#they come and go and its not a big deal.... unless they scratch and bite and it becomes an open wound. which. yeah

[daughterofsarenrae]

Angus has discovered a new side effect of being old and sick: getting ur picture taken fucking constantly. No matter what ur doing

[tteokdoroki]

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s):  hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars,  inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning  forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing,  just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

[ghost-ghost-baby]

I’ll put a spell on you (Yandere!Omega!Izuku x alpha!Reader)

inspo was strange and beautiful (I’ll put a spell on you) by aqualung

a/n: boy oh boy,,,, this one is uh,,, 2k words,,,,

Summary: You were taking too long! What could Izuku do except find a spell to help speed things along? 

Or 

You and Izuku have been roommates for years, but you’re convinced he doesn’t like you and he’s determined to make you his.

warnings: big yandere themes,,, omegaverse obvi,,,, kinda drugging??? idk,,,, its a love spell but reader is already very in love w izuku just stupid aye,,,, very very mild nsfw themes,,,, cuts out b4 it gets too graphic, swearing, bonding, you get the picture,

“Seriously, Katsuki, you’ve gotten way too confident over the years. Was it because you needed a reminder of what it’s like to lose?” Your eyes scanned the blonde, eyebrow quirked as he struggled, “I can’t believe Shinso was right.” It was easy to block out the screams, your quirk always came in handy, even if it was just to shut him up, Rubbing your hands on your pants you turned around, eyes landing on the only other person. 

“Oh, good luck Midoriya!” You grinned, giving a small wave before you ran off.

You saw more of Izuku after that, the omega always seemed to be upgrading his costume, and Hatsume had almost killed you when he’d asked you to help with the designs. It was hard not to get close to the guy, and you’d tried your best! You didn’t have time for… for people! You needed to focus on your inventions. But Izuku was persistent, and you’d soon found yourself sitting with him and his friends at lunch. You weren’t the only alpha of the group, Iida and Todoroki shared your dynamic, a fact that didn’t seem to bother anyone. You were glad, you’d never really cared about dynamics, it was nice to be around people who shared that sentiment. You’d all graduated now, and surprisingly you and Izuku ended up sharing an apartment, you did work in the same area, it made sense at the time. 

“Are we still having dinner tonight?” Izuku peered into the bathroom, slight frown on his features as he observed you getting ready. 

“Yeah of course man, it’s just a lunch date so I’ll be back early.” You shrugged, using your quirk to bring your jacket over. 

“You could just ask me to get you your jacket.” Izuku shook his head, watching as the clothing floated over, bubble popping as your hand made contact.

“I know, it’s just a habit, I’ve always used it for little things.” You smiled as you put your jacket on, ruffling Izuku’s hair as you walked past. He was always fussing over you, or cooking, asking if you needed anything. It was cute, but you’d die before you admitted it. 

“I’ll be back before you know it, text me if you need anything.” You absentmindedly pressed a kiss to Izuku’s hair, waving before the door shut behind you.

“And you’re sure this’ll work?” Izuku frowned as he flipped the bottle in his fingers, it seemed too good to be true.

“Just like the label says, omega, it’ll make anyone fall in love with ya! As long as there’s already a spark, of course! And it could trigger… their time of the month. So watch out for that!” The lady smiled at him, dark purple hair framing her face. Her eyes matched, although the purple was much, much brighter, and almost seemed to glow. Izuku nodded, grabbing the cash out of his wallet and quickly passing it over before he said goodbye. He didn’t want to be caught there, what would the press say? What would you say? 

You ended up getting home late, much, much later than you planned. You’d run into friends on the way home, you hadn’t seen them in ages and well… you’d never been good at saying no. You’d texted Izuku, but he hadn’t responded, and maybe you’d stayed out later to avoid his wrath. 

“God, I’m gonna have to do something to make up for this… something good.” You mumbled as you walked into your apartment, hands running through your hair as you looked around. 

“Izuku? Honey I’m home!” You called, trying to lighten the tension you felt in the room. It didn’t work, and your heart was in your throat as you put your bag down. You hated disappointing people, and Izuku was always so good to you. 

“There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want anything.”

“”Oh actually I’m uh… not hungry…” You trailed off as you walked into the kitchen, Izuku turning around from making something to look at you. 

“Did you eat while you were out?” You must be crazy, there’s no way that was an edge to his voice.

“No actually! I just haven’t had any appetite lately.” 

“You know you need to try and eat even when you have no appetite. I made tea.” Just like that his voice was back to it’s usual tone, and he sat down in front of you, pushing a mug towards you. 

“Yeah I know. Thank you Izuku, you’re always so good to me. I’m so sorry about missing dinner but I ran into my friends coming home and they dragged me out and I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay Y/n, we can have dinner tomorrow, just finish your tea and we’ll get you into bed, okay?” 

You were too drunk to disagree. 

You felt weird when you woke up. You weren’t hungover, but something was wrong. Was Izuku okay? Wait, why were you- you should make sure he’s okay. You were only in a shirt, you didn't remember changing last night, did Izuku help you? You barely remembered anything after you’d come home, you’d just talked, drank the tea, and then it was blank. The tea had been really good, it was weirdly sweet though, you had to admit. 

“Izuku? Are you awake?” You padded into the kitchen, squinting at how bright it was. 

“Of course, it’s already two, I didn’t want to wake you up.” You sighed when Izuku was there, safe and happy as he always was. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m just… hungover or something.” You slid into a chair, eyes trained on the omega as he pushed a banana and some water in front of you. “They’re good for hangovers.” 

“Thanks ‘Zu” 

“You’re going out?” You couldn’t keep the surprise from your voice, Izuku rarely went out unless he was working. 

“Yeah just a work thing! I’ll be back in no time!” The omega came over to where you were on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket because you still felt off. “Unless you need me to stay?”

“No of course not! I’ll be fine, it’s probably just a bug.” You did your best to smile, letting your friend hug you. He was about to pull away when you let your cheek brush against his scent gland, the action making you blush while Izuku smiled.

“I’ll see you when I get back!” 

This was awful, you’d been tortured, kidnapped, forced to deal with Katsuki, but this was far worse. You couldn’t explain it, but as soon as Izuku was out of your sight your anxiety had skyrocketed, and as much as you tried to fight it, you were pacing in front of the door. He should be back by now, or he should have texted! What if he’d gotten hurt, he didn’t tell you who he was going out with, what if- 

“Yeah Todoroki I’m okay, he was worse off than me anyway!” Your heart soared at Izuku’s voice and you were wrenching the door open without a second thought. A snarl ripped out of you when you took in your omega, sporting a few grazes and a bruised jaw that had not been there when he left. 

“What the fuck happened?” Your tone didn’t even sound like you, you sounded feral. Your hands quickly reached out, pulling Izuku into a hug and growling when Todoroki tried to say something. “You can leave, I’ve got him now.” 

Straight to your room was where you headed, gently sitting Izuku on the bed before you grabbed your first aid kit. Thank god it was only light injuries, you didn’t know what you’d do if something worse had happened. 

“Who did this?” 

“Just some random alpha tryna get too handsy, he’s in far worse shape than- are you okay?” Izuku’s tone turned concerned as you let out another growl, halfway through bandaging his hand. You couldn’t speak, you just needed to focus on this and- huh? Izuku was running his fingers through your hair, the action almost made you purr, surprisingly calming you down enough to finish patching him up. 

“I should have gone with you, I should have-” “Hey, Y/n, you couldn’t have done anything, it’s okay.” Izuku pulled you up to his level and you nodded, unable to stop how your hands shook. Izuku was so close, and he smelled so good, you just wanted to-

“Did you just lick me?” Izuku looked at you with wide eyes, only now taking in how lidded your own eyes were. A low growl bubbled up before you could stop it, and you were pushing the omega down on the bed and straddling him without a second thought. This had happened because of you. If you’d claimed Izuku sooner people would know he was yours, and he wouldn’t have to defend himself. Your teeth were an inch from Izuku’s neck when you pulled back, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

“I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what-” 

“I don’t want you to stop, please Y/n.” Izuku’s cheeks were tinged pink, and god why’d you have to sit right on his hips? You could already feel him getting hard.

“Oh god, did I send you into heat? Fuck I’m sorry, I’ve been on suppressants I didn’t real-” You started, it was taking everything you had not to lose it. Izuku looked so pretty, pupils blown out and cheeks already flushed. Why hadn’t you done this sooner? Fuck. You slowly leant down, willpower decreasing by the second, and then your lips were on his. A whimper left you at how good he tasted, you’d never tasted anything this good before! You wanted more! Izuku was made for you, this only proved it. You loved him so much. 

Why did your neck hurt so bad? The last thing you remembered was Izuku being injured and you patching him up. A whine made you open your eyes, disbelief shooting through you when you saw Izuku. He was covered in scratches and bites, only wearing your shirt, and sporting a bright red bite on his scent gland. Oh fuck, panic set in as you sat up. This was bad, even for you. You'd done it now, he'd want nothing to do with you. God what had happened to you last night? You were always in control, and as memories of how Izuku had sounded the night before wormed into your brain you couldn't stop your whole body flushing. The omega let out another whine, snuggling closer to your side as if he could sense how stressed you were. Well, he probably could now, the two of you were bonded. You'd completely ruined his life with your selfishness, bonds were incredibly hard to break and the pair would never be the same again. But you couldn't make him stay with you. Oh he'd want to move out wouldn't he? How could he not? You'd completely betrayed his trust and acted like every asshole alpha you hated so much. You should move too, maybe to America? Somewhere far away where you wouldn't bother anyone. Warmth stung your eyes and you realised you'd been crying, how much more pathetic could you get? Izuku was the one who should be upset! You'd ruined his life! Arms wrapped around you as you let out a sob, immediately trying to push the omega away, maybe you should just kill yourself and sever the bond like that- Then at least he’d be able to find someone he actually wanted to be with. 

“Alpha… why’re you upset…?” Izuku yawned as he sat up, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, or look at him. The worry you could sense through the bond made your stomach turn, you didn’t deserve his concern! You were horrible, you were-

“Alpha, c’mon, look at me… please?” Izuku’s voice broke and you turned to look at him, eyes zoning in on the mark you’d left on his neck. 

“I’m sorry- I triggered your heat and- and betrayed your-”

“Y/n, I love you, I wanted this, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Izuku cooed, pulling your head to his chest and running his hands through your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was like a weight lifted off of your chest, like all the puzzle pieces fit together, he was all you’d ever need.

“I love you too, Izuku.”

[hitoshisbabygirl]

Author's Notes ♡: Hey Hey, it’s me, ya girl and I’m back with another collab! Ive always loved the roommates theme and have a few ideas for some other ones in my head making this. It’s kinda all over the place because it was a professing with their friendship! Yes I made a Zelda reference and I land about it no. I know Rapp is seen as violent and dense but but this is in a collage au so he’s just a bit...aloof I just love the idea of him actually being a big softie ʕ⊙ᴥ⊙ʔ. I hope you enjoy! ~ bunny ❥

Warnings : NSFW!!! (◎_◎;)

Sweet caring sorta himbo(meh?) Rappa, female oral, Big Dick Rappa , sorta size kink if you really sqint,cheater ex mentioned like once , language

Word count : About 5k! Yikes ^^’

Paring(s) : Kendo Rappa x F! Reader

Enjoy ♡

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Having Kendo Rappa as a roommate is an interesting feat in itself. He is big, and loud , very very loud. He wasn't a bad roommate he just..was like a cute large and fluffy puppy that didn't know his size...or power. Their interactions started as the two met during a halloween party one of the frat houses down the street thew. [ ] went as Midna, her best friend Rumi was dressed as Impa while the last two of her friend group , Amaya and Asa, a pair of sisters, were dressed as fairies. “[ ]! Rumi! you two are so cute! Zelda costumes?” Asa asked as her sister ran up to admire their outfits. “Yeah! [ ] wanted to do some characters that matched us y'know?” She said as she nudged her quiet friend , the girl jumped and laughed , scratching her neck as she gave the excited sisters a small smile “If i was coming out tonight I was gonna wear what i wanted to really wear” [ ] said as the group of them laughed and mingled with their other friends and classmates. While heading to get juice , she heard loud screaming , as the sport boys were starting to show up. First was the football team, then the basketball. Baseball and wrestling came next, then the smaller clubs finished them out. Sighing [ ] was content away from everyone as she watched mayhem ensure, chugging of barrels , more music, girls swarming around the players they crushed on as they did minor things, like talk to their teammates or eating from one of the big food trays laying around. Feeling a tap on her shoulder broke her from her people watching, Rumi giving her a bright smile as she took a cup and joined her. “How's my favorite antisocial babe doing now that all of the party has arrived?” She asked as [ ] gave her a pained smile, going to get more if something to drink “Well I don't feel the need to smack anyone is that a good sign?” she chuckled as she got a hug from the more energetic girl “That's my girl! Don't worry, i wanna get out asap but we’re gonna need our favourite pair of sisters before that can happen and it seems like they're fawning over some of the baseball boys as we speak” Rumi said as they watched a familiar tutu of blue go by, followed by a pink one going a similar way. “I don't get it… but at least their taste in men isn't too bad” [ ] joked as Rumi agreed , laughing “Yeah miss tsundere, you can't stand saps, or most of the jocks either” giving the white haired girl a look she rolled her eyes and gave her own laugh back “Yeah I guess i'm either picky or just got high standards” “Ain't nothing wrong with that we all do!” She said as she elbowed the girl beside her.

As the two of them sat there and talked Rumi glanced past her and her eyes widened, causing [ ] to stop talking “What is it-” before she could question her, the white haired girl jumped up, waving at someone “Rap! Over here!” Constantly yelling to someone [ ] started to ask again when a booming voice came from above her “HEY RUMI” a very loud voice called as stomping could be heard before it stopped “I see you took our idea huh?” With that comment [ ] turned around only to be face to face with a dark cover chest, only to then look up to some of the most warm and amber colored eyes looking down at her “Hello there little lady, I like your costume! Erm..Midna aint it?” The giant ganon dressed man questioned as all she could do was shake her head in agreement, causing the giant male to laugh “Awe don't be shy of me kitten i ain't gonna bite!” He chuckled some more as her friend jumped in “I told you she was shy! Be nice Rappa!” Rumi yelled at the flaming red head as he gave her a toothy grin “Oh I was just teasin’ , I bet I ain't hurt her feelin’s did I sweetheart?” Rappa questioned as [ ] face felt hot, hiding her face in her hands as the teasing duo laughed causing the girl to huff “I'm tired of you two already” She said as a giant warm hand touched her shoulders “Awe dont be like that hun, in time ya’l love me” Rappa teased as he gave her a smile,making her stomach flutter “Yeah! This is who wanted you to meet anyway [ ]! This is Kendo Rappa, our top wrestling boy, Rappa this is my adorable best friend [ ]!” Rumi said as the two gave each other a shy smile , a sly one creeping up on Rumis as she thought to herself “Yeah, this'll definitely happen”

Since then the two had become more acquainted , having many classes together and sharing some similar friends [ ] was used to the bruting and sometimes dense man making a random ( and loud) appearance. As [ ] sat in her mostly empty room thanks to her last roommate moving out after constantly breaking sound rules and getting into it with the girl downstairs for being in her bed with her boyfriend (Yikes) she felt a sense of calm. Closing her chemistry book and letting out a relieved sigh [ ] thought about the fact she was going to get a new roommate, the thought was nerve wracking but also it was exciting as well. It was almost too quiet , having the last room by the stairs meant she didn't have to deal with many people besides her friend group. They weren't loud , unless one of her friends decided to get laid and made way too many sounds, or if their neighbors under them threw parties or also had...extra partners coming around. She definitely could feel she was sorta excited she was going to have a roommate again. The sisters had a room to the left of her while Rumi had the one to the right, sharing it with a girl they knew from math. The rooms were not gender defined, some girls having rooms with guys and vise versa so it made it easy to get a room.

These dorms were also quite spacious, the walls not paper thin and a large enough area space that could house two or maybe even three people. So when she heard a knock on her door she expected it to be her new roommate she was advised would come today. Happily opening the door she was shocked and almost terrified to see just a box, well actually a few boxed stacked hiding whoever it was behind them. But if the faed rustic orange hair and wide shoulders meant anything she knew her new roommate already “K-kendo?” [ ] said as the boxes walked by her , landing with a soft thud as bangs covered the male “[ ]? Is that you?” moving his hair out of the way their eyes had the same expression, shocked. “Uh h-hey there sweetheart why isn't this cute, we’re roomies hun?” he laughed as she couldn't help but give him a smile back. “I never expected to see you as my roommate” [ ] teased as Rappa gave her a hardy laugh “Well it looks like me and you are gonna be close friends here darlin’!” With a wide smile he picked her up and gave her a tight hug, taking her breath away ‘ Oh boy i wonder how this will turn out’ she thought as she was eye leve with her giant puppy like friend, his eyes filled of joy

Which leads into now, [ ] trying her hardest to read up on what her next project could be. As she sat there thinking she heard the tale tell sound of her roommate entering with some of his teammates, the boys loud and rambunctious as they entered. Feeling a heavy hand on her shoulder she looked up to the towering boy that was her roommate, his eyes just as bright as usual. “Hey darlin, we're just gonna talk up sum strats a for the upcoming match and play some games in the back , is that alright?” He asked with pleading eyes as one of his more cocky and jock like friends spoke up “Well youre the man here, dont let some women say if we cant or can be here” Rolling her eyes and proceeding to stand up and push past the wide eyed boy who knew what was going to happen. [ ] took in a breath before opening her eyes to look up to the boy “Well it is my room, i pay shit here and the man over there didnt get this place, so i do choose who can and cant come through my place” She said as she pointed a finger to the boys chest. Trying to push his luck he pushed back against her finger “ I bet you just haven’t gotten a good enough dicking for you to just stay out of the way” He laughed. Before [ ] could hit him hard enough her rust haired friend moved in , clearly towering the boy “Yer better watch yer mouth, she has her right around here, im invatin her space so watch it before there's no place for any of us to relax without rules” He said as the boy sucked up any laughing and nodded his head in understanding. Surprised by her usually aloof roommate [ ] stood back and went back to her work, the other boys scrambling behind kendo as the boy who tried to challenge her jumped to follow, never making a move to mock or do anything again.

The boys picked back up and were having fun in the back room of kendo’s , sighs and groans when they lost and victorious laughs and screams if someone won. Once they all left and everything settle to a quiet rumble as the last few funneled out [ ] could here herself think, reading up on chemistry as she felt a presence behind her. “ ‘M sorry, i didn't know my question wouldve cause a roar outta ya..” Kendo started as she smiled gently, turning to face the wounded boy “Its okay….guess it just lit something in me i always did y'know?” She said with a small laugh as she went to type again, but was stopped by the hulking boy. “I gotta make it up to ya alright? I know i aint say anythin that he did but…. It feels like my fault y'know?” He admitted as his large hand covered hers. “You wont live this down will you?” She questioned as his eyes flickered up to hers, sparking. “Nope, not at all. Lemme treat ya right okay?” For such innocent words [ ] couldnt help the shiver that ran down her back at his words. Maybe it was because he was so close, or that the smell of his cologne was too much, either way her head was spinning as she let him still hold her hand as he tugged her away from her computer , his smile widening as she reluctantly shut the bright screen “Great! Now let's get something to eat im starvin” He rasped out as [ ] gave him a giggle that made the boy stop in his tracks. He always thought she had a cute giggle but this one,for some reason , made his heart and chest feel warm and tight. Ignoring the feeling he took the girl with him, the two headed out to get something to eat as they headed down , the sound of her giggling still running though kendos mind.

Getting a random frantic text from Kendo wasn't unusual, in fact it was quite common for him to do such, which now didn't faze [ ] at all but this one was...particularly odd giving what he was asking ‘Hair? And messy? What in the world is he up to’ [. ] thought to herself as she headed to her shared room with the boy, nervous of what scene she could be entering.

Sighing after his last text she hurried her way to their dorm room and in fact he did leave the door open, making her more nervous as she entered the living room. “Kendo?” [ ] called out as she heard a gruff sound come from her bathroom. Entering was a sight of its own; towels, a bowl of some..substance , bags and bottles of body wash and a one flustered and shirtless Kendo. “[ ]! ‘M so glad yer home here take this” The large man said as he handed her an old toothbrush that was frayed and covered with the same odd substance in the bowl. The lingering smell from the room eventually gave it away ; shampoos. “Uh why do i need this? And why is there shampoo on a toothbrush” She questioned as he groaned, taking the towel off his head as she blinked owlishly at his very faded red orange hair, the color now more of a neon pumpkin. Shaking off extra water caused even more of his hair to fall, landing between his shoulder blades as he gave [ ] a desperate look. “It wont come out, and the more i scub the more...orange i become. I look like a orange peel” He whined as [ ] figured out what he was trying to do

“ You wanna remove the color right? A bowl of shampoo and body wash isnt strong enough” Going into their kitchen she grabbed some baking soda and lemon juice , coming back to the hopeless boy “Let me mix something up ive used before okay? Then we can proceed with your hair” Two and a half hours later the boys hair was now a light peachy orange, just light enough to take up with bleach “Well, if were gonna go for blonde ill go get some bleach and some masks, deep conditioners too, your hair is definitely gonna need it and I don’t want it breaking off because you're impatient to take care of it” she sighed as he was amazed at his hair, running a large hand through the still damp mess atop his head “Wow yer good” He said as she smiled at him, taking her keys “And you have a lot of hair. I'll be back” She said as she hopped up “Wait! Lemme go with you?” He asked but also seemed to demand, pleading eyes looking down at hers as wet hair dropped onto his still bare chest.

Trying not to be hypnotized by where they landed and proceeded to slide down she looked up at her amber eyed friend, who was staring intently as he waited for her answer, soft “Please?” coming from his lips. Sighing dramatically on purpose [ ] laughed at him, giving him a grin “of course you can you big puppy” she said as he picked her up in a hug, a gesture that shows his excitement she's come to learn. Putting her down he went to go to the door before his friend called him out “uhm Kendo? You don’t have on a shirt” she said plainly as he looked at her, raising a brow as he gave his rebuttal “Its hot” He responded. Giving him a side eyed look she turned from him and towards their bedrooms, [ ] sliding into his. Soon she came out with a sleeveless one, throwing it at the hulk of a guy infront of her “You can't come in the store without one” She said as he gave a growl of his own, sliding the shirt over his head as they left their apartment “Well at least ya got me one without sleeves” He huffed as they started back to the door, heading out to finally go to the store to start another process on Kendos hair, the male just excited to finally get rid of his pumpkin hair.

As Kendo sat in the shared living room with [ ] , deep conditioning his hair at her yelling request (‘If you dont re nourish it before you want me to bleach it , I won't do it!’ ) he watched his roommate and now his best friend wanderer around and do housley things for their apartment, the girl content as she cleaned and sorted out things in the kitchen, her body turned away from him as he started to think over how beautiful he thought she was. He want the type to brag or gloat about having so many girls comment on his size , height wised and well sometimes other ways , trying to tempt him to them. All while his friends wanted him to explain how he got the attention from the other gender , Kendo hated to admit it but ,he only wanted his roommates' affection. He knew how put together she was, smart and kind. He saw what her previous boyfriend did, a cheater that didnt take care of the beautiful soul he lived with. He couldnt stand seeing her come home and cry herself to sleep broke his heart, and when he fought the cheater, in the act he didnt feel bad once. Of course it ended their relationship, and [ ] yelled at him for fighting , explaining how he couldve ended in jail for fighting her ex, but he argued it would be worth it.

Sitting and mulling over everything he realized Rumi was right, hed do anything for [ ] but not the same for the other females that passed through his life. She actually, was the first person he did that for and that thought made his head dizzy. Moving from his place on the couch he went to stand in the kitchen, waiting for [ ] to come back from her room. Hearing the iconic sound of her feet pittering across the wooden floor he gave her a lopsided smile as she jumped, smacking into the chest of Kendo. Before [ ] could fall from impacting with his chest he caught her, holding her arm to his chest. “K-kendo! You shouldve told me you were in here! Why are you in here anyway?”[ ] scolded as he laughed, moving out of the shorter girl's way as he started his staring again, this time [ ] noticed him “......What?” She asked as he looked down at her, an unreadable look on his face. “Kendo” she called as he hummed, moving closer “Yer gorgeous” Kendo blurted out as [ ] started to stutter, eyes going wide. Taking teo steps forward he essentially trapped his friend between the corner of their kitchen canopy. “Remember when I fought that bastard of an ex you had?” Kendo asked as he saw [ ]’s eyes go soft , shaking her head “What about him...i'm still mad you almost lost everything just to fight him yknow” she huffed as he poked her cheek “Id do it again if it meant you'd be happy again yaknow” Kendo said as he leaned down to push his head against hers, amber and [ ] eyes mingling. Lifting his large hands he traced each side of her cheek, analyzing over her face as he nuzzled against her nose “Stop playin hard to get would ya? Bad enough you got my heart all in your little hands” he whispered as [ ] just started at the giant , her arms gently coming over to cover his that were place on her cheeks “K-ken..i need to start you hair..” She hopelessly try to argue as he groaned, burying his face into her neck. Squealing at his damp hair touching her shoulder [ ] jumped ,pushing the large boy back “Your hair's wet!” She whined as he chuckleed, mo\ving back as it turned into a booming laugh “Oh my ‘m sorry babe , you look surprised” He said as she smacked hsi chest “Go to the sink, i need to rinse the conditioner” She yelled as he hwld his hands up in a mocked surrender, pulling his shirt up and off in one fluid movement. Caught up by him stripping his shirt off [ ] gave him a glance over, the heaviness of him admitting feelings for her in his own unique way still lingering in her mind as the toned and strong back of her friend made her head hazy. Turning around from the lack of notice of his smaller friend Kendo caught the eys of [ ] staring, her eyes quickly flickering to his curious ones as he grinned “See somethin you like darlin?” He teased as she grunted, reaching up to push his head in the sink “Shut up and let me do your hair”

And like clockwork, Kendo rappa was an icy blonde after two days, a break given to his long ,thick and wavy hair, the giant boy looking over his new look as he sighed happily, loving to have his hair finally look normal. “Well damn [ ]! Ya made it even better than what i was thinking. Look! My hair’s all wavy at the ends and it's soft! Whatever you made me do made it feel better!” He raved as the girl looked over her work. And in fact it was highly even, his hair consistent and lavishy soft. Giving him a shy look she giggle “That's what a deep conditioner will do to damage hair and the way i'm always untangling your hair for you, i knew it would need it before you wanted to go white” She said as he just kept running his hands in his hair, turning back to her “I could just kiss you right now!” He blurted out as they both froze at his words, eyes wide from both parties “I-I aint mean it [ ]” He croaked out as she giggled, stepping back from him “O-of course you didnt, why would you i mean aha..”She said as she moved away more , his own words started to hit him as he realized the reverse effect it was having “NO! No, I'd want to kiss you, I really really want to. I just...want it to be on your terms okay?” he said as he grabbed her arm, holding her in front of him as if she'd float away if he didnt.

