#this has been sitting on my mind longer than id like to admit but i find it so fucking funny and also just a fun detail

[yikes-ajax]

Absolute bullshit headcanon: like how Caleb often says ja instead of yes, essek does similar. According to Eilistraee common to drow, one variant of yes in undercommon is xas (the other being siyo, which I'm assuming is likely just proper and casual variations like yes vs yeah in English, idfk), which similarly to ja, sounds close enough to yeah or yes to easily just blend into common. So with that said, essek would 100% say yas (xas) queen.

[habit-poxly]

filthy work - simon “ghost” riley

description: ghost has a moment of emotional weakness and invites you over to his flat after a fight. ( ghost’s pov, gender neutral, they/them pronouns, no physical description of you, x reader )

warnings: toxic relationships, smoking, fighting, fluff 

mentions of: drug use, age gap, suicide

word count: 3k

When I look into my eyes in the mirror, I can see the shadows behind those glass bulbs dissolve into a rushing black sea of shame. I'll often avoid catching glimpses of myself in the feeble attempt to put off confronting my cruel reality just a bit longer. The skin that sits atop my flesh, scattered with scars of wounds caused in every way imaginable. The torture in my youth was endless, my father took a keen interest in ensuring I never had a moment of peace. So, I do not, nor have I ever. Except, of course, when I'm with them.

The way their fingers delicately dance across my skin, the way they kiss my scars, the way they run their fingers through my hair, all heal my broken soul in a way no other living being ever could. Initially, I treated my interest in them as an infatuation, a schoolboy crush I could subdue by plunging myself into their core and then rapidly pulling away. Unfortunately, the second their lips met my skin it felt like my heart had been set on fire. After our first night together I found myself spiralling deeper and deeper into the ocean that is them- threatening to submerge me completely. If it was them, I thought, drowning would be something I'd beg for. Something I'd need. 

The moans and shutters I got the pleasure of drawing from them were enough- for a while- but eventually, my mind began to wander. We had shared very few tender moments, something I lamented over often. I almost always leave immediately after we finish having sex, the air always feels poisoned by me somehow, like the sickness that rested in my bones had infected the air in the room. If I'd say id only suffocate them with my rot, and they would pull me under the surface. Staying always forced something out of me, some soft, sensitive part of myself that I was petrified of presenting to anyone, let alone them. But, every once and a while my resolve would fade; I'd watch as a frown tugged at the corners of their mouth as I stood up and would crumble. 

"What does your dream house look like?" Their head was laid on my chest, looking up at me with bright eyes. The question made me pause, the answer truthfully was sappy; a combination of 'Whatever you'd like' and 'I don't care as long as you're there with me.'.

I let out a 'hm', not wanting to ruin the moment- that's something I found myself doing often. It was a habit of mine to accidentally ruin the mood by opening myself up before snapping closed again the second I got uneasy. I had collected more of those memories than I cared to admit, but I had been making an effort to change that- as best as I can. I'd never say that to them, though. What would I say? 'I'm working on not being as big of a piece of shit to you because I love you.' I'd rather be chopped up in Siberia than say that out loud. 

"Something far away, middle o' nowhere. Big land, small house." My voice was noticeably horse, something that had always made them shiver. Their index finger began tracing small shapes onto the exposed skin of my chest. At that moment I felt lucky they hadn't been laying their head above my heart- they differently would have heard how fast it got when they began tracing love hearts. Something like this a few months ago, so sickeningly homely, would have been unimaginable- might have even made me gag. 

They hum before leaning up and planting a soft kiss on my lips. 

"All alone?" They had muttered, the question genuine in its phrasing yet still leaving something unsaid. 

No. Not all alone. For a moment I wanted to whisper out how deeply I needed them, how they infected me and how it wouldn't be fair to leave me suffering- struggling to breathe without them kissing life into my battered body. Yet, the words always seem to lodge in my throat, my body throwing itself into panic. 

They can always sense when my mood shifts, never pushing any further. 

The memory ends with me wordlessly leaving them lying alone in bed, that night cruelly ending the same as every other. 

Normally, we both do our fair part in avoiding conflict with each other, but tonight had been different for them somehow. The words I had flung at them had been completely meaningless to me, all being dragged out of me by the anger I've struggled my entire life to control. I had always hoped they knew that. Despite me never saying it, I desperately hoped they knew I didn't mean it. On the other hand, the words they would say, full of care and unconditional love would burn themselves into my heart forever. 

It had started off simple enough but quickly rolled downhill into a complete mess. 

"I just want to know what we are, Simon. I can't keep stringing myself along like this!" They were trying their best not to cry as my form towered over them. I know it's cruel to push them away and then run back to them, especially at the frequency I do it, but no matter how hard I try I can't seem to stop myself from sabotaging my relationship with them. 

"It's just sex." I had told them harshly, I remember feeling unbearable pain tug at my chest when tears finally fell from their eyes. They staggered a breath in- more than a few tears fall down the glowing flesh of their cheek, threatening to break me completely. 

"I was very clear with you about that from the beginning. I always told you all I ever wanted out of you was sex." I was correct, I had told them that, too many times to count. At no point had I ever meant it. In my heart, I've always wanted them. But I would never say that. Never out loud. I wasn't built to, no part of my body was put together with love. I can't. 

"I thought I was changing your mind!" Their voice cracked and faltered, silently weeping. I had never heard a sentence spoken more broken, more emotionally shattered. I had justified- in some twisted way- pushing them away in this manner as me protecting them from getting hurt- and me taking them back as the selfish part, but this clearly had hurt them more than anything else I could have done. 

Those were the words that forced me out the door, the words that buried themselves into my heart when it spilled from their lips. I hadn't thought of a time in years when a sentence had caused me to shake so violently- or one that had crushed my spirit so completely.  

Staring into my flats bathroom mirror I note the deep bags under my eyes, ones that have resided in their spots for decades, seem slightly darker now. I wanted to call her, the phone sat unlocked- waiting- on the counter in front of me, but I couldn't manage to work up the courage to do it. No amount of bourbon seems to assist in writing out a coherent apology to send over text, absolutely shocking. 

They had changed my mind, and long before they thought they had begun the process of doing so. 

All I wanted was them. 

I wanted a little house on a big property with them, with shutters and a nice porch where we could smoke together. A cat, maybe a dog too, we name them together. A kitchen they design, one they feel comfortable slow dancing in together. We'd have a pool table and a mini bar in the basement, we get drunk and play pool, I'd show off and make them giggle while leaving sloppy kisses on their shoulders. They'd bring light to the dark world I've been trapped in my entire life and I'd finally be able to breathe. 

"Fuck." I grumble before reaching for my phone, all my resolve disappearing. 

My flat had always been strictly off limits in our 'situationship' as they jokingly referred to it once. Our meetings would almost always take place either on base, at their flat, or in a hotel room. Initially, I hadn't allowed them over because I was trying to be as impersonal with us having sex as possible, but even as that became something that wasn't the case I still never invited them over. It had become more about me being embarrassed about how empty my life was than anything else. 

The walls of my flat were bare. No clean clothes were ever folded and put away- they would sit on top of the drier until the washing needed to be done again. I had three plates, two bowls, 1 mug, 4 normal glasses, and 8 liquor glasses, all of which have only ever been used by myself. It was always a bit messy, but only ever with my gear, booze bottles, or cigarette ash; which consists of almost everything I own. 

I hadn't wanted anyone to know how barren my life was, but as I poured myself a fifth glass of bourbon my insecurity faded with my sobriety. 

'I'll do it as quickly as possible' I drunkenly whisper. My thumb presses on their message contact in my phone. When they put it in they had put their name as a little text face, I had snatched my phone away and changed it to something formal in front of them- but the second they were out of my sight I had changed it back. I was their Lieutenant, not just a hook-up regardless of anything else; yet I still found it cute enough to keep to myself. 

They've been ' :3 ' in my phone for weeks. 

Taking another sip I attach the link for my address before pressing send. It was the most I could manage. 

Immediately the amount of booze I drank is not enough. 

'Read' pops up under the message only a few seconds after it delivers, making every hair on my body stand on end. I fucking hate that I turned that on now. The grey bubble to indicate that they're typing pops up for an unbearable amount of time, minutes on end before disappearing completely. 

I feel my heart pounding through my entire body- they'd be right to not respond, or to respond with a heart-wrenching, suicide-inducing paragraph about how big of a piece of shit I am. After what felt like an eternity of radio silence I get a response. 

"give me 20" 

It felt like a bomb went off in my chest. There was not a soul before them that could have made me flustered, made me blush like a 6-year-old boy getting a kiss from his crush. Somehow they managed to reduce my massive form to a heap in front of them and yet never pass judgment. My scars to them are part of me, my damage is something not to push away, but something they hold tenderly for me to help ease how much weight is on my shoulders. 

I didn't think people like them actually existed. Someone who would hold the world up for me regardless of me having never said thank you, regardless of me pushing them away. I took their heart, tore off a piece and handed it back to them no longer whole- and still, they rub my back and kiss my neck. I couldn't imagine a human being was capable of being so divine. 

Another swig of bourbon makes its way down my throat, generously subduing the overpouring of emotions bubbling in my stomach. 

Rushing around my flat I pick up a few things off the ground, make my bed, and hide the countless empty bourbon bottles under the sink. There's nothing I can do at the moment about how depressing this place looks, or the lingering smell of cigarettes and mid-life crisis. Their flat was a stark contrast to mine, making the anxiety seep its roots deeper into my gut. Part of me wondered if the dated furniture and my drunken, desperate demeanour would be off-putting. I strain to pull my mask over my face in anticipation of their arrival, it'll most likely come off the second I feel like I gained some confidence. 

Staring at the clock I wonder why I've even done this. They'll come here expecting change, expecting me to crawl back a different person. For them, I would try. I would work so hard to please them that It could kill me, but I know myself well enough to know I can't promise to be better. 

I had only really opened up to them once, drunkenly pouring out how I felt like there was no good in me. Like all I had been through had created deep cracks in my soul that let everything good fall out. I held onto their hands tightly, my eyes to the ground. Every part of me had been screaming that I shouldn't have, that they would think of me poorly, as weak and leave. But, of course, they didn't. They would never. They ran their hands through my hair and rubbed my back, whispering words of comfort that I had never had directed at me before. 

My eyes fixated on the stove clock, these are no doubt the most agonizing 20 minutes of my life. I've been beaten, burned, thrown out of helicopters and hung up by my rips, and this is the most unbearable moment of my life- second only to the countless other times I've made them miserable. 

I pace back and forth, pouring and downing yet another drink. I've always had a drinking problem- well, a substance abuse problem in general. 

"With your smoking habit, I'm surprised you're almost 50 and have both your lungs!" They had said to me teasingly during some patrol on base once. I was rather quick to remind them that 45 is not 'almost 50'. Our age gap has always worried me, I'm able to keep up with what they want but it often made me feel like an old man.

More and more anxiety settles in as the 20-minute mark comes and goes, my eyes move from the clock to my phone- waiting for any sort of indication that they were standing me up.

Three soft knocks at my front door shut down all thoughts of them not showing up. Without thought, I move to the door and swing it open, desperate to look down into those oceans of eyes once again- to breathe. They almost always bring me something when they see me- joints, booze, cigars, some weird chip flavour they saw at the store, anything- I've never been sure why; so it was no surprise to see a clear plastic bag sitting in one of their hands. We stand there, my frame blocking the entrance to the flat. I adore the way they look up at me, eyes clearly tired from the hoops I've dragged them through today, yet still managing to make my head spin. 

"Hi" They break the silence, their voice timid and unsure. I move to the side and motion them in. They take off their shoes and place them neatly off to the side. I think about the boots that had been lying there on the floor haphazardly just minutes before, it drawing a small smirk from me. 

"Nice flat." It was a rather expected comment, but it still brought heat to my face. I shrug. 

