. You bury your head in his neck, squeezing him tighter than you should. He instinctively wraps his arms around your waist, softly chuckling at your outburst.

“You better not change your mind.” Cupping both of his cheeks, you try your best to look angry. “If you do, I’m marrying you anyway.”

His own vision blurs at the sight of you. You love him as much as he loves you, and you want to be with him forever.

You want to be with him forever.

The emotions rioting inside him surprise even him, and he blinks quickly to try and suppress the tears. It’s no use, because as soon as you notice, you start crying again. He groans and drops his head back on the chair, squeezing you closer to him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Chenle says.

“Kiss me, you idiot.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His mouth finds yours, both of you falling into each other’s rhythm. Saltiness from your tears lingers on your lips. He weaves his fingers through your hair, but no matter what he does, you’re just not close enough.

Pulling away from you, he rests his forehead on yours. “You should eat, sunshine.”

“You expect me to be able to eat after all of that?” You furrow your eyebrows. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“You’ll be sad if it gets cold,” he reminds you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be sad again,” you whisper.

All thoughts escape him. Nothing else exists except for you, wrapped around him like a damn koala bear. He rests his hand on your thigh and lets your words sink deep into him.

Moments like these are hard to explain, he thinks. He’s only like this around you, so lost in his connection with you that he’s got nothing else on his mind. Anything and everything you say to him is tattooed in the darkest ink on his soul, until he’s covered in everything he wants to be for you.

“Promise me you’ll always look at me like that.” You break the silence, running your fingers through his hair and smiling.

“I promise.” He nods, barely realizing how he’s leaning forward.

Your eyes flutter shut as he inches closer. He kisses you softly, almost as if he fears he’ll break you. His fingers splay out across the small of your back and he traces shapes into the soft fabric of your dress. You’re overwhelming. His love for you is, too. So much so, he feels as if he’s going to burst out of his skin. He’s going to wake up and everything will have been a dream, because there’s no way he’d ever done anything in his life to deserve someone like you.

You hum into his mouth, rolling your hips once. His breathing stutters as his first instinct is to lift toward you. At first, he wants to stay like this, you clinging onto him like you’d be lost without him, but when you grind down a second time, he feels a twitch in his pants.

It’s been over a week since the last time he’s been inside you thanks to his schedules. And now you’re on top of him, wearing his favorite dress of yours, and kissing him like you’ll never be able to feel him again after tonight.

He’s tired, but he’s never too tired for you. Brushing your hair away, he leans down to kiss your neck, licking the expanse of your soft skin. Your pulse thunders beneath his tongue, and he has to fight the urge to bite down.

Touching you like this is different when he knows he’ll never lose you. You’re his forever.

His lips press against the sensitive spot below your ear, and the short moan escaping you just about sends him up the wall. When he pulls away to get a good look at you, your eyes are dark, lips already swollen from the way he kissed you.

He tries to catch his breath while he silently asks you if this is what you want. You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Standing, he lifts you up until your legs are secure around his waist, and he grabs your ass with one hand and the back of your head with the other.

Mouths attached, he doesn’t separate from you until he’s setting you down on his bed. He barely has time to appreciate the candles you lit in here, too, the soft scent of vanilla flooding his senses. You already try to push his T-shirt up, anything to feel his skin on yours. He obliges, pulling it over his head before returning to kissing you like his life depended on it. When your hands find the button on his jeans, he grabs your wrist.

“Patience, baby.” Chenle runs his fingers up and down your thigh. “We have the rest of our lives. Let me take my time with you tonight.”

Just like that, you’re putty in his hands. He smirks at the realization. Sneaking his touch up your leg, the hem of the dress moves to accommodate him. He stops when he feels the lace of your panties.

“Did you dress up for me twice, sunshine?” he hums.

“Always,” you say, shamelessly staring at his lips. “Do you love me, Chenle?”

His whole body vibrated from those words. They made him feel at a frequency he hadn’t quite reached yet, and all he wanted to do was rip that damn dress off.

“More than anything.”

He can’t really say it’s ‘like second nature’ anymore. There’s nothing second about it. This is you. Anything to do with you is first nature, no matter what it is. His world revolves around you, everything he does is based on what you want, and he wouldn’t change that in any way.

“Show me,” you whisper, so intoxicating he almost crumbles to his knees right in front of you.

How embarrassing that all it takes is two words to have him give in to you. He’s straining against his pants now, his cock aching to be free and buried inside you.

“Don’t worry. I will.” He kisses you again, soft and sweet like his hand isn’t so, so close to your dripping, eager core. Heat radiates from you, and all he wants is to be consumed by it.

He drags your panties down your legs, nails gently scratching your skin on the way down. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you try to regain your breath, but he loves the way you’re so desperate for him. The way you want him just as much as he wants you.

He doesn’t want to be patient anymore. Every cell in his body is urging him to connect with yours, but he wants to take care of you. That side of him always wins, otherwise both of you would probably be done already.