“Kendo...I..” [ ] started as she came back to his hip, laying between his legs onto his thankfully covered chest “I just dont want to lose you if you decide you wouldnt want me around” She whispered as he pulled her even closer, kissing her forehead as he stared at her “Dont you ever say that again ya hear me? Youll be my princess and ill be your humble er..knight” He hesitated as he tried to think of a sweet way to explain his feelings. [ ] looked up to him as she felt here eyes feel heavy with tears. Before one even fell Kendo pushed his lips as soft as the strong boy could, wrapping a large and beefy arm around her waist as he slipped his tongue in her mouth, letting his hand slide down to pull her up to sit on the tops of his thighs while he leaned against his dresser. Softly [ ] pushed her hand on his chest and pulled away, now eye to eye with Kendo “Sorry , d-did i overstep my place” He asked as she let out a snot, before laughing. Confused, Kendo went to talk before she stopped him “No no, youre good, just that if we keep kissing on this dressed there's gonna be a hole in the wall” She said as she pointed to where the mirror kept tapping a spot, scrapes already aroring it “R-right!” He laughed too, picking her up to set her on his bed “Now then...lemme serve you princess” He said before kissing her again, not letting her rebuttal his own comment. As the two kissed he made sure to be as gentle as he could be , at times clumsily nipping her lip or his hand pulling hard at her clothes.

All in the name of wanting to show how much she meant to him. Soon he pulled away, a small string of saliva strung between them from the hearty kissing. “[ ]...i think i love you” He said as she gave him a soft look , trying to catch her breath from the dramatic kiss they came from “Good, because i love your loud ass too Kendo” She teased as he smirked,leaning down to bite her neck, causing her to moan loudly “We’ll see whos loud after im done wit ya” he gave his own tease back as he moved between her plump thighs, kissing the flesh there as he pulled her shorts to the side, exposing her flushed lower lips. Gasping she reached for his hand that held her legs apart causing the fresh blonde to look up at her, eyes wandering over her face for signs of him to stop “I-Im not used to being this bare sorry..” She whimpered out as it dawned on the other side of her words “Have you ever ate out baby?” he asked as she hid her face from him, shaking ehr head as he groaned, pulling her shorts down as he saw her lacy panties , a smirk placed on his lips as he peeled them off too, a string of arousal keeping them plastered to her lips “fuck, that bastared really didnt take care of you” he growled as she sat up to see his darkening eyes kiss up to her lips whispering out a “but i will” as he sucked one of her lips into his mouth, causing a lound moan from the woman he was inbetween. Slowly he licked up her lips, searching for that small pearl as she whined, a hand coming down to tug his hair. Grunting he soon found it, sucking onto her clit as she gasped, her thighs shutting over his head as he looked up to her, watching as her back arched off of the bed once her pressed his tongue hard against her clit. Softly he let a hand run under her thigh, a single thick finger tracing over her twitching hole as he pushed it in gently, making [ ] squeal. “K-Ken!” She called out as he looked up again, catching her eyes and flushed face on his actions. Making a show of what he was doing he let a second one join the first as he sucked hard on her bud at the same time making [ ]’s eyes roll back as her hand fell from his head, nervous od pulling too hard. Kendo however had other plans. Feeling her walls tighten around his fingers he made sure to find that spongy spot and hitting it, finally pulling his lips from her clit as he smiled “Uuh Uh doll, look at me” He growled as she hesitantly glances at him, regretting that she did. He looked way too good, hair a mess as he was panting, catching his breath from being down on her. With evry pump of his fingers his muscle in his arm twitched, making her own walls spasm as she watched it “Ya like it sweetheart?” He asked as she shook her head, watching him move back to her pussy “Good, cause i aint done” He said as he gave her clit kitten licks beofe slurping on it, throwing a wink at her as he picked up his pace, making [ ]’s voice rise as she felt herself getting close before quickly snapping at a particular hard thrust of his finger to her spot on her walls.

Letting out a light scream she came over his fingers and tongue, the male laughing gleefully as he sucked up her juices. LEtting her come down some he watched her face as bliss spread through her body and a sense of confidence whent though his. Slowly he picked up the pace of his fingers again, going from a shallow push to more stroking as he heard [ ] whine, grabbing at his hand “Uh uh sweetheart, you taste too good fro me to only let you cum on my tongue once” he said as he pushed her down by her stomach, letting her take his spare hand as he went back to suckling on her lower lips. He knew he had a lot in stored for her, and watching the newly admitted love of his life cum from his pleasing was enough for him to realized he needed to do more. Popping off her clit as puling his fingers gently out he looked at her ravished body, using his non wet hand to pull at his sweats. “Youre beautiful like this [ ]” kendo said as she took in heavy breaths, feeling her throat close as he stroked his massive size, rubbing the swollen head as he looked at her , giving her a soft smile “Ya dont have to take me just yet , hes just throbbin too much” He groaned as he twisted his hand hard over his leaking tip, feeling himself throb as he laid back on his bed. “Ride my face?” he asked with one of the most sinful looks [ ] had ever seen ; lustful eyes watching her as his large hand stroked his larger dick, the soft and fleshy muscle jumping at watching her crawl to him, throwing a leg over his neck

“I-i dont wanna suffocate you..” She said as he smirked before saying “Ya cant suffocate me i want it” Soon he grabbed her hip, pushing her onto his awaiting mouth as he picked up his pace, sliding his tongue into her twitching hole as she rocked her hips, keeping a steady pace as she held herself on his shoulder and headboard, ,depreate moand and cries tumbling out as he rocked her too, going from her clit to her dripping entrance, stoking his dick harder and harde as her moans spurred him on. Soon he felt the bud in his mouth twitch and throb harder, the sounds [ ] made increasing as his own hand sped up with his throbbing head, the telltales of them both getting close. A moan erruptred from the girl on his lips as she came again , her essence running down his face as he groaned, ropes of cum shooting onto his hand and stomach as he came himself, still stroking out what he could as the pressure he felt subside. Sliding off softly [ ] saw the mess behind her, taking it upon herself to lick up some of it as she was met with his same aber eyes, watching her move to his still hard member “Let me take care of you too?” she asked shyly. Fuck he was done for as he felt himslef hardend worse at her words, a large hand coming up to smack her ass as he psuhed her up and over his head, letting his tip and her swollen lips run over eachother. Slowly he pushed his tip past her budding lips, entranced by the way it swallowed her whole “Fuck...i love you [ ] and by the time im done with ya...youll know it” he whispered in her ear as she felet him push, more and moreof his large size spreading her lips father than shed ever had. Her eyes rolled up as she felt him bottom out, both moaning as he picked up his pace, making a soothing rhythm as little moans and whines came from [ ], deep grunts coming from Kendo as he kissed her shoulders and back, marking where he could as he felt himself get closer with how she was throbbing over his member.

Digging his fingers as deep as he could in her plush hips he let our a mantra of ‘Cummin’ i and ‘ I love yous’ in her ear as she pushed back against him, feeling herself teetering as he pushed as deep as he could go ,letting himself cum as she came too, the overwhelming feeling of him throbbing against her spongy walls and previous orgasms enough to push her over a third time. “[ ]” Kendo rasped as [ ] hummed , feeling her legs still shake with him in her “Im serious, i'm never leaving you...you're mine and i love you…” kendo said as he kissed the back of her neck, nibbling her ear as he stayed in her “Mhm….i love you too Rappa..”

[elisela]

because @extasiswings prompted me with “paint me a heaven of love with your bloodied mouth” a hundred years ago and not everything has to hurt chapel god damn it

bloodied mouth buck x eddie, h/c

There’s a crown on Eddie’s head.

Cheap golden tissue paper skewed to the left, dropping down to rest so low on his forehead it slips over his eyebrow, face slackened peacefully in sleep—he’s beautiful, he’s beautiful, in all the ways Buck has ever seen him.

The floor is littered with confetti leftover from the coming home party, a kaleidoscope of pink and blue and yellow that Buck ignores as he makes his way towards the kitchen, scooping up empty plastic cups and discarded paper plates as he goes. The trash bin is overflowing, a recycling pile building up on the counter behind it, sure to drive Eddie crazy when he finally wakes. Buck tosses everything he’s carrying into a new trash bag and takes everything out, hauls it all around to the side of the house and drops it in the bin. He starts in the kitchen first, the one room Eddie always wants clean, washing the dishes that can’t be thrown away, scraping dried icing off the table from where it had been smeared by small hands, stashing half-empty bags of chips in the pantry to finish off later.

The dining room is next, then the living room, and by the time Buck has all the confetti swept into a pile, Eddie is groaning from the hallway, leaning too heavily on the wall.

The broom is loud as it clatters to the floor and Eddie winces, waving Buck off when makes a move towards him. “I can get to the couch, Buck,” he says, though the slow inhale tells Buck otherwise. “You didn’t have to do all this. It’s not your job to take care of me.”

“Might pay more than my current gig,” he says, going for levity, and Eddie snorts.

“Doubtful, unless those scratch-offs tía gave me hit it big,” he says, and doesn’t protest when Buck reaches out for him. “And if that’s the case, I might get shot more often.”

He bites his tongue so hard he thinks it may bleed. “How about you promise not to get shot anymore, and I’ll spring for ten bucks worth of scratchers for you a month,” he says, gripping Eddie’s forearms as he lowers himself onto the couch with a relieved sigh. “I’m gonna go grab your pills.”

There’s still confetti in the hallway, tracking its way into Christopher’s room. Buck makes a mental note to deal with it later as he ducks into the bathroom and counts out the pills—medication to guard against infection, pain, everything Buck never wants him to experience again. Eddie swallows them dry despite Buck’s protests, and fiddles with the remote in his hands before looking up at Buck with more vulnerability than he ever has.

“I don’t want to ask—”

“So don’t,” Buck cuts off. He doesn’t have to ask, and he doesn’t know how Eddie doesn’t understand that yet, how Eddie doesn’t know that Buck would stop at nothing to make sure Eddie—and Christoper—were safe and taken care of and loved. A few days, a weekend here and there where Buck helps out—it’s barely scratching the surface of what he would give for them. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

“I need someone here,” Eddie says, too quietly. “They said—it could be months of PT before—I don’t know how I can—”

“So I’ll stay here,” Buck says, shrugged. Albert’s going a lot better, Buck could just ask him to stay in the loft for awhile. He at least trusts him not to completely trash the place, although he’ll probably have to burn his bedding and get a completely new couch when he goes back. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is,” Eddie says, and the look he gives Buck changes to such open affection that Buck feels his breath hitch. “It is a big deal. Thank you.”

Buck shrugs. “You can repay me by staying out of the hospital for a few years,” he says, and Eddie laughs, the crown that’s still perched on his head slipping down even further.

[sunjaesol]

♡ IT HAD TO BE YOU, WONDERFUL YOU ♡

canon compliant juke valentine’s day fic ♡ for all you sweethearts in the fandom

Before hopeless romantic Julie Molina fell in love with Luke Patterson, she always felt glum on Valentine’s Day. She tortured herself with romcoms leading up to the holiday, went into the “couples goals” tag on Pinterest, pouted when her crushes she never talked to dated other people (read: Nick) and felt all around envious of those having a lover to spend the day with. Her mother dying, she who held the biggest heart of all, also didn’t help her mood.   

But that was before Luke blasted himself into her life. Sure, their romance was a little unorthodox, but predictability was overrated anyway.

They got together last summer, when the band played an amazing gig at a tiki bar on the beach and they were drunk on the heat, pink lemonade and each other’s adoring gazes. Dancing on the beach with him and the boys, Luke had grabbed her in his embrace and whispered lyrics at her she’s never heard before. His fingers grazed her jaw when he said it was a love letter - “For you, Jules.” She didn’t have to go far to reach his lips, both eager and giddy to finally come home.

(Weeks later, the love letter was transposed to music and performed for an audience. It was full circle moment. He loved music and her and now it was all connected. Luke had been dazed, but Julie was quick to kiss the stupor away. They could do that now. It was insane.) 

All week, Julie had been working on a secret gift. She scoured her room was scraps and pictures and notes; reminders of Luke hidden in every corner without realising it. A purple pick was found under her bed, a song in her dream box they never got to finish, a seashell he plucked from the beach, a row of pictures from a photo booth, love notes. Julie would lie if she said she didn’t find it adorable how his only reference of romance were the 80s flicks, as it gave her a heartthrob of a boyfriend that didn’t back down from cute gestures like those notes. It left her heart racing and brought a blush on her cheekbones. the sun’s jealous of that smile jules

It was only natural she made him a collage. 

They had an unspoken agreement to never involve money. Though they were in a band together, all the money they made directly went to Julie. She invested it back in their life passion, obviously, but the fact remained that Luke couldn’t take her on typical dates or buy her the typical gifts. Until American Ghost Dollars got invented, they had to be creative. 

Going to the movies were movie nights in the studio with a projector and cookies they made together. A love song instead of dinner. Dancing in her bedroom with AirPods instead of partying.     

And it was enough. It was more than enough. She loved him so much that each second spend together was perfect as is. 

The collage was small enough that he could easily tuck it away. Pictures overlapped, a dozen Mini Luke’s and Mini Julie’s staring at the camera or each other, from before and after they started dating. 

A photo Flynn took of Luke peppering her temple with kisses backstage. A polaroid of when she snuck up on him and smacked a kiss on his cheek, his teeth flashing white from the beam on his face. A Snapchat of when she showed him the filters and he kissed her instead. Multiple pictures of them snuggling on the studio couch, supposed ‘blackmail’ for Alex, but Julie cherished them. If she closed her eyes, she could feel his arms wrap around her back as she’s sprawled on top of him.

The pretty shell didn’t fit on the collage, so she decided to make a bracelet as well. A thick band made from orange, red and yellow string, the shell as its penchant. 

That morning, she pulled on her most Valentine’s day inspired outfit and rushed to the studio. Her gifts were still in her room, out of sight and kept for later, now she just wanted to see her boyfriend. 

Her smile, painted in cherry lipgloss, stretched wider when she slid the doors open and saw that no one was inside. Just last night had he kissed her a little longer after rehearsal, wiggling his brows like he knew something she didn’t. Luke was terrible at keeping secrets. She wasn’t surprised to find it empty, unless…

Luke poofed in front of her with a warrior cry and hoisted her up in one fluid motion. Julie yelled in delight, gripping onto him as he spun them around. For the occasion, he swapped his regular orange beanie for a red one. (One day, her heart was going to explode from all the silly stuff he did.) Matching her expression, his hands steadied her as she wrapped her legs around his waist.    

An index finger flicked his chin playfully. “How long did it take you to plan this?”

He gasped, faux-offended. “Julie! I’m spontaneous as shit.”

“Mh-hm,” she hummed, leaning in to kiss his lips. His frown melted away, the languid kiss flickering with the hint of passion it usually held. Slowly, he set her down, her staying locked between his arms. When she pulled back, he chased after her and pecked the side of her mouth - once, twice.    

“I’m gonna smother you with so much kisses that you’re gonna get sick of me,” he declared, as if the threat of loving her was scary. 

She pressed her forehead against his with a grin. “I look forward to it.”

Instantly keeping up his promise, he nuzzled against her cheek. “What’d you wanna do?”

“Well, we’re ending the day in the hammock.”

“Duh.”

“And,” she sneakily added, “we can be really cheesy and watch ‘Valentine’s Day’.”

He made a face, both remembering their divided opinion on the movie. “If we’re seeing it again, then I’m choosing all the snacks.”

“Deal.”

“Nice,” he breathed, raising his fist between their torsos so she could bump it with her own. Her cheeks were already aching from smiling so much, giddy to spend the entire day with her boyfriend undisturbed by the boys or family or school. 

Her fingers scratched into his plaid jacket. “You know what I’m also looking forward to?” His eyes narrowed at her lilting voice. “Giving you your present.”

His jaw fell slack. “Jules, now I’m gonna be thinking about it all day.” But then she saw the devilish glint in the green of his irises as he uttered: “Guess you’ll have to wait on your present too.”

“You-” That was unexpected. “You have a present?”

Luke bit down on his lip, watching her surprise. “I was waiting for that reaction. Sweet. Okay, I’m saying we dip everything in chocolate. Fruit, popcorn-”

“I’m willing to try one of those crazy combinations you love so much,” she proposed. The excited smooch she got afterwards was worth it.

The couple claimed the kitchen for an hour as they made their snacks, most of which being the typical chocolate covered strawberries both liked a lot, and then nestled themselves in her room. Curled into his warm body, they shared earphones as they watched ‘Valentine’s Day’. Though she asked to watch it, all her attention went to his hands continuously caressing her waist and thigh. It lulled her into a blissful trance. Sometimes he would make a joke (“We’re way cooler than Taylor and Taylor!”) and she’d chuckle and hum and rub his chest. By the time Jessica Biel was smashing the piñata, she was placing soft kisses on his neck and he had to pause the movie. 

Hovering over her with a wolfish grin, he pecked her nose. “I thought you wanted to watch.”

“And I thought you were going to smother me with kisses,” she bounced back with a quirked brow. For a beat, they shared an amused look. 

Then Luke laughed, diving for her lips and doing just that. That rushing feeling coursed through her veins, a pure shot of adoration and attraction with each warm, open-mouthed kiss. He tasted like chocolate, skin sticky from fruit, and smelled in that perfectly boyish way. Julie sighed into the kiss. No cheesy movie or love song could compete with the sensation of slipping her fingers in his hair and having his arms tighten like he never wanted her to stop. Her bedroom was heaven on earth.   

(Perhaps that was silly. She was only seventeen after all. How much did she actually know about the world to accurately make that statement? But did it even matter if right now, right here, she felt like the luckiest girl in the universe? The cynics could bite her.) 

She didn’t know how long they let their lips and hands wander. It was hard to care about time when his mouth was on her ear and her nails drew shapes on his back. 

“I bet,” he whispered, “Taylor and Taylor never felt like this.”

She giggled. “You’re just jealous of the big teddy bear.”

His smile pressed on her cheek. “Maybe.”

When Luke and her first got together, they were scared to touch. Sure, they had their moment on the beach and previously, they found plenty of opportunities to be in contact. But after they made if official and there was nothing to hide behind anymore, it got scary. They yearned for affection, but what if Luke disappeared one day without meaning to and then they’d both ache for each other’s comfort? They got over it eventually and now it was only natural to feel his smile on her skin.

It was hard to imagine kissing anyone but Luke, unfathomable having a different boy hug her from behind at school and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Only Luke could write her love notes. Only she was allowed to write him ones as well, or leave cute post-it’s on his guitar to cheer him up when he had a bad day. It was just them.

Her mind going haywire over such a simple touch jolted her memory, Julie abruptly sitting up and bringing Luke with her. His brows raised in surprise. She pecked the pout away, brushing her nose against his. 

“Can I give you your present?”

A breathy smile tugged on his cheeks. “Yeah, I’m curious.”

Julie untangled herself from their embrace and reached inside her wardrobe for the gift. Sitting cross-legged in front of him, she gave him his present with barely-concealed anticipation. Hopefully he loved it as much as she loved making it! 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she sang, watching him pull the tissue paper out the small bag and unearthing the collage and bracelet. 

Speechless, he gawked at the collection of pictures. Eyes flitted past each quickly, like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Crawling over to sit beside him, she placed her head on his shoulder. “You like it?”

He sniffled. Julie looked up and was shocked to note his eyes were shiny. “Aw, babe!”

His gaze caught hers, distraught. “You’re not supposed to make me horny and then emotional!”

She laughed and pressed a kiss on his cheek. His cute reaction made her heart lurch with fondness. “It wasn’t supposed to make you cry.”

Luke sighed, hand guiding her face to place a proper kiss on her lips. It was short, but just as electric as all the ones before. He kissed like he played guitar - always intentional and one hundred percent. 

“I love it,” he muttered. “Thank you. And I love the bracelet too.”

“I made sure it matches your others.”

He captured her lips again. “Yeah… Thanks, Jules.” His nose scrunched, arrogance dripping from his voice as he tucked a curl behind her ear. “My present is better though.”

Her arms crossed, challenged. “Oh really?”

“Hell yeah, it is. Gonna knock it out of the park.” With a snap of his finger, he conjured his songbook and stuck the collage between two fresh pages. He clicked his tongue with the typical bravado he exuded onstage. “Who knows, Jules, you might even get a crush on me.”

Just as she was about to retort with a tease of her own, her eyes caught a fluttering page with words she didn’t recognise. Pointing at it, she asked: “What’s that?”

Luke frowned, thumbing to the right side and rolling his eyes. “Some lyrics that got stuck in my head a few nights ago. It doesn’t work though.”

“Maybe not. I kind of like that part.” She tapped on the line ‘so deep, your DNA's being messed with my touch’ with a pensive wrinkle knitted in her forehead. Ideas began to brew, throwaway pieces from other discarded songs coming back to her and meshing well with what he’s already composed. “Yeah, this is good, Luke. Do you want to work on it?”

He hesitated for a beat, stare trailing from her to the half-eaten plate of snacks. “Do you want to?”

“Of course,” she smiled. They were Luke and Julie - did either of them really think they could go a day without music? Even if she hadn’t discovered this diamond in the rough, he’d inevitably spring upright to write down a riff or her fingers would tingle to try out a melody. Songwriting was perhaps the best date of all, showing that work and play could successfully be mixed together. 

He sighed in relief. “Good. Okay, so I was thinking…”

Hours went by tinkering on the song, the afternoon drifting by and them having moved to the hammock in the garden. It was a spot Luke rediscovered and she all too willingly found a place next to him. They cherished the quietude and warmth even before they were dating. The page was now littered with flowing, strung-together verses and a half-done chorus. Instrumentals were for tomorrow when they were all together. In the back of her head lingered the thought that he still hasn’t given his supposed homerun of a present, but Julie reminded herself then that it didn’t even matter. This was enough. He was enough. Who knew, maybe he was just talking smack! The doubts vanished as Luke drummed his fingers on her stomach, humming a beat.      

“And you thought it wouldn’t work!”, she teased. 

He puffed. “Cause it didn’t! It needed the Molina Touch!”

A brow quirked, amused. “The Molina Touch?”

“Yes,” he grinned and tapped her chest. “The Touch.”

“I don’t have the Force, Luke.” When his face fell flat, she decided to play along and mimicked his motion. Her fingers circled his sternum as she said: “Well, I look forward to the Patterson Energy bringing it alive onstage.”

The boy rolled on his side, she following suit. The hammock bended to the movement, pushing them closer together. The couple snickered, noses nudging and locked in the other’s arms. Above, the sky was coloured like Monet, purples and blues and pinks as the sun dropped below the trees. Julie stared at the way he craned his neck, green eyes blown wide while marvelling at the sweeping atmosphere. He was the most beautiful person she’s ever encountered. She was probably a little obsessed with him, never bored of looking at him, of finding new freckles, moles and spots. 

Her reverie snapped like a bubble as he said something. 

“What?”

He repeated himself. “Wanna get waffles?”

She blinked. “Waffles?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “V-Day waffles. I bet they have red velvet ones.” His face twisted, like he was in on an inside joke, and murmured against her lips: “Whipped cream, Jules. Can’t resist that.”

Damn. He knew her too well. “Reggie’s going to be mad we went without him.”

“Then he should get himself a ghost lover,” he joked. Slapping her hip, the exclaim was resolute. “Let’s go!”

The drive was short, an surprising amount of waffle places scattered around Los Feliz. The cityscape was painted red for the day. Heart-shaped wreaths adorned the doors of stores, bars promoted special cocktails with pink hues, boutiques displaying date night dresses on mannequins in the windows. At the end of a large strip of food joints, a waffle house joining in with a red banner hung across the frontage. RED VELVET WAFFLES! ONLY TODAY!

Julie shot him a suspicious look. “You knew?”

He shrugged, smirking. “A good guess.”

They were lucky. The parking lot was pretty much abandoned, no onlookers to see her joking around with air. He stayed in the car as she got the treats.

As she queued, her aimless thoughts found Luke as a focal point. It was hard not to. Maybe the best thing of all for a hopeless romantic like her, was that she found someone who was an even bigger dreamer than she was. If she jumped for the stars, he rocketed himself into space and hoped for the best. It made days like Valentine’s special, but it also felt like another regular Saturday. He didn’t kiss her differently, looked at her more intently - it was always like this. The red velvet waffles was just… extra. A cherry on an already perfect milkshake. Luke and Julie never needed fireworks to make the other feel remarkable. 

Dropping back in the driver’s seta with a sigh, she propped the waffles on the dashboard. “I’m not sure if it’s going to taste right, they look kind of mushy, but I’m sure the whipped cream-” The words died in her throat as she looked at Luke, a timid smile on his lips as his present laid flat in his hands. A mixtape. 

Her eyes tracked the CD for a beat (jules <3 written in sharpie with his infamous scrawl) and then flicked up to his face. That was most spectacular of all: the nervous twitch in his eye, the breathy smile. Luke was flustered.       

Gingerly, she took it from his grasp. “How did you make this?”, she whispered. 

The palpable energy didn’t waver. “Carlos. He lend me his computer and explained how to burn CD’s.” His chuckle was awkward. “Had to get you in the car somehow.”

A smile bloomed on her lips. Her heart was truly going to explode; the gesture so thoughtful and sweet. (Shit. He did knock it out of the park. How will his ego cope?!) Reaching over the middle console, she chastely kissed him. “I already love it.”

He shook his head with a grin, shoulders loosening a bit. “You haven’t listened to it yet. C’mon, play it.” He shot her a cocky nod. “You know how to use a CD-player?”