"I'm never here." I respond a bit too quickly, causing them to raise an eyebrow. This was a lie, I'm exclusively here when I'm not on deployment. I suppose if I downplay how often I'm here it'll make the lack of possessions less freakish. Especially considering I'm an adult man and not a broke college kid. 

They pause, their face contorting into confusion for a second before faltering to unimpressed. 

"You're hammered." They said sternly, no doubt now smelling my drink of choice whisking off me. They wander over to my kitchen island and place the bag on top of it. 

"I needed.." I pause, unsure if I should finish my sentence. 

"I needed to talk to you." 

A deep sigh leaves their lips before they rub their hands over their face, stress dripping off them like water. With their face still buried in their palms, they nod- the gift of their continued presence one that I welcomed. 

Their eyes turn up at me, peering holes through my flesh and looking deep into the foundation of my soul. 

"I... I can't stop thinking about our fight, love." My fingers itched to be interlocked with theirs, it was like some part of me was tethered to them- and no matter what I did, it always pulled me into them. I study their face, their mouth somehow dropping even more at the events mention. My words lodge in my throat again, causing a familiar panic to settle over my body. Their eyes flicker over my mask, they had always expressed how pissed off it would make them when I wore it during 'personal' moments. But, It was my safety net- they always respected that.  

They suck a deep breath in before reaching for my hand- as if they could read my mind. I let them take it, their thumb rubbing soothing circles over the meat of my palm. 

"You did change my mind-" I mutter, just loud enough for them to hear. It felt desperate to let spill, like a sobbing prayer for mercy. 

"From the moment you set foot into my eye line, you're all I've been able to think about." 

A soft, comforting smile plants itself across their lips, their hand coming to meet my masked cheek. 

"Will you be able to tell me all this when you're sober?" Their voice hummed through my skull. 

Quickly, I scoff and chuckle before responding with a swift 'no'. With a tired look in their eyes, they chuckle with me and pull me into a hug. My arms wrap around their frame and after a few moments, we begin rocking back and forth. It was wholesome and loving, overwhelmingly so. Maybe this was worth it, even if they can't handle me forever. 

"Do you love me?" I blurt out. The prospect of being in love with them had been so unbelievable that for a period of time I had refused to even think of the word. It became quickly apparent during our semi-regular night meet-up sessions that I was beyond madly in love.

It was clear they liked me, and maybe they did love me; I've always convinced myself overwise though. 

"I love you." They respond, their words are spoken into my chest sending shocks through my body. I grip them hard, those words still unable to leave my throat to return how I feel. I hoped there was an understanding between us that I did love them- as much as I'm possibly capable of. 

My hand grips the top of my mask before tearing it off. I plant my lips on theirs, trying my best to be gentle, something I had never done while kissing them before. It was sloppy at first, my face half numb from the booze- but eventually, we settled into it. Their arms wrap around my neck as my hands meet their waist. This was far from the first time my lips danced haphazardly across theirs, yet it felt like it for some reason. My ears were buzzing, my face red and hot, my heart swelling with a feeling I'll never be able to articulate. 

They pull back, letting both their hands slide to the sides of my cheeks. Looking at them, I've never felt more peace, more hope for our future, possibly together. 

"It'll be hard, filthy work- loving me." My eyes dart across their features, stunned.

"I don't care-" They respond, no hesitation to be found in their voice. Their fingers brush across my cheek leaving me a mess. 

"Not as long as it's you." 

[thefanficmonster]

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

I

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them. 

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

II

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out. 

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

IV

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

V

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

                                                            ~  ~  ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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[elysianslove]

when the stars align; oikawa tōru

requested by anon; ❝ hi bb :) can I request an Oikawa and reader story where they’re two petty/sarcastic best friends. Like they just have that understanding that their love is shown through petty comments or bickering lol but n e ways, the reader gets approached by a guy she doesn’t really like but isn’t thinking and says she’s seeing Oikawa and now they have to act like a couple but all they end up doing is bickering and Oikawa complaining. I hope that makes sense lol thxx <3 ❞

pairing; oikawa tōru x reader 

warnings; it’s the fake dating trope with oikawa tōru. that is a warning in itself

note; i screamed when i found this in my inbox this trope has a special place in my heart and the fact that oikawa was requested??? pls don’t let this flop :(

━ you’re not sure why you said it. you rack your mind for an excuse: you’ve known him too long, you spend majority of your time with him, you had just been texting him a moment earlier — that must’ve been why you’d sprouted that ridiculous excuse to rid yourself of spewing out a futile, useless rejection. there’s an array of mixed emotions on you as you watch the boy before you shrivel in disappointment, sighing in frustration.

“i’m sorry, i’m dating oikawa right now, actually,” you had said, like the liar the same boy you refer to has coerced you into becoming to fuel your endless sneaking out.

the guy before you, honestly nameless due to both your carelessness towards him and your uncomfortableness around him, shoves his hands into his pockets cooly, attempting to shrug it off. “well, you know where to find me in case it doesn’t work out,” he jokes, and you have to fight off the urge to cringe directly in his face at his words.

instead, you lightly smile, more similar to a grimace, and nod politely, before turning and heading in the complete opposite direction, despite the other way having been your initial route. your shaky hands fumble for your phone, and you pull it out, unlocking it and tapping on the messages app.

i did something stupid, you type out, and you’re unsure whether you’re grateful or thrown off by how quick oikawa responds.

not surprising. what did u do

the familiarity of his tone only calms you slightly, and before you can talk yourself out of it, already having thrown yourself too deep when you’d thought up the lie, you explain the situation briefly. instead of a text message response, his caller id flashes across your screen, and your breath hitches. regret begins flooding you, and carefully, you slide to answer.

“i don’t want to hold your hand!” you complain, smacking at his palm when it reaches for yours.

oikawa sighs amusingly, grabbing your wrist anyways and linking your fingers together. against all odds, and to your disappointment, you shiver at the feel of his hand in yours. it’s considerably larger, and despite the fact that this is farthest from the first time you’ve gripped his hand, your insides twist. his fingers are slender, and his palm and the pads of his fingers are soft. for all the years you’ve known oikawa, his hands constantly run cold, and you’ve hated it for multiple reasons. one being the way it gave him an ego boost of ‘cold hands only mean i have a warm heart.’ the second being his infuriating actions of constantly pressing his palms to your skin, specifically the back of your neck. but most importantly, it signifies just how little oikawa tends to care for himself at times, the way his hands shake when it gets too cold, when the world grows too small, the tips of his fingers a bruised blue and purple. and you hate it. even more so, you hate how much you hate it.

despite all this, his hand feels — nice in yours; it’s a comfortable contrast to your own warm hand. still, your frown remains on your face as you see the school gates appear before two of you, never daring to reveal any of your thoughts to him.

“if you didn’t want to hold my hand, you would’ve thought up a better lie,” oikawa argues, and you turn your head to glare at him. he diffuses it easily when his thumb brushes against the back of your hand, your words faltering momentarily. “could’ve had anyone! iwa, mattsun, makki— i know they woulda loved to do this with you.”

“you’re insufferable,” you huff, but your cheeks are painting red, visibly too. he’s right, you realize. he’s terribly right.

“but you still chose me,” he teases.

your hand in his twists until you’re bending his wrist at an awkward, painful angle, until he’s pinching at your arm to force you away. he’s right, but that doesn’t make it mean anything.

by now, you’ve spent more time glaring at oikawa threateningly and in warning than you have your entire friendship with him, and it’s honestly starting to give you a headache. after admitting your situation to the three other third years, and giving them maximum fifteen minutes to laugh until they ran out of breath, iwaizumi included, spend the next twenty minutes huddled up next to oikawa, your chair attached to his.

the guy, who had been persistent enough in asking you out that you’d resorted to this, decided to spend his lunch break in the same area as the five of you, leaving you unable to push away and bicker with oikawa the same way you would any other day. you pick at your food as you avoid his gaze, oikawa’s arm around your shoulder heavy, leaving a trail of sparks up your spine and along your arms. it makes you want to scream, loudly too.

makki and mattsun have resorted to making fun of the guy, whispering between themselves, but it’s still awfully loud enough that there’s no possible way he can’t hear. iwaizumi and oikawa have their attention on each other, discussing some upcoming practice match in the weekend.

and all you’re left with are your thoughts, your nagging, unbearable thoughts, about how pretty oikawa’s hand looks as it hangs by your shoulder, brushing against your arm with every small shift of his body. with shameful, red cheeks, you shut your eyes in frustration, and allow the regret to boil and build in your stomach.

the weeks pass steadily. outside of school, your relationship with oikawa remains unchanged, and although he’s just as touchy as he is with you with an audience, the source of affection continues to be — simply friendship. and whenever you catch any disappointment building because of that, you pinch yourself in reminder than none of it is real. the way he always has an arm around you, the way he fumbles with your fingers, the way he ties your hair back for you while you work on an essay during your break, the way he kisses your cheek, a show of respect for your boundaries, but as a way to reinforce that you’re his in front of anyone, or the way he lets you lift one leg over his own, just because.

and you’re left wondering that if it were real, would it be the same?

he sits before you now, cross legged on your bed, back straightened and mouth stuffed with popcorn, completely engrossed in the movie before him with his eyes wide open. the three other boys are spread across the room: makki laying on his stomach, chin perched on his hands by the edge of the bed, while mattsun and iwaizumi share the couch, drinks in their hands, all three just as enamored by the movie as oikawa. 

you had always been aware of just how pretty he is, and everyone around you has always ensured that you do. was it the way the light from the screen shone in his face, reflecting in his pretty brown eyes and shadowing some of his features? or was it the way he sat so comfortable in your bed, in nothing but sweatpants and a loose shirt because, of course, the four of them were bound to stay the night? was it the way his lips glistened with the water he gulped, or because of the way his tongue poked out to lick at the salt from the popcorn? 

or was it nothing in particular, or everything all at once?

sighing lowly, you shift and sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and heading towards the bedroom door. “i’m gonna grab some water; anyone want anything?” you announce.

none of them seem to hear you, too lost in the movie, but makki turns his head to the side slightly, eyes remaining on the screen, and replies, “no thank you.” it’s all you need to leave the room.

as you walk out, oikawa eyes you, then eyes the filled up water bottles next to where you had been sitting. his heart tightens in his chest.

two months into the fake relationship you’d established with oikawa, and it begins to feel natural. it no longer feels off putting to walk hand in hand with him to school, or to greet him with a grandiose hug and a kiss on the cheek, or to wear his jersey to games and cheer for him from the stands, or to constantly have his ankle looped with yours beneath the table where, despite this all being for show, nobody can really see.

outside of your fake relationship traditions are your friendship traditions, which include, but are not limited to, him walking you home. it’s always been mostly because your mother adores him, or because he prefers the food that’s at your home as opposed to his, or because your home is on the way to his anyways, but it’s a lot closer, so he always ends up staying longer than anticipated.

either way, it’s not unusual that he walks by your side as the moon illuminates your path. it is, however, not very like him to stay quiet the entire way. you can see the roof of your home growing in size as you near it, and he’s yet to say a word to you. it both weirds you out and worries you, and before you can convince yourself you were overreacting, you pause in your step, the gravel beneath you scratching and crunching as you turn to face him.

“alright, spit it out.”

his eyes meet yours, wide and confused. “what?”

you sigh. “something’s up, and you’re either gonna tell me now or i’ll force it out of you later,” you reply.

“i’m not—”

“oikawa.”

“stop it, i’m fine—“

“tōru.”

“i can’t do this anymore.”

your heart stills, and almost as if in understanding, in pity, so does the world around you. the wind no longer howls in agony, respecting your need for silence as the trees around you look on curiously. your brain processes a little slower than your mouth, and you’re asking him, “what are you talking about?” before you could think.

his gaze falls from yours again, and he takes a step back. “i can’t be with you anymore. or — fake being with you anymore,” he admits to you.

you’re not sure why, but you had imagined this scenario to be a lot less earth shattering than it is. maybe you’d grown to like faking it, because it slowly started to become the closest you could get to experiencing it realistically. you refuse to speak, and it isn’t because you’re angry at him. it’s because you genuinely are lost for words. it’s not even a real break up, but it still hurts just as bad, if not worse. it’s your own fault for believing that this, whatever this was, was as simple as it seemed.