His finger dances along your entrance. He inhales sharply as your wetness coats his skin. You move your hips toward him, practically begging him for stimulation. He teasingly nudges your clit, pleasantly surprised by the way your body jolts.

Mouth brushing yours, he takes the second of distraction to slide two fingers inside you. As your lips part to release a moan, he mirrors the action, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly, slowly thrusts his hand.

Your walls squeeze so hard, he curses. He could fuck you a thousand times, and you’d still be as tight as you are right now. His heart goes straight into overdrive, but all the blood in his body is shooting down to his cock. He’s painfully hard, rocking back and forth gently.

He kisses you, lips working against yours in a perfect harmony. Your sounds are his favorite. He loves knowing it’s him making you feel this way, that he has the power to make your knees weak and your pussy throb.

He lets out a moan when he scissors his fingers, trying his best to prepare you. God, you’re so warm and wet and tight, he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to last long tonight. His pace quickens, sounds of your slickness filling the room.

You call out his name, back arching as you grasp desperately at his shoulders. He leans in and kisses your cheek, making sure to press his palm into your clit every time he’s knuckle deep.

“You’re perfect, baby,” he whispers with his lips against your ear, voice rough. “I love you so much. So fucking much.”

You tense, pussy clamping down hard on his fingers as your hips buck. He swears he can see the pleasure running up your spine in the way you arch and shake. Your nails dig into his shoulders, but he’s not in the right mind to care. Your mouth opens, sounds pouring out as you finish. He loves you all the time, but one of his favorite looks on you is when he watches you orgasm—your face so overcome with pleasure he caused…he would never get enough of it.

He keeps moving until he’s sure you’ve come down from your high. When he brings his fingers up to his mouth to suck your juices off, you watch longingly, the dark look in your gaze enough to have his cock twitching in his pants.

You slide off the bed, forcing him to take a couple steps back. He’s not sure what you’re going to do at first. Your struggle to reach your zipper, and as much as he wants to bend you over with the dress still on, he wants to be gentle with you tonight. He doesn’t get to make love to you often, and that’s all he’s going to do tonight.

Instead of watching you attempt to reach it, he turns you around and pulls you to him until your back is against his chest. His hand is splayed out across your stomach, holding you so you feel how hard he is.

“I’m going crazy,” you mutter, dropping your head back. “I need you so bad.”

He moves your hair out of his way, kissing the base of your neck quickly before he unzips you. Moving slowly on purpose, he lets his finger drag along your spine on the way down. You shiver, pushing yourself back into him.

“I’m gonna make love to you.” He finally lets himself bite down on your shoulder as he nudges the straps down. “For the rest of our lives. Nobody but me.”

“Nobody but you,” you respond, allowing the dress to pool at your feet.

He turns you around, hands immediately finding your ass and squeezing it. Within seconds, he has your bra unclasped and across the room. “So beautiful.”

When your hands find his jeans, he doesn’t stop you this time. You push them down his legs, desperate to have him inside you. Once his jeans are off, you palm him through his boxers, and he needs you so badly, that simple touch almost finishes him off. That would’ve been embarrassing.

He takes off the remaining fabric separating you two before leading you over to the bed. You lie in the middle, and he climbs on top of you. He kisses you passionately, tongue already dancing with yours, both of you more than ready. His cock is so hard, he’s only half convinced he won’t cum as soon as he’s in.

He nudges your clit with his leaking tip, moving down to your entrance to apply just enough pressure before pulling away. You whine, desperate for more.

“Chenle, please.”

His head dips down as he continues teasing you, wrapping his lips around your nipple. You whimper, running your fingers through his hair. Having you so desperate for him makes him want to give you everything you’re asking for, but something makes him wait.

“Please,” you cry out, lifting your hips up. “Need you.”

He’s ready to fall apart from you words alone. Pulling away from your chest, he reaches down to line himself up with you. He watches you closely as he pushes his throbbing cock into your quivering pussy. Your eyes roll back as you arch into him.

Your walls swallow him, velvet clamping down on him. He clenches his jaw as he bottoms out and fists the sheets next to your head.

“So perfect,” he whispers, kissing your jawline.

One of his favorite things about you is how unafraid you are to look at him. Pleasure weighs on your eyelids, and you try your best not to close them, but even like this, you never look away.

He’s fully inside you, his cock seated within your fluttering walls. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you, so he gently rocks his hips to help you adjust. He kisses you everywhere he can reach.

“You always take me so well,” he praises you, nipping the base of your neck.

He’ll never get over how perfectly he fits between your legs, like this space was made for him.

“Move,” you tell him, smacking his shoulder.

He lets out a soft chuckle, but lowers his mouth to yours as he starts a steady pace. You squeeze him so tight, it’s like your body doesn’t want to let him out of you. He pulls out until his tip is barely inside, and then pushes back in just as slowly. It wreaks havoc on your body, your wetness squelching every time he moves.