“Very funny,” she quipped. Cautiously, she took the CD out of its case and slipped it into the player. It whirred for a beat, her upping the volume, and just as she thought she’d hear some 90s rock band, something unexpected happened. 

hey jules

She froze, staring at Luke’s feverishly excited face, as his crackling voice came through the speakers.  

i finally learned about technology! you happy? anyway, you know i love you. i love everything about you, i think… i think that’s kinda why i’m here to begin with.

Tears lodged itself in her chest, ready to spill. Love was going to make her go mad one day. She loved this boy so much that it was insurmountable by anything else.

that’s not- it’s not what this cd is about. His tone brightened. what i love most about you, julie molina, is how fucking in love you are with music. so what better thing to give you, is more music? these are ten songs that remind me of you… happy valentine’s day, baby. 

It clicked off. Quietly, slowly, a melodious piano variation flowed in. Her breath hitched as she recognised it. Frank Sinatra’s ‘It Had To Be You’ reminded Luke of her? Her hands were shaking. His calloused ones grabbed them, pads of his fingers caressing the skin. A pout jutted from her lips, her eyes shimmering with emotion. It wasn’t fair. Boys weren’t supposed to be this romantic. 

His smile could light up the entire state, touch trailing across her arm up to her cheek, grazing the lone tear that she wasn’t even aware of. “Don’t cry,” he chuckled. “I can be the only sap.”

Shaking her head, she pushed herself over the console and placed herself on his lap. The divide of a stick shift was a plain crime. Circling her arms around his neck, Julie kissed him in the way she thought the song felt. Warm and languid and timeless and wholly, utterly loving. Depthless and infinite. The thrill of his bass voice melted them together, no space between them with his hands wrapped around her lower back. 

For nobody else gave me a thrill With all your faults, I love you still It had to be you, wonderful you It had to be you

“I love you,” she sighed into his mouth. “It’s not enough. It’s not…”

He kissed the lament away. “I know. That’s why music works.” Sinatra sang a line and then he grinned. “Gotta express ourselves somehow.”

Though that was true, though they had music to shape their thoughts into the most beautiful declarations of love, all she wished to have was a word. A simple word that perfectly encapsulated what she felt. Love felt too small. Too simple. But until she found it, she’d keep saying it.

And so she did. “I love you, Luke.” 

His eyes shut in delight. “I love you too, Julie.”

They wouldn’t leave for a long time. Locked in each other’s loving embrace, they listened to every song on the mixtape. And when it ended, they looped it.

Time and space wasn’t really important to them anyway.     

For nobody else gave me a thrill With all your faults, I love you still It had to be you, wonderful you It had to be you

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

@blush-and-books​ @bluefirewrites​ @ourstarscollided​​ @alexjulies​ @unsaid-emily​ @willexx​

[welllpthisishappening]

Three Strikes [you're out]

It was his fault, really.

Wearing that jersey at Citi Field practically required Nina to hate the mass of muscle sitting in front of her on sight. Plus, he didn't know how to score a baseball game. So, honestly, it made sense. To hate him. Ardently, even. To push buttons, metaphorical or otherwise. A game within the game.

And, if, she found herself having fun, well, that was neither here nor there.

———

Rating: T, with sports and kissing because of who I am as a person Word Count: 9.1 K, also because of who I am as a person AN: I don’t know, guys. I got thoughts. I got feelings. The only way I know how deal with either of those things is to write about them with sports and kissing. Did I suggest that being a Mets fan was a bit like being Grisha? Perhaps! Perhaps, I did! If this is out of character just...don’t tell me.

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll

———

The suggestion that an idea was capable of boiling a person’s blood, even in the most abstract and metaphorical sense, had always appealed to Nina. Not in a particularly violent way, of course. More in regards to the visual. 

Conjured up all sorts of possibilities. 

Little bubbles beneath her skin, searing emotion through her veins that inevitably led to tufts of smoke pouring out of her ears. Like one of those old cartoon characters, she could now only dimly remember. In moments like this, especially. When she wasn’t quite boiling, but certainly racing toward the vast and admittedly surprising precipice of abject hatred. Directed almost solely toward the mass of muscle who dared to wear a Chase Utley jersey to Citi Field on a Thursday in May. 

He needed a haircut, she thought. 

The muscle. Not Chase Utley. She couldn’t possibly care less about the state of Chase Utley’s hair. Unless he was choking on it, somewhere. Obviously. Then Nina cared very much. About Chase Utley. And this guy. With too-long strands that she was starting to believe fell almost artfully across the back of a vaguely golden-skinned neck, as if they existed solely to torment her. 

On a Thursday in May. 

Sitting there, with a seat digging into the middle of her spine and her frustration threatening the enamel on the back of her teeth, Nina was loath to admit, even to herself, that she couldn’t stop staring at him. Partially because of the hair. Which looked very—pushable, really. As far as her finger’s potential went. But mostly because of everything else. Watching the muscle was a bit like watching a statue at the Met, waiting with bated breath for it to actually surge to life because when she was that same kid who watched cartoons on weekend mornings, she rather strongly believed that the statues at the Met were wholly capable of smiling and turning and living. Artwork prone to the mystical and potentially magical.

She blamed Ben Stiller for that, honestly. 

Amy Adams to a slightly lesser degree. 

Robin Williams would suffer no criticism in this argument, naturally. 

The muscle shifted. 

Twitched just a hint in his seat. Altered the angle of his, frankly, impressively wide shoulders. Rolled his neck between them. The seat was too small. He was too big. That jersey must have been ancient. 

And, really, when it came down to it, Nina hated him most for the pencil. Tucked behind his right ear, it looked comically small whenever he pulled it between his fingers, scratching across a legitimate scorebook because in the thirty-seven minutes or so she’d spent observing this fascinating specimen of humanity, she’d noticed it was, in fact, a scorebook. 

Not a piece of paper.

Not a printout. 

Not even the one she was only vaguely confident they handed out in the rotunda downstairs. 

An actual scorebook. 

That he brought with him to Citi Field. 

She glanced down to make sure she had not actually burst into literal flames in section 205. Row F. Seat 27. No such luck. Weird. 

The pencil was back in his hand. One leg crossed the other, leaving his knee propped in the air, and there was just so much of the muscle that it was a rather small miracle of an exceptionally narrow field of science that it didn’t collide with anyone around him. Instead, it provided a built-in desk, that stupid scorebook propped up against jean-covered skin and even more muscles, pushing against fabric like they were personally offended by the concept of the blue-colored prison. 

Nina bit her lip. 

Tried to keep breathing. Because fires required oxygen, and there could be no boiling without fire and—

“‘Scuse me, ‘scuse me, ‘scuse me, just trying to—” Blood flooded Nina’s mouth, making it impossible for her to open that same mouth and let out the laugh already pushing against her lips. There were at least four little wrinkles pinched across the small expanse of Jesper’s nose, two boxes of popcorn clutched in either one of his hands and a soda between the slight bend of his elbow. He tiptoed his way around disgruntled fans, glaring at a few red jerseys for good measure. As if he actually wanted to be there. Nina kept biting her lip. “Just trying to get back to my seat,” Jesper finished, “won’t bother you again, rest of the game, absolutely, one-hundred percent guaranteed.”

Nina’s lips tilted up. 

Scrambling to her feet, she couldn’t quite balance on the edge of the seat that immediately swung back up. Something sticky stuck to the bottom of her shoe and eventually, she would find herself wondering why she didn’t simply move into Jesper’s seat. For a myriad of reasons, she assumed. 

Some of which might have mystical and potentially. 

Goddamn, Ben Stiller. 

“Accommodating sort of group, isn’t it?” Jesper mumbled, pushing past her and Nina had to applaud his dexterity. Not a kernel lost in the battle. 

“Should have waited ‘til the middle of the inning. This is just bad form on your part.” “And miss all—” He waved an imperious hand toward the field. “What am I missing, exactly?”

Opening her mouth, Nina was certain she’d come up with a reasonable explanation for the romantic nature of baseball, only she was a little busy. Keeping her head connected to the rest of her body. 

Snapping to the left, her breath caught. In that dramatic sort of way that always seemed like the perfect soundtrack to any great sporting moment. Eyes wide and fingers digging into her palm, hope mixed with the bubbles and the boils, and she barely noticed the awkward angle of her bent knees. Or just how close she was to—

Him. 

The muscle. 

She heard his pencil drop, she swore. 

Oh, Gods, but he had blue eyes. Sharp and staring right at her, Nina resisted the very real urge to let herself melt right there. In section 205. Row F. Seat 27. Well, in front of seat 27, technically. 

Pulling her knee back did not do that same knee any favors, muscles almost audibly objecting to the force of Nina’s split-second reaction, but then she forgot about the pain and the concept of depth perception. The yell tore itself out of her lungs, found its way to the rest of the noise circling the stadium, wrapping its way around people until the hope of that one, singular moment settled on the tips of her eyelashes and the backs of her heels and she wasn’t sure if she heard him at first. 

No one should be capable of possessing a voice quite so gruff, that’s why.

“Not going to make it.”

Glaring at the monstrous mass of muscle and questionably good hair wasn’t so much as a decision as something far closer to instinct, pulling her brows together and letting her tongue push at the bottom of her teeth, and he—

Looked. Right at her. And her tongue. 

Shoulders tensing, a hint of nervous energy appeared in those same ridiculously blue eyes, gone almost before Nina had a chance to realize it was there at all and she didn’t see the play. Heard it, though. The groans and the grunts, complete despair, and the first shreds of desolation drowning out the hope and pulling it from a grip that was always a little tenuous. 

No home run. No hit. Just a run-of-the-mill fly ball in center field. 

One side of the muscle’s mouth tugged up. 

“Told you.” “Oh, fuck off.”

Surprise, she thought, was a very good look on him. Most of them would be, she imagined. But right then, on a Thursday in May, with two outs in the bottom of the fourth, Nina relished the surprise. 

And sat back down. 

To be a Mets fan, was to believe in the impossible. 

The amazing, even. 

It was right there in the slogans. The advertising campaigns. On a variety of shirts, both legitimate and those sold at the bottom of the 7-train stairs. To accept the amazing, to wish for it, even, was part and parcel of the history of an organization that relished its underdog status. Thrived in its role, the second team in a city that toed the line between excess and restraint. 

Winning with this team was unexpected and unpredictable. Came without much pomp. Certainly no circumstance. Only a few trades that drew national eyes and back page headlines. More often than not, this was a team that discovered amazing when it simply should not exist. 

Misfits who created something wonderful. Who sparked something among people who, at least for nine innings, believed orange was a worthwhile color to wear. Who smiled at a mascot with a massive baseball for a head. And his wife, who sported some rather impressive eyelashes, actually. 

To be a Mets fan, was to understand heartache. 

To accept being the butt of jokes across decades. 

Every year, the knowing smiles came. Paying goddamn Bobby Bonilla. Cracks about pyramid schemes and owners who couldn’t find their way out of a money-based paper bag, team antics that occasionally drew those headlines, and players who fell in wayward ditches on their farms, ending their season before it ever really began. 

Winning didn’t come often, but it was loud when it did. The crack of a bat and a ball finding the back of a glove, shoulders slamming into the left-field wall with its massive M&Ms ad. Feedback from a microphone as David Wright thanked the Seven Line Army, in all their orange-clad glory, memories of that near-perfect October and what could have been imprinting themselves across a generation. 

To be a Mets fan, was to live and die with each pitch. Each hit. To hold your breath and wait for magic that lingered beneath skin and forced its way into bloodstreams. 

To be a Mets fan, was to hate anyone wearing a Chase Utley jersey. 

“Stew, stew, stewing, a rather hearty beef stew.” Nina narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?” “You are stewing,” Jesper said pointedly, as if it was an obvious affliction and they both hadn’t casually descended into madness caused by extra innings. Putting a runner on second was supposed to help avoid all of this. Runs were meant to be scored in extra innings. Nothing had happened yet. “Any more and that little divot between your eyebrows is never going to disappear. Then what will we do?” Answering would only acknowledge that the divot was more like a rather obvious ravine now, and the little half-moon circles left by her nails were going to be permanently etched into Nina’s palm. 

He was still keeping score. 

How he hadn’t run out of columns in his scorebook was beyond her, but Nina figured if the muscle was someone willing to purchase a scorebook, he probably made sure it was one that also included, like, fifteen innings on each page. 

If they made it to the fifteenth inning, she would cry. 

It would be embarrassing. 

Jesper probably wouldn’t come back for the rest of the series. If she cried, that was. And she needed him to come back for the rest of the series. Sitting anywhere else wasn’t all that appealing, even if it might have been warmer up there now. 

She wrapped her arms around herself. Better to stew with, that way. 

“Do games normally last this long?”

Nina shook her head. 

Jesper groaned. Loudly, complete with his head thrown back for extra emphasis and even clearer frustration and she didn’t think she imagined the way the muscle tensed. Staring at him was becoming something of a pastime in the middle of a more acceptable one. Light didn’t quite reflect from the hair she was starting to become just a hint obsessed with, but it certainly appeared determined to try, and his ability to hold so much tension in the region directly surrounding his jaw would have been impressive in any other circumstance. 

As it was, Nina was a little concerned about the state of the muscle’s back molars. 

It was why she didn’t react as quickly as she should have. Or so she would argue for the rest of time. 

Once she got the popcorn off her feet. 

A waterfall of butter-coasted kernels landed on her shoes, a few bouncing as she did, thrust out of her seat like a canon. Whatever bit of her heart that existed solely to document the ebbs and flows of the New York Mets success flew into her throat, where it immediately took up residence directly in the middle. Wide eyes immediately started to water, which brought her straight back to the entirely metaphorical cliff of her potential embarrassment and the muscle was leaning forward. 

With his own brand of emotion. 

No obvious tension, just that steady sort of hope born among the din of baseball-type sounds and, even more importantly, baseball-type feelings and Nina was mumbling. 

“Turn ‘em, turn ‘em, turn ‘em, two, two, two, two, get the—” Suggesting she screamed made it seem as if she weren’t in complete control of her faculties. And despite the potential of extra innings insanity, Nina was just as lucid as ever and just as capable of throwing her hands in the air, while also screaming. 

Undeniably so. 

As soon as the ball jumped over the outstretched glove at short, Francisco Lindor’s lanky and overpaid body stretched out across the infield grass. Curses flowed from Nina’s mouth, some of them sharp enough to make even Jesper choke on whatever bits of oxygen he was able to gulp down, and she didn’t stop. Kept screaming and shouting, increasingly mobile hands and dexterous shoulders, miming her own throw home because whoever was playing left field was not moving quickly enough for her. 

He didn’t make the throw. 

Not in time, at least. 

Dirt flew into the air as a leg stretched over home plate and the umpire’s arms were nearly as impressive as Nina’s. Marking the runner safe and giving the Phillies their first and only lead of the night. 

Frustration mingled with out-of-place despair, far too early in the series and the season to be feeling quite as desolate as Nina suddenly was and, really, she wasn’t sure why she looked. Something about magnets, or simple curiosity, but her eyes drifted and her head tilted and she felt her jaw drop as his stupid, little pencil scratched out E6 in his scorebook. 

“What the hell, man?”

He didn’t turn. Figured. Screaming was becoming her base setting, so Nina wasn’t entirely surprised that the muscle didn’t acknowledge it, but then she was moving and leaning and tapping on a shoulder that somehow seemed sturdier when she had kneed it several innings earlier. 

“That’s not an error.” Moving in slow motion only made sense if the man was, in fact, a piece of marble. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead, acting as little paths toward his eyes and they were still blue. Good, that was good. Bad, that was bad. 

Jesper wasn’t even trying to contain his laughter. 

“Excuse me?” “Not an error,” Nina repeated, careful to pause between each word for emphasis. The muscle didn’t flinch. Stared at her incredulously, though. “Did you not see that hop?” “I saw your multi-million dollar man throw his arm out without much regard to actually making a routine play. Is that what you’re talking about?” “How is that possibly an error?” He lifted a shoulder. She was boiling over. “Should have made the play.” “It was impossible!" “C’mon now,” he chuckled, and the good fought with the bad. A symphony of contradictions blaring between Nina’s ears. Neither of which were steaming, it seemed. “Nothing is impossible in baseball.” “That was!” “Might need to come up with a better argument.” “Home scorer is not going to give Francisco an error on that. He had to dive!” “Maybe he should have been in better position, to begin with.” “The shift was on.” “Well, the shift is ruining baseball, so—” Nina gagged. Let her tongue push between rows of teeth that she couldn’t believe were going to survive the rest of the night if the acid churning in her esophagus was any indication. He looked. Again. Whatever heat lapping at the base of her spine was only marginally distracting. “A baseball purist cannot possibly wear the jersey you are wearing.” “I wasn’t aware of the rules, but, please, go on.” “Fuck. Off.” “Getting less and less creative.” His eyes hadn’t moved. As if he was documenting each twitch of her lips for his own personal posterity. Nina found she didn’t mind the idea as much as she should. 

Jesper was going to crack a rib. 

“Chase Utley is an asshole who doesn’t know how to slide.” “Ok.” “An asshole!” “I heard you the first time,” he said, losing the war with his lips. Curled up, they cut across the serious mask his face had become in the world’s least serious conversation. It was nice that Jesper ended up crying before Nina, honestly. “And he wasn’t a Phil when he hurt your guy, so I don’t think that should count at all.” Nina did not know what noise she made. Wasn’t human. Hurt a little. “Did you just call him a Phil?” “Guys,” Jesper mumbled, but she couldn’t be bothered with something as menial as the bottom of the inning when the muscle in front of her kept doing that thing with his eyes and his hair and—

Reaching out, she managed to bypass his rather impressive reaction time, grabbing the pencil before he could stop her and the crack of it between her fingers was as loud as any grand slam this slightly ugly ballpark had ever witnessed. 

Not that Nina would ever admit she thought Citi Field was slightly to moderately ugly. 

It was the color scheme. Way too much green involved. 

She gave herself exactly seven seconds to relish the look of pure amazement on the muscle’s face. 

“Use a pen,” Nina sneered, “at least stand by your scoring convictions.” “Chase Utley is going to be in the Hall of Fame.” “As a Phil?” “World Series champion.”

His ability to emphasize words with meaningful pauses was far better than Nina’s. “It wasn’t an error.” “You’re paying that guy more than anyone in the world deserves to get paid, if he’s going to lay out for a liner, then he should be able to make the play, don’t you think?” Nina bit her lip. Boiled. Stewed. 

Ah, damn. 

Her silence was an answer in the middle of a sea made up of equally disheartened fans. Who all suddenly remembered how terrible they looked in orange. Always worse after a loss. 

The muscle nodded. Once. Exhaled. Through his nose. As if he’d won, and not just his team, and Nina didn’t offer to replace his pencil. 

On a Friday night in May, Nina genuinely believed that he wouldn’t come back. Hoped for it, even. And something else almost akin to the exact opposite. 

Both were very strange feelings to feel contained in one human, body. Draped, even as it was, in blue and orange and New York City’s less famous pinstripes. With PIAZZA splashed across her back, Nina felt as if she were obligated to sit a little straighter. As if slumping in her seat — by herself tonight because Genya was not at all interested in sitting in the stands and Zoya would have laughed at the suggestion, and Jesper had to get back to the Crow Club — would somehow tarnish the reputation of a name that didn’t belong to her. 

Didn’t it, though? Just a little. Wasn’t that how sports worked? Throwing yourself into the camaraderie with both feet and occasionally flailing arms, willing to sit in an uncomfortable seat that she’d have to mention to Nikolai at some point because these were starting to feel a bit like torture devices masquerading as plastic, and a piece of paper floated onto her lap. 

He’d folded the piece of paper. 

The muscle. Not Nikolai. Who was sitting in the owner’s box, in fact. Nina assumed those seats weren’t rising up in revolt against him. 

The muscle wasn’t wearing a jersey this time. A cup of what smelled like over-brewed coffee, though, was held tightly in his left hand, while the right clutched his scorebook as if it were made of gold. Nina’s tongue swiped her teeth. 

He watched. 

Documented. 

Kept track. 

“What the hell is this?” “Is that your favorite curse, you think?” “Why are you throwing paper airplanes at me?” Lifting shoulders appeared to be his default form of response. “Felt just quirky enough not to be overtly threatening.” “Because of the guns generally associated with fighter planes?” “What do you know about fighter planes?” Rolling her whole head did not get her a smile. Or even a hint of such a thing. It did get him a few grumblings of frustration from those whose view he was blocking. Because there was so goddamn much of him. Imposing, that was the word for it. Taking up space and settling into the seat with a near amazing amount of grace, practically folding in on himself, like he was made of smooth lines and crisp edges, capable of soaring through air in a way that belied that flimsy nature of paper airplanes, and there was that word again. 

“Always liked the ones that had painted teeth on them,” Nina said, somehow fully prepared for the huff of laughter that fell out of him. He pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket. 

To hand to her. 

“You would.” “What is that supposed to mean, exactly?” “It means,” he said, nodding at the pen when she kept gaping at it, “that in my limited experience with you, Ms. Met—”

“Thought we covered lack of creativity last night.” He ignored her. Eventually, it might be a good idea to learn his name. Where that might also be the worst idea in the history of the world. Maybe Nikolai could track him down. Like through ticket sales, or something. That seemed like a breach of power, though. 

“You do have a rather impressive set of teeth on you, yourself.” “Oh, that’s an insult.” “Should unfold the paper airplane.” Most of her wanted to crumple up the piece of the paper, toss it back in his face and then possibly stab him with his own pen. But Nina also didn’t know the muscle’s name, and cold-blooded murder on a Friday night in May required a certain sense of personalization that they hadn’t quite reached yet. So, there was no crumpling. Her fingers didn’t shake. Her heartbeat held steady in her chest. 

Unfolding the paper with his eyes on her, Nina did hold her breath. For eight straight seconds, approximately. Until it all rushed out of her, entirely amazed and perpetually annoyed because the paper airplane left creases between the boxes of what was very clearly her own personal scoresheet. 

With provided pen.

“This is a trick.” “That not being a question gives me pause,” he said, but it sounded like an admission. One tinged with regret. Presumably for Chase Utley’s tendency to be a complete and utter asshole. Prone to injuring Mets’ middle infielders. 

“Is it not?” He shook his head. And the pen in his hand. “Get to stand by the convictions of your scoring actions.” “Errors occur only on routine plays.” “Yuh-huh.” “You’re here by yourself.” “Also not a question.”

“Or an answer,” Nina pointed out.

“Where’d your friend go?” “What do you put in your coffee?” “Nothing,” he answered, “seriously, where’s the friend?” Something lingered on the edge of the question. Something Nina didn’t want to notice, but couldn’t possibly ignore. Not when it came with concave shoulders, curling toward her like they were preparing themselves to block wind and glares in equal measure. The second of which was really a more pressing problem at the moment.

“Had to work.” “As a stand-up comedian?” “Hardy har har,” Nina grumbled. Leaning back against the force of his ensuing smile was as natural as wearing a Mike Piazza jersey and searching for the prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. What she was less prepared for was the ability of that same smile to twist its way between her ribs, lighting another new and imaginary fire and if her mouth dried just a bit, then that was neither here nor there.

Between her and the baseball gods, fickle as they were. 

“You don’t put anything in your coffee?” He shook his head. “Sugar makes me nauseous.” “God, what a depressing way to live life.” “Eh, there are things that make up for it.” “Chase Utley?” “I think you might be obsessed,” he said, dropping into his seat so as to avoid being pelted with cheese fries from Shake Shack. The guy three seats away looked real serious. “Going to write him a letter asking for a game of catch?” “You’re making pop culture references.” “Not a question, either.” “No, a stunned statement of fact.” She wanted that laugh on loop. Wanted it to play as the soundtrack for the rest of the night and the rest of the series and quite possibly the rest of her life, lingering softly in the background of everything she did for the rest of forever. 

Matching in perfect rhythm to the predisposed nature of her blood to boil. 

“Where are all your friends, then?” Nina asked, almost desperate to change the direction of the conversation and her internal dialogue. The blue evolved. Right there in his eyes. Darkened until it looked like the sky before a storm and that was ten-thousand times worse than any other drivel she’d come up with so far. 

Licking her lips was idiotic. Naturally, that’s what she did. 

“Not here,” he replied, “but I know the hitting coach.” Strictly speaking, that should not have been quite as awe-inducing as it was. Nina hadn’t paid for her tickets, after all. Had no intention of paying for tickets ever again, if she was being honest. So, really, seeing how caution swept the muscle’s face was kind of a dick move. 

On her part, specifically. 

“Should I be impressed?” Shoulder lift, right on cue. “I knew him in college. Was, uh—” “—Wait, did you play baseball?” Color didn’t rise on his cheeks. Not in any romantic way. Nothing about it was swepping, which was good because the Phillies had won the night before, meaning any sweeping would also guarantee Mets losses. It arrived in splotches. Bits of pink and nearly-red, tiny pinpricks of unregulated emotion that immediately affected the ability of Nina’s pulse to stay even. 

She grinned. 

Wide and honest, ignoring the strands of hair that fell in her eyes when she let her head fall. 

He didn’t look away. 

She’d think that was important, later. 

“You contain multitudes, Muscle.” “Insulting,” he grumbled. “Quite possibly the tallest man I’ve ever encountered in the flesh.” “That can’t possibly be true.” “You don’t look like a baseball player.” Back to the correct shade of blue. Just for a moment. Disappearing in the haze of a 90 mile per hour fastball. Right up the middle. But Nina had always been fairly good at tracking pitches, and she might not have been a former baseball player, but picking out the slider amongst a never-ending stream of heaters was like her personal superpower. 

“So I’ve heard.” “From scouts?” “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Of the professional variety?” “Every now and then.”

Letting out a low whistle, Nina’s spine relaxed. Tension that had taken root between her shoulder blades loosened, watching the face in front of her and the mask it was so obviously clinging to. Kept slipping, though. While staring directly at her. 

It was, she would argue, why she did what she did. Without mumbling. 

“You wanna sit?” “With you?” “Rude. You threw paper at me.” “It was a well-constructed airplane,” the muscle argued, “so you could also score the game. This was a nice thing I was doing.” “Past tense.” “Am doing,” he corrected. “Currently.”

“That mean you're going to sit?”

She counted. Seconds. Moments. Breaths. Dug her teeth into her lower lip. Against the side of her tongue. He nodded. 

And climbed over the seat. 

So, that was only going to marginally mess with her brain. 

“Alright then,” Nina said, doing her best to flatten her paper against the bend of her knee, “tell me everything about your baseball tale of woe.”

He didn’t. 