“not unless— not unless i can really be with you.”

what?

“what?”

he breathes in steadily, and moves forward, closer, closer, closer to you. his hands rise to your cheeks, cupping them softly, flinching when your breath hitches. but you make no move to push him away, only stare up at him, in wonder, in confusion. he opens his mouth, preparing himself to speak. you expect a monologue, a speech, a declaration of his undying love for you, because it sounds just as dramatic as oikawa is. the moon above you holds its breath, waiting for the band to snap, for the words to spill and drown you. 

but then he kisses you. 

his hands urge you up and he meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours. they’re soft, and he tastes like cherry, and it’s probably your chapstick if you were being honest with yourself. his mouth moves languidly against yours, as if he’s trying to drag out every moment, as if he wants to purposefully slow down time, begging and pleading for the world around him to stop. the kiss is sweet, gentle, and somehow, kissing him is exactly the way you’d imagined it would. it’s breathtaking, and dizzying, and overwhelming, and needy and it’s beautiful. 

when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go of you. his hands remain cupping your jaw, his mouth hovering over yours. his thumb brushes along your cheek momentarily as he gazes at you, admiring you, as if memorizing every inch and every detail of your features. 

“tōru, you idiot,” you sigh. the insult isn’t foreign to him, not even on your tongue, but he still looks taken aback, and even more so when you reach up and close the distance between you again. the world lives again, the moon celebrating within the clouds, the wind twisting in your hair, whispering and whistling cheerfully by your ear as the trees dance.

 it all comes together, and the stars finally align. 

end note; i’m so happy with this!!! i hope everyone enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it!!! <3

[forever-rogue]

My lovely, when you get a chance and/or feel so inclined, id love you forever if youd write a part 2 to the story where Boba’s wife is prego, we need a little Fett heir to the throne lol. Ily! ❤️

I couldn’t resist! Enjoy! 

Can be read as a stand alone or part 2 to this!

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader; no warnings

Star Wars Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were tired, so tired. And why? You hadn't even done anything to cause you to experience the tiredness that was dragging you down. If anything, you should have been wide awake and ready to take on the day. But as soon as you'd gotten up and eaten breakfast, you were just about ready for a nap. 

That was after you'd rushed to the fresher in order to heave up everything you had just eaten.

Strange. It must have been something from breakfast - perhaps some of the fruit had been off or...something. There really wasn't anything that you thought it could be. But obviously something had disagreed with you. 

"What's wrong, Little One?" A concerned expression was on his face as he removed the helmet as he came back into your bedroom. He'd expected to find you flitting around the sprawling palace tending to odds and ins, but he hadn't spotted hide not hair of you all day, "I haven't seen you all day."

"Nothing," you offered up the best smile you could muster up as you looked up from the soft bed where you were currently buried under a mountain of blankets, "just taking a nap."

"You've been tired lately," a note of concern colored his tone as he came over and sat at the edge of bed. You made a small sound as you pouted at him, shrugging your shoulders lightly. He sighed before taking his hand and gently brushing the hair out of your face. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead before following suit with your cheeks, "is everything alright?"

"Yes," you whispered softly, "I guess I'm just going through a phase. I'm sure its nothing - don't worry about me, Boba."

"I always worry," he inhaled and exhaled deeply before leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours, "I need to leave soon. I can stay if you prefer, if you're not feeling well."

"No, no, no," you insisted firmly, sitting up and fervently shaking your head, "Boba, you're not staying behind because of me. You've got to go and you will. Besides, someone needs to stay back and look over the place. It - I will be fine, I swear it."

"If you're sure-"

"Boba Fett," you tugged on his cowl, "You're going and that is final. Besides, I'll have Fennec here. Everything will be fine."

"I love you," he insisted as you beamed at him, "I'll be back soon. I won't be gone long."

"I'll hold you to it," you said as he kissed you gently, "promise me one thing?"

"Hmm?"

"Quit worrying so much!" you tapped his nose, attempting to make light of the situation, but Boba was not having it. It made you smile a little, however, to see this big, bad Mandalorian let you tease him in such a manner. Had it been anyone else in the galaxy, they would be dead on their feet within seconds, "Boba - for me? Try anyways?"

"I lost you once," he reminded you as a solemn look crossed your features, "I will not do it again."

"And I lost you too," he was not the only one who had suffered during your years of separation, "but we found our way back to each other. We always will - besides I'm not the one going out to hunt down quarry. I'll be here, safe and sound."

"Little One-"

"Boba Fett, are you forgetting that I once was the same as you?" you arched a brow as he huffed lightly and admitted silent defeat, "I am out of practice but I won't be alone. Now go and get ready - the sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back."

»»————-　♡　————-««

But then a week passed. And another. And then before you knew it, you were approaching three weeks without Boba. You knew he was fine, as you required, maybe even begged, for him to communicate with you and keep you in the loop as much as possible when he was gone.

But still - it wasn't the same as having him at home and within arms length.

Kriff. Hopefully he'd be back soon. Maybe -

But you didn't have enough time to think further into any sort of scheme as the contents of your stomach churned and you ran to the nearest the fresher. 

Fennec had been looking for you, concerned at this point for your health as well. You hadn't been looking well for weeks and she was sure something was up.

"Hey," she said gently with a rap of her knuckles on the door. You sighed heavily with a wipe to your mouth as you sat down on the floor. The sniper, small but fierce, came in and sat next to you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, "are you okay? This has been going on for weeks."

"I dunno, Fen," you admitted, "I think its just some bug but I can't shake. I'm sure it'll get better soon."

"And I'm sure you should go and see a healer," she was insistent and while she had inklings of suspicion, she wasn't going to mention those just yet, "or I'll be forced to tell Fett.”

“You’re worrying over nothing,” you insisted with a small roll of your eyes. Sometimes you didn’t know who was worse - Fennec or Boba. Surely one had to have learned from the other as they became increasingly protective over you, “it’s fine, Fen.”

“It’s my job to worry about you,” she reminded you softly, “otherwise Fett will have my head. Besides, I happen to care about you as well. Please go to the healer this afternoon and just get a check up. What can it hurt?”

“Fine,” you agreed, begrudgingly, crossing your arms over your chest, “fine. But when nothing is wrong, I will gladly tell you both I told you so.”

“We’ll see about that, Princess,” Fennec gently pushed your hair out of your face as you huffed lightly. You felt more like a child than a respected adult at that moment.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As you made your way back home - the newly redone and revamped palace that was welcoming to all - an odd sense settled over you. You felt...a million different things all at once, but none of them seemed real. A few tears had run down your cheeks as you almost laughed to yourself. You certainly weren’t going to be able to tell them I told you so after this. 

And yet you didn’t mind - not at all. In fact, among all the worries and fears that rushed through your body, you were excited. Thrilled even. Who would have thought? 

Marching down the stairs to the throne room, you expected to find Fennec to share your news with her, but instead you found a different sight. One that sent a spike of excitement flowing through your blood.

“Boba!” you hopped down the last few steps and bounded over to him. He immediately looked up from what he was working on, a smile gracing his features as he held his arms open to you. You almost bowled him over in your excitement, a feat compared to how much of a tank he was in the armor, “my love - you’re home!”

“As are you,” he kissed the top of your head before putting his hands on either side of your face, “Fennec told me you went to see the healer. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, but it can wait - how was your trip?”

“It was fine,” he gave you a curious look, “just business as usual. Now tell me - what aren’t you telling me?”

“You weren’t hurt or anything were you?” you looked him up and down, checking his face to make sure there were no new marks or injuries before following suit with the parts of him that were exposed to you. He scoffed lightly as you fawned over him, but deep down the big bad bounty hunter lavished in your praise, “no mishaps?”

“No mishaps, no injuries,” he promised as you peppered a few kisses across his cheeks, “out with it, Little One. I know you’re hiding something, you always get like this.”

“Hmmm,” you mused as you took a step backwards and tried your best to keep from brimming over with excitement, “and you are always a big worry wart over nothing, my love.”

“Only when it comes to you,” he insisted with a waggle of his finger, “now out with it, what’s going on.”

“Remember how I was feeling before you left?” you asked and he nodded with a grimace, “well I haven’t been feeling better-”

“You told me you had,” he accused as you gave him a sheepish look, “were you lying to me?”

“Maybe…” you plastered on the most innocent expression you could, “but none of it matters-”

“Of course it does!”

“Hush,” you held a finger up to his lips in order to silence him, “lemme finish. Well, this morning I still wasn’t feeling better, and Fennec insisted I go to the healer. She insisted and said you would too.”

“Of course I would, I’ve been telling you since -”

“I know, I know, I know,” you rushed out the words, very fiber of your being trembling with excitement, “I found out the reason I haven’t been well.”

“Is it a bug?” he asked as you shook your head, causing him to tilt his head to side in confusion, “if it’s not...what could it possibly be?”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out excitedly, unable to hold back any longer. Boba’s face shifted through about a million expressions as he looked at you expectantly and you nodded. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth before he pulled you into his arms, clutching you against him as tightly as he possibly could, “we’re having a baby, Boba!”

“A baby,” he back as he studied your face, gently wiping away at the tears that had rolled down your cheeks while his own eyes glistened as well, “Little One - cyare - this is far better than I could have expected.”

“I know,” you agreed as he kissed you, “I never thought...it all makes sense now. The fatigue, not being able to keep food down - it’s so obvious. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.”

“A baby,” he was incredulous, unable to form a coherent thought at the exciting news. He never thought he would get this - you, a baby, an empire, anything - but it was, all coming to bless him at once. He had never been more thankful than in that moment. He looked down at your stomach, where there was still no evidence of your pregnancy just yet, but sighed contentedly before placing a gentle hand over it. He couldn’t wait to see you grow round with your child - his child - as time went on. If you thought he was protective over you before, then you were in for something else. Now that he had everything he could possibly ever want, he was never letting it go. 

“You’re - you’re happy right, my love?” you asked as he met your eyes, lips trembling as they were tugged up lightly in the corners. Touching his cheek lightly, he keened into your touch before you gave him a gentle kiss, “I know we didn’t...plan this, but I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he promised as he wrapped you into another warm hug, this time being gentle with your stomach as you laughed, “I am happier than any man deserves to be. All thanks to you, Little One. I love you.”

“I love you too Boba,” you agreed, “I am so happy, so so happy. But there is one thing…”

“You’re not going to be able to call me Little One much longer,” you grinned as you put on your belly, “not once the real little one comes around.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted softly, “you’ll always be my Little One, Princess. Always.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[writing-in-april]

Party Play

Chip Taylor x Female Reader

Summary: After Reader gets Chip to voice one of his deepest desires Reader takes him to a play party Reader’s friend hosts.

A/N: This low key feels like the filthiest thing I’ve ever written 😂 This Chip fic is my ninth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April event! This was the original request- I kinda ran with it lol- i was also unable to get this fic beta’d so forgive me for any mistakes I missed 🙈I’ve been curious as to what has been y’all’s favorite so far- feel free to drop it in my ask box here. Hope y’all enjoy this one 😏 I know I did lol 😂 Thanks for reading ☺️

Warnings 18+, Smut, This all happens at a play party, Sub Chip, Chip in a skirt and panties, Chip in a Collar and Leash, Thigh riding, Hand job, Oral sex (F and M receiving), References to suspension play (they don’t participate and move on), Unprotected sex, Hinted at sex with multiple partners

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.7k

Chip had never had much luck when it came to girls. Sure he had girls flocking around him wherever he went, but any type of relationship with them had always turned into a disaster.