He wants you to feel all of him. Feel the entirety of his cock rubbing your walls with every thrust.

Somehow, it’s hotter this way. A thin sheen of sweat covers his skin as he takes his time with you. Sure, he gets sweaty when he fucks you, but nothing compares to the close intimacy of love making—his chest brushing against yours with every thrust, long, sweet moans filling the otherwise quiet bedroom.

“You sing so pretty,” Chenle mutters, tonguing the sensitive spot below your ear. “You like the way I feel?”

Before he can even process what you’re doing, you wrap your legs around his waist and roll until you’re on top of him. He’s flat on his back, eyes flitting along your body like he hasn’t had a real chance to see it yet.

Candle light illuminates your skin, and the sight makes his cock twitch. He runs his hands along your sides, squeezing your hips.

Chenle likes being in control. He likes guiding you in a way that has you both in shambles by the end, and he truly underestimated how beautiful you’d look on top of him. You lift up, teasing him as slow as he was moving with you, but between the sight and the feeling, he feels an all too-familiar tingling sensation at the base of his length.

It’s too soon for him, so he decides to tug you down, holding you there while his eyes close and his head thuds against the mattress. He doesn’t need to say a word to you.

“Chenle.” You stroke a hand down his chest. “It’s okay. You don’t need to hold back for me.”

“Just…need a second.” He gulps.

When he finally catches his breath, he sits up, chest pressing against yours.

“This was supposed to be about you,” he says, moving back slightly to fit his hand between the two of you. “Showing you my love and everything.”

He finds your clit with his thumb, staring at you intently as your wetness makes it easy for him to rub circles. His other hand still firmly grips your waist, which only allows you to squirm instead of bouncing on him like you crave to do.

“I need to move,” you whimper, grinding down. “Please.”

He nods, loosening his grip on you. You brace yourself on his shoulders, finally taking his cock the way you want it. His nails dig into your thigh while he continues his work on your bud, and it only spurs you on. You move faster, no doubt trying to chase your orgasm.

His moans get louder, matching yours. If his hands weren’t so occupied, he’d want to squeeze your ass or tweak your nipples. Anything to bring you higher. He changes the patterns his thumb rubs, and it’s like a jolt of electricity runs through your body.

You curse, dropping your head on his shoulder as you nod. “Don’t stop, Lele.”

With both of you hanging so close to the edge, he waits until you’re sitting back down on his cock to buck his hips up. He doesn’t want to finish first, but he’s so close, all the warning signs of his impending high are getting far too real.

“Gonna cum,” he tells you, releasing your thigh to grab your ass.

Your walls clamp down on him hard, a long, pleasured sound escaping you as you grind down on him. Back arching, your head falls back. Your orgasm hits both you and Chenle like a freight train, and within seconds, everything inside him explodes, and he’s spilling his cum deep inside you while telling you over and over again that he loves you.

You crumple into his chest. He runs his fingers through your hair, whispering praises to you between head kisses.

“I’m gonna lay you down, sunshine,” he says.

You nod, and he turns you so he can put your back on the mattress. He carefully pulls out of you, putting his boxers back on before going into the bathroom to grab you a towel. This is one of his favorite ways to see you. Your eyes are closed, hands on your cheeks. You look like he’s fucked all the energy out of you, and he loves that he has the capability to do that.

He cleans you up, then grabs a clean pair of panties for you and one of his T-shirts.

“I have an idea,” he says.

“What is it?” You wrap your arms around him.

“You pick whatever movie you want, and I’ll go warm up your dinner?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

You fake a gasp. “Are you saying you’re going to feed me in bed?”

“After all of that, I’d agree to just about anything you want.” He chuckles when you shove his shoulder. Grabbing your hand, he twirls the band on your finger. “Wait here for me?”

When he walks out of the room, he stops at the doorway to watch you excitedly lunge for the remote. It doesn’t take long for him to warm up the food, turn off the lights, and blow out the candles in the kitchen.

The rest of the night is spent with the two of you sitting against the headboard, laughing along to your favorite movie while eating your favorite takeout. So many thoughts have come and gone from Chenle’s brain in the past couple days alone, but he’s more than happy he gets to sit here with you every night for the rest of his life.

He’s lost in your laugh and the way you smile at him and how you make his heart race with the simplest things. None of the other members knew about the ring he bought you, but he’ll tell them soon.

After the food is gone, Chenle cleans it up. There’s still half a movie left, so when he gets back, he pulls the comforter back so you can cuddle up to him for the remainder. Even though the candles have long since been put out, vanilla still clouds the air.

“Love you,” Chenle whispers, kissing your temple.

“Love you, too.” You sigh in content, resting your head on his chest.

He knows that means you’re only seconds from sleep, and he rubs your arm soothingly. The movie continues to play, but neither of you are paying attention anymore—you’re asleep, and Chenle’s thinking about what kind of wedding dress you’ll wear.

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