At least not at first. 

It took until the fourth inning for them to begrudgingly agree that mowing patterns in the outfield was an abstract art form that did not often get the credit it deserved, before deciding, in no uncertain terms, that the NL East boasted some of the better uniform options in all baseball, even if that was mostly because of the Marlins and—

His hand moved to his shoulder. 

The right one. More than once. Gently massaged the muscle there, a slight grimace that Nina only noticed because she was sitting squarely in the middle of objectification and she didn’t even know his name. Yet, she reminded herself. 

They’d get there. 

They didn’t. Not in that game, anyway. 

A Saturday afternoon in May didn’t present the same sort of chill that required scalding hot coffee with absolutely nothing else in it, but Nina was playing with hope and resting on her not-so-cautious expectations. Seeing how wide his eyes could get was extra. 

Sugar on top, if you will. 

They got very wide. Frozen, even. Stuck halfway down the row, still no jersey, just his dropped jaw and slumped, possibly injured shoulders, ignoring the jabs from nearby season ticket holders who were starting to believe this mountain of muscle existed solely to block their sight lines. 

Nina figured that’s what it was, at least. 

He smiled. 

That smile. Her smile. When she’d begun to claim it, she couldn’t begin to pinpoint, but it might have been six and two-thirds innings into last night’s game when his left arm had bumped her right, just enough warmth wafting off him to be noticeable. To leave goosebumps in his awake, too. 

“There’s no sugar in it,” she promised, “so you don’t have to worry for the state of your stomach.” “I didn’t once think you were trying to poison me.” “High praise.” “Deservedly so.” She flushed. Ducked her eyes. Tried not to chew her tongue in half, or allow the burning-hot blood racing through every single one of her extremities to burst its way out of her skin. That would be off-putting. And traumatic. 

“Here,” he added, tugging another folded piece of paper out of his back pocket, “for you.” “Are you printing these off in the hotel?” “Should be a private investigator, Ms. Met.” “Did your coach make you stay in Queens, Muscle?” The hand that landed on her waist — to move her, just to move her — was warm and blistering and those were two very different words with a pair of very different meanings and even more jarring consequences, and he sat down next to her. 

Huh. 

Huh. 

“Been taking the train in from Grand Central.” “Ugh, he’s making you stay over there? There’s no good food in that part of the city.” “Quiet, though.” Sticking her tongue out when she gagged continued to be one of Nina’s less impressive traits. “I blew my shoulder out my junior year of college.”

One of Nina’s knees buckled. Only one. The right one, actually. She refused to believe that was a sign. From baseball gods, or otherwise. “Hitting?” “Throwing. Probably because of the hitting, but the blowing out actually happened on what was considered by most in the know to be a pretty routine throw from left field. Hurt like hell.” “Yeah, I bet.” “I don’t remember a ton of what happened right after. Might have yelled? Quite possibly blacked out. Definitely heard something snap, which admittedly terrified me, but then there were a bunch of people talking and walking me down the tunnel and more lights and tests. The phrase never the same again was thrown around with alarming regularity.”

Cold. Nina was cold. Freezing beneath a mid-afternoon sun, one of those May days that tease of summer yet to come. They smell like cotton candy and potential, of a distinct lack of responsibility and SPF 70. 

She had sensitive skin. 

“Were you by yourself?” Asking questions she somehow already knew the answer to was equal parts cruel and unusual, particularly when asking it of a man whose name never got to back pages. Or her ears, it seemed. She swallowed whatever was sitting in the back of her mouth. 

“Brum was there,” he said, but it sounded like an excuse. A practiced line that had started to reek of insincerity. “My—well, my parents had been gone for a while. Same old sob story you always hear, y’know? Kid loses everything, finds salvation in the dogma of sports, gets pretty good at it, and then—” “—Loses it all again?” Nina finished. She thought she did. Whoever was talking didn’t sound like Nina. Sounded like someone who had painstakingly refolded her paper airplane the night before. To keep on the nightstand next to her bed. 

“Some of it, yeah. They wanted me to stick around. Stay on staff. Coach. But that was—” He clicked his tongue. Distant eyes stared past that goddamn M&Ms ad, and Nina didn’t think. Wasn’t that how the best athletes were, though? All instinct and lightning-fast reaction times. Responding to a situation before the rest of us mere mortals could even begin to fathom the circumstance. 

He didn’t push her hand off his. 

The coffee was going to go cold. 

“Very maudlin way of approaching things.” She chuckled. Tried not to cry, for entirely new reasons. “Impressive vocabulary for a jock.” “Keep workshop'ing your insults, Ms. Met.”

“Brum, he just got hired by the Phillies, right?” She knew that answer too. “Is this the first game you’ve been to?” His eyes slid to hers. In that same slow motion as before, and that couldn’t possibly have been less than seventy-two hours ago, but life had a tendency to be weird like that and good like that and, well, you can’t predict baseball, Suzyn.  

“Why the Mets?” It wasn’t the question she expected. Felt far too big and more than a little terrifying, jumping into the deep end of the pool from the highest diving board. But that same pool was always crystal clear, the sort of blue they wrote songs about. Summertime and the living was easy. That sort of thing. 

“Because there’s something wonderful in a team that defies every bit of sports conjecture. That breathes in the chaos and spits out something that, every now and then, is absolutely beautiful. That lets me be bigger than myself for nine innings and a minimum of one-hundred and sixty-two games. That takes all my shortcomings and accepts them because one time this team claimed there was a raccoon fighting with a rat in the dugout tunnel. Because they don’t play The Imperial March during lineup announcements.” Something, something—she needed better sunscreen. 

So as to not get burned by the force of his sun-like smile. 

“I think a raccoon could probably take a rat, don’t you think?” “I don’t know,” Nina wavered, “I own a fair amount of Staten Island Pizza Rat merch.” His hand flipped. Fingers curled around hers and held on with an ease that settled her acid and cooled her blood, finally finding that middle ground between frigid and fission. 

“Explain the single seating.” “I had a friend here on Thursday.” “And he had to go back to work. Where does he work?” “Bar in Jersey.” Curiosity flashed in the blue, but then it was gone and Nina must have imagined it, looking for more common ground and mutual understanding. Her fingers looked minuscule between his. 

“If I told you that I know the new owner of the Mets,” Nina started, “because I went to college with his girlfriend, and he’s been listening to me talk about this team for the better part of a decade now, so he decided to spend some of his inherited millions to buy it, and now that same girlfriend is sitting up there perpetually confused why I like to be out here, do you think you’d hate me on principle?” One blink. Two. Head tilt. Jaw clench. His lips popped when they opened. 

“No.” “No?” “No,” he echoed, “Nikolai Lantsov shouldn’t have spent so much money on your shortstop’s contract.” “Wasn’t an error.” Both shoulders lifted.

“Nina Zenik,” she said, a tardy greeting that should have happened well before the hand holding. The hand holding continued. 

“Matthias Helvar.” “Did you bring a pen?” He pulled another one out of his jacket pocket. 

They disagreed on no less than half a dozen calls. Impressive, since they didn’t actually start paying attention to their separate score sheets and books until early in the third inning after Nina had barely cleared the cheese sauce off the corner of her page. 

Introducing themselves made it feel as if they’d crested another level in whatever the proper term for this not-quite relationship was. 

Jabs weren’t nearly as sharp, but elbows brushed and noses scrunched. Makeshift disdain blurred against subtle infatuation, sunshine in his hair and pressing against the barrier of Nina’s consistently reapplied sunscreen. They talked. Laughed. Shouted and screamed, standing at different times. Much to the chagrin of everyone around them. 

She didn’t bother asking about the Chase Utley jersey. Knew that it was as much a part of Matthias’s fandom as the Piazza jersey was to hers. Connecting him to something that was only partially his, because no matter how much this sport might be capable of sweeping over them, of bringing them along with the current, there was a riptide always threatening just below the surface. Capable of drowning and filling lungs, leaving them both taking on water and hastily constructed metaphors. 

Plus, they both hated the Yankees. So, they talked about that. 

Talked about places in the city they liked to go, Nina’s knowledge of hole-in-the-wall restaurants leaving his eyes as wide as she’d hoped they could be, tiny pools she was more than willing to dive into. With perfect form. 

Laughter became the new normal for the pair of them, chancing glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. They always were. As if those magnets were real and forceful, leaving them both grinning like idiots whenever they were caught in the act. 

Once an inning, then. 

Matthias didn’t sing during the seventh-inning stretch, but Nina was loud enough for the pair of them. Especially when she was standing on her seat, a hand flat on the small of her back. 

“So you don’t fall,” Matthias explained, and the words immediately branded themselves on that corner of her brain where Nina kept good things. 

They shared a plastic helmet of swirl ice cream. With rainbow sprinkles. 

He called them jimmies. 

She made fun of him. 

And then—

It was over. 

No drama. No walk-off hits. No extra innings. Just a Mets win that didn’t require the bottom of the ninth. And she was happy with that, she was. Less so with the way her stomach dropped as soon as her knees bent and her chin lifted, barely tempered hope and the sort of want that did not require magnets to direct her gaze. 

Matthias loomed above her, casting shadows and the desire to finally push her fingers into his hair was nearly too much to ignore. Nina did. In favor of what came next because she knew what came next, and this was not that serious. Sitting on opposing lines of a flimsy at best baseball rivalry did not mean she couldn’t push up on her toes and catch the mouth of someone who no longer felt like a stranger. Until that same mouth inevitably opened and she got to do whatever she wanted with her tongue. 

Only—

One of the season tickets started grumbling, and the sea of fans pushed forward and the only way Nina stayed upright was because of the arm around her waist. Matthias’s nose ticked her skin along the back of her neck. 

“Told ya,” he mumbled, and if he saw the goosebumps, he didn’t mention them. 

That was nice. 

He was nice. 

She was—

A mess, at best. 

Mostly because there was no kissing. Almost like they were nervous of what would happen if they did. Of shattering this tremulous understanding and shaky alliance, but Matthias’s fingers squeezed Nina’s hip before he said, “See you tomorrow.”

She did not see him tomorrow. 

When tomorrow was tonight and now and Zoya and Genya kept doing circles around the room. 

Sunday Night Baseball on ESPN required a certain amount of protocol and it was the first broadcast with Nikolai in the owner’s box, which meant plenty of shots at the owner’s box, and Nina sat in her very plush, decidedly warm seat, with only minimal argument. 

There was champagne, so. That helped. 

Plus, she figured she’d— “Is it a guy?” Genya asked without preamble, propping her chin on her hand. “Is that why you don’t want to hang out?” Nina sighed. “You know me better than that.” “Sure, sure, sure, looked real cozy down there, though.” “Are you spying on me?” “Nah, Zoya was.” Frustration clawed at Nina’s consciousness. Surprise did not. This was par for the course and several other out-of-place sports cliches. 

Zoya finished her drink before adding, “I didn’t leave this suite all afternoon, yesterday, the security guards that Nikolai knows in that section though…” “That’s splitting hairs,” Nina argued. “And they were just doing their job,” Nikolai added, shouting in a way a multi-millionaire absolutely should not. Zoya rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever they were doing,” Nina said, “they didn’t need to be doing it. What if someone got robbed while they were watching me?” “You think people are getting robbed in broad daylight inside this stadium?” “Maybe!” “Were lots of Phillies fans here,” Genya pointed out. Laughter clung to her words, quiet snickers from the rest of the assorted peanut gallery. Before they noticed that Nina wasn’t lacking. Might have paled, if the matching expressions she was met with were any indication. “Oh,” Genya exhaled, “good looking Phillies fan, huh?” Nina grit her teeth. “He knows Brum.” “The bastard,” Nikolai sneered. 

“Most people don’t like him.” “Because he’s a bastard, yeah.” “How’d the Phillies fan know Brum?” Zoya asked, and it wasn’t like Nina wanted to tell them. Words poured out of her all the same, excitement carving its way into the conversation because even if she could rationalize the lack of kissing after a three-day conversation and occasional argument, none of her friends could understand how she didn’t get his number. 

Neither could she, quite frankly. 

“This is either disgustingly romantic,” Nikolai said, “or it’s exceedingly dumb. Of both of you.” Genya clicked her tongue. In agreement, Nina figured. “Second one, for sure. Do we have to go arrest him for something? Bring him up here, nervous and scared—” “Same sentiment,” Nina mumbled. “—Only for him to see you, awash in a sea of moonlight and outfield lights, and then you live happily ever after despite your baseball allegiances?” “He hates the Yankees too.” “Something, at least,” Zoya said, but it was missing the edge. The acid. The anger Nina had almost prepared herself for. “You going to go down there, or….”

Finishing the sentence was pointless when Nina was already standing, Nikolai’s laugh ringing in her ears as she did her best to push her finger straight through the elevator button. She bobbed on the balls of her feet, impatience skittering up her spine and there were too many buttons and too much laughter, but that was likely a good thing, and the security guards didn’t stop her. 

From running into the section. 

Only to find two sets of empty seats. His and hers. A weird, depressing, matching set. 

Nina waited. Stood at the top of the section stairs, waiting for a flash of familiar hair or those eyes that she probably hadn’t dreamed about the night before. Never came. The goosebumps did, for an entirely new and even more depressing reason. 

The security guard asked her to leave. Twenty-eight minutes after the last out. 

Matthias hadn’t been at the game. 

To be a Mets fan, was to wait. 

For wins. For David Wright’s body to heal. For that same rush that came in 2015, only this time, it also came up with a World Series championship attached to it. 

Nina wasn’t very good at waiting. 

Summer crept forward. As it was apt to do. Going back to the ballpark was second nature to Nina, but the Mets were on their West Coast swing, and spending a week and a half with Zoya and Genya touring the greater California coast wasn’t entirely appealing. So, she was in New Jersey. 

Leaning against the bar of the Crow Club, Nina watched the crowd. Most of them saturated with fruity alcohol, drinks that never came with those little umbrellas because the thought of such a thing would have set Kaz’s teeth on edge, but this was Atlantic City and that required a certain level of nonsense to be met consistently. 

Plus, Nina knew Inej liked those drinks. 

And that was that, for Kaz. As they say. 

Heads turned at tables while she watched, conversations that only occasionally acknowledged the baseball games on TVs hanging above them, others recounting beach exploits from that afternoon and plans for the rest of the evening, a steady din of noise and humanity that somehow made it easier for Nina to breathe. 

It smelled like salt when she did. 

“Looking awfully thoughtful,” Inej said, appearing out of nowhere to grin knowingly at Nina. “Give you a nickel for them.” “They’re not worth that much.” “What about one of those tokens from the casino down the boardwalk?” “Does Kaz know Jesper went to play there again?” “Absolutely.” “And?” “And what?” Inej parroted. “Who are you looking for, exactly?” “No one.” It was the wrong answer. A telling answer. An answer Nina didn’t realize she was capable of providing until the very moment those five letters in that specific order passed between lips in desperate need of ChapStick. And kissing. Gods, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t kissed him. 

“Our dear, darling Nina is pining,” Jesper explained. Drink in hand, the soft clink of casino tokens was as absurd as it was not, a mix of youth and age and responsibility and not. The perfect blend of summertime status. 

Nina took a sip of his drink before he could offer. She assumed he would offer. 

“For that,” Jesper hissed, “I’ll tell Inej the rest of the story.” He did. Spared no expense, really. Recounted scorebooks and shouting matches, although some dramatic license was taken at that point, drawing a small crowd that included a guy Nina had never met before, staring openly at Jesper like he’d hung the moon. She’d make fun of him for that. Maybe. After the story. Probably. 

Inej was a rapt audience, taking in details and occasionally letting her eyes flit toward Nina. Who never once disputed anything. There was nothing to dispute. The goddamn paper airplane was still sitting on her goddamn nightstand. 

“And you just never saw him again?” Inej asked. Nina shook her head. “That’s tragic. Not—maybe not grand scheme, world level, but tragic all the same.” “No kissing either,” Jesper added. 

Nina’s heart dropped. Shattered at her feet. Like one of those plates, you could shoot at in the arcade. “How do you know that?” “I didn’t, until right now. Simple assumption, though. Who could pine at your level if there’d been previous making out?” “Two different things,” Inej murmured. 

Jesper hummed in agreement. “And Nina wanted both. Fraternizing with the enemy.” “He hated the Yankees, too.” “So, what? The enemy of my enemy is my friend? My good-looking friend?” “He was good-looking, right?” That earned her another hum — and got Jesper a look of passing consternation from the guy at his side. Nina desperately needed to learn names in a more timely fashion. Determined to remedy at least one situation, she took a deep breath and immediately, very nearly died. 

It was very dramatic. 

Sweeping, even. 

Because the door opened and she knew the music didn’t stop and the Earth didn’t pause mid-rotation, but it felt like her center of balance had been inextricably altered and that wasn’t the bad thing it should have been when Matthias Helvar took his first step into the Crow Club. 

Not falling over really was a rather monumental miracle. 

If she decided to move, Nina did not remember it. Could not bother with something as menial as cognitive reasoning or the ability of the neurons in her brain to properly fire, not when she was twisting around tables and reminding herself of all the very important properties oxygen possessed. In regard to continued consciousness. 

He didn’t move. He waited. Watched. Documented her, it felt like. 

She wasn’t entirely opposed. 

Their shoes nearly brushed. 

“Huh,” Matthias breathed, slumping slightly to get into her eye line. Or just closer to her. The specifics didn’t matter. “I was right, then.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “You said your friend worked at a bar in Jersey.” “This is a bar in Jersey.” “Yeah, we might be going in circles, actually.” “What are you doing here?” Nina was dimly aware of Jesper shouting something, but the buzz between her ears was far too loud and even the concept of pulling her gaze away from Matthias’s made her want to grit her teeth together until she ground them down completely. 

She licked her lips. 

He smiled. “After I got hurt,” Matthias explained, “I didn’t know what way was up. So, I went...up. Best as I could, really, up the Shore.” “Is that a joke?” “No, I thought your friend looked familiar. Was driving me nuts, honestly.” “How?” “Twenty questions, Ms. Met.” “Matthias!”

Her voice cracked. Her foot stomped. Air crackled and the world very likely did shift because the hands on Nina’s cheeks were warm and perfectly sized to pull her that much closer and she was legitimately proud of herself. For not stepping on his feet. He didn’t really give her the chance. 

Rocking against each other, there was a joke about tides and current to be made and Nina pushed them back, down or up, and direction didn’t matter and time didn’t matter. Sports allegiance was the least of her worries. Not when Matthias’s arm found her waist and there was something to be said for the stretch of his upper body. Capable, as it was, of lifting her up and he was ten-thousand times better at any tongue thing than she could have possibly imagined. 

Tracing her lips and twisting around her own, like he was taking a very personal and detailed inventory. One of his thumbs brushed against Nina’s cheeks, but she honestly couldn’t figure out which one. Everything was sensation and feeling, a bases-clearing double that kept the rally alive and the roar in the background wasn’t the crowd at Citi Field, but Inej perched on the edge of the bar and Jesper balanced on the rungs of a rickety stool, and they only broke apart to fall back together. 

Nina closed her eyes. 

Better to remember, that way. 

To let her breath catch whenever Matthias’s neck dipped again, the sort of angle that sonnets were written for, and epic romances documented. Right side up and cross dimensions and Nina’s eyelashes fluttered. Open, closed. Once, twice. 

He was still there. 

“You go down the Shore, everybody knows that,” Nina whispered, still somehow sounding like herself. Good, that was good. And only good, that time. 

“I think you’re getting paid by the disagreement.” “I liked shouting your name.” His eyes—

Sparkled, maybe. 

She didn’t even hate herself for thinking that. 

“Probably about as much as I enjoyed hearing it,” Matthias said, “and I’ve been here before. Spent that summer drinking at,” his head jerked toward the corner where Inej waved, “that corner. This was as far away from school and baseball and everything I thought was gone as I could find.” “Ah, the scorebook makes sense now.” “Does it just?” “You know baseball isn’t often predictable nor nearly that organized. That’s the appeal, so people claim.” “They do,” Matthias admitted, “but I—is that demon-looking guy still working here?” “Kaz owns this bar.” “Of course he does. You know everyone, don’t you Ms. Met?” “Impressive like that.” Humming wasn’t really her favorite of the audible, non-word responses, but Nina heard something different in that sound than she ever had before. Almost like hope and something worth waiting for, if only because the waiting found her first. 

She kissed the bottom of his chin. 

It was all she could reach. 

“I really wanted you to be here, Nina,” Matthias said, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t there Sunday. For that game, I—that wasn’t part of the plan, but...well, Brum had set up this whole interview with a college team in the middle of nowhere, thinking I’d be good with that and—” “You weren’t good with that?” His hair shook when his head did. “Not really, no.” “Did he kick you out of your hotel?”

“Smart too.” “Total package.” “Yeah,” Matthias said, a note of awe that made Nina’s skin prickle, “anyway, I’m pretty much in New York full-time now, but trying to find you there seemed impossible.” “So you figured you’d try a bar in the middle of Atlantic City?” “I leave a very strong impression,” Jesper yelled, practically jumping off the stool when Kaz glared. Inej’s smile was hypnotic. 

“Something like that,” Matthias agreed, “so this is the part where we actually give each other our phone numbers and then—” His arm tightened again, finding a bit of space that certainly hadn’t been there twelve seconds before. Just enough to make sure Nina heard him mumble I like you before he kissed her. Or she kissed him. 

Either or, really. 

They went to Yankee Stadium on Labor Day weekend. 

Nikolai pulled some strings to get them suite seats with complimentary well drinks and never-ending popcorn and both Matthias and Nina wore wholly out of place jerseys. Supporting neither of the teams on the field. Just each other, maybe. At least without much argument. They had better things to do, anyway. Fingers laced together, Nina shouted at the field and Matthias stared at anyone who dared glance in their direction and it was weird and wonderful and exactly what sports was supposed to be. 

Caring about something beyond reason, something bigger and better than any one person was alone. 

[writethelifeyouwant]

Dive Bar Ch 9/?

Pairing: Dean x Sam (finally) 

Rating: 18+

Prompt/Summary: After a one night stand with a random college chick turns into a threesome that also featured his little brother, Dean- well, frankly, he panics. What’s even worse than gay panicking? Gay incest panicking. Luckily, Sam winds up being a little more cool about the whole thing than Dean ever would have imagined.

WC: 3,152

Tags: brother/brother incest, gay panic, angst, blow job, finger sucking, dirty talk, cum swallowing 

Created for: @spnkinkbingo​ | Square - Finger Sucking 

Beta: @daydream3r-xo​ 😘

Divider: @firefly-graphics ❤️

Fic Masterlist

Chapter 8 

Chase said he didn’t mind, that it didn’t matter that Sam had said an ex boyfriend’s name. They both knew this was a one time thing, no big deal. But Sam was spiralling. Chase didn’t know that ‘Dean’ was his brother. He had to get home, back to the motel, just out of here. He couldn’t take Chase looking at him all understandingly, with a little pity mixed in, like he was a lost puppy or something. He wasn’t.

Sam got his bearings and started the walk back to the motel. It was a couple of miles but not that far, and the desert night hadn’t turned too cold yet. He welcomed the long walk. He had needed to get out of Chase’s apartment but he wasn’t exactly rushing to get back to his motel room. That he shared with his brother. Whose name he had just moaned when he came inside another guy.

Sam couldn’t fathom how this had happened, how he’d let it get this far. Sure, he’d had a crush on Dean as a kid (honestly it was the one thing he ever had in common with everyone at the schools he crashed in and out of every few months), but he’d pushed past that. When he left for Stanford, he turned over a new leaf, and messed around, and then found Jess and he was better. He had fixed this. He thought he had fixed this.

Sure, Dean would still creep into his dreams every now and then, hanging on the edges like some voyeur watching his thoughts, but Sam hadn’t actually had a sex dream about him since he was a teenager. Well, until the fucking threesome. What the hell made him think that would be a good idea?

Sure, Sam, go ahead. Have a threesome with your biggest childhood crush, that’ll be fine. Hey, now you’re here you may as well suck him off, that won’t make things worse at all. What a fucking idiot he had been.

Dean was everywhere now. In his life, in his thoughts, in his dreams, there was no escaping him. And then a month ago, when Dean had said he was thinking about doing it again? Sam had had to work very hard to cover his erection with his beer and some tactical leaning forward on his knees. And when Dean had said he was thinking about guys in that way … except it didn’t sound like he was thinking about 'guys’ exactly, it had sounded like he was thinking about Sam .

Sam didn’t know what had come over him but before he could stop the words from tumbling out he was offering ‘hey, if you ever need a hand figuring it out...’ Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had absolutely fucked it up, then. Dean had been acting weird ever since that night. Not obviously weird but noticeably like he was holding parts of himself back around Sam, like he wasn’t fully comfortable anymore. And Sam was just waiting for the next screw up to happen and drive Dean away from him for good.

Thank god he hadn’t taken Chase back to their motel room. If Dean had come back early and heard that, heard him…

Sam shuddered and hunched himself tighter inside his jacket, tempted to pull up his hood and run away into the night and never have to face Dean ever again. But he knew he could never do that. No matter how fucked up it was, Dean would have to tell him to get lost himself, nothing less would keep Sam away from him.

Up ahead, the broken neon of the motel sign glinted in and out of sight as cars passed him, rushing off to better places and normal lives. Sam wondered if Dean would be back yet, checking his watch. Yeah, most likely. Not too many bars stayed open this late. That means unless he’d found someone to go home with after all, Dean would be inside waiting for him.

Dean yawned and stretched, scratching his stomach where a bit of dried cum had clung to his happy trail. He should just go to sleep but he didn’t want to dream what he knew he’d dream about. If he passed out though, at least he probably wouldn’t remember the dreams in the morning. He’d flicked on the grainy tv and found some bad porn where the girls were all fake boobs and fake orgasms. Not his kind of thing, but honestly more entertaining than the soap opera reruns the other channels were showing.

A crunch of gravel outside caught his attention and he sat up in bed, taking another swig of Jack. The handle of the door twisted softly and Dean reached for the gun he’d slid under his pillow. As much as common sense told him it would be Sam coming back to the room, he was very much not expecting Sam home tonight. But a moment later Sam crept through the door, trying to be quiet, assuming Dean would be asleep by now.

“And what time do you call this?” Dean smirked from the bed, taking another drink.

“Gah!” Sam shouted, drawing his gun and aiming at Dean.

“Woah, easy tiger,” Dean held up his hands in peace, “s’jus me.”