After the whole business with Liza Chip had sworn off girls, and any other type of long term romantic relationships for a good long while. People of all ages would still hit on him of course, that time an older woman had pinched his ass while behind him in line to check out at the grocery store still made him blush.

It had been around 3 years when someone had contested and eventually got him to break his promise to swear off any type of romantic connection. You had come in like a storm, turning his whole life upside down. Unlike with Liza he didn't mind when you came through to turn it upside down because instead of ruining it you had begun to put the prices back in place.

Your relationship hadn’t been a whirlwind romance, you turned everything upside down slowly and carefully. Each piece that was put back into place was given all the time that it needed to settle back in its place. Chip still got whiplash from the whole experience, any pure affection given without motive was an entirely foreign concept to him.

Sex had been one of the biggest obstacles in your relationship. He had wanted to wait until he felt like he could implicitly trust you with anything. Even after you had both gotten to that point Chip had wanted to wait a little longer as he still had trouble with flashbacks of his bad experiences with sex, most of them involving Liza. Not that you minded at all, you were there for the long haul. You wanted Chip to be completely comfortable with the idea of having sex before you took that step forward. Even when the two of you had an intense make out session with you straddling him you checked in on him at every new turn. It would be a nightmare to you if you ever even made him feel an ounce of uncomfortableness.

When you had eventually gotten to your first time you had made sure it was sweet and slow, giving him an experience he had never had before. Each time you had sex since then even though it had developed into something a little less than vanilla (that was an understatement), you made sure Chip was cared for, always.

Today you had both agreed on doing something that Chip had never gotten to experience before. He had felt too afraid to tell Liza and had been too shy to tell you until you pried it out of him with some light teasing, with a bit of love of course.

While he had been moaning underneath you had been goading him while rolling your hips, “Come on- tell me what you’ve been thinking about, baby boy.”

In a breathy whine he then broke down and admitted, “W-want to go- to one of those parties your friend hosts!”

A smirk had been evident on your face then, you knew exactly what he had been referring to. One of your closest friends often hosted play parties every month. Chip had found out about them when your friend had come over one day and had casually mentioned it. The thought of going to one with you must have been stuck in his mind ever since that day. You sped up the slow pace you had started with and had promised him, “Alright- I’ll take you to one. You’ll have to be on your best behavior, baby boy.”

—-

Now that the day had come Chip was antsy, you could tell. He hadn’t had a job to go and work on today, instead opting to cling to you as you did your own work on your computer. You let him sit on your lap while you worked even though it was slightly awkward with his lanky limbs.

His clinginess had made you nervous, wondering if he didn’t want to go anymore. You carded your hands through his hair, fingers catching on a few knots as you soothed him. Making sure you were done with the last bit of your work for the day you closed the laptop. then you broke the silence that had been between you both while you had been working, “Do you not want to go? No matter what your answer is I won’t be mad, I promise.”

“No no no no-I do I promise!” He squeaked out and sat up rigidly, “Just a little nervous- the good type of nervous.”

“Alright- I’ll take your word for it pretty boy.” You leaned forward to whisper. There was no one around you both right now, no need to whisper, but Chip always shivered a little when you spoke to him like this, “Speaking of you being pretty, I think it’s about time to get you dressed up pretty as well.”

You wanted to look pretty for this event of course, you also wanted to dress Chip up as well. For yourself you had chosen a simple black dress that was hiding a set underneath in matching black as well. For Chip you had picked out a much more revealing outfit. He’d be hiding this all under a coat at first, but once you both entered the house you’d make him reveal what was underneath.

You got him dressed in a black skirt, with matching black panties underneath. That would be all he’d be wearing to cover himself besides his coat and combat boots, which he’d be shedding at the door. For an accessory you had brought out his collar and leash, also black in color (what can you say? You like black).

Once he was all dressed up and pretty you stood back to admire your work while he sat on the bed obediently. He withered a bit in shyness underneath your gaze, but when you cocked your eyebrows up in question he went right back to his original position.

“You stay right there looking pretty while I get ready.” Leaving no room for defiance you then left to get the outfit you had picked out for yourself. After you came back you slipped out of your clothes, standing naked in front of him before then getting your lingerie on as slow as you could, just to tease him. When you covered up your lingerie with the black dress on top and slipped on some platform heels he whimpered. Your response to the whimper was quick and biting, “Don’t complain, you’ll get to see it later if you’re good. Now help me zip up my dress.”

That made him quiet quickly, obediently helping you zip up the dress, hiding anything underneath out of sight until he was good. He continued his obedience when you had gotten your things ready and got into the car, already getting into his submissive state. He only made any noise on the car ride there when you asked him a question.

You had gone before to one of your friend’s parties with a previous partner, the one before Chip. Their house was huge, with multiple guest bedrooms plus some other rooms converted so people could play in them. Each room that was occupied had a sheet pinned up on the wall beside it listing all the things that would entail if you walked in through the door, plus hard limits set by the person running the room. If you wanted to join in, you’d write your names down and whether or not you were there to watch or join in. If you wanted to leave for any reason, you could with no questions asked and if the person running the room asked you to leave, you had to with no fight. There was something for everybody.

Some of the guest rooms had an occupancy limit, some had a small limit of how many people could join and some could allow a large group of people. Even before you could go up to the rooms you had to go through a coat check where you also confirmed who you were. Every person in the house had to bring ID and be on the list approved by your friend.

“Are you nervous?” You asked Chip quietly after you had handed the person at coat check your ID’s.

His cheeks flushed red at your question, shifting from side to side on his feet. You could tell that he was feeling exposed in his outfit, like you had intended. But, you had wanted to check in one more time before fully entering, wanting him to be flustered, not uncomfortable. You breathed a little sigh of relief when he answered in a small voice, “In a good way.”

“Good.”

It was silent between you two for a minute until the person came back with your IDs. When you were let loose and told to enjoy the party you wrapped one of your hands around the end of his leash to beckon him to follow you.

After the coat check and down a small hallway there was the living room connected with the kitchen in an open floor plan. People were mingling about, having light conversation with some people perhaps deciding if they wanted to pull them up into a room with them.

When you spotted your friend, who was hosting this at their home, you walked up to them while pulling Chip along.

“Hey! How are you?” Your friend greeted you once they were done with their previous conversation with another guest. Chip waited patiently and quietly while you both caught up with each other. You had set some rules before you had gone to the party, he wasn’t allowed to speak unless you asked him something directly or allowed him to speak to someone else. He slowly flushed a deeper shade of red as you both kept having a conversation, not acknowledging him standing there in practically nothing. Your friend then eyed Chip up and down after you had concluded telling them about your last work trip, “Well, I won’t keep you both any longer, enjoy the rooms.”

You gave your friend a thanks, pulling Chip along behind you towards the stairs that led to the guest bedrooms. The hallway of guest rooms was to your right after you made it to the top of the stairs. Loud moans from all the rooms were easily heard despite all the doors being shut tight.

You looked at the first sheet next to the first room, seeing if you both might be interested in this room. Other people around you were doing the same, some couples and some single people looking at each sheet down the hall. Once you had read over the hard limits of the room you decided that Chip might like this one. The rooms closer to the stairs were often the tamer ones, building up slowly to the last room, which was the largest and usually held the most people.

“I think you might like this one.” You said simply, then opening the door to let him have a look before you wrote both of your names down. Most of the people in here were watching the couple in the center, a woman being fucked from behind while her partner pulled her hair to arch her back.

His eyes were glistening and wide as he looked through the door to see if he’d be interested in this first room.

“I-I’d like to go in this one please.” His request was meek, you let it slide this time as you knew he was still nervous. After you had written down your names you entered, greeting the person running the room before sitting down at the closest armchair to the door. You wanted to sit closest to the door so you could bring Chip out in case he got uncomfortable.

You had Chip sit perched on your lap while he watched with wide eyes at the couple in the center. He also occasionally looked over to the people on the side touching themselves while watching. You let him get comfortable for a while before enacting your plan.

While he watched, his eyes still trained on the sight in front of him, you started to trail your hand upwards to go underneath the skirt he was wearing. The pair of panties you had him wear were already straining because of how hard his cock was. Cupping him through his panties you began to stroke him through them, not yet taking him out of them, that was for later.

“No, you don’t get to make a noise, not yet.” You commanded quietly when he opened his mouth out to moan after you had been stroking him for a while. He looked down at you with glistening eyes begging you to let him do something. You tugged his leash with your free hand to bring his face down to yours, “You can grind your hips on your thigh if you want to, but nothing else. You’ve got to earn more than that baby boy.”

He looked like he wanted to protest, but decided instead to take what he was given. Notching one of your thighs right between his you then began to stroke him again. He then began to grind down onto your thigh, taking what little you had given and running with it.

He kept quiet as he rode your thigh, not willing to break your rules today, he wanted a reward. He was careful to not put too much pressure as he swiveled his hips, just enough to push him closer to the edge along with your hand stroking him. His eyes were still trained in front of him at the couple who had now switched positions to have the woman riding her partner. When he got close to the edge, his hips bucking harder against yours desperately you stopped moving your hand. You also grabbed his hips so he would stop grinding against you. When he dared to begin to protest you yanked his leash again, your lips so close they were practically touching.

“No you don’t get to cum yet, we’ve got so many more rooms to look at.” When you revealed your plan Chip whined indignantly, which got him a slap on his inner thigh, “Don’t complain or I won’t let you finish at all tonight. Be a good boy for me?”

He nodded while biting his lip, his hair mussed up from you running your hands through it and tugging just the way he liked it. You didn’t let him linger any longer in the room, getting up to leave the room and pulling Chip along with you. He had already looked intrigued every time you had both walked into a new room, wide eyed and curious to find another that he would enjoy.

In the next room Chip had chosen a man who was being edged by his dom, just like you were doing to him while he watched.

You took him into your mouth this time to edge him, pulling his panties down to free him, though you had him keep the skirt on. Then you took him as far back into your mouth as you could while he watched. You could tell he wanted to make noise while you brought him closer and closer again with your mouth. The man who was also being edged at the center of the room was getting the same treatment, except he was allowed to moan, which only made Chip’s job harder.

Just as you could feel him come closer to the edge once again you pulled off of him with a pop, “I think it’s time you paid some attention to me, baby boy.”

He squirmed underneath you, an unconscious movement from when you removed any stimulation. Though, you also suspected there was a hint of defiance as well because of how hard he squirmed. That made you put off when you would let him finish just a bit longer.

You finally pulled off the black dress you had been wearing all night revealing the black set you were wearing. The crotch less panties you had picked out were perfect for this. You had him get on his knees with a tug of the leash, in the exact same position you had been in earlier.

Yanking on the leash hard you pulled his face close to your dripping core. You hadn’t been unaffected by all the things you had seen and done so far tonight. He looked up at you, waiting for permission to surge forward to use his mouth on you and you freely gave it, “Go on- if you make me cum I might let you finish in the next room.”

That made him almost feral as he dove into your heat, not starting with small kitten licks and teasing. He parted your folds with his tongue, gathering all the wetness that had accumulated. Then dipping back down he began to circle the hole of your entrance a few times, then pushing it inside you while nudging his nose against your clit.

Instead of holding back your moans like you had made Chip do, you let them fall free along with most of the other people watching the man in the middle. It was hard to focus on the sight in front of you while also looking down at Chip who was fighting for your attention as hard as he could. His hands had even dared to leave his sides even though you hadn’t given him permission. He moved them to grip hard around your hips to pull you closer, if that was even possible.

“Mmm, I’ll let that slide since your mouth feels so-“ You didn’t finish your sentence as it morphed into a high pitched whine, a signal as to how close you were getting from Chip’s stimulating movements. When he started to suck on your clit, your hips tried to fight his hard grip, the stimulation almost too much. Still, you commanded him to do more with a gasp, “Put your fingers inside me!”

He followed your command perfectly, letting one of his hands move away from your hips so he could push two fingers inside you. Once he had worked them inside you, he curled them to hit at the perfect spot. That combined with his lips wrapped around your clit triggered your orgasm swiftly. You praised him as well as you could through your moans, your grip also loosening on the leash a bit as your orgasm flowed through you.

“Good boy.” You praised again, this time more coherently after you had ridden out your devastating orgasm. His cheeks were covered in your arousal, glistening in the darker lighting of the room. Bringing him in for a long passionate kiss was to show your appreciation, but to also taste yourself on his tongue. When you separated from him you gave him something he had been waiting for all night, “In the next room we choose, I’ll let you cum as many times as you want.”

He almost bolted out of the room at that, though he stopped himself, waiting for you to lead him out with his leash.

“The collar isn’t too tight? And- you're still feeling good?” You checked in with him while you walked to the next room.

“Yes!” Any nervousness had vanished by now, plus he was chipper at the prospect of being able to cum. Giving him a kiss on his lips at his response made him blush, even though it was much more chaste than any others you had shared tonight. You always knew how to make him a little bit embarrassed, just enough to make him excited.

The next room we stopped in wasn’t suited to our liking as it had a girl suspended off the floor. Chip had seemed intrigued at first by it, but ultimately decided that it wasn’t his taste.

“What’s in that last room?” He had asked, intrigued by the last room in the hall.

“Why don’t I open the door and show you? It might be a little much for tonight, but if you want, we can go in.”

He nodded eagerly at that, prompting you to open the door to the room. You had been in this room multiple times when coming here previously, it was one of your favorite rooms.

At every party this one was the same, no one was just simply watching in this one. Everyone was touching each other, no couple strictly in the center for everyone to watch while playing with themselves.

It looked like utter chaos to anyone who was new, in your opinion that was one of the best parts. They even had three people in the room to see through the chaos, the only people just watching, to make sure everything was ok.

“I want to go in.” He hadn’t even waited for you to ask before he voiced his opinion. A bright smile made its way onto both of your faces out of excitement. You had him read all of the hard limits and rules of this particular room before you nudged him forward through the door frame, letting him lead for once tonight.

It was hard to focus on what was happening around you, everyone was really touching everyone, only a few groups splitting off to pleasure themselves.

When one of the couples trained eyes on you they beckoned you both to come closer. Chip unconsciously moved forward without your leash tugging him to do so. You side eyed him a little when he did so, he did stop his movements, waiting for you to tell him what to do. You turned so you were standing in front of him, blocking his view of the couple who were now eagerly waiting to see if you two would join them.

Tugging on his leash a little made him stumble forward a bit in surprise. Now that he was closer to you, you leant forward to ask with a whisper in his ear, “Do you want to stay in this room, baby boy?” Grabbing his hair with one hand you then tilted his neck slightly to the side, nipping on it a little before then asking another question, “Do you want to get used in front of everybody baby? And- have other people use you?”

“Yes, Miss.”

With his whimpered confirmation you let your grip on him go giving him one more command before joining in with anyone, “I want you to cum as much as you want baby boy, it’s your reward. And- I’ll let you make as much noise as you want.”

Ask Me Anything

——-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (I thought it worked and then it didn’t 😡)

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[bluegarners]

“I have your loved one” with Dick and Jason?

heyyy, it's finally here haha! i'm slowly getting to each request lol

here it is on ao3

I Have Your Loved One

It’s Thursday.

Time: 23:47, or 11:47 p.m.

Bludhaven has hit a rough patch in its weather, a vicious storm battering against thin windows and overflowing gutters and drains. It’s one of those storms that brings in the water but no lightning, dark clouds blanketing the entire sky, remorseless and relentless in its pursuit of smothering any light from escaping. The clouds don’t muffle anything though, perhaps amplifying instead the downpour that floods through Bludhaven’s streets and alleyways. Its citizens like to think this is a New Jersey hurricane, freshly mutated and traveled from the east coast into their humble, mildew covered city.

Dick likes the rain. Likes the way it pounds against his apartment, screaming to be let in but just barely warded off by seven inches of concrete and steel. The blinds are closed against the windows, and he has towels pushed up against the sills just in case the sealing lets up. Even if they were open, Dick is sure all he would see is another wall of gray and black, dozens of delicate raindrops splattered against his windows.

Because of the storm currently wreaking havoc in his city, Dick has elected to stay indoors for the time being. Eventually, the rain will let up, its pattern being close to about 05:00, and then he’ll suit up and do a quick patrol before work. For now, he’s content with sitting on his couch and listening to the water smack against the old building and run rivers down the sides. He’d like to sleep through it, a free white noise service at the ready, but his mind simply refuses to allow him to rest just yet. In a few hours, he’s sure he’ll come to hate himself for not taking NyQuil or some other drug to help him fall asleep, but for now… Well, it’s nice. The rain is nice. It’s also very loud.

He misses the first call.

His phone is face down on the kitchen table, about eight feet away from where he lays on the couch, mindlessly staring up at the ceiling. It vibrates, buzzing for thirty seconds, before falling silent.

He misses the second call too.

Thunder rumbles through the black sky, its force shaking the windows and only encouraging the downpour. His phone buzzes again during it, quieting after another thirty seconds.

Dick hears the third call. Hears the tail-end of the buzzing, getting up from his position on the couch and padding over to pick up his phone only to miss the last few seconds. He unlocks his phone, checking the number, and feels something cold settle into his gut when he sees no caller ID. It’s the same person though, all three times, but no voicemail.

He’s about to call the number back, just in case it’s someone he knows and they’re ringing from a payphone or something else, when the no caller ID flashes across his screen for the fourth time.

Dick answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Richard Grayson?”

“Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”

The voice is feminine, a slight, western accent, longer o’s and a faint drawl. Somewhere from Arizona most likely. Lower register too. Older woman, mid-to-late fifties. Smoker.

“That’s good. I was starting to think I had the wrong number, Richard.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just didn’t have my phone on me. You didn’t say earlier, but who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter too much right now. What does matter, though, is this.”

She pauses. There’s shuffling he can hear on the other side. A faint, second voice in the background. No, three voices. At least two others in the room with the woman. He can hear the sounds of an air condition unit rattling.

“I think you might’ve cut off there. What were—”

“I have your loved one, Richard.”

Lightning cracks through Bludhaven.

His stomach falls onto the floor, pooling around his ankles. The storm outside grinds to a halt, the quiet louder than any thunder it’s ever managed to produce, and there’s a high pitched ringing reverberating inside his skull. Dick thinks he might be sick.

“What?” he chokes, the air in the room suffocating and weighing down his lungs. “What did you say?”

“I have your loved one,” the woman repeats, calm and slow. “Your brother, actually. Then again, he tells me you aren’t related by name nor blood, so we’ll settle for a loved one.”

“What do you want?” Dick demands, already scrambling to get to his computer, find where they’ve taken Jason. Find his brother.

“He did say you weren’t one for small talk,” the woman carries on, unhurried and unconcerned. “Your brother isn’t either, hardly said a word all this time.”

“Can I speak to him?”

There’s a small huff on the other end of the call, exhalation and a sigh leaving the woman’s mouth. A cigarette. She’s smoking during this conversation, blowing the smoke into the receiver.

“I don’t know,” she finally answers. There. Dick has his general location. Still in Gotham. He needs the tracker to be more precise though. It’s taking time though. Too much. “Your brother here was pretty convinced you wouldn’t answer after his daddy didn’t pick up. Cried pretty hard about it too.”

“What are you talking about?” Dick grounds out, fearing his phone will crack with how tightly he’s gripping it.

“Well, you weren’t our first choice to call, Richard. I’m sure you understand.”

Dick says nothing, focused on the computer screen in front of him. He should contact Barbara. This would be faster with her. Faster to find Jason.

“We called about seven times,” the woman continues, blowing another puff of smoke out into the phone. “Isn’t that right, boy? We called and called and called. His daddy didn’t pick up once, went straight to voicemail each time. A shame, really.”

There’s a sniffle on the other side of the call and Dick’s heart seizes when he realizes it’s probably Jason.

Batman was currently off-world, all communication with him being strictly between Justice League lines. Bruce Wayne was somewhere in the Bahamas, partying with Italian models and Spanish actresses.

Of course he wouldn’t pick up.

“Can I please talk to him?” Dick asks for the second time, fisting a hand into the couch cushions. “Please, I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

More smoke. “I’ll ask him.”

There’s a muffled thud, the phone most likely having been put down, and quiet voices filter through the line. He can’t hear much of what they’re saying, short bursts of comprehensible syllables before fading back to unintelligible noises. His computer dings with a response from Barbara. She’s going to use one of the J.L satellites to better pin-point Jason’s location. She’s also in communication with the police, reporting a child-abduction.

Keep them talking, she writes. Everything is going to be okay, Dick.

It feels like his heart is beating in his throat and his tongue has swollen to the size of a bowling ball. The storm outside is unrelenting. Lightning hasn’t struck again.

There’s more movement on the other side, clattering and scattered noises. The phone’s been picked up.

“Alright,” the woman says, raspy and uncaring. “The boy says he wants to talk to you, Richard.”

Dick holds his breath, waiting. There’s more noises, a transfer he thinks, and another sniffle interrupts it.

“Hello?” a shaky voice asks into the receiver. Dick feels like crying.

“Jason,” he breathes. “We’re going to get you out of there, alright? You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” his brother rattles, a sob latching onto the end. “I’m so sorry, Dick. I-I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Dick shushes, feeling himself get choked up at the fear in the younger boy’s voice. “I know you didn’t, bud. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, not really. I didn’t think you were gonna pick up,” he admits, voice cracking. “B-Bruce didn’t. He didn’t answer, Dick, and I-I thought you weren’t gonna either. I-I thought—”

“I’ll always answer, Jason, I promise. I’m coming for you, okay? I’m going to come get you and we’ll both go home together. Does that sound good, Jay? You’re going to be fine.”

“Okay,” the thirteen year old relents. “You promise though, right? You’re not gonna leave me here?”

“No, Jay, of course not. I’m not going to leave you there, I’m coming to get you. Right now. I promise, okay? Jason, I would never abandon you. You’re my kid-brother and I love you. I’m not going to-”

“As touching as this is,” the woman interrupts, “I think that’s enough.”

“Put Jason back on the phone,” Dick snarls. “I swear, if you lay a hand on him, if you even touch him, I will end you.”

“Sure, honey,” the woman drawls, puffing into the receiver. “Here’s what’s going to happen, so I want you to listen to me.”

His computer dings. It’s Barbara. She’s got the location. It’s close. Not even twenty minutes away. Border between Bludhaven and Gotham. Motel next to the gas station connecting the freeways. Room 13.

He’s out the door and revving up his motorcycle before the woman has even taken a second drag from her cigarette. The rain is beating against him, gloomy street lights flickering through the shrouded dark of the storm. Thank god for Bludhaven sewers, only slightly better than Gotham’s. The water level is only a few millimetres high.

“Now, I don’t want to keep this kid anymore than you want him to stay here with me,” the woman drones. The streets are empty. Dick blows through every red light he comes across. The tires are new, the grip is fine. “So, I think we can make this simple.”

“What do you want?” Dick growls, transferring the call into his helmet. He prays she can’t hear the rain battering against it. “Just tell me what you want already and I’ll give it to you.”

“Don’t rush me,” the woman snaps, and it is then that Dick realizes that this is all probably by chance. This isn’t some criminal mastermind who plotted to find and kidnap the son of a billionaire. This isn’t a case of a rogue villain piecing together vague details and figuring out Batman and company’s identities. It’s simply someone desperate. Someone who saw the opening and took it. The poor planning is evident, practically spelled out in bold print that these people have no real idea what they’re doing.

“Sorry,” Dick bites out, veering through a short-cut that says, in neon orange, Danger. Construction Zone. “Please continue.”