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face to compose himself. “Why are you still up?”

“Why are you already back?” Dean countered.

“Didn’t want to stay over,” Sam shrugged, shuffling to his bed and discarding his gun and jacket.

“Was he that bad?” Dean cringed.

“No,” Sam grimaced.

“Were you that bad?”

“Wh - no! I was not bad,” Sam shot back.

“Someone’s a little touchy,” Dean teased.

“Am not!”

“Definitely touchy,” Dean confirmed, more to himself than to Sam.

“Shut up dude,” Sam grunted, pulling off his shirts and throwing them into the dirty laundry bag he had inside his duffel. Dean stared at Sam’s bare back. Why not, right? Sam couldn’t see him doing it. His eyes traced the muscle definition, noticed the slight glisten of sweat that had no doubt arisen from Sam’s walk home, noticed a dark halo at the top of Sam’s shoulder that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen Sam shirtless.

“What the fuck is that?” Dean staggered off his bed and over to Sam to poke at his shoulder.

“Huh?” Sam looked down to where Dean’s fingers were prodding the bruised ring of a bite mark on his skin. “Nothing, just uh- he got a bit excited.” Sam blushed.

Sam’s skin seared when Dean’s fingers landed on the bite mark Chase had left behind when he came. The touch had startled him but he didn’t flinch away, and now Dean was still standing there, just running his fingers over and over and over the mark.

“Whatever, man,” Sam shrugged his brother off and bent to grab a clean t-shirt out of his duffle bag but Dean’s hand on his chest stopped him. “Dean?” Dean didn’t answer, just kept Sam still and straight while he continued to trace the bruise with his eyes. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean didn’t answer, he just stood there. Sam saw his tongue dart out and wet his bottom lip, followed by his teeth digging in, something he always did when he was thinking. Dean’s eyes were dark and clouded. He’d clearly been drinking the whole time Sam was gone, but there was a latent concentration behind the haze that had descended over them.

“What’s on your mind, man?” Sam turned out of Dean’s grip to face him.

“You know,” Dean sat down on Sam’s bed, bringing his head level with Sam’s waist. “A guy at the bar told me that I had, and I quote, ‘the best damn blowjob lips’ he’d ever seen,” Dean smirked lazily. If Sam had been drinking anything he would have spit it across the room.

“What?”

“What do you think?” Dean looked up at Sam, a new sort of determination in his eyes.

“What do I think about what?” Sam stuttered.

“Well, you’ve been around. You’ve been with guys. You get blowjobs, you give blowjobs too. You think I have good blowjob lips?”

Sam was flabbergasted. If his walk hadn’t done the job of sobering him up, this conversation definitely would have. He felt his throat closing up. He couldn’t tell Dean what he thought about his lips. He couldn’t tell Dean that he used to fantasise about his lips so much he would spit in his hand and pretend it was Dean’s mouth wrapped around his cock instead. “Wh - I … um.”

“You have good blowjob lips,” Dean stated matter of factly. “I remember, they were really good.”

“Um, thanks –” Sam’s voice came out much higher than he’d wanted, “– I guess.”

“Real pretty lips,” Dean mumbled, staring at Sam’s lips, then dragging his eyes down. Down Sam’s chest, and lightly defined abs, and the white strip of cotton peeking out of the waist of his jeans, to the button that all of the sudden Dean’s fingers were on.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam knew he should push his brother off himself but he was frozen in place, watching Dean’s fingers flicking the brass button through its buttonhole.

“Taking you up on your offer,” Dean grunted, tugging Sam’s jeans down his legs.

“What the he-”

“You said if I ever needed a hand figuring it out…” Dean dropped to his knees. “Well, I’m trying to figure it out, figure this out.” Dean gestured to the bulge in front of his face where Sam’s cock had started to chub up in his underwear. “Just, just let me?”

Dean looked up at Sam from his knees, his hands in the waist of Sam’s briefs. Sam looked down at him stoically, mouth gaping as he tried to calm his breathing. He nodded, and Dean nodded back, and gulped down his nerves. He tucked his fingers into the elastic and pulled the briefs down too, revealing Sam’s semi-erect cock.

Dean’s eyes lit up. Yeah he’d seen it before but never this close. He brought his hands up hesitantly, planting one on Sam’s thigh to steady himself, and bringing the other to brush against the head of his dick, which was still hanging down between his legs not standing tall yet. Sam hissed when Dean’s fingers brushed against him, and Dean darted his eyes back up to his brother’s face.

His eyes were crushed closed, lips parted and glistening in the low light of the lamp between their beds. Dean caressed his fingers along Sam’s length and watched his face contort, wrinkle and pinch. He wrapped his hand around the whole and squeezed lightly, drawing a gasp from Sam. The cock in his hand was nearly fully hard now, and Dean spotted a small bead of moisture at the slit. Without thinking about it at all he stuck his tongue out and touched it to the tip. Dean could swear what he heard from Sam then might have actually been a whimper.

He looked back up at Sam, fascinated by his face as he touched him. This time, when he brought his tongue back to Sam’s cock, he kept his eyes on Sam’s face and watched the pleasure rinse across it. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing but he had a dick, he knew what he liked people to do to it, he figured it couldn’t be that hard, right?

Dean licked his lips and kissed the tip of Sam’s cock, then kissed it harder, used his tongue, heard Sam moan. He uncurled his fingers and held Sam in his palm as he kissed down his shaft to the base and down, kissing across his balls. Sam moaned again. Right, Dean thought, time to actually do this. He licked a long strip up the vein that was pulsing obviously in Sam’s length and pulled the head into his mouth, giving an experimental suck.

“Aah,” Sam groaned, his hand landing on the top of Dean’s head and combing through his hair. Dean began to bob his head up and down a little, testing how it felt in his mouth. He found he really liked the feel of the skin against his tongue. There wasn’t something he could pinpoint it feeling like, but it was soft, smooth even though he could also feel the veins running close under the skin when he dragged his tongue along their lines.

Dean felt Sam’s hand travel to the back of his head, where it pushed forward slightly, encouraging him down further. He let Sam guide him, remembering at the last second to pull his lips over his teeth on the way down. Sam’s groan rattled through his body, and Dean smiled around the cock in his mouth, loving that he’d pulled that sound from his baby brother.

“So good,” Sam sighed under his breath. Dean’s eyes flicked back to Sam’s face as he sucked harder and pulled off.

“Is this okay?” Dean asked, pumping his fist around Sam teasingly.

“Yeah. God , yeah,” Sam moaned as Dean twisted his thumb over the tip. Sam’s hand slid around to Dean’s face and rested on his cheek, thumb stroking over his lips. “That guy was right,” Sam huffed, “you’ve got great blowjob lips.”

Dean smiled and darted his tongue out to wet his lips again, catching Sam’s thumb as he did. Sam made a little hum at the contact, so Dean did it again. He brought Sam’s thumb in his mouth and twirled his tongue around it, pulling a grunt from him. Dean’s eyes lit up.

“So, your cock isn’t the only thing you like me sucking on, then.”

“How about you shut up and keep sucking, hm?” Sam’s eyes were hard and burning, and Dean wasn’t about to disobey him. Sam’s thumb hooked into Dean’s cheek and pulled him back to his cock, dragging him down its length until he couldn’t breathe, his moans growing deeper the further Dean took him. “Now keep your head moving,” Sam instructed, tugging back on Dean’s hair so he understood. The sharp pull sent a thrill down Dean’s spine and a little moan escaped him, resonating through Sam.

“Yeah, that, do that,” Sam gasped, and Dean moaned again as he drew off Sam’s cock and plunged back down. “Fuck, you look pretty with my cock in your mouth,” Dean groaned in approval, trying to communicate to Sam how much he was appreciating the commentary.

“Oh, you like that? Like me telling you how hot you look on your knees for me? Want me to tell you how much I’ve wanted you there since Dany asked you to touch me?”

Dean’s moan choked off into something higher and more desperate than he would ever admit to. He really, really liked Sam talking to him. Redoubling his efforts, he started to move more quickly, hollowing his cheeks and sucking harder every time he pulled back. He kept one hand on the base of Sam’s cock, holding it in place so he could move around it, but his other hand crept down into his own boxers. Sam’s noises had all gone straight to Dean’s cock, and he’d been painfully hard for too long, he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

When Dean pulled his cock out from under his waistband he groaned at the cool air hitting it, and in relief at finally being able to touch himself properly. Sam felt Dean slow and peeled his eyes open to check what had changed. He caught sight of Dean’s hand around his own cock and chuckled darkly.

“I don’t think so,” Sam shook his head and used his leg to bat Dean’s hand away from himself. “You can touch yourself after I cum.”

Dean whined and took his hand off his cock, bringing it up to Sam’s instead.

“Good boy,” Sam smirked.

Now motivated by the fact that he couldn’t get himself off until he finished Sam, Dean tried to take his brother's cock deeper than he had been, but had to pull back when he gagged.

“Woah,” Sam tugged Dean back and rubbed his neck while he caught his breath. “You don’t need to kill yourself, dude,” he chuckled and brought Dean’s lips back to his cock.  “Just focus on the tip, keep that real nice and wet,” Dean followed the instruction eagerly and closed his lips around the ruddy head of Sam’s shaft. “Mm, yeah,” Sam groaned appreciatively, “and use your hands at the base, fuck, yeah, like that.”

Dean did what Sam said, suckling at the head of his cock enthusiastically, spit leaking from his lips, which he used to ease the glide of his hand along the shaft. He built his pace up, quicker and quicker, humming when he felt Sam start to tighten and heard his breath begin to catch.

“M’close, De, clos- shit !”

Dean felt Sam’s balls draw up tight to his body and fuck , if that wasn’t so hot. He pulled his lips tight around Sam and laved his tongue over the slit and something salty and warm gushed out. Dean moaned at the taste, his mouth falling open. Sam’s cum painted his tongue, spurted against his lips, dripped down his chin. It was filthy, and Dean loved it.

“Fuck,” Sam groaned, looking down at his big brother. “Lips look even better with my cum on them.” He reached out and smeared it around Dean’s mouth, pushing it back between his lips for Dean to swallow down.

Dean sucked down every drop Sam gave him, pulling another finger into his mouth. He figured he was safe now, and brought his hand back to his dick, squeezing to relieve the pressure that was building. As he stroked messily at himself he sucked harder on Sam's fingers, swirling his tongue around them in lyrical patterns and trying to memorise every groove of his fingerprints.

“Guess my cock is the only thing you like sucking on,” Sam panted teasingly, parodying Dean’s own words back to him. He dropped to his knees next to Dean and began to nuzzle against his brother’s neck, nipping and licking as he went.

Dean was past caring how desperate he looked, he needed to cum so badly he felt himself almost whine around Sam’s fingers in his mouth. Sam started to pump his fingers in and out, fucking Dean’s mouth while he frantically jerked himself off.

“God you really like this don’t you?” Sam whispered against Dean’s ear reverently. “Such a little slut for me,” he bit at Dean’s ear and brought his hand to join Dean’s on his cock. Sam’s touch was the final stroke for Dean, and he crumpled against Sam, coming over their hands with a hoarse shout and Sam’s fingers pressing against his tongue. He whimpered as Sam withdrew his fingers but that was quickly stifled when Sam brought his other hand to Dean’s lips, hesitantly, but Dean didn’t need to think about it before he lapped at Sam’s hand, sucking his own come off his baby brother.

Sam stared at Dean, soberly, cautiously, but still with the burn of arousal in his eyes. Dean met his gaze, eyes glassy and unfocused, still coming down from his high. Sam’s finger pulled out of his mouth.

“So,” Sam cleared his throat, “did that help?”

Tags: @vulgar-library @jackandthesoulmates @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles @schaefchenherde @hawkerz12 @dylansbabygirl24 @mineshinamary @popsensationnicole23 @spn-problems @donthateme454 @doyouknowsamw @peridottea91 @delightfulbakeryaliendeputy @fictionallemons @natastic @Marvelfansworld @half-closeted-bi-girl @j-ai-adore-dean @kiss-my-peachy-arse @tftumblin @alice101macwil @disneysloot @caitlinvd @crashlyrose @miufel @itsthedoctah10 @leftlokiofpuppy @devilsbbyy @akshi8278 @deandreamernp@lyarr24 @lovealways-j @kickingitwithkirk @delightfullykrispypeach

[crowdedimagines]

Who Is That? (Harry Styles)

“Can I get two daiquiris and a shot of tequila, please?” I ask the bartender leaning over the bar. As I wait I turn to my left and see the man who walked into the restaurant only minutes ago, seemingly capturing everyone’s attention, including mine.

“Hi.” I greet, turning to look into his green eyes.

He gives me only a tight lipped smile before taking a sip of his own drink. Not even bothered to fully look in my direction.

“My friend sent me over here, and I normally don’t do this but-” Before I even get the chance to finish my sentence the man interrupts me. I had been on my way over to talk to him and introduce myself after I was highly encouraged by my friend at our table.

“We can take a picture, but please wait a while to post it and you can’t tag the restaurant. I’m about to have dinner with my family and I would prefer to keep this quiet.”

“What?” I ask, my brows furrowing. This is not at all where I thought it would go. Who does this guy think he is?

“A picture? That’s what you were coming over here for? C’mon, let’s do it then.” He states as if it’s obvious, looking at me as if I’m daft.

I let out a laugh and shake my head in disbelief.

“Do you know who I am?” He seems genuinely curious now, not quite as entitled as he was acting earlier. His brows express how shocked and confused he truly is. “You don’t need to pretend or anything, it’s fine. It happens all the time.”

“Am I supposed to? Do we know each other?”

“You honestly don’t know who I am?” He doesn’t bother to answer my questions as he scratches at his chin for a few seconds. He lets out a scoff as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I haven’t a clue who you are, and I’m not sure how much I care anymore. I was coming over because I thought you were handsome, but now I kinda think you’re an ass.”

Finally the bartender comes back with my drinks, I quickly throw back the shot.

“Cheers. I hope you have a lovely evening.” I mutter, not even trying to hide the sarcastic tone in my voice.

I set down the shot glass and take a daiquiri in each hand and start to walk back to my table. His hand gently catches me on my shoulder, forcing me to stop.

“I’m sorry, you’ve just caught me at the end of a rough day. It’s not very often I come across someone who doesn’t know who I am.”

“It’s fine.” I keep walking not caring to hear anymore from him and he lets go of me.

I don’t know what I expected. I never should have bothered to say anything. He could have remained that beautiful stranger, rather than the ass who opened his mouth.

“How’d it go?” Hannah gushes as I set down the drinks and sit down. Her cheeks must be burning for how wide her smile is.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask. It takes all of my willpower to not completely turn around and get one more look at him, to see if his eyes are still on me. The way she keeps staring behind me proves that I’m right.

“Well duh! You just talked to Harry Styles!” She can’t wipe the smile off her face, “And he’s totally still checking you out!”

“Yeah, who is that?”

“Do you remember hearing about One Direction before you left?” She asks, trying to jog my memory from years ago. My knowledge of pop culture from the past years is severely lacking.

“Kind of. A boy band, right?”

“Yes! He’s one of the boys, they’ve all gone solo. Harry’s done really well, he’s even been in movies. Unless you’re ancient, literally everyone knows who he is.”

“You sent me over to say hi to him knowing that he’s some big hot shot famous guy?” I laugh. Of course Hannah would think that's a lovely idea.

“What? What was the harm, if it went well that’s awesome. If not, you never have to see him again!”

Well, she has a point there.

For the past six years I’ve spent my time with Love Volunteers to teach Ghanaian youth creative arts. It was some of the best years ever, it felt amazing to give back and feel like I was making a difference. Eventually it had to come to an end, so that led me coming back home to Los Angeles. Ghana will always hold a special place in my heart, along with all of the people I met there.

I’m pulled back into whatever Hannah was saying when she throws her head back in a loud laugh, thankfully off the topic of Harry. I tried to ignore it when a few minutes ago he walked by with two other people. He did say that he had dinner with his family tonight.

The rest of the meal goes well. I get to catch up on everything that I’ve missed that didn’t come across well in the letters we exchanged or since the last time I visited. It’s nice to be back in the states and be able to live more freely. It was time for me to come home, I spent the past week with my family who were glad to have me home. Today I moved into my new apartment and back in my city. I start my new job in a few days, similarly I will still be working with kids. Teaching was always the plan for me to come home to, I just never knew I was going to be gone so long. I was able to skip my student teaching year and use my time spent in Ghana as a form of credits.

“Alright, will that be all for you tonight? Could I get you any desert?” Our waitress politely asks, smiling down at us. She reaches for the menu to run through a few of the different things they offer. Hannah and I already both agreed that we are too full at this point to add on.

“Just the bill please, that would be great.” Hannah smiles, “We need it split if that could be possible.”

“Actually that’s been taken care of.”

“What?” I question, brows furrowing.

“Yes, a man at the bar took care of it earlier. He said he owed you an apology.” The waitress smiles as if it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. Obviously she knows who he is. She wishes us a good night before walking away.

“Can you believe that?” I ask, walking side by side with Hannah to the door. We both sat for a minute, Hannah trying to figure out what it means that he paid for our meal.

“No! Can you believe that Harry Styles paid for our meal? He’s so kind.” She gushes.

“Yeah it would be if it wasn’t out of guilt.” I push open the door, we’re met with a warm breeze as the sun is setting. It casts a perfectly pink and orange haze over everything in its reach.

“Okay, so I’ll see you later? Are you absolutely sure that you don’t need a ride?”

“I’m positive! My apartment is in the complete opposite direction of yours. I’m calling an Uber right now!”

“Okay, fine! Call me later, text once you’re back home. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Hannah gets in her car and waves as she pulls away and I get my phone out of my bag. The Uber will pick me up in twenty minutes, so I wait patiently outside the restaurant. The restaurant was sort of on the outskirts of L.A. if you can even call it that. It doesn’t exactly surprise me that it’ll take a while to get someone out here.

The door bursts open and it grabs my attention with the sudden noise. It’s Harry and the two women he was with. I catch his eye while he hugs one of them, giving them each a kiss on the cheek, before wishing them a goodbye.

He takes a few steps closer to me, while he waits for the valet to bring him his car.

“You didn’t need to do that.” I pull my purse a little tighter over my shoulder.

“No, trust me, I did. My mother raised me better than that, I’m sorry I was being rude. I promise, I’m never like that.”

“Well, never say never.” I fight looking down at my phone to see how far away “Adam” is. This might be the longest twenty minutes of my life if it continues like this.

“Ouch.” He grins, it seems like either his meal or his company put him in a brand new mood.

“Sorry.” I smile over my shoulder, “My friend actually lives in the real world and she seems to think you’re really kind, so I’ll get off your case.”

“You don’t live in the real world?” He questions.

“I do now, but I didn’t for a while.” I laugh, “I’ve spent the past six years volunteering in Ghana. I really had no clue who you were. I wasn’t exactly staying up to date on the new music when I was over there. According to Hannah, you’re a pretty big deal.”

Harry lets out a wide grin, a blush gracing his cheeks. So he is humble. Okay, maybe Hannah was right, he’s alright.

“Some might say that, yes.” He looks down at his shoes, tapping one against the other.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.” I tease.

“I’m not shy, I’m just trying to figure out how I can change your image of me. I’m always going to be my first impression, right? Some ass at the bar with a grumpy attitude?”

“I think you’re doing fine. Thankfully, no one is made up of one moment. You’ve done more than enough to make up for it.” I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Your slate is clean.”

“Well thanks for that.” He laughs, “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah, just waiting for my ride.” I check my phone to see that Adam has canceled the ride for some reason. I’m sure he’s just realized how far it is to get here and then turn right around to go back into the city to my apartment building, “Which was just canceled, lovely.”

I try to find another Uber, but there is no one close by. I spend a minute refreshing, waiting for anyone to accept my request.

“I could give you a lift if you needed.”

“What?” I ask, shocked.

As if on cue, the valet pulls up with his car. They give him his keys and thank him, I look between him and the car with doubt. This man is a total stranger to me.

“I mean, it’s getting late. Your options aren’t going to get much better as it gets later.” Harry explains. He could be right, even by now the sky is starting to take on a dark blue.

“How do I know that you’re not trying to kidnap or kill me?” I ask, “I don’t know you at all.”

“Look me up then, google me.” He shrugs, his smile never wavering.

“Google doesn’t know if you’re secretly a creep.” I roll my eyes.

“Fine, then you drive.”

“You’re going to let me drive your 1972 Ferrari Dino?” I ask skeptically.

“You know cars?” His smile widens.

“Better than boy bands.” I tease, I bite back a smirk.

He throws his head back in a loud laugh. It makes me smile just seeing him laugh. It’s refreshing to see someone so happy and easy to laugh at my sassy remark.

“Fair enough.” He throws his keys up for me to catch.

“Are you sure? I haven’t driven a car in six years.” I laugh. I drove atvs when I was over there, but never actually a car.

“Well what’s life if it’s not a risk.”

“What if I’m a crazy person?”

“I’m trusting you. Same way you’re trusting me.”

“You might actually be crazy.” I scoff, looking at the keys in my hands.

“Maybe.” He grins, his eyes go wide for a second.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He’s already seated in the passenger spot. I roll my eyes and walk around to the other side of the car to get in.

“You might be the most mad person I’ve ever met.” I pull my sunglasses out of my bag and put them on my head to keep my hair out of my face. Since I started the car, Harry’s taken the top off the car.

“Maybe. Or maybe the most sane.” He flashes me a grin, “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Are you sure about this?” I tease, revving the engine a few times.

“No one’s stopping you, love. The brake is the one of the left.” He leans back without a care in the world, even throwing in his own banter.

I didn’t realize how much I missed driving until this exact moment. Or maybe it’s because I’ve never driven like this. A one of a kind sports car with the top down. A famous rockstar picking the music as we drive down the 101 in towards the city. The feeling of being free, and in complete control. The music is loud, my hair flying back behind me, wild and untamed.

“So, what are you doing now that you’re back? I assume you’re staying here for a while then if you have an apartment?”

We finally start talking again once we’re downtown, it’s easier to hear each other without the wind from the freeway.

“I am.” I look over my shoulder to switch lanes, “I actually have a job as a teacher that I start pretty soon.”

“Well that’s lovely, what grade?”

“Sixth.” I smile. “Yeah, I’m really excited. When I was in Ghana I was teaching youth creative arts. I was only supposed to go for nine months, a year max, but I really loved it there.”

I glance over at him, to see if he’s listening, or if he even cares.

“Have you ever just had that feeling like you were exactly where you needed to be? Just a place that felt exactly like home?”

“Yeah, once or twice.” He admits, “If that’s how you felt, why leave?”

“Because I couldn’t stay forever. My life is here. I’ve had that feeling twice in my whole life. Once was there, and the other was here. I don’t know what it is, but it makes me happy being here.”

“I know the feeling.” He smiles.

Shortly after that we make it to my apartment building, I pull into a spot in the front. My doorman gives us a nod making us laugh.

“Thank you for getting me home, and letting me drive. I think this might be my new favorite car.” I run my hand along the dash with appreciation.

“I think I’m going to miss her.” I tease with a pout.

“She’s always the best until you’re on a grocery trip.” He jokes.

“Well thank you Harry.” I take off my seatbelt and walk around to the sidewalk. I wave over my shoulder seeing him get out as I walk up the steps.

“Maybe I could get your number.” He pauses to clear his throat, “You know, so you can see the car again.”

“Just to see the car?” I grin.

“Well, I’ll be there too.” He

“I think we could make that happen.”

He reaches his phone out toward me to fill out a contact.

“Y/n.” He grins reading it off his phone.

“That’s me.” I simper.

“I’ll be calling you, Y/n.” Harry smirks and takes a few backwards steps towards his car.

“I’m counting on it, Harry.”

plz let me know what y’all think! xoxo

PART TWO

[ragingbookdragon]

The Accidental Wife PT. 2

A Bruce Wayne x Reader AU!

Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst Author’s Note: I’m glad to say that my writing has progressed since then! Enjoy! -Thorne

Set Two Months After Part 1

The sound of the chiming door told her more customers had entered; she didn’t look over her shoulder as she picked up dishes. “To whoever just walked in, if you’re a single, sit at the bar…If you’re a group, take a seat at the booth in the corner and I’ll be with you in just a second!”

           “Take your time Ma…we aren’t going anywhere.” (Y/N) glanced over her shoulder, her expression of confusion turning into joy.

           “Boys!” Jason and Tim smiled and waved as they sat in the booth; after putting away the dishes, (Y/N) walked over to them. She leaned down and kissed their heads. “What are you two doing here?”

           “You said you were working another shift tonight, so we decided to come see you.” She smiled at Tim and pulled out her notepad.

           “Well I thank you for it.” She clicked her pen. “So, what can I get you?” They snorted and gave her their orders, watching as she moved to the window. She returned a few minutes later with their food and leaned against the table opposite of them. “How’d midterms go Jay?” He paused mid-bite and move his eyes to her.

           “What?” (Y/N) chuckled.

           “Midterms Jay. How’d you do?” He swallowed and scratched his head.

           “…Uh…” Her eyes widened and she spoke worriedly.

           “You didn’t fail, did you?” Jason’s expression turned smug and he smirked at her.

           “Of course, I didn’t fail Ma.” (Y/N) gripped the towel at her waist and swung it at him; he laughed as he blocked it.

           “You!” She gripped the towel in her hand and pointed at him. “You had me going there for a second!” Tim and Jason started laughing, and she joined them; after a few seconds, she nodded at Jason. “So, how’d you really do on them?”

           “Made a ninety-seven on my history exam and a ninety-one on my business exam.” (Y/N) clapped her hands together and reached out, pulling him in for a hug.

           “I knew you could do it!” Jason snorted.

           “Ma, its just midterms. We haven’t reached finals yet.” She shook her head.

           “Doesn’t matter baby. Midterms matter just as much as finals do. If you aced these, you’ll ace the finals!” She pulled away and looked at him. “I’m proud of you Jason.” An embarrassed smile worked onto his face.

           “Ma…you’re embarrassing me.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair.

           “Deal with it Jay.” She paused and glanced at Tim. “How’d your day go Timmy? Anything big?” Tim nodded.

           “Mr. Wayne is going to extend deals to Metropolis, and he asked me to go over and handle them.” (Y/N) and Jason’s eyes widened at his comment.

           “You’re…going on a business trip…” Jason finished her thought.

           “To Metropolis?” Tim nodded.

           “Mr. Wayne was going to go with the group, but he’s needed back here. So, Mr. Fox is going with us instead.” He paused and sipped his milkshake. “Said Mr. Fox going with us would help me get more experience than it would if he went.” (Y/N) stared at him, and he spoke apprehensively. “Mom? Are you okay?” She blinked and nodded.

           “Yes. I’m fine.” She lowered her voice a little. “What are the costs?” Tim shook his head.

           “None. Well, unless we go shopping on our own. But hotel and air fare are being taken care of.” (Y/N) sighed in relief and nodded her head.

           “Okay…that’s good.” The two boys watched their mother then glanced at each other. Tim nodded and tipped his head at (Y/N); Jason placed a hand on hers.

           “Ma…Are we having money problems?” She shook her head.

           “No. I was just-” He cut her off firmly.

           “Ma don’t lie to us.” Her eyes flitted to his then Tim who nodded and she sighed, lowering her head.

           “We’re just in a rough patch right now…but we’ll be okay…I just have to find a new job.”

           “What happened to your one at the pub?”

           “Some asshole told me to smile, so I told him to fuck off…then he grabbed me, so I broke his arm.” She exhaled. “In order to keep from being sued, I walked out.”

           “Ma why didn’t you say anything? Tim and I could’ve helped. I know I make enough tips at the bar to help…and Timmy makes a good chunk of change from WE.” (Y/N) shook her head.

           “I’ll tell you like I told Dick…It’s my job to keep our finances up and keep you boys protected.” Tim stared at her, an eyebrow raised.

           “And what happens if you can’t Mom?”  

           “…” Jason squeezed her hand.

           “Ma…We know you’re a firm believer in not placing burdens on us, but your burdens are our burdens.” She met his eyes and he smiled. “We’re in this together Ma…When you get tired, let us pick up the slack and carry it. Okay?” (Y/N) stared at him for a few moments before sighing and nodding.

           “Alright…but only if I absolutely need you to.” The boys grinned and she rose from the table. “I need to go take care of the customers…You boys be careful on your way home.”

           “Love you Ma.”

           “Love you Mom.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

           “Love you too boys.” (Y/N) started moving around the diner, collecting plates, handing receipts, and taking orders when a group of men walked into the diner. Immediately, the diner went quiet, and (Y/N) found herself in the position of giving them a seat; she smiled and pointed. “That table over there is open gentleman. If you’ll take it, I’ll be right over.” The way their eyes followed her as she passed by made her skin crawl, but she reminded herself that she needed money, so she ignored it. After a few moments, she moved to the group and held up her notepad. “What can I get for you?” She glanced at one of them who leaned forward.

           “How much for you babe?” She sighed.

           “Look pal…it’s been a long day and I’m not in the mood to deal with this. What do you want?” The one who spoke reared back, and another leaned towards her.

           “You’re feisty, aren’t you? Seems like you need to be bent over the table and get that temper checked.” (Y/N) stared at him as the others laughed, and deadpanned,

           “This is a diner not a street-corner to find hookers.” She clicked her pen. “We have the right to refuse service to assholes like you who harass our staff.” (Y/N) motioned to the door. “I suggest you leave. Now.” (Y/N) didn’t wait to hear their replies and turned when a hand gripped her arm and spun her back around; she could hear her sons rising from their table to walk over and help her.

           “That’s no way to talk to someone who pays your bills babe.” She glowered at him, her jaw tightening as she hissed,

           “Let go of me. Now.” He leaned in and grinned.

           “Or what?” (Y/N) opened her mouth to retort when a hand gripped the one on her arm and removed it; she watched as someone slammed the man’s head into the table, then lean in to their ear.

           “Don’t you dare put your hands on her.” The man twisted his head to look at him, then his eyes went wide.

           “Wayne?” (Y/N) gaped as she watched Bruce lay into the guy.

           “Men like you are the reason why women carry their keys between their fists at night.” Bruce twisted the man’s arm behind his back tighter. “You are a disgrace to men, and I suggest you take her advice and leave.” He looked at the others who sat stunned. “In fact, I suggest you all take her advice.” They nodded and dashed out of the diner; Bruce let go of the guy and shoved him to the floor, then straightened out his suit jacket, glaring at him. “If you ever come in here again, I’ll have you sued six was from Sunday. Capeesh?” The man nodded frantically and scrambled to his feet; he turned to the door and was met by her second son’s fist. (Y/N) raised her hands to her mouth.

           “Jason!” He didn’t pay her any mind and put a boot to the man’s chest, pointing at him, his voice low and dark.

           “If you ever put your hands on my Ma again, I’ll stick your head in a car door and slam it until all that’s left is a pile of mashed brain and skull.” He removed his foot and nodded to the door. “Now get the fuck outta here before I decide to do it just for the hell of it.” The man was out the door in seconds and Jason looked at her. “You alright Ma?” She nodded.

           “I’m fine baby…but you didn’t need to do that.” He shook his head.

           “I’ll do it again if he comes back in here.” She opened her mouth to respond when Bruce cut her off.

           “I happen to think that’s an excellent idea Jason.” They turned and faced Bruce; (Y/N)’s eyes widened.

           “Oh my god! We were supposed to go out tonight!” Bruce reclined against the bar and grinned.

           “When you didn’t show up at the restaurant, I assumed you were working.” He motioned to the phone in her pocket. “I tried to call…but I don’t think you heard it.” (Y/N) took her phone out and showed it to him.

           “It died an hour ago…I am so sorry Bruce.” He smiled and shook his head.

           “I’m not angry (Y/N). I understand that you have an obligation to your job.” He tipped his head to the table. “But I’m glad I got here when I did.” She huffed a laugh.

           “As am I. Though I could’ve taken care of it myself.”

           “Of that I have no doubt.” They peered at each other before laughing, then they head a grunt beside them.

           “Oh, get a room.” She turned her gaze to Jason and watched Tim walk beside them; he waved at Bruce.

           “Evening Mr. Wayne.” Bruce nodded at Tim.

           “Evening Tim. How’s your night going?” Tim grinned and nodded at Jason.

           “Good now. I was afraid I’d have to back Jason up in a fight.” Bruce snorted and raised an eyebrow.

           “You can fight?” Jason cut off Tim’s response.

           “Don’t let the lanky frame fool you, old man…Tim’s got a fighting ability that even Dickhead and I ain’t got.”

           “Jason Todd! Language!” He looked at (Y/N) and shrugged. “If the old man is going to date you, it’s better he knows that her sons can kick ass when needed.” She moved forward, shoving them out of the diner.

           “Yes, and if my sons threaten my potential dates, I won’t go on dates!” She glared at them and pointed down the street from her position at the door. “Now go home!” They chuckled and walked off; she called out behind them. “And no detours! Go straight home!” All she received were waves and she sighed, moving back to the bar where Bruce sat; she collapsed into a seat and he smiled at her.

           “Long day?” (Y/N) nodded.

           “Very.” She paused and looked at him sympathetically. “I am so sorry about missing our date Bruce.” He took her hand and rubbed a thumb across her knuckles.

           “Did you have a good day?” (Y/N) blinked at him and responded.

           “I did. Dick called me and told me he was in line for a promotion, Jason passed his midterms, and Tim told me about the business trip he was going on for you.” She paused. “Did…you have a good day?” Bruce nodded, a grin working across his face.

           “I had a great day. My son was voted president of the student council, one of my best employees is handling business deals for me, and I got to see my beautiful date again.” (Y/N) felt warmth creep up her cheeks and she lowered her head, mumbling an ‘oh’; Bruce chuckled. “Would you like to get dinner with me?” She looked down at her service uniform.

           “I’m wearing my uniform?”

           “Then let’s eat here.”

           “…What?” Bruce snorted.

           “If you’re concerned about your appearance, let’s stay where you’re comfortable. Let’s eat here.”

           “You wouldn’t mind?” He shook his head.

           “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we eat.” (Y/N) smiled and stood up, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

           “You’re sweet Bruce Wayne.” He watched as she pulled away and moved to the window.

           “As sugar.” She huffed a laugh and ordered dinner for them.

A Couple Hours Later:

           The car pulled up to the house and she glanced at Bruce. “Thank you for driving me home.” He smiled and nodded.

           “Of course.” They lapsed into silence, then opened their mouths; they laughed, and he motioned to her. “You first.” She grinned and gestured to the door.

           “I know my sons are inside…but…would you like to come in for some coffee?” Bruce stared at her and she sighed. “Maybe that’s too soon…we’ve only gone on a few dates…I’m sorry…I’ll just-” She moved to get out of the car when the doors locked, and the car moved backwards; she glanced at him. “Bruce?” He put the car in drive and pulled into the driveway, then turned the car off and looked at her.

           “I’d love to come inside for some coffee.” (Y/N) burst into laughter and shook her head.

           “You are something else Bruce Wayne.” He chuckled as they exited the car and entered the house. Jason and Tim sat at the table doing homework but looked up when they heard the door.

           “Hey Ma. Welcome-” He stopped as he took in Bruce behind her, and his eyes narrowed as he bit out, “Home.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and took off her coat.

           “Be nice Jason.” He rose from the table and walked past them, moving into the kitchen; he gave a fake smile as he passed.

           “I’m always nice.” She sighed as he disappeared into the kitchen and she turned around.

           “I’m sorry.” Bruce shook his head as she helped him take off his coat.

           “Boy’s just being the man of the house.” (Y/N) snorted.

           “No. He’s just getting too big for his britches.” Bruce opened his mouth to respond when,

           “MY BRITCHES ARE PERFECTLY FIT TO MY ASS THANK YOU VERY MUCH!” Bruce burst into laughter as (Y/N) ran a hand down her face.

           “Jason! Pretend that we have company and impressions matter!”

           “PRETEND MY ASS!”

           “Boy I will jerk a knot in your tail if you cuss again!” Jason went silent and he came out of the kitchen, muttering as he went by.

           “Kill-joy.” (Y/N) kicked a leg up and whacked him in the butt.

           “I’m gonna be a kill-joy alright. Now get back to the table and finish your homework.” He stuck a tongue out and (Y/N) motioned to Bruce. “Follow me.” He grinned and followed as they stepped into the kitchen; she turned the coffee maker one and leaned up, closing the partition in the window.

           “We can still hear what goes on in there! The partition does nothing Mom!”

           “Homework Timothy Jackson.” She heard grumbles and she turned to Bruce. “Sugar and creamer?” He nodded and she moved to the refrigerator. “We have French vanilla and crème brûlée.”

           “French vanilla.” (Y/N) grinned as she pulled it out.

           “That’s my favorite.”

           “Mine too.” The coffee maker beeped, and she pulled out two mugs, filling them up.

           “I’ll let you do your sugar and creamer.” He nodded and stepped beside her, their shoulders brushing as they stood next to each other. (Y/N) reached for the bottle of creamer and her fingers brushed his; she looked up at him and giggled. “Sorry.” The grin he gave her made her heart flutter and she handed it to him. “Here.” He took it.

           “Thank you.”

           The two of them leaned against the kitchen counter sipping their coffee slowly, drawing out the time when the doorbell rang. She leaned towards the partition.

           “One of you go let Dick in. He’s obviously forgotten his keys again.” (Y/N) listened to Jason hop up from the table.

           “I got it!” (Y/N) didn’t think anything of it and continued her conversation with Bruce.

           “And then I walk back into the room and saw the three of them covered in feathers and sprayable glue.” Bruce leaned over he was laughing so hard. “And I remember just going, ‘Who started it?’ And Dick and Jason pointed at Tim who looked, just absolutely betrayed.” This made Bruce laugh harder, and he went to speak when a voice cut him off.

           “…Ma…” (Y/N)’s eyebrows drew together at Jason’s tone.

           “Who is it baby?” There was a pause as he came bounding into the kitchen, his face apprehensive.

           “I think you need to come here.” The solemnity of his tone made her heart thump and she put down her coffee cup; she glanced at Bruce.

           “Excuse me for a second.” He nodded and watched as she sprinted to the door, Jason and Tim hot on her heels. (Y/N) flung open the door and came face to face with two Blüdhaven police officers; one of them spoke.

           “Ms. (L/N)?” She nodded as her eyes roamed their badges.

           “That’s me.” Jason and Tim took her sides and the officer spoke again.

           “Ma’am we need you to come with us.” Her heart pounded against her ribcage at his words and she spoke nervously.

           “Is everything alright?” She leaned forward. “Is Dick alright?” The two officers exchanged glances and the second one spoke.

           “Ma’am we need-” (Y/N) slammed her hand against the doorframe, causing everyone to jump; her hand gripped the doorframe and she spoke, her voice barely containing the hysteria.

           “Is. My. Son. Alright.” The first officer nodded to the second and he sighed.

           “I’m sorry to report that Officer Grayson of the BPD was shot in the line of duty tonight. He’s been rushed to Gotham General where he’s currently in surgery.” (Y/N) stopped hearing after ‘shot’ and her heart stopped as her knees gave way. Had her sons not been by her side, she would’ve hit the floor; they gently lowered down their sobbing mother. Jason leaned into her, shushing her.

           “Ma it’s okay…he’s gonna be okay.” She didn’t respond, she was weeping too hard; Tim looked up at the officers.

           “What’s going on right now at the hospital?” The first officer spoke.

           “We aren’t sure…All we know was that he was taken into surgery.”

           “Was the wound severe?” There was a slight pause, then a silent nod.

           “We need to get you to the hospital Ms. (L/N).” She couldn’t move her legs and Jason saw this; he bent over and curled his arm under her legs, the other going behind her back.

           “C’mon Ma…I got you.” He lifted her up and began walking outside with her, Tim and Bruce following; he looked back at them. “Bruce you take Tim to the hospital…I’ll ride with Ma.” Bruce nodded, watching (Y/N) worriedly, and took his keys from his pocket; Tim watched with equal concern and climbed into the car with him. The patrol car pulled away and Jason cradled (Y/N) in the backseat as she sobbed into his chest; a hand caressed the back of her head and he stared out the window, feeling his eyes begin to sting. “It’s gonna be okay Ma…Dick’s gonna be just fine.”

[crystalrose555]

Don't make me slap you pt 20

Oh boy, this one’s a long noodle~

“How about this one?”

“No.” “Ok, this one?” “No.”

“Levi, why did you bother tagging along if you are just going to turn down every outfit?”

“Because I still think that Marley shouldn’t go. She should stay home with me.”

“Over my dead body, Levi. This is one of the biggest parties of the year, anyone who's anyone is going to be there and Mochi and I are going to be stunning together~” Levi groaned as he looked around Majolish, seeing the vast amount of customers looking for clothing and outfits for the upcoming event. Meanwhile, Marley sighed as she placed clothing back on the rack and turned to the brothers.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is going to work. You demons sure are long, have any of you heard of the terms ‘plus and petite’?”

“See? Look, it’s fate, Marley and I are just going to stay home and marathon The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl.” Levi sharply proclaimed with a triumphant smile on his face.

Asmo gave a flat look at Levi before turning to Marley with a beaming smile.

“Mochi honey, why don’t we ask Levi to make your outfit?” Levi nearly choked on air as he realized what was happening.

“Wait, Levi, you know how to sew clothing?”

“Y-yeah, I just sew together cosplays and stuff, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a pretty big deal to me, all I can are patch-up jobs. It’s really impressive.” Marley smiled at the nervous demon.

Levi’s face quickly heated up as a crooked smile formed across his face. Asmo, seeing his brother falling for his bait, turned and held Marley close, sealing the deal.

“Don’t worry, Mochi, I’ll design something beautiful for you so that you don’t look like a costume disaster~”

“Like hell, normie! For your information, I’ve done custom requests that have won many cosplay competitions, so I can make something that will look great on her!”

“Oh really, then I assume you won’t need any help with Mochi’s measurements~”

“Her m-measurements?” Levi stammered out.

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

“Alright, make sure you are all on your best behavior. This may be a party but I don’t want an incident like last time, do you hear me?”

“Oi, why are you starin’ at me when you say that?” “Because you are usually the first one to cause trouble.”

Lucifer sighed as he took a good look at his brothers in their polished demon forms. Surely, there will be a day when they would be able to carry themselves like proper lords of Devildom but sadly this party wasn’t one of them. He peered through his fingers and took a glance down to see a grumpy Marley who had a purple bow on top of her head for the occasion. He smirked at the sight and took his leave, disappearing into the crowd to go to Diavolo’s side in the far distance. His brothers took a sigh of relief while Marley tried to scratch off the stubborn accessory.

“It’s no use, Mochi. It’s enchanted to stay on during the party.” Satan declared while stroking his chin.

She just snorted at him, flipped on her back, and flailed about wildly on the floor. Spectators stared and giggled at the fuzzy animal flopping on the marble, leaving the demon brothers looking away in embarrassment. In a haste, Mammon squatted down to her while his brothers tried to block some of the gazes.

“Hey, it ain’t comin’ off, so quit flippin’ out like a fuckin’ tuna!” He barked.

Marley stopped and barked back at Mammon’s face, causing him to fall back on his bottom. At that exact time, Asmo turned up his natural charm and drew the eyes of all the spectators to his form. Satan sighed and gave a slight nod to Beel who then picked up the irritated seal and quickly walked off with her slapping against his forearm in annoyance.

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

Levi paced back and forth in a less crowded spot in the grand hall while Satan and Mammon stared at him in disapproval.

“Levi, will you stop? You’re going to wear out the floor at that rate.” Satan pointed out.

“Why am I the only one who’s worried? This is a major story event and it always gets crazy during story events!”

“Can you translate? I don’t speak nerd.” Mammon jeered.

“I’m saying something already went wrong! She shouldn’t need this long to shed her skin, she was dressed back at the house!” “Hmm, maybe that bow had a stronger effect than we thought.” Satan contemplated.

“Naw, that ain’t it, take a look.”

Suddenly, Mammon pointed in the distance, drawing his brothers’ attention to Asmo leading Marley to the opposite side of the room.

“That dirty double-crossing normie!” Levi hissed as he slithered through the crowd, leaving Satan and Mammon to follow.

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

“Isn’t she the cutest when she’s next to me?” Asmo chimed as he held Marley tightly while showing her off.

Simeon and Solomon chuckled while Luke and Marley shared a sigh from Asmo’s enthusiasm of showing her off as much as possible. 

“Yes, she’s very lovely, Asmo, but maybe you would like to let your friend breathe on her own.” Simeon gently suggested.

Pouting, Asmo released Marley from his grip and then latched onto Solomon’s arm. Marley straightened up and gently straightened her outfit with a sigh of relief while everyone else gave into soft laughter.

“But truthfully, you look astonishing tonight, Marley. I take it that Asmo designed it himself?” Simeon pointed out.

Marley looked down at herself with slight embarrassment before answering.

“Levi and Asmo made it for me when we couldn’t find anything on the rack. I have to say that when I heard about a party, I wasn’t expecting this.” She claimed while looking around at the extravagant hall.

“Hmph, I guess demons can throw a pretty decent party once in a while.” Luke snarked. 

“Luke, don’t be rude, besides you’ve been eating everything from the desserts since we’ve got here.”

“Only for research! Besides, I wanted to see Mochi again since I can barely find her at school.” Luke stammered out with a red face.

“You really like Mochi, don’t you, Luke?” Simeon teased.

Luke turned his head with a hmph and rushed over to the dessert spread in the distance. Simeon shook his head and followed after him, leaving Marley alone with Asmo and Solomon chuckling. The music picked up and swelled as demons began to swarm the dance floor in couples. 

“Marley, any chance I can have your first dance?” Solomon asked with a smile.

Marley tilted her head gently to the side.

“I guess so but I don’t know how to waltz.”

“Don’t worry, Solomon is a great dancer, Marley. I’m leaving you in good hands, so have fun~”

With that, Asmo left the duo alone to attend to his admirers. Taking his hand, Marley followed Solomon to the dance floor and slowly joined the musical current that had trapped all the dancers. 

“See, you’re a natural Marley.”

“Really? I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up.” “I don’t think that’s what you’re really worried about. You’re worried that someone will recognize you from school, am I right? It would be bad for anyone to realize that you party-crashed this event.”

“I guess you got me there, but Levi and Asmo placed an enchantment on my dress to make me unrecognizable to everyone here unless I reveal myself to them.”

“I remember that spell, Asmo had me develop it so he could see what people say about him but that only lasted an hour or so before he wanted attention again.” He sighed causing Marley to chuckle.

“I have to admit, I’m having more fun dancing than I thought.” “I’m glad, it’s a lot easier to waltz on two feet than four flippers, huh?” “Yea-”

Marley’s mouth snapped shut as she shot a sharp glare on the white-haired sorcerer who smiled carelessly. Her grip tightened into a vice as cold air radiated from her body. Ice crystals started to form on Solomon’s shoulder as she dug her nails in.

“Easy, easy, that spell won’t last if you cause a scene,” Solomon warned with a smile.

Marley turned her head away from him, her eyes glanced over coldly.

“Come now, don’t give me the cold shoulder. I finally got a chance to talk to you. ” He chuckled.

“...How?”

“I had a bit of a feeling since seals aren’t common as witch familiars but Asmo confirmed my suspicions.”

Marley’s icy gaze returned along with her biting cold.

“Don’t be mad at Asmo, he had the best intentions. You want to go home, right? I’m surprised you lasted so long without returning to the sea but I guess hanging out with Leviathan has its advantages.”

The duo continued to dance and swirl while Marley remained silent.

“...What do you want then? There’s no reason for you to help me and you don’t seem the type to completely give in to Asmo.”

Solomon offered a warm smile in return.

“I just want a chance to talk with you, I’ve always wanted to meet a selkie. Your people are such rare creatures and whenever I find one, they always turn back into a seal and swim away.”

“Are you sure it isn’t the fact you’re a shady magician?”

“Come on, now that’s mean! ”Solomon laughed out hardily as they continued to spin.

[thiswasinevitableid]

7. Leshen Indruck your choice of rating!

Here you go! I went with SFW

It’s old wisdom that humans fear that which they do not understand. 

Indrid really hoped he would never learn the truth of that wisdom the hard way, but here he is. One misplaced attempt at aiding someone using his foresight and he’s been caught, blindfolded, and dumped in the middle of the vast Monongahela Forest. 

He just wanted to help. 

His foresight renders him less fearful than he’d otherwise be; he’ll be able to see threats coming and locate the resources he needs. If he takes his time, he might be able to use his visions to locate the nearest (friendly) village. And, like anyone who grew up near the woods, he knows how to hunt, fish, and forage. For someone who’s been left to die, he’s rather confident. 

Still, it sting a little.

After a few moments of rightfully-earned self-pity, he buttons up his coat and starts the slow, halting journey towards safety. 

Two days later, he’s pushing his way through branches and miserably pointing out to himself again and again that a town where everyone grew up with basic forest survival skills would exile one of their own somewhere that required high-level survival skills. 

The topography and scenery is so disorienting that he may have better luck if he covered his eyes, spun around ten times, and chose his path from there. It’s a dense landscape of deep greens and browns with splashes of bright color that he’d no doubt enjoy were he not constantly snagging on branches or catching his toes on roots. 

Worse, he’s had no luck catching food, and cannot for the life of him locate water. The fact it rained last night is the only reason he’s not dangerously dehydrated.

A sharp, high chirp draws his eye to the foot of a tree. Flapping sparsely feathered wings, a baby bird hops through the mud, her nest visible but unreachable. A meager meal, but a meal nonetheless. 

Indrid scoops her into his palms, clambers into the lowest crook of the tree, and sets her back among her siblings. 

His stomach chastises him the rest of the day, though the rest of his body rejoices when he finds a hollow in the base of a tree large enough for him to shelter within. From within the trunk, he spies vine sprawling across the ground, berries glinting in the light rain. Deep purple, meaning they’re Brambleberries. 

The handful he shoves into his mouth brings tears to his eyes, even though they’re not the ripest. How else do you explain the bitterness chasing the sweetness down his throat. 

Wait. Brambleberries don’t go purple until mid-summer. This is early spring. Which means those were-

“Chokeberries.” He curses himself, darting outside the tree once more, finger down his throat until his meal comes back up. Maybe he was fast enough.

His throat tightens in a prelude to closing. Sinking to his knees, gasping for air, he swears the ground vibrates with heavy steps. His eyes flutter close as he falls forward. As darkness slips over his eyes, he thinks it’s taking him a long time to hit the ground. 

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

Bitter metal on his tongue. 

“Nnnnf” Eyes still shut, he pushes at whatever is holding the spoon and it’s vile contents in his mouth. 

“None of that. You’re gonna need two more doses of this before that Chokeberry is outta your system, and they were hard enough to get into you when you were passed out. Swallow.”

He swallows.

A large hand pats his head, “There we go. I know, shit’s gross, but if you were fool enough to eat those berries, might stun some sense into you.”

Indrid sits up, rubbing his eyes, “I was delirious with hunger, forgive me for not remembering the exact seasons of fruits. Did you heal me only to insult me or-” his visions flicker back full force, revealing his host before he opens his eyes. He scrambles back, but instead of a wall or an edge he just finds a vast expanse of bed. 

Watching him with an amused set to his lips is a man three heads taller and much bulkier than Indrid, dark hair streaked with grey-green moss, eyes the dark green of pine needles, and nails like treebark. He crosses arms tattooed with green, gold, and bronze swirls, waiting for Indrid to collect himself. 

“A Leshen.”

“Yep.”

“Are...are you going to eat me?”

“What? No, I’m not gonna fuckin eat you. I don’t know which of my kind chowed down on humans but if I ever find out I’m gonna give ‘im a piece of my mind. Ain’t great to have people thinkin I’m a man-eater when the worst I done is throw a tree at someone.”

“That is still very alarming.”

The Leshen shrugs “I’m a forest guardian; I’m gonna guard.”

Indrid studies him, wary, drawing the covers up his chest without noticing. 

“Look” the Leshen sighs, “I ain’t tryin to scare you. Hell, made myself the smallest I can so I could be all comfortin. Noticed you in the woods earlier today and kept an eye on you, since humans-”

“Don’t often come here, yes, I am aware. I was extremely, forcibly exiled into your part of the woods.”

Green eyes blink, “Huh. Well, point is it didn’t seem right to leave you there to die, so I brought you here. Chokeberry is real easy to undo, assumin you got the right herbs.” 

“Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say. His foresight tells him the Leshens promise of no harm is true, but there are so many timelines for what he could say and how his host could respond that he freezes. 