The woman on the line is vindictive though, choosing to remain quiet as the sound of a lighter clicking open tinnies through the call. She takes her time lighting a new cigarette, taking a long, slow drag and holding it in for a few seconds. Dick jerks his bike to the right, narrowly avoiding a large pothole. A passing car blares its horn at him. Finally, the woman exhales. He can hear Jason cough in the background.

“What I want,” she starts, a new color of intrigue hitting the back of her throat. He’s barely ten minutes away now. Could probably half it if he took more backstreets and increased his speed. “Is for my son to be released from prison.”

“Who is your son?” Dick asks, cursing silently as his back tire skids, hydro-planing for a moment. Thunder crashes above him and the rain continues to pelt at his body. It feels like getting hit with a paint-ball gun.

“Landon Jennings. I want you to get him released. I know you have the access to lawyers, probably have debts owed to you from people in high places. I want him released tonight.”

Time: 00:14.

01:14 a.m standard time.

“I can do that,” Dick says, heart beating faster as he sees the sign for the motel, dim in the gray, “but I’ll need a few hours. I need to contact my lawyers. Where is your son stationed?”

An icon appears in the front of his digitized visor. It’s Barbara. She sees him closing in. Police are on route. Seven minutes out. He has the option to wait on them and keep the kidnappers on the line.

“Same place they all go,” the woman barks. “Use that head of yours and figure it out. I want my son out by tonight, or you’re not going to see your brother again. And,” she rushes, “I don’t want the police involved. If you call them, I’ll know, you understand? I don’t want to hurt the kid, but I’m not scared to. My husband is here with me too, so if you try and—”

Okay, so waiting isn’t an option. He’s going in.

“No police,” Dick interrupts. “I understand. Please, don’t hurt him.”

“If you just do what you’re told, then I won’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Dick whispers, gently getting off of his bike and leaving it on the side of the road. He can’t chance them seeing him pulling into the motel lot. “You said your son’s name was Landon? If you don’t mind me asking, what is he charged with?”

“Why do you need to know?”

Dick jogs towards the motel, careful to stay out of direct light. The general office looks closed. Most of the windows facing the lot are shielded by salmon colored curtains. There’s only one floor, thankfully. Dick sees door 13. He’s shaking. His fingers are numb.

“My lawyers said they need to know in order to file for a judge to repeal his sentence.”

“Is that so?” the woman asks, suspicion tailing her voice. She takes a drag from her cigarette, contemplating. Dick’s clothes are soaking wet and he cringes every time his shoes squelch against the concrete. He decides crawling is best, ducking under windows and avoiding peepholes. “Fine then. Landon got falsely accused of statutory rape and breaking and entering. Is that what your damn lawyers are looking for?”

“Yes,” Dick breathes. He’s at door 10. He can see a faint glow coming from behind the curtains of room 13. He’s so close. “Thank you.”

He taps on the side of his helmet, sending a series of numbers that he’s sure Barbara will understand.

23-26-8-37

E-N-T-R

He can’t wait any longer.

While crawling, Dick made sure to get a good look at the motel’s doors and hinges. They’re standard, and though both Gotham and Bludhaven tend to have better locks than most other cities, Dick recognizes the model of the door and the wood it’s made out of. They’re thin enough for him to ram through. The hinges on the sides are rusted over as well, and Dick thinks they might just be weak enough to break. The windows however. The windows are his best bet. He doubts this kind of motel invests in bullet proof glass, and on some of the sills, he can see water damage. They leak. Poorly made. Meaning, if he ran at them, he could break through pretty easily.

But, if that doesn’t work. Or if he’s not fast enough to get on his feet once in. Or if the window is directly in front of Jason and the glass breaks all over him. Or if—

Stop. He can’t think about the what-ifs right now. Dick knows he can do this. Knows how to do this. There isn’t any more time to wait. He promised he would get Jason out of there, and goddamnit, he’s going to keep his promise.

“You’re being really quiet,” the woman mutters. “What’s going—”

Dick takes a deep breath and tenses. The light behind the curtain flickers. He needs to move. Now. Now.

Lightning splits across the sky and Dick can’t tell if it’s the glass shattering or the thunder that makes the other-worldly crack but it doesn’t matter because Dick lands feet first and is tucking and rolling before the occupants have a chance to react.

“Oh my god!” someone screams, but Dick isn’t paying attention to them because his gaze zeroes in on his brother, tiny, thirteen year old Jason, who’s tied up on one of the beds and staring right at him.

He can’t linger long though because he hears the words, “Get the gun!”, and he’s up on his feet again, rushing the closest person. It turns out to be the husband, a balding man with a patchy neck-beard, and Dick bunches up his fist and swings, socking the man in the stomach. He doubles over, wheezing, and Dick can see the small pistol in the man’s right hand, and Dick strikes down on his shoulder, kneeing him simultaneously. The pistol drops and so does the man, groaning, and Dick turns to the woman, who is staring at him like an animal cornered.

“Don’t come any closer!” she yells, pocket knife trembling in her grip as she shoves it in Jason’s face. “I’ll stab him, I will!”

Dick holds up his hands, sidestepping the groaning man. “Put the knife down.”

“No!” the woman argues, a strand of black hair falling into her mouth. “Now I told you- stay there! Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill this kid, you hear! I’ll fucking slice his throat open!”

With how scared the woman is, and how precarious she holds the pocket knife, which Dick can see is dull even from where he’s standing, he knows it’s not an idle threat. Scared people will do anything to get out of the situation they’re in. Scared people are unpredictable and dangerous.

But so is Dick.

So is Jason.

“I’m not going to move,” Dick reassures, eyes flickering towards his brother, “so, please, drop the knife. We can talk this out.”

“Talk?” the woman shrills, jerking the knife closer to Jason’s jawline. “You just killed my husband!”

“I didn’t kill him,” Dick corrects. “He’s just unconscious. Come on now. It’s just you and me. Let’s talk this over. I can still get Landon out if you give me back my brother. It’s as easy as that, alright? Just put down the knife, and we’ll talk. Does that sound okay?”

The woman looks like she’s considering it, the hand holding the knife still trembling, when the first sirens enter the lot. Red and blue light flash through the broken window as rain seeps into the curtains.

“You rat!” she screams, furious and terrified and desperate all at once. “You fucking called the cops! You broke—”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish before Jason snaps his head back, headbutting the woman directly in the nose. He falls to the side, getting out of range of the knife, and Dick takes his cue, leaping forwards and gripping the woman’s wrist and squeezing, weapon falling from her grasp. There’s blood spurting from her nose and Dick throws her to the floor, getting her on her stomach and hands behind her back. He sits on top of her, his weight overpowering any strength she has left, and in the next few seconds, police are banging on the door.

“This is the GCPD! Open up and put your weapons down!”

“You can come in!” Dick shouts, holding the squirming woman in place. “We’re unarmed!”

Things happen quickly after the door bangs open, several officers pouring in like the Bludhaven storm. As soon as an officer handcuffs the woman he’s on top of, Dick is rushing to Jason’s side, another officer cutting away his bindings. His younger brother turns to him, about to say something, but Dick cuts him off with a crushing hug, cradling the back of Jason’s head to rest against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick whispers, gathering his brother more fully into his arms. “I should’ve been there sooner. God, Jason, I’m so sorry.”

“I-I thought you weren’t going to come for me,” Jason confesses, hiccuping. “When Bruce didn’t pick up, I thought it was because he didn’t want me anymore. I-I told her that, I told her Bruce wasn’t coming but she wouldn’t listen and-and I—”

Dick wraps his arms more securely around the sobbing preteen in response, gently rocking back and forth as the mattress springs squealed under the pressure.

“I know I haven’t always been around,” he says, uncaring about the snot dribbling into his shirt, “and I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t rely on me to come and get you. You’re my brother, though, and I will always come running when you call. No matter what. I promise, Jay. Anywhere, anytime, I promise I’ll be there. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jason wheezes, the adrenaline from before slowly releasing its hold. “I trust you.”

Dick presses his face into his brother’s hair, relief washing over him as his heart slows. He’s never had a sibling before. Things were still tense with Bruce, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a big brother. There isn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for this kid in his arms right now.

“What’re brothers for, right?” he mumbles.

The rain doesn’t stop and pours and pours and pours. Dick just holds Jason tighter.

The real storm was over.

Five months later

It’s Thursday.

Time: 11:47 a.m.

The stone is nice. White marble. Shiny. Expensive.

There are fresh flowers. Roses and yellow daisies. The dirt is still new too. Evidence of freshly upturned earth. Dick reaches down and pulls out a weed that’s sprung up at the corner of the stone. Tosses it away.

He doesn’t have flowers. He has a newspaper in his left hand. Reads: Mourning billionaire sets off on trip to Europe.

Jason died a month before he got back from across the universe.

Anywhere, he had said. Anytime. I promise I’ll be there.

He crumples the newspaper into a tight ball and shoves it into his pocket. Stares at the stone. The sun is out. There are no clouds in the sky. It’s nice.

It’s a nice day.

“Fuck,” Dick mutters, a familiar burn in the back of his eyes. “Fuck.”

Anywhere, anytime.

Dick Grayson is an only child once again.

[ddarker-dreams]

Aspiration Part 2. Yan Chrollo x Reader [COMM]

click here for part one! 

“You’ll hurt your neck if you keep craning your head down like that.” 

What good it does to chastise you on an insignificant action like this is beyond you. There isn’t much else to do until you land in this “unknown” destination that he’s spoken of earlier, yet the thought of entertaining conversation with him doesn’t feel appealing either. Being kidnapped will have that effect on you, he shouldn’t expect otherwise but seems to. 

“Nothing a few painkillers won’t solve.” you respond with forced disinterest, flipping to the next page of the magazine Chrollo gave you earlier. It feels like a minor loss to entertain him with a response, your cold shoulder treatment temporarily lifting. 

You’ve read this magazine at least three times by now, hoping that giving your mind something to focus on will steady you in reality. The lackluster stories about summer sales, latest keto recipes, and what celebrities have been up to lately offer none to little substance. Yet your eyes continue scanning them dutifully as if it’s a sacred text recovered by a forgotten civilization.

Letting out a small yawn, you continue to read until you get to the familiar final page once again. Fully intending on completing the cycle of rereading it, Chrollo interrupts this by plucking it from your grasp before you get the chance. All you can offer in return is a halfhearted glare and grimace. 

“Hey! I was reading that.” you protest with a frown, feeling vulnerable without anything to hold onto. 

He ignores your agitated exclamation, placing the magazine out of your reach by his side. “I don’t believe you’re missing out on anything of importance, seeing as you’ve read it multiple times already.” 

Huffing but not humoring him with a response, you cross your arms and stare out the window. The clouds below you are an enticing sight, still not enough to maintain your attention for the remaining thirty or so minutes of this flight. When traveling, it’s always the last amount of time before reaching your destination that feels like the longest.

Chrollo lets out a disapproving sigh at your actions, then pulls back his sleeve to check the time. “It won’t be much longer. I’ll attribute your current behavior to being hungry.”

“Well, yeah, there’s that,” you finally look over at him, lips pursing indignantly. “And there’s the fact that I’ve been kidnapped by an A bounty criminal and am currently heading to god knows where at four in the morning.” 

“You’re by all means welcome to rest.” 

How he can calmly rebuke all your thinly veiled sarcasm is a special talent, like water off a duck’s back. You don’t want to admit it, however, you’re grateful he isn’t hotheaded and offended by your boorish remarks. Watching your tongue would be how any sane person would deal with a threat like this… then there’s you. Making poor decisions and winging it. A life motto, really. 

An invitation to rest your weary eyes isn’t easily declined, an alluring proposal. His presence makes it a challenge to feel comfortable enough to fall asleep, that state leaving you entirely vulnerable. When you’re awake you have some tandem of control, even if it isn’t much. 

“Where exactly would I do that? I don’t see any beds in here.” You emphasize your rebuttal by glancing around the room you two occupy, as if one would materialize at your words. Now that would be a useful nen ability, if he happened to have it. 