“You’re welcome. You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“You oughta rest up more, Indrid. I’ll be back with the next dose in a bit.” His host steps out to the hall.

“Wait, do I, ah, get to know your name?”

“Duck.”

He snickers, replies to the raised eyebrow with, “Apologies, I expected something tree-related.”

Duck smiles, “It’s a nickname.”

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

“What’s your plan?” Duck asks from across the breakfast table. The morning found Indrid well enough to walk and to eat without feeling ill, so he’s been perching awkwardly on a chair that’s too big for him as the Leshen makes plates of toast and eggs that don't come from any bird Indrid is familiar with. 

“I, ah, I don’t really have one other than ‘avoid going home’.”

“You were just gonna wander around until you found a village? I hate to tell you this, but there ain’t one for at least fifty miles, and I’m guessin that’s the one you came from. They must’ve used and enter to navigate here, because this part of the woods is hostile to travel by design.”

“Yours?” Indrid sips his tea, face to hide his distaste for its bitterness. 

“Yep.” Duck slides a jar over to him, it’s copper lid revealing sugar cubes within, “Don’t much feel like runnin into humans every damn day, and it means that even as y’all sprawl out more and more, there are parts of this wood that stay wild.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but it does little to improve my situation. Unless…” he bites his lip. 

“Unless?”

“Unless I could stay here. I’m not bad company, and I have some skills which could-”

“No” Duck shakes his head, “savin you is one thing, takin you on as a roommate is all whole other kettle of fish.”

“Ah. Right. Of course.” He sips his tea, reflection crestfallen. Maybe he’ll just finish this and then go back to sleep. 

Duck sighs, expression one of someone who already regrets the offer he’s about to make, “You can stay here for a month. After that, I’ll get you as close to a safe village as I can, and you’re on your own. Deal?”

Indrid grins, appetite returning in full, “Deal.”

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

Duck has a good guess as to what’s making all the scratching and clanging in his kitchen, but it’s still a surprise to see Indrid moving from counters to chairs doubling as stools to tend a pot that he can barely peer into.

The human’s gotten nimble over the last week and a half, thanks to his routine attempts to help Duck around the house. Everything is scaled to Duck’s smallest possible form, but that still leaves Indrid at a disadvantage. 

He’d be more inclined to help him if it wasn’t so obvious that his help is a ploy to convince Duck to let him stay. Look, he feels bad for the guy, but humans don’t have a great track record with his kind and he generally likes his peace and quiet out in the woods. He also notices that, left to his own devices, Indrid is messy. The area around the couch he uses as a bed is strewn drawings and unfolded clothes that Duck conjured up. Which means this is about Ducks favor, not a commitment to household cleanliness. 

That’s not to say having Indrid around has been unpleasant; the human is good company but also understands Ducks' need for space. He’s odd, and even though the foresight was the given reason, Duck suspects his fellow villagers would have found reason to exile him regardless. Indrid even said that living with Duck was the happiest he’d felt in some time. That wasn’t a ploy; Indrid is prone to saying unnerving statements without registering them. Thorns pricked Duck’s heart when he heard it and, that night, when Indrid fell asleep on the bed during their conversation about deer, he didn’t move him. Just brushed the white hair from his eyes and laid down a respectful distance away. 

“Oh! We’re in the timeline when you’re early.” Indrid waves distractedly as he wrestles open a jar, “I checked on you during the day through my visions and it looked as though you got drenched, so I thought something warm was in order.”

He’s smiling, and Duck’s gaze lingers long enough to see there’s no trickery in it. Yeah, being a forest spirit means storms are refreshing more than freezing, but the one today was so relentless he felt like it was eroding him away. 

“Thanks, Indrid. I’ll join you in a sec.”

The next morning, before he leaves he forms some nearby stumps into a proper step-stool, and transmogrifies the minerals of the earth into a solid set of human sized pots and pans. 

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

“I know you’re there, Duck. I may not have eyes in the trees, but I do have visions that tell me when someone is dithering about coming to speak with me.” Indrid smiles, checking the fishing pole he’s dug into the shore. He feels rather than hears Duck approach; in spite of his size, the Leshen moves through the woods more softly than a butterfly. 

“Guess those visions do make you harder to spy on than the average human.”

“A not at all creepy statement.” Indrid teases, then tips over when Duck playfully shoves him. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright” he brushes off his arm, “the sand is nice and warm.” He picks up his sketchbook (stray pieces of paper sewn together) and pens (Duck turned flowers, fruit, leaves, and wood into them until Indrid had every color) and continues drawing. Half the reason he likes fishing is that he can draw futures (and for his own pleasure) while he does it. The other half is that he doesn’t want Duck to view him as a parasite in his home. Yes, for the first week, he did everything he could to demonstrate that he would make an excellent addition to the house made of twisting trunks and mossy floors. 

Now, though, he just wants to enjoy his time with Duck, even if that means not tidying constantly or cooking every meal. He hopes Duck enjoys it too, regardless of whether he lets Indrid stay. The Leshen is lonely, even if it only comes through on those days when his voice is like the wind through a weather-beaten log. Indrid wishes he knew how to assuage it, but a month is not long enough to learn such things. 

He’s slept in Duck’s bed these last three nights. It’s not purposeful, Duck is just so interesting to talk with and Indrid will lose sight of the time, will slump sideways and mumble that he ought to turn in, and then wake up in the early hours atop his host. It didn’t occur to him until this morning that Duck does that to keep Indrid from being uncomfortably squashed by his larger bedmate. And that Duck chooses to do that rather than carry Indrid to his own bed. 

“Hey, uh, ‘Drid?” Duck’s voice brings him back to the riverside, “would you, uh, wanna come with me on my rounds sometimes? Might be some nice things to draw, and that foresight of yours could be real helpful with some of the stuff I need to keep an eye on.”

His host looks nervous until Indrid nods, “I would be honored.”

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

Never has the folding of clothes made him so miserable. Yet still he tucks the garments into the large-but-manageable rucksack Duck gave him, placing his sketchpad safely between the layers of fabric.

“Weather oughta be good tomorrow.” His visions show Duck behind him, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s going to miss that voice, the way leaves rustle underneath the drawl. 

“That’s good.” He pulls the ties on his rucksack, sets at the end of the couch but doesn’t turn around. 

“I’d, uh, say you’re welcome to visit but, uh, well, you know how fuckin hard this place is to find.”

“Mmmm.” Indrid wants him to go, wants him to be brusque or happy, not awkwardly fond in a way that gives false hope of shared affection. 

“‘Drid there’s, there’s somethin I wanna, that is I’m thinkin...aw, fuck it.”

Indrid yelps as arms nearly as big around as he is scoop him up. Duck’s lifted him to examine flowers or see over trees, but the hugging is new. 

“Duck?” Carefully, he drapes his arms over his shoulders.

“Don’t go.”

“I don’t want to.” Duck always smells faintly of pine needles and green wood, and Indrid buries his face in his neck, inhaling in hopes of remembering it forever. 

“Then stay. I changed my mind, ‘Drid, life is so much better with you around.” 

“Okay” Indrid can’t get his voice above a whisper; this wasn’t in the timelines, which means Duck changed his mind at the literal last moment. 

“Really? You wanna stay?” Duck shifts him back, Indrid functionally sitting on his forearm with his legs half wrapped around his chest. 

The seer summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so closes his eyes before going in for a kiss. His lips find Duck’s cheek until a firm hand cups the back of his head, guiding their mouths together. At this size, their mouths are compatible even as Indrid remains pleasantly dwarfed. Duck breaks the kiss first but Indrid, hell-bent on making up for lost time, continues kissing his face until they’re both laughing.

Duck kisses his forehead, “I’m gonna take that as a yes.” 

[solastia]

Shadow Of You | 2

Pairing: Seokjin x Jungkook

Summary: Alpha Seokjin is sixteen when his best friend’s baby brother is born. When he finally gets to visit and meet the new baby Jungkook, he’s dismayed to discover the infant is his true mate. Or: Seokjin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Long Wait For His Mate.

Seokjin bounded down the stairs of his family’s entirely too large house with his backpack slung off one shoulder. His hair was still damp as he’d rushed through getting ready and his clothes were thrown on without a thought. He hadn’t even had enough time to finish up his homework this morning like he’d been hoping.

“Where do you think you’re going without breakfast?”

He grinned sheepishly at the old housekeeper as he stuffed his feet into his shoes.

“Sorry, Yeona. I’m going to be late as it is.”

She sighs and offers up an apple she had in her apron, obviously having expected such an answer.

“At least eat this. It should tide you over until your first break. And stop staying up so late. You look thin and ragged. Do I have to move in to make you behave?”

Seokjin chuckles, having heard the same threat since he was a young boy.

“But Yeona, I have to study well so I become a doctor someday and can steal you away!”

“Oh, off with you. Have a good day. I’ll make your favorite for dinner tonight, alright?”

He cheekily saluted her and munched on the apple as he rushed to his car, finishing the fruit in just a few bites and throwing the core in a random bush for the gardener to find later. His poor stomach wasn’t happy with just a few bites of fruit, but hopefully, it would hold off until he had a chance to sneak off the grounds and get himself a real meal.

His phone was already rumbling with a barrage of messages, probably from Hoseok complaining that he’d had to walk to school since he’d never showed. He felt bad, but he’d hadn’t even been sure he was going to go to school today since he was just coming off of the most horrible rut in his life - never mind that it had only been his second.

After the life-changing visit to the Min household, Seokjin had rushed home, expecting to shut himself in his room to think about things. However, his body had decided to take matters into its own hands and he’d been horrified to feel himself going into his second rut - three months too early.

For once he’d been thrilled about the fact that Yeona had the weekends off and that his parents were at an event in Jeju. While it probably would have been safer to have someone around to check on him, he was glad he hadn’t had to explain why he was in so much agony. Why he refused to touch himself - instead curling up and sobbing as his body wracked with pain.

As someone who actually paid attention during his science classes due to his future career, he knew that it was simply his body's way of preparing itself since he’d found his mate. And since there was no mate around to sate him, his body increased its demands and he’d been forced to deal with high fevers, horrible cramping, and vomiting. He probably would have been able to reduce the severity with a couple rounds with his own hand, but it felt horribly wrong considering what had triggered it in the first place.

Jin drives with the radio off for once, the silence forcing him to finally think about his situation. And the honest to God truth was that he had no idea what to do. He’d never heard of anything like this happening before. He didn’t even know how to start looking for the information he needed.  

When he was being realistic he’d always thought he’d never even find his true mate. It was becoming a rare thing for anyone these days. He’d pictured his life looking pretty much exactly like his fathers - marry someone his parents picked and work at the hospital until he was forced to retire. If he was lucky like them, he’d at least become friends with his mate and maybe pop out a pup before they start a life of celibacy (hopefully. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if his parents had others).

Now...what kind of life could he have, always being drawn to something he couldn’t have? Now that he’d scented his true mate, had skin to skin contact as he’d held him in his arms, his body was going to be thoroughly fucked.

The horrible ruts were just going to get worse for at least a couple of years before his body would finally accept the loss. His scent was going to spike enough that he’d probably have to start showering several times a day and practically smother himself in scent masking products.

Worst of all, if he decided to just move on with his life and let his parents assign him a mate, no bite would ever take. He could marry and produce pups just fine, but he’d never be able to officially mate anyone else in the traditional sense. That would be a big deal-breaker for a lot of people.

Even in this modern world, the wolf and their instincts were still held in high regard. Being married without being mated would be looked at as taboo by his family and their circle, right up there with him mating a beta or becoming a janitor.

Jin sighed as he pulled into the school’s parking lot and finds Yoongi standing there with his arms crossed, giving him no chance of escaping unless he drove off and skipped school entirely.

Jin was many things, but a total coward he was not.

He grabbed his bag and slid out of the car, pasting a grin in his face that he hoped would pass for authentic even under the shrewd eyes of Min Yoongi.

“My darling Yoongichi, were you waiting for me? Chivalry isn’t dead!” he says dramatically, heading straight for the school building and ignoring Yoongi’s grumbles as he tries to catch up to him.

“Don’t give me that. I’ve been trying to call you all weekend. What’s going on?”

Jin shrugs, going for nonchalance, even as that subtle fragrance clinging to his friend began to call to him. “I guess all the stress from school got to me. Went into rut early.”

“Really?” Yoongi clucks in sympathy. “That sucks. Wait...weren’t your parents gone? You spent your rut alone?”

Jin waves away his worry. “I was fine. Some mild cramping. Five packets of beef jerky and a few rounds with myself and my Kumi Koda poster and I’m good to go.”

“You’re gross,” Yoongi groans as he pushes past him to open the door to their first class, which happened to be together.

He was incredibly happy to slide into his first period for once, as that teacher was notorious for not allowing talking and making everyone turn in their phones before class. For now, he was free from any more questions and could simply focus on his shitty schoolwork in peace.

Until lunch, that was.

And when it came around, the nerves roiled in his gut but he sat in his usual spot anyway. He watched his friends quietly as they all settled in like a pack of hyenas on a sugar rush. Yoongi settles into the spot right across from him and Jin nearly groans because that scent is still on him. Understandable, considering. Was he ever going to be able to eat strawberries again without thinking about how fucked up his life was?

“What about you, hyung?”

He snapped to attention when Hoseok jabs him with his elbow. “What?”

“We are heading over to shoot hoops at the park then have dinner at Yoongi’s.”

“Oh, ah,” he stammers, scratching the back of his head as he searches for a way out. “I was going to work on my biology project. Really big deal. At least forty percent of my grade, you know?”

“You can do it there,” Yoongi says with a shrug. “Ma has been asking about you, and you know if you make her wait much longer she’ll kidnap you.”

And that was the heart of his dilemma because the Min household was basically his real home, and he longed to be there. Ached for the feeling of belonging and acceptance that the family gave him. But he also knew that all of it would fly away if they learned the truth.

“Besides,” Yoongi continues after swallowing his food (the only one of his friends that actually bothers to do that by the way), “She’s been really worried since last time. She said she had a feeling she knew what was wrong but she wouldn’t tell me. Like having a rut is something to be embarrassed about,” Yoongi scoffs.

Jin’s nerves went wild. Did she know? Mama Min knew? He supposed she had been closer to him at the time so she would have seen his eyes, and he had growled at her but...shit. He was so fucked. She only wanted him to come by so she could warn the destined pervert away from her son.

But...he supposed he should go. Just one last time. One last moment to soak in as much of that feeling of home as he could get before he was banished. And now that the initial imprinting and rut had passed, he’d even be able to look at him without losing his mind. So maybe he’d take the chance to apologize to Jungkook too because he was going to grow up longing for something he couldn’t understand and unable to bond properly all because fate had chosen poorly for him.

He sighed and pushed around the food on his plate. “I’ll go.”

“Great, hyung. Ma will be happy and stop blowing up my phone.” Yoongi smiled gummily at him.

That seemed to be the end of it, as they all went back to eating and talking over each other about video games. Listening to them made Jin feel ancient, despite the fact that just last week he had nothing better to talk about than video games himself.

The rest of the day went by much too quickly. All of his teachers seemed to be in great moods and willing to cut classes early or assign easy work, so there wasn’t much to keep Jin’s mind occupied. He declined to play basketball with the others afterward because he felt the overwhelming urge to go home and get prepared to go to the Min’s.

It wasn’t until he noticed that he was wearing Burberry from head to toe and had spent twenty minutes styling his hair that he realized he’d been primping for his mate. For an infant that would be more likely to vomit or piss on the outfit than admire the cut or pattern. He scoffed aloud, practically hating his wolf at that moment.

“Get used to disappointment, you bastard,” he muttered wryly.

Still the wolf wouldn’t settle. Jin drove with gritted teeth, wondering what his instincts were screaming at him to do now. It wasn’t until he passed a shopping center and he nearly crashed into someone trying to control his arm from turning the wheel that he understood. Shopping? Why the fuck did he want to go shopping?

The urge grew until stopping abruptly, letting Jin’s mind clear.

Oh! The bastard wanted to bring a courting gift. Not in this lifetime, buddy.

He breathed with mingled relief and wariness when he finally pulled into his usual spot at the Min household. He saw all the scooters and skateboards laying in the lawn that meant his friends were already here.

He gulped and climbed out of his car, walking towards the door with an odd sense of deja vu. It was just a few days ago where he made this same journey that changed his life forever.

He stared at the door, suddenly wondering what to do. Normally, he barged in like he had the right to...but did he any more?

The choice was taken from him when Yoongi flings the door open and scowls at him like he’d just grown three heads.

“Why the hell are you just standing there, weirdo? Come in already.”

“Yoongi, be nice!” Came the familiar command from the living room.

“Yes, Ma,” Yoongi grumbled as he closed the door behind Jin and waited for him to take his shoes off.

They walked together towards the living room as Jin tried to control his racing heart. He was so nervous but his wolf finally seemed content with that strawberries and cream scent filling his nose like a balm.

The moment they walked into the living room, Mama Min pierced him with a meaningful look. Then she turned and handed Jungkook to Hoseok.

“Take him into Yoongi’s room and you guys hang out in there for a bit. I just want to check on Jin without you guys hearing a bunch of embarrassing questions.”

They all chuckled, having dealt with the same concern after one of their own cycles. Jin eyed the bundle in Hoseok’s arms warily, both wanting to run from it and to protect it from Hoseok's too loose grip.

“Seokjin,” Mama Min said softly, bringing his attention back to her.

She was...crying? Was she going to kick him out right away then?

She held out her arms and thickened her scent, the comfort and reassurance she was exuding exactly what he’d needed.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

He keened and ran towards her arms, letting her pull him close. She rocked him as he finally cried for the first time since it happened. He could feel the wet droplets as she joined him.

“Oh, you sweet boy. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” she crooned, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t do anything. I won’t do anything! I promise!” he cried hysterically, desperate to keep her from ever looking at him with disgust. “I can stay away from him, I will.”

“Oh, darling boy. I know you would never do anything you shouldn’t. I’m just sorry it’s like this,” she said softly, cradling his cheeks to make him look up at her. “I always knew that you were meant to be a part of this family, but this seems like such a high price to pay for it. I wish I could have had him sooner for you.”

“What do I do now?” he asked softly, sniffling.

She sighed and pet his cheek. “I don’t really know, Jinnie. I’ve never heard of this before. I suppose your parents don’t even know about this yet?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re not even home right now.”

Her eyebrow raised in shock. “But...Kim Seokjin! Did you just have a rut all alone in that mausoleum of a house?”

“Uh, yes? Yeona is off weekends and my parents were out of town so I had no choice. BUT! I didn’t do anything! I swear! I just slept a lot and I swear I didn’t think anything bad.”

He clutched at her as he swore, and her eyes softened even as they filled with more tears.

“Hush, sweet thing. This is an...odd and difficult situation, but I like to think I know you well enough to know you’re trying your best. I’m not going to automatically think you’re feeling...things...for an infant. If anything, your alpha should just be feeling super protective of him, and judging by the way you growled at me last time, I think it’s safe to say you are.”

He cleared his throat with embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

She waved it away. “It’s alright. You can’t help it.”

The conversation lulled to silence after a few moments, with him simply enjoying the way she was petting his hair.

“Mama Min?” he finally asked softly.

“Yes?”

“Should I...um...do you want me to stop coming by now?”

She sighed and tilted his chin up to face her.

“No. You are always welcome here, sweetheart. Always. I trust that not only will you be able to control yourself, but that I will be able to be a fair judge of whatever is going on.”

She waited until he nodded in acknowledgment. “However, if at any time it becomes too hard for you to be here, know that we understand and will love you no matter what you decide. If you think it’s better to stay away, that’s fine. I’ll still expect you to write, call, send a pigeon. Whatever. We won’t be upset if you decide to find a mate your own age and move on with your life. You deserve to. No one will judge you for not waiting for eighteen years for a mate. That’s unrealistic and unfair.”

He nods and looks down. “Does Yoongi know? He’ll be pissed.”

“Not yet. I’ll tell him tonight after you all leave. I think he’ll take it better one on one. But you know him. He’ll take the night to process it and then he’ll be angry at you for two days because you thought he’d get mad at you, not because of the situation.”

That much was true, he supposed.

“Alright,” she said with gusto, pecking him one last time on the head. “Go round the hooligans. Dinner will be done in a moment.”

He jumped up, feeling lighter than he had in days. His life still royally sucked, but at least for the time being he still had his home.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asked the moment he flung open the bedroom door.

They were all gathered in a little circle in front of Yoongi’s bed, with Hoseok sitting on top of it. He was bouncing and singing something entirely inappropriate for a child.

“Yeah. It’s cool. Dinner’s almost done.”

“Finally!” Namjoon huffed, his stomach rumbling loudly to agree.

“Here!” Hoseok huffed and shoved the bundle towards him. Jin accepted it without thinking.

He looked down and locked eyes again with the creature that had so changed his life. His wolf quieted almost instantly, finally content to be in the general vicinity of its mate. The others shuffled out of the room and he barely noticed, so enthralled he was by the eyes blinking up at him. The baby was so quiet. Aren’t they supposed to be loud?

And...he supposed as far as infants went he was decent looking. Didn’t look like a potato like some infants he’d seen. His eyes were larger than the rest of the Min’s, and his nose seemed a bit longer. Maybe it was just a baby thing and he had to grow into himself.

All he knew was that he was very glad that all he scented was strawberries and pup, and it just made him protective. He didn’t feel any crazy urges or have bad thoughts - he simply wanted to make sure this pup was safe and happy.

Huh , he could live with that.

“Well, how’d I do?”

He looked up to find Mama Min watching him from the doorway, leaning against it and smiling softly.

“He’s only seven weeks old and already makes Yoongi look like a gremlin,” he scoffed playfully, standing up.

She laughs and holds out her arms. “He is a pretty one. Yoongi’s not so bad either when he sleeps more than four hours and showers.”

He hesitates, his wolf unwilling to release the pup now that he had it. But no, he was more than instincts. He thrust Jungkook towards her and pretended that his wolf wasn't howling against the loss.

Who else would he be safer with than his own mother, you bastard? He growled to himself.

When they gathered for dinner it was the usual chaos. Everyone was screaming and talking over each other, tons of laughter and teasing. Amazing food and even better friends.

Maybe I can keep this, he thought to himself. He smiled hopefully as he observed everyone he cared about sitting around him. Maybe things don’t have to change too much. Jungkook will just be another friend. Eventually. When he learns to talk that is. I can keep on with the plan.

Nothing will change.

[connorandersons-blog]

Computer Virus

Connor gets a virus from a murder victim, but the only way to 'cure' himself is... you guessed it! Have sex! This has definitely been done before it was still really fun to write! I also blame the convin discord server for this. It's just pure smut with feelings thrown in at the end.

The reference to rape is from the victims of the crimes, Gavin and Connor very much want this and consent. There is dubcon only cause its the whole fuck or die and I wanted to be safe!

Word count: 3,037 Rating: E

Hope you enjoy!

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

He shifted in his sheet for what felt like the hundredth time since getting back from the case, trying to ignore the shivers and jerks that wrecked his body. He grabbed the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white as his… problem got worse again. "Ha-Hank, I um, need help." It was getting too much, and he needed it to just stop. 

Hank hummed looking over with a raised eyebrow. "What's up, son?" 

"So, I uh, may have downloaded a virus." One that his systems didn't exactly know how to fight. "Normally I can fix it myself, but it isn't acting like a normal virus." It wasn't creating anything new but just enhancing things that were already there.

Hence why he kept staring at Gavin and having to stop certain programs, even when they kept coming back online without his permission.

He pouted when Hank burst out laughing, drawing nearly everyone's attention, even Gavin looked over rolling his eyes. Fuck, Gavin's eyes on him (or at least in his general direction) wasn't helping at all. Gavin caught his staring and stared right back with blinking. It reminded him of cats finding for dominance, and now he's thinking about that, fuck. 

He had to look away, trying to focus on Hank and not the rising heat in his face and his whole body for that matter. "Hank! This is serious! I got it when I connected to the victim." A dead one, so he thought it would be safe. Apparently, this virus didn't need power to stay alive, fucking wonderful. 

That sobered Hank up a bit, realizing exactly *what* virus Connor was infected with. "I am not helping in that way. Sorry, Con, I appreciate it, but no. Not happening." 

That only caused his blush to get deeper, shaking his head so quickly he's worried it would fall off. "What? No! I don't, oh my god, Hank, what the fuck? I meant I literally need help: I'm overheating!" 

"Oh. Uh, I can get you a drink? But you know what you have to do to kick this if you don't wanna burn up." Hank moved to stand, and Connor let him. They had both seen the burned bodies when the androids hadn't been able to work it out of the systems. 

And that was the problem. Connor would have to have sex with someone, the even worse problem was it didn't have to be consensual. With the cases they'd seen one too many sexual assaults due to it, which was hard to figure out how to charge them. On one hand it was self-defense, if they didn't they would die, but it was still rape. They'd let the lawyers figure that out, their main mission was to watch whoever created the virus. 

"I know, I know. I'm going to go to the bathroom, splash some water on my face so I can think clearly for a second." Standing was awkward but he shut down that program so he could at least make it there without his problem being too obvious. 

The bathroom was blessedly empty, he went to the sink. He yanked off his tie, tossed that and his jacket to the counter, and unbuttoned his shirt, the cool air making him shiver in relief. "Fuck." He grumbled, leaning against the counter. He cupped his hands under the cool water and splashed it onto his face, feeling the wet trail down to his chest. 

He didn't have time to pull his shirt on again before the door swung open and none other than Gavin Reed stoked in, eyes catching Connor's before sliding down to openly stare at his chest. 

"Jesus, what the fuck Tincan?" Gavin said, crossing his arms. 

Connor ran a hand through his hair, trying desperately to not jump Gavin here and now. "I'm having some technical difficulties, I apologize for my appearance." 

"Right… you know if I found a human-like this I'd say they were horny. Can droids even get horny?" Gavin leaned on the counter, apparently forgetting why he came in. 

"We can, the case I currently have deals with a virus that does just that but to the extreme. If the android does not release the tension they will overheat and die." He should have told him to just fuck off, use the bathroom and leave, but he wanted Gavin to know. 

"Right." 

"I've been infected with this virus." 

He watched as Gavin's face morphed into one of shock, then worry, then… interest? "Well damn. Can't you just rub one off? Not the first time someone's done that in these bathrooms." Gavin let his arms relax, eyes trailing up and down Connor's body. He lingered on his chest and crotch where there was definitely a tent to his pants. 

"It seems it must be done with someone else. I'm not sure why. I was going to contact one of my friends, perhaps Markus, to help if I couldn't get this under control." He knew Markus would understand, he'd been kept up to date on the case and had worried about the possibility of Connor getting infected. He had assured Markus it wouldn't happen, his firewalls were too strong and if it did get in he could work it out without a problem. 

"Don't you have like… android antibodies?" 

"Not exactly. This virus is different than most. I have to go and find the strings of code myself but they keep multiplying faster than I can delete it. My systems aren't recognizing it as a virus but part of my normal coding." Which just made it so much harder. And it took them a while to find in the androids since scans had said nothing was wrong. 

Gavin's face scrunched up adorably, trying to process the information. "Fucking hell. Well, how much time do you got left 'til you literally die from being too horny?" 

"Approximately thirty minutes unless I have sex, then the timer stops as long as I eventually climax." Might as well be as honest as possible if he really was going to die. It didn't feel real like it was just some silly prank, but he'd seen the damage. He knew how much agony the androids went through as they caught on fire and burned alive. 

"What the fuck?! You're going to die in thirty minutes but you're standing around talking to me? Go get some dick or whatever!" Gavin pushed away from the counter, shaking his head. Connor couldn't help but try to get closer, leaning forward just a bit. "... Why are you looking at me like that?" 

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to control myself, I swear." He tried to say it normally but it came out as a whine. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take in slow breaths. The closer he got to the timer running out the harder it was to think clearly or even stop himself from grabbing Gavin and fucking him on the counter. 

He jolted, biting his lip to stop the moan that threatened to spill out when rough, calloused, warm hands ran up his chest. "Oh god," he whined, tilting his head to expose his neck. 

There was a tentative hot lick to it, a moan slipping out of him. "Can't let you die, I guess. Do you need to fuck or be fucked?" Gavin asks, fingers massaging Connor's chest. He shivered when those hands started playing with his nipples, getting them since and hard. 

He kept his hands to himself even as they twitched to hold and pull Gavin even closer. Each touch from Gavin was like an ice cube to his skin, burning cold, yet it felt so good. "I don't know, just need you." 

Gavin hummed, pulling Connor down enough so he could suck a nice big hickey onto his neck. "I can do that." 

No. Fuck, no this wasn't right. He weakly tried to push him away and off but his hands just holding him by his shoulders. "Don't do this, don't want to hurt you or… not without you wanting it too." He couldn't rape someone, he couldn't do that to Gavin or anyone else. 

Gavin paused, pulling away so they could see each other's faces. "I've wanted to get my hands on you from the moment you walked in. It was so unfair, it was like they stole you from my dreams and made you real. Drove me fucking insane." 

"Please touch me," he whimpered, leaning closer. It hurt so much, his body tugging him closer to Gavin to get anything he could from him. 

"Shit! Right, sorry Tincan." Gavin grumbled, crashing their lips together, teeth clinking awkwardly until they got into a fast rhythm. Gavin leans against the sink until Connor needs more and picks him up to sit him on it, slotting himself between his open legs. 

Connor ground his hips forward, hissing at the electricity that shot through him, making his arms tighten around Gavin. 

Gavin broke the kiss, gasping for air but taking the time to shrug his own jacket off and Connor grabs his shirt and yanks it over his head. He needed his hands on Gavin and he needed it now. His chest has some hair, and Connor couldn't help but squish and play with those soft but firm pects. 

"I want you to fuck me." He sighed out when Gavin scratched down his back. "I need you to, please Gavin."

Gavin sucked at the skin on his collarbone before pulling off with a soft, wet pop. It hit him that they were in the bathroom… at work. Anyone could walk in and see them and yet he didn't want to stop. It only made him want to keep going, the idea of being caught sending a thrill through him. He could easily say he had to, he had the virus after all. 

"Yeah, yeah ok. I, oh fuck, I don't have lube or a condom on me." Gavin leaned forward, resting his head on Connor's shoulder, biting down to keep his own moans quiet. The bathroom may have thick walls but if someone walked past there was the possibility they'd hear. 

"Don't need a condom with me and uh… I don't need lube either. I kinda self-produce it." Thank God for that. He could get away with doing it without on himself, it wasn't like humans could hurt him in this way. 

Gavin's mouth dropped open as he leaned back, eyes wide as saucers. "Well fuck me then."

"I thought you'd be doing the fucking," Connor teased, reaching a hand down to cup Gavin through his pants. He bucked his hips into the hand, letting out his own small whimper. 

"Fuck off! Shit, ok uh, how do you wanna do this?" Gavin asked, pushing off the counter, but his hands quickly went back to touch and pull Connor close. 

Connor glanced around before eyeing the stalls. He hooked a finger around Gavin's belt loops and pulled him into one, sitting him down. "This ok?" He pulled his own belt off, tossing it to the ground. 

Gavin nodded so quickly his head was sure to fall off, but he pushed his own pants and boxers down, eyeing Connor as he did.

The cold hit him up but he really couldn't care less. He hadn't even closed or locked the stall door before he reached behind himself and pushed a finger in. He bit his lip, working himself open quickly, eyes squeezed shut. He could hear the slick sound of Gavin fucking his own hand roughly at the sight of Connor. And if that didn't do things to him. 

He pressed a second finger in, then a third after a glance down at Gavin's length. It wasn't too long to be a problem, but it was plenty thick, flushed from the blood rushing through it. His lube had already kicked in, it had done that the minute he was infected but now he had an actual use for it. 

"Have you done this?" It was probably a stupid question to ask, but he wanted to make sure Gavin at least had an idea of what to do, even if Connor would do most of the work. 

"Trust me, I've had plenty of dick and given plenty. You aren't my first pretty boy, not by a long shot." Gavin smirked up at him with all the confidence in the world. 

Connor keened at the petname, nodding quickly. "Thank god, so have I if you're wondering." He had been very curious after deviating and had some friends that had no problem helping him experiment. 

Apparently, he was taking too long because his body started to tremble and the timer started up again. He pushed it out of his HUD with a small huff. "Shit, ok, you ready?" He positioned himself over Gavin, glancing down to make sure they were lined up. 

Gavin's hands rested on Connor's waist, thumbs rubbing soothingly into his perfect skin. "Course I am, take what you need, baby. I'm yours to use." 

His hands rested on Gavin's shoulder as he slowly sank down onto his cock, both groaning at the sensations. He just felt so sensitive, skin burning in a good way from where they were connected. He sat himself down, hips twitching but he needed to give them both time to adjust. 

Then Connor rose up and sank back down, again and again, speeding up to an almost inhuman pace. Gavin leaned forward capturing Connor's lips in a heated kiss. 

"So good, baby," Gavin mumbled when he needed to breathe again. "Keep going, ok? Shit, you're so beautiful." 

He rolled his hips just the right way that had him close to screaming, but Gavin was quick enough to stick two fingers into his mouth. Connor sucked on them, licking between them and swirling his tongue around the tips. Gavin pressed the other to the small of Gavin's back, almost reverently as he let Connor fuck himself just how he wanted it. 

Connor took the fingers out his mouth to intertwine their fingers, his other still holding desperately to Gavin's shoulder as their foreheads pressed together. It was close to being caring and intimate, but Connor didn't want to think too hard on that. Gavin was just doing this to keep him alive, nothing more nothing less. Right? 

Gavin kept mumbling sweet nothings against his lips, their breaths mingling as Connor's bouncing started losing its rhythm. "You close?" Gavin whined, his hands tightening enough that would hurt a human, but the pressure just felt good to Connor. 

He nodded, already feeling the tenseness come over him. There was a coil inside him but he couldn't get there, he needed something. 

"Come on, Connor. Let me see you come." Gavin pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Gavin probably had no idea what he'd done, but Gavin saying his name like a prayer shook him to the core and he couldn't hold on anymore. He said it like he… like he loved him, but his mind went blissfully blank as he sat him onto Gavin's lap, squeezing around him. 

He could feel Gavin in him, feel himself being filled up but he went limp in Gavin's arms. The man didn't seem to mind, just putting his arm tightly around him as they tried to slow their breathing. 

He checked for the virus but it was completely gone and out of his system. He felt overheated but not unnaturally so now, now he felt content and satisfied in Gavin's arms. He pressed soft kisses to his shoulder and neck, leaving lazy hickeys here and there. "Thank you," Connor mumbled against his skin. 

"Yeah, no problem. Hopefully, you enjoyed yourself?" 

Connor nodded, his eyes still closed in bliss. "Very much so. Though we should both get cleaned up and back to work." Not that he wanted to even move let alone work, but he had responsibilities. He had to tell Hank he was ok and managed to get it out of his system. 

Gavin's hold tightened protectively around him, their hands still clasped together. "Nuh-uh, not yet. You fucked me so hard I need more than a minute and you're staying with me for it." 

Connor hummed happily, nuzzling at Gavin's neck before laying his chin on his shoulder. "Ok." 

The two sat there and no one even came near the bathroom (little did the two know, Hank had said there was a problem in there and told people to just hold it for now, and everyone listened). It was calm and warm, but he did pull off, making them both hiss. He sat back down, wrapping his legs around Gavin's waist. 

"Could we do this again?" He asked meekly, still hiding his face. He didn't want to push, Gavin was generous enough, but he didn't want this to stop. 

Gavin was silent for so long he was sure he'd be thrown off and yelled at for even thinking it was a possibility. But then Gavin pulled back, cupping his cheek gently and pressing the softest kiss to his lips. "Yeah, we can do this if you want. I'm ok with whatever you want, just sex or… more?" Now Gavin looked nervous, but Connor broke into a wide grin.

"More! More, please, I um, yeah I'd like more." This couldn't be real, but Gavin was still holding him and pressing kisses all over his face making him giggle. "Gavin!" He whined, his smile widening impossibly. 

Gavin smiled back, his eyes lighting up beautiful even in the bathroom lighting. "Good, cause so do I. But I think we should at least leave the bathroom, my ass is getting sore."

"Oh!" Connor jumped back, offering a hand to help Gavin up. They got toilet paper and cleaned each other up with soft words and laughter. They still both looked thoroughly fucked, but maybe people would think they just fought? One look at either of their necks would prove otherwise, but that was fine. 

He wasn't sure if he'd first thank or punch the person who created this virus, but either way, he would catch them. Plus Gavin had promised a reward for doing so, and he wouldn't fail his mission.

[foxgloveinspace]

Andrew Minyard is ADHD:

I said I would only really write this if people were interested, but I lied, lol. WAIT One person liked the og post while I was typing this, so there's interest and it’s justified! Lol.

Ok, I’ve seen other posts talking about this, but some of them used some things that I didn’t agree with, so I’m gonna do my own.

I wanna set the preface of, if you see Andrew as ADHD, awesome! If you don’t, that's great too! In reality, this is all speculation, and self projecting, and my desire for actually good representation of ADHD characters that are not stereotypical, so if you see Andrew as something different, that is completely and totally a-okay.

-ADHD has three types, inattentive (formally known as ADD), hyperactive (previously just ADHD) and combined type. Some people prefer calling it Executive Function Disorder (EFD), because Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder describes how it affects people around ADHDers, more than it affects ADHDers. For the sake of this, I’m going to refer to it as ADHD, because it’s more commonly known, and it’s what I call it for myself. I also acknowledge that according to the timeline, Andrew would probably be diagnosed with ADD (if he ever got diagnosed, that is, which I don’t know if he would or not). Please keep all this information in mind.

Things that would be explained if Andrew was ADHD:

Instead of reason’s I think Andrew is adhd in canon, I mostly have thing’s I think could be explained if he was:

-Why he ‘hates’ exy:

This is a big reason in my mind, he is very insistent he doesn’t like exy and I can explain why he actually doesn’t with him being ADHD.

He started playing in juvie, as something to do, it’s a good way to completely clear his mind and concentrate on something that he is actually good at, which is instant gratification, it's something ADHDer’s experience a lot. It’s one of the main reasons ADHDer’s love video games (if your curious there are videos on youtube explaining this. I am ADHD and this is already overwhelming enough for me than trying to explain this as well).

Andrew only tries at exy when he is in the goal, otherwise he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it. He doesn’t care about stats of other teams, or watching other peoples games, it’s only interesting to him when he’s in the goal or when other people make bets/dares with him; “can you shut down the goal?” “pick a number” playing while coming down from his meds for a long period of time, things like that. Making it interesting, keeping himself engaged with it, is a big thing for him. Again, instant gratification. And also an explanation for why outside of the court, when people try to talk to him about the sport, he doesn’t care, he ‘hates’ it. Cause he does. He hates talking about, that doesn’t interest him. It’s boring and not what gives his brain satisfaction within the sport itself.

-Spending habits (TW: Not sure how to tag this tbh, but Andrew being prepared to die? I’ll put it in double parentheses, just incase):

((While I am of the firm belief that the number one reason that Andrew bought the first car is cause he completely wasn't expecting to live through the crash and then had no idea what to do with that amount of money when he wasn't expecting to live)), ADHD would also explain why he buys such expensive stuff. Again, it's instant gratification. It's like trying to tell yourself to wait for something you really want as an award. What's the point when you can have it now? He goes out and buys the most expensive cars he can cause it scratches that itch in his brain.

- Subcategory to spending, Daredevil:

It could also have to do with going fast. Most 'daredevils' are actually ADHDers. Going fast and doing daring things triggers chemicals in our brains, same as hyperfixations and instant gratification. In fact, that could also be a reason for sparing with Renee as well.

-Zoning out:

Ask any ADHDer about maladaptive daydreaming, and dissociating. Andrew has been known in canon to lose himself in thought a lot, and stare out in space for extended periods of time. This is very common with ADHD, and while it’s a small thing, it’s something I think about quite a bit, and so I included it.

-Loud Music:

Another way to drown out your own thoughts is to listen to music, and a lot of ADHDers like loud music. Andrew likes loud music while driving fast. This is very ADHD to me.

-His major:

I think this is something else that can be explained with ADHD, as a hyperfixation. Its not something he wants to do with his life, but it's something his brain lets him concentrate on, and therefore, something to do with his time in college, something he doesn't necessarily want to do, and is doing it out of necessity.

-His memory:

Something about adhd is that it is almost always paired with a different thing. Autism and dyslexia are the two most common. So his perfect memory would be something else neurodivergent that could be paired with his ADHD.

-Attachment issues/RSD:

Andrew keeps everyone at arm's length, and while this can be a part of his past, it can also be combined with RSD, or Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Which can mean any sort of negative attitude towards you can send you into a spiral. So Aaron not being understanding of their deal/promise and pushing him away would be devastating to him on a whole other level, one that feels right for how he acts in canon. But on the other hand he can't let go of Aaron because he is already attached to him. 

Again with Nickey, he's someone that's been in his life for so long it would be devastating for him to just up and leave, especially to an eighteen year old. He would never tell him this, because of RSD, and if Nickey decided to leave despite that, it would have been very devastating to him and Nickey would have never been allowed back into his life, so that would be the number one reason for Andrew to get Nickey into college with him.

ADHDers are also very quick to get attached to people, something we see with Andrew is that once he has decided someone is 'his' he is unshakable in his loyalty.

I hate going into it, but that would be another reason for how he is with Cass, why he is so desperate to stay, despite what is happening in the back ground.

-Emotions:

I know Andrew has reasons for being emotionally distant, but when he feels emotions in canon, anger, he is quick to it, and feels it fully to the point he can't control it. It's very common in ADHD to have no control over how you react to your emotions unless you spend a lot of time doing it, like Andrew has.

-Long Weird Conversations:

The way he talks to Renee, and then Neil, where they jump around from subject to subject, with no discernable connection to the subjects. Like, that's stereotypical ADHD, but one that actually ADHDers relate to. 

-Sensory things:

Things in canon that Andrew does/likes that scream sensory issues or stimming:

-Stimming:

Likes extreme foods (sweet and spicy things).

Has comfort objects (arm bands, while I know they were to hide his scars, I feel like the fact that they don't bug him even in extreme weather is a major factor in them being a weighted stim for him).

Smoking (I don't know how to describe how this is a stim for Andrew, but it is?).

-Sensory Issues (I know most of these have canon reasons, but I wanna say they could be heightened by ADHD, so keep that in mind):

Not eating around other people/eating in small bites. (Hating food textures is a common thing for ADHDer’s).

Being a light sleeper/taking forever to fall asleep. (Brain won't shut off/be quiet).

Wanting a routine but simultaneously hating it. (His love/hate relationship with exy. He never complains about getting up for practice, that Neil mentions, but is constantly hating how repetitive it is. Going to Eden's almost every Friday, where it's the same place but different every time without being too different.)

That's all that I can think of right now. I tried to not mention anything that happened while Andrew was on medication, so the whole 'keep my attention' doesn't really count in my opinion.

Thank you for reading, and maybe I might come back to this and add more someday, but for now it's finished.

In conclusion: Andrew being ADHD makes a lot of sense within canon.

[thefanficmonster]

My Warrior

Daniel x Taylor (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope)

Warnings: !Spoilers!, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: They have all made it out of there. They’re safe from the real horrors, but the scenes that have been imbedded into their minds keep haunting them. They are left with scars to their subconscious as well as scars on their skin. Marks to remind them of what they went through. What they survived. Taylor can’t stand them - the burn marks on her skin and the scars that night left on her. She’s struggling way more than she’d like to admit. But there’s someone who sees through her toughness.

Requested by @chairtiger Hello there my chaotic co-cult leader! Sorry to be posting your request so late 👉👈 hope you understand and forgive me for the long wait. I had a blast writing the fic and I hope you enjoy reading it. Anyway...SHIP DAYLOR FOR CLEAR SKIN EVERYONE...Love, Vy ❤

“Fucking hell, this is torture.“ Taylor groans as she runs a make-up wipe over her foundation-covered, bruised skin. Underneath all those layers of foundations are the marks she’s been so desperate to hide - the reminders of that night. That monstrosity that wanted her dead and wasn’t gonna stop at anything to make that happen.

But it didn’t happen She tells herself, I’m here, aren’t I?

She’s happy to have gotten out of there with her life as well as all her friends, but the feeling of the constant presence of that night’s memories weighing on her mind, and thanks to the marks on her skin as well, she has a hard time accepting that she was indeed lucky. Some fucking luck. If she were lucky she wouldn’t have even ended up in that predicament. But she did and it has taken a bite out of her sanity and will haunt her for good, physically and mentally. No doubt about it.

The first place they all went to after their return was a hospital. Scrapes and bruises and some open wounds along with Andrew’s concussion were the main of the physical injuries. No broken bones or anything permanent, thank God. 

Well, almost nothing permanent. 

Taylor had seen the looks the nurses and the doctor gave her when they saw the state of her skin - much like the others she had bruises and scratches here and there, the most serious of which still had dried blood on them. However, unlike the rest of the group, she’d be left with the burn marks for as long as the memories - forever. Of course, that’s not what the doctor told her, not directly, at least. He said to give them time and some treatment that wasn’t completely sure to work. She knew what that meant - “Be ready to spend the rest of your life like this or in covering it up.”

It’s been one month since that horrible night. One month of treatment for her skin. Lotions, creams, cleansers, foundation. Nothing has worked. She spends an hour going through the process of covering the marks up and an hour taking all that foundation off. No one has commented on them which may be either because she covers them well enough or they simply don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. She doesn’t care what others think of them, people’s opinions never bother her on any ground. The war she has with these burn marks is personal and has all to do with an event she wants to let go of and move on from. As if her nightmares aren’t enough, she also has to deal with flashbacks every time she looks in the mirror.

She hasn’t expressed her frustration to anyone. She has managed to hide it as well as the bruises themselves. It’s Taylor after all, she’s good at putting on an act so no one can read her. But, because it is indeed her, she’s not used to keeping her anger in. She feels like a ticking timed bomb. A bubble with tender, delicate walls that could burst at any moment. And God help the person who she bursts in front of. She’s never held her composure this long, she doesn’t know what will even happen if she lets go.

Now, looking in the mirror, about to take off her foundation and apply the new lotion the doctor prescribed her, she feels as fragile as ever. She’s feeling the lack of sleep more than ever as well as the pain of her tensed muscles that never seem to relax anymore. She doesn’t feel mentally prepared to go through the process of taking off the cover-up. She never feels ready, it always takes a toll on her on mentally, emotionally and even physically. She always feels so tired afterwards, so drained. Maybe because she always expects to see a difference when the foundation comes off. There never is, nothing but disappointment.

Today has been extra hard for her. Her mind has never been hazier from the lack of sleep. Her thoughts are all over the place, none of them clear. Her body’s almost shutting down. She feels like a ghost of herself. Like the real her is in a different location. Probably still stuck in Little Hope.

The foundation’s off, the same sight meets her, mocking her from the mirror. And that’s the snapping point she’s been dreading for a month now. She reaches for the new lotion she picked up on her way home.

“Useless piece of shit!“ she chucks it to the other end of the bathroom. The bottle is unharmed, it just hits the tiled floor with a loud thud. She however is in pieces, also dropping on the ground, her back against the wall, her knees tucked close to her chest, hiding her face between them, sobbing her heart out. It’s certainly a freeing feeling, but it only exhausts her more.

“Hey T...Taylor, what’s wrong?“ She hears the familiar voice and goes silent but does not dare lift her head, especially not now that her cover-up is off her, the burn marks on display. She remains sitting on the ground, face hidden from his sight.

Daniel feels her heart sink at the sight of the most important person in his life being at a low point like this one. He feels guilty for not taking action sooner. He saw the signs, the red flags in the form of fake empty smile, lack of sarcasm, colorless cheeks, eyebags, red eyes. Lack of Taylor, she was nowhere to be seen. She was far from the person he’s used to knowing and seeing every day. Knowing her, he expected prying to be a bad move but now he wishes he’d done it sooner. On time. Before she could crash like this.

“Do you know how to knock?” Her weak attempt at putting her tough act back on slips through the cracks in her voice.

Daniel is by her side asap, kneeling on the ground in front of her. “T, come on, don’t do this. Look at me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She knows better than to hide from Daniel. He know her too well. She trusts him too much. So, despite her previous determination not to let him in on the fact that she’s now a product of that night, she raises her head, resting her chin on her knee, still avoiding his gaze though. He doesn’t bat an eye though. 

Can he really not see what’s bothering me? It’s very fucking obvious

“I- I just feel like I can’t do this, you know. I can’t be fine like the rest of you. You’ve all moved on. And here I am with nightmares like a preschooler and these ugly things all over my skin. That night will permanently hold onto me, Daniel. I can never let it go if I’m reminded of it every time I look in the mirror.“ Her gaze travels to the lotion bottle on the an arm’s reach away. “I can empty as many of these bottles as I feel like, they never help. The doctor says they maybe would, big emphasis on the ‘maybe’ but, spoiler alert: they never do. I wish they’d stop stringing me along, every failed attempt is a hard-to-swallow disappointment.“ She chuckles humorlessly when Daniel takes the bottle from her, “And then there’s always the casually mentioned risk of it making them worse rather than better. You know, casually. Like, yeah this will either help you or fuck you up even worse.“ She ends the rant with a sigh, almost feeling like herself again.

Daniel sees it too, the fire in her eyes is fighting to light again. She’s so angry and yet she can’t express it to anyone. Anyone by him apparently. 

“So, you’re not gonna give it a shot?“ She shakes her head, “But what if it helps?“

“What if it makes it worse?“ She automatically replies, hugging her knees closer

“Let it be your last go. If it doesn’t do anything, or God forbid makes things worse, it’s on me. I owe you whatever you want. I know that’s nothing in comparison to what you’ll be dealing with, but...“ Sensing a speech is on its way, Taylor holds her hand up, shaking her head.

“Alright, spare me Mr. I-Don’t-Take-Medicine-Unless-I’m-On-My-Death-Bed. Give me the lotion.“

He shakes his head, stands up and takes hold of the hand she has outstretched instead. “Nah-ah, let me help.” The skeptical and downright humoring look she gives him when she stands to her feet almost makes him frown. “What? I’m not clueless, T. I know a think or two about skin care. You think this all came naturally?” He motions at himself cockily, stealing a genuine laugh from her.

“I knew nature couldn’t fuck up that badly. I suspected you had something to do with it.“ She narrows her eyes, meeting his also narrow-eyed gaze, both in on the fact that the other is messing around.

“Your skin is at my mercy. I wouldn’t talk smack if I were you.“ He playfully warns her, waving the lotion bottle in front of her.

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah whatever you say, tough guy.“ She opens a drawer under the sink and throws him a box of cotton pads.

Not wasting any time in fear she might change her mind, Daniel takes one pad out and puts a few drops of the lotion on it. He hesitantly brings it closer to the skin on the side of her neck while she stands as still as a statue, not breathing either. Despite all the bold talk, he’s still nervous. He really hopes this miracle liquid of chemicals works, solely because it will make Taylor happy. And to him, her happiness is all that matters.

She shudders when the cold, damp cotton pad makes contact with her skin and he immediately feels the need to apologize. Instead, however, he goes on to tell her exactly what’s on his mind, cause he knows there’ll never be a better time.

“What you call a reminder of that night, the horrors we endured, I see it differently...“ he trails off, looking at her reflection in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. “I see it as proof that we’re stronger than we know. And you, T...are the strongest of us all. Any of these scars could have been a lethal would but here you are, alive. And no, I’m not trying to say you’re lucky. None of us are. Lord knows what kind of fucked up luck we posses, but it ain’t right. No, you are brave. You went through it and fought to leave the battle with scars instead of dropping to the ground with a wound that is irredeemable. You’re a warrior, Taylor.” He pauses for a second and so do the movements of his hand. He hesitantly inhales before saying the last sentence he’s been holding back, “My warrior.” 

Taylor tilts her head to look at him, genuine surprise and warmth in her eyes. She’s baffled. Pleasantly caught off-guard by words she never thought she’d hear, let alone trust. She covers all this up with a smirk. Classic Taylor. “You weren’t really a pansy back there either, Dan.” She gently bumps his shoulder with hers.

His eyes narrow again. “I hate that nickn-“ It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get to finish his sentence cause her lips are already on his, preventing him from ranting about...whatever he was about to go off about.

You know what they say: If you don’t finish saying it, it was never meant to be said in the first place. 

@artlovingbre  @megandaisy9  @sparrow-gg​