Chrollo smiles, in a way that doesn’t sit well with you. “Why not rest on my shoulder?” 

“W-whatever happened to your previous care over the well being of my neck? That’ll just hurt it after five or so minutes.” you stutter back, face flushing as his lips quirk further upwards. Amusement is dancing within his dark eyes, drawing out further discomfort from you. He seems to like exchanges like this, flustering you with the same ease as breathing.

“Painkillers. You said it yourself,” Chrollo throws your previous statement before you, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. “I’d be happy to get them, if that’s the only reservation you have about sleeping on me.” 

Inhaling sharply at his teasing assault, you close your eyes to prevent yourself from doing anything foolish. Gritting your teeth and balling your fists by your side, you remember why you were giving him the cold shoulder earlier. Talking to Chrollo is exasperating, all of his composed words like needles in your skin. Not wanting to swat at the wasp nest any further, your mind starts drifting, in a last ditch effort to distract yourself. 

It’s been an eventful night. The most memorable night of your life, if you’re being honest. You had always acknowledged and accepted the risks of looking into the Phantom Troupe. The stories of their unabashed cruelty served as an appropriate warning. Playing it close to the chest usually entailed fear of death, so never in your wildest dreams were you expecting… whatever this is. 

At least it beats dying? So you’ve got that going for you.

There isn’t anything you can do now, is what you’ve been telling yourself. Playing along with his whims is all you can think to do. It isn’t the ideal situation, but your only option now is to wait for an opening for escape. Even though Chrollo has more strength than you, he is still human. The thought offers a glimmer of encouragement, knowing that people aren’t infallible. You’ll take advantage of any weaknesses you can find. 

Getting more information out of him is a path worth pursuing for the time being. 

“I hope we’re not camping,” you murmur, shuddering at the horrific thought. “Bugs eat me like I’m the last supper.” 

“We won’t be camping. And despite the name, the last supper isn’t actually the last time the disciples ate.” There’s something extremely ironic about a murderer correcting you on this. 

“Please forgive me for not being up to date on biblical theology. I’ll be sure to correct that before the next test,” you deadpan before a realization hits you. “Wait, so what exactly are we doing? How am I even allowed to be on this blimp without my passport? God, none of this makes any sense…” 

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever ask. To answer your questions, we’ll be staying at a hotel for a few weeks. I know some people in the area who are interested in purchasing what was stolen earlier.” Chrollo explains with a casual air, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt. 

It all hits you again. This is really happening to you. An inescapable reality where you’re at the complete mercy of this man, who despite showing no interest in harming you, is fully capable of doing so. Your contempt style of speaking until now has been a pitiful defense mechanism to help you cope with the extremity of this situation, not doing anything aside from momentarily distracting you. Running a hand through your hair, you feel your heart pounding within once more.

Chrollo takes note of how you shift in your seat, and tilts his head. “I understand this has been quite a lot to process. I meant what I said earlier -- about having no intention to harm you -- unless you do something that forces my hand.” 

He smiles, the warm action not matching up to the dark implications of his words. It makes your blood run cold, how a monster can wear the skin of a human. There isn’t any benefit of getting yourself further worked up, so you continue rambling on. Life is all about testing the boundaries of what you can and can’t get away with. 

“I still… don’t really get it. I know I was looking into information about you guys, but in that case, why not just,” you gulp, fearful that saying it will solidify the possibility. “Kill me? Even more so now that I know more.” 

For the first time all night, Chrollo doesn’t offer an immediate quip in response. He carefully considers your words, in a way that leads you to believe he doesn’t entirely know the answer himself. It’s not that you have a death wish, yet your curiosity is overwhelming. Whenever he does decide to grace you with an answer, maybe you’ll find out something that’ll prove useful to escaping in the future.

“There’s no simple reason that’ll satisfy you. You piqued my interest, and that’s a dangerous thing to do with a thief,” he leans over, clearly assessing you as you back away in response. “I confirmed my suspicions when we spoke earlier in the car. So for the time being… I want to observe you.” 

He was right when he said the answer won’t be satisfactory. His response leaves more questions than answers, some of which you don’t want to delve into. Backing down from this befuddling conversation, you focus on something else.

The soothing night sky outside elicits butterflies in your stomach. Darkness allows for the city lights beneath to stand out, little twinkling dots of light growing closer as the blimp descends. You can’t help but feel a sense of relief knowing that you’ll be on the ground soon, a sense of claustrophobia constricting you in this room with no escape. His suffocating presence doesn’t help on that front. 

Chrollo is finally considerate enough to leave you to your thoughts. Within a few more minutes you’ve made your landing, leaving through a private terminal with what has to be forged ID. A black car rental car is waiting for you outside the airport, Chrollo opening the door to the passenger seat for you. The gentleman-like act almost causes you to roll your eyes, but you’re far too exhausted to do anything other than sitting down obediently. You’ll save the cheek for a later time. 

He shuts some luggage into the trunk, then starts the car with a low hum, driving off to where you presume the hotel he mentioned earlier is. Looking out the window, you squint as the sun begins to rise into the sky. Your eyelids grow heavier by the second, in spite of how desperately you cling to consciousness. Eventually, the world around you grows distant, and you’re lulled into a deep slumber.

Dreamless rest is stolen from you, Chrollo gingerly shaking your shoulders and bringing you back to cruel reality. Letting out a low groan at the unwelcome interruption, you feel like swatting his hands away. “What… oh, it’s you.” 

“Good morning to you too,” If he’s bothered by your unenthusiastic greeting, he doesn’t show it. Taking out the keys from the car, the vehicle ceases making noise. “We’re here now. You did mention wanting to sleep on a bed earlier, didn’t you?”

Craning your neck to look out the window, you see only about half an hour has passed since you first fell asleep. Outside is a grandiose looking building that must be your hotel. As much as you hate to admit it, you find yourself staring at what has to be the very expensive venue. Much more than anything you could ever hope to afford. While you’re appreciating the sight before you, Chrollo gets out to get his luggage. 

That’s right. What are you supposed to do for clothes anyways? All of it’s stuck back at your apartment, and you don’t think Chrollo was generous enough to pack for you. At least a hotel will have toiletries, so that won’t be a concern. 

‘Oh well. I guess we’ll cross that bridge once we get to it.’

“Do you need me to carry you?” Chrollo calls over from the curb, two large suitcases in hand. You realize only one of them has a lock on it.

Not even humoring him with a response, you get out of the car, keeping your distance from him. To your understanding, attempting to flee or signal down anyone will earn “unwanted consequences”, or at least that’s how he put it. It’s one thing to endanger yourself in a daring escape, but you can’t justify putting other’s lives on the line. 

Morning chill prompts you to wrap your arms around yourself, warding off the cold. Following Chrollo’s lead, you head through revolving doors into a breathtaking lobby. Warm, yellow light from a glass chandelier basks the room in an ethereal glow, accenting the white marble flooring. He walks up to one of the employees behind a desk, checking in and getting a key to the room. 

In the liberating few minutes away from Chrollo, your eyes sweep the surroundings for any openings. Is it possible to make a run for it for one of the cars outside? He’s fast -- you’ve seen it for yourself -- undoubtedly more than you. Such an obvious attempt at escape will only be met with failure. The lobby is wide open, no possibilities for hiding evident. 

‘There goes that idea.’

Your insistent glancing around the area must’ve given you away, Chrollo placing a warning hand on your shoulder, and giving a firm squeeze. “Let’s head to our room. You must be exhausted by now.” 

Once again offering no signs of protest, you head to an elevator together. Chrollo hits the button with the highest number on it. Ascending upwards, you watch the lights around the rims of the buttons with interest until it reaches level thirty. The elevator adds to your dizziness, a fuzzy feeling budding in your head. 

With a ding, the door opens to reveal a long hallway. Chrollo checks the number on his key once more, before navigating to a room.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he opens the door to your shared suite. The lobby clued you in earlier that this is no cheap hotel, the suite confirming that. Since it’s at the top of the building, the entire city is visible to you. It’s a breathtaking sight, one that keeps you entranced as Chrollo shuts the door behind you. Looking out the window, you see more signs of life as the morning progresses.

The glass opens up to a balcony, the handle locked and cold to the touch. It’s probably not a good idea to walk out without permission, not sure of the act could be interpreted in a negative way. 

Chrollo takes a place by your side, a little too close for your liking. Amidst the beauty before him, he’s more interested in looking at you. “I take it you like the view?” 

“I’ve never been in a place like this,” you tell him, eyes wide and mouth agape at the breathtaking scenery. “If I had known we’d be staying here, I would’ve let you kidnap me sooner.”

“That’s a joke, by the way.” 

He chuckles lowly at your rushed cover up, thinking little of it. “Are you hungry?” 

Now that gets your attention. You can only imagine how wonderful the food here is, and you haven’t had anything to eat since your dinner last night. Having gone so long without food you’re surprised you aren’t ravenous, the kidnapping likely stunting your appetite. Still, you won’t be turning down the offer. 

You nod your head to confirm his words. Chrollo walks over to a phone in the room to place an order for room service, quietly listing off a variety of breakfast foods. While he’s occupied doing this, you look around what will be your residence for the next few weeks. He must not take any issue in your wondering about, seeing as he’s covering the only possible exit. How considerate of him. 

While he’s busy placing an order, you wonder off to take in your surroundings. From the door that leads to the hallway is a small closet on the left, and an expansive kitchen in the middle of the room. To the right of which is a living room, all surrounded by glass windows. That leaves your sleeping arrangement. 

Saving the bedroom for last, your fears are confirmed. You realize that even in such an expansive suite, there’s only a single bedroom, with a king sized bed. Luck doesn’t seem to be on your side. Well, it’s not like you can’t sleep on the floor or couch if the opportunity presents itself. A nagging voice in the back of your mind tells you Chrollo won’t allow for that, unfortunately. 

Plopping yourself down on the right side of the bed, you could almost melt into the comfortable mattress. Tempting as it is to fall asleep, you don’t trust Chrollo enough to give that a shot. Frowning at your fancy evening wear from the previous night, your previous concern about not having any clothes to change into returns. The bathroom did have a fluffy, white robe in it. 

‘That feels too vulnerable... I’ll take my chances with the dress.’

Getting up before you fall asleep, you look around for anything that might be useful. The phone in the living room might be an idea, if you could somehow call and alert the staff of your predicament. Something tells you Chrollo has already taken that into account, and you write off the idea as soon as it appears.

Speaking of Chrollo, he enters the bedroom with an inviting cart of food in front of him. Everything from hashed browns, scrambled eggs, pastries, pancakes, bacon and waffles sit atop silver plates. 

“I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got everything. Help yourself.” 

Not needing to be told twice, you grab a plate and go to town. Chrollo grabs a steaming cup of tea, taking a sip and sitting down next to you. The bed creaks underneath his added weight, you too occupied with eating to care about the implications of his action.

He raises the glass to his lips. “Is there anything else you want to ask me, [First]?” 

Swallowing your previous bite, you give his question some thought. There is plenty on your mind that you’d love to know. A better, more conclusive answer for why he kidnapped you at the top of that list. You recall how he looked detached from reality when you asked him about it on the blimp, leading you to believe that asking again will earn a similar result.

‘It’d be best to play it safe for now.’

“Yes, actually,” you take a bite of a blueberry muffin, wiping your mouth before continuing. “Am I supposed to wear this damned dress for the remainder of this... arrangement?” 

"As lovely as you look in it, no. One of the suitcases has clothes for you, among other things.” 

Blinking at this new information, you wonder if he ever intended on telling you this. In your short time of being acquainted with Chrollo, you’ve picked up on how he rewards you for conversation. Humiliating as it is to play along with his tune, you’ll have to do just that. 

“Other things...?” you repeat back in a faint murmur, showcasing your confusion by tilting your head. Chrollo nods his head in affirmation to this, setting his now empty tea cup on a nightstand with a faint click. 

“You strike me as the type to want something to do, so I went through the trouble of procuring a few of your belongings. A few books, and the like.” 

‘Ah. How terribly considerate of him.’ 

It’s not much, but knowing you have some of your personal possessions is comforting. Anything is better than being stuck alone with him, or your thoughts. The worst possible case scenarios. 

Your meal now finished, you get up and place your dirty plates back onto the tray. Chrollo continues relaxing, eyes still following your every moment. How is he not exhausted? The only thing keeping you awake is your fear of what could happen when you’re asleep, and even that is beginning to wane. Maybe some caffeine will help with that. 

“I’m gonna get my stuff.” you call over, holding your breath in anticipation of a response. 

At his lack of protest, you assume this action is approved of. Helping yourself to the suitcase without a lock on it, you unzip it to find it’s just as he said. Some of your clothes from home, your switch, books, a few offline games, your favorite perfume, shampoo and body wash. 

It’s creepy to know someone went into your residence and took your stuff, but that’s the least of your problems right now. While grabbing a change of clothes, a thought hits you. Looking up towards the phone Chrollo used to call room service earlier, your hand twitches by your side. It’s a temptation, taunting you over the possibility of freedom. 

‘He’s in the other room relaxing. Maybe, just maybe I have enough time...’

Cautiously, as not to alert him of your scheme, you begin to silently tiptoe over to the phone. Time feels like it goes slower, not even trusting yourself to breathe in fear of him hearing it. Hand hovering over your possible saving grace, your fingers grow closer to pressing 9. 

That’s when he appears in the corner of your eye, leading you to hurriedly bring back your hand and straighten your back. 

“I already cut the wires. It was a good idea though.” he calls over from the doorway, leaning against it and smiling in a way that makes your stomach curl. Not a single detail has gone overlooked, but what were you expecting from a mastermind criminal who has managed to go this long without being caught? 

Checking to see if his words hold any merit, you find it’s just as he said. Wires cut in a single clean motion, biting your lip as your hopes evaporate in front of you. 

It reminds you of Tantalus. Who was cursed to be hungry and thirsty forever, in the taunting reach of food and water that’d recede whenever he went to partake in it. An eternal punishment you’re now being subjected to. 

‘I should’ve known it wouldn’t have been so easy. Still, how could he have not made a single sound? I didn’t even hear the bed creak.’ 

Laughing nervously at being caught, you step back as to avoid further consequence, cheeks flushing at being caught in your measly attempt. “Just... checking to make sure all is in order, aha...” 

Walking away from it, you look to change the subject. Chrollo doesn’t seem bothered by your defiant actions, having clearly already anticipated your idea. He rolls out the cart from before, leading you to stiffen when he walks past you. Heart pounding away in your chest, you silently observe him opening the door to place it outside. 

He looks back at your anxious form after shutting the door. “I’d rather not have to constantly monitor you. Whether or not I do will be determined by how you act.” 

There’s a thick pressure in the room from his words, one that pushes down on you like a heavy weight. Unable to maintain eye contact with him any longer, you look to the side, clutching your clothes to your person. Chrollo doesn’t have to resort to infuriated threats or physical violence, his presence commanding enough on its own.

To ease the tension in the air, Chrollo speaks up. “If I happened to leave out anything you need, let me know.” 

Grateful for the change in subject, you nod your head in a daze. From now on you’ll have to be more discreet. Mentally slapping yourself for not giving your earlier actions more consideration, you move on at Chrollo’s lack of reprimanding. 

“Is it alright if I get changed?” you speak up, voice meek enough to remind you of a mouse. Chrollo considers you before nodding his head. You jump at the opportunity to be alone, borderline running to the master bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Looking in the mirror, you see your frowning reflection staring back. Placing a hand to your face, you inspect the bags forming underneath your eyes. Peeling off the dress feels heavenly, using a wet rag on the sink to quickly clean your body. Showering with a murderer in the other room isn’t a tempting proposition.

Putting on your clothes, you feel like a new person. Straightening up your hair and splashing your face with cold water, you place your hands onto the cool marble counter top. 

‘I’m going to get out of this. It’ll be okay, [First]. Stay calm.’

Finishing your mini pep talk, you fold your previous outfit and place it on the floor. Will Chrollo even allow someone into your room to clean it? Not that it matters, seeing as you spotted a washer and dryer earlier. 

He’s sitting up in bed when you open the door, a book now in hand. At your presence, he looks up to acknowledge you. Chrollo’s dark hair frames his face, and you flush at his admittedly handsome appearance. How are you supposed to remain composed in his company? 

“I can close the blinds if you intend to sleep.” he offers before turning to the next page of his book. 

Oh, that’s right. Now that you’re wearing pajamas he must assume you want to sleep. The next hurdle of this headache inducing dilemma, Chrollo having the expectation of you resting next to him. Eyelids feeling heavier by the second, you wonder how much coffee would be necessary to keep you awake.

That’d still be delaying the inevitable. Coffee or not you won’t be able to stay conscious forever. Earlier, when you fell asleep in the car, he didn’t do anything weird... right? Nothing that you can account for. 

He looks up at you, noting your lack of response. Unfreezing from your prior stiff position, you make the decision to sit down next to the bed. Chrollo most likely wants you where he can see you after your previous stunt, and sleeping on the floor isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Aside from the back pains. 

Making yourself comfortable, you fully intend to fall asleep on the floor. Chrollo closes his book at your antics, coming over to your side of the bed and frowning. “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to sleep.” 

“... On the floor?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” 

Unreadable grey eyes pierce through your being, sending chills down your spine. From your previous interactions with him, you thought a measly sign of resistance such as this one wouldn’t matter. Your initial assessment must be incorrect, as he sends you a disapproving look.

“There’s no reed for that.” he reasons with you, leaving little room for argument. Not wanting to give in, you remain planted in your spot. Without wasting anymore time, he gets up and crouches next to you. You wonder if he’s going to chastise you further for your childish actions. 

He instead lifts you up in a single, fluid motion. A small noise of shock leaves your lips at the sensation of being hoisted up, scrambling to clutch onto him in fear of falling. It doesn’t last long, as he places you down onto the bed with gentleness that you didn’t expect him to have.

Arms receding back to his side, Chrollo returns to his previous position as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. You feel your face burning, a bright red glow coupled with it. The scent of his cologne lingers, memory of his touch flustering you further. 

Clearing your throat to play off the events, you still can’t manage to look at him. “I was planning on sleeping here, actually. Was just testing the floor out.” 

He opens his book back up to its previous page, lips quirking into an amused smile. “I’m sure you were.” 

Having no other options, you lay on your side facing the wall. Muscles taut and incapable of relaxing in his presence, you squeeze your eyes shut to no avail. All you hear is the gentle hum of the air conditioner on the wall, and the occasional page flip from him. 

More time passes, at a snails pace. An hour ago you would’ve entered slumber easily, now it taunts and eludes you. Huffing at your inability to rest, you adjust yourself against the soft mattress. 

Sighing quietly in defeat, you attempt to make conversation to pass the time. “Do you not ever need to sleep?” 

“I’ll be fine for a while longer. Are you concerned for my well being?” You can imagine the smug visage on his face, clear as day. It’s tempting to want to bite back with no, you’re not very worried about his health. You bite your tongue and instead ignore the teasing.

Sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest, you look over at him. His guard is still on high alert even while he’s reading. There’s an immeasurably gap in strength between you two, accented by his casual demeanor. 

“That makes two of us. I don’t feel tired now,” you narrow your eyes in his direction, wanting desperately to know what it is he’s thinking. “Something tells me we’re not going to be sitting here all day.” 

“For a majority of it. I’ll consider taking you out for dinner if you continue acting agreeable.” 

Tempting you with food, huh? It’s a most valiant effort, one that almost threatens to win you over. Especially since cities always have a variety of nice restaurants to choose from. Giving his proposition some thought, you realize there might be a catch. There always is with these kinds of ordeals. 

“What is your definition of... agreeable?” 

Disliking the way the word feels on your tongue, you purse your lips. Dehumanizing is how you’d describe it, knowing that your actions are being analyzed and studied. If Chrollo notices the bitterness in your voice, he doesn’t feel a need to mention it.

“I don’t care much for labels, but I’d equate it to wanting to date you. I told you earlier that I had taken an interest in you, that’s what I meant.” Chrollo explains to you with ease that tells you how much thought he’s given it.

When he had told you he was interested in you earlier, you thought he meant it in an entirely different way. Like how you find a certain movie interesting or entertaining. Now you’re unsure what to think. Mind swarming with thoughts ranging from maybe it’s a good thing, to what do you do now? 

Finally, you deliver your eloquent and delicately woven response, having put every level of care into it. 

“Oh.” 

Glancing over at your dumbfounded expression, he can’t help but laugh airily at your mortified look. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

[calcifermovesthecastle]

Plus One

Mista x F! Reader, College AU

nsfw, minors dni

warnings: alcohol, swearing. 

“What’s the word?” A familiar arm drapes across your shoulders, pulling you against a warm side. You huff, doing your best to squirm away from him. 

“Let me read, Mista,” You turn the page in your book, refusing to look anywhere but the text. Mista squeezes you, laughing. 

“C’mon, Bombolone. I’ve been here forty five minutes and you haven’t even said hi to me once.” 

“Hi. Let me read.” You nudge his side with your elbow, and he laughs again. You’re loathe to admit the sound fills you with warmth. 

“So what’s the word?” He repeats, swinging his legs over your lap. You huff, pink beginning to dust your cheeks. 

“Nothing new, other than the fact that I can’t read anymore, I guess,” You look over at him, snapping your book shut. “C’mon, Mista. I have a paper on this book due next week.” 

“And I have a plus one due to a wedding in two days.” He grins easily, linking his hands behind his head. Your gaze flits to the other students in the common area. “You still haven’t given me an answer.” 

“Oh, Mista, you know I-” You sigh, meeting his face. “I’m busy.” 

“If I go to that wedding alone, my Famiglia will never let me hear the end of it,” He hums. “I’m on my knees, bombolone, you know how us Italians are.” 

“Clearly, on your knees.” You rest your elbows on his legs, putting your chin in your hands. “Promise you’ll leave me alone after?” 

“Scouts honor.” 

He grins, reaching over to gently punch your arm. “Do you have a dress?” 

“The nicest thing I own is a polo from a career tech program I joined in high school and a pair of khakis,” You answer, rolling your eyes. He hums, his eyes closing in thought. 

“Come on. I’ll buy you a dress, then.” He swings his legs off of you, dragging you to your feet. You balk at the idea, trying to wrench free from his grasp. 

“No, I can buy my own-” 

“Nonsense! We have to match anyways. It’ll be fine. Think of it as me paying for you to come to the wedding with me,” He smiles, lacing his fingers with yours. You bite your lip, squeezing his hand. 

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” You finally relent, easing out of his grip to grab your school bag. “Has anyone ever been able to say no to you?” 

“Several people, actually. Most of the time.” He plucks the bag out of your arms, looking smug. You shove him gently, your face burning. 

“Oh, shut up.” You don’t protest when he drapes an arm around you. “We have to make this quick, though. I have a class at four.” 

“That’s plenty of time.” 

-

“Are you going to let me see the dress on you, or are you just going to hide in that changing room all day, Bombolone?” Mista’s voice leaks through the curtain, and you flush, worrying at how the fabric hugs your frame. It doesn’t look bad, but it does accent some of your insecurities. 

“Give me a moment,” You reply weakly, adjusting the fabric so that it sits more nicely against you. “Okay.” 

Before you can lose your resolve, you pull the curtain back, spinning around in a slow circle. The soft blue fabric sways with your movement, and when you finally meet Mista’s eyes, his mouth is hanging open. 

“I knew it! It looks terrible on me, doesn’t it?” You blurt out, hugging your arms. Mista grabs your shoulders, getting right up in your face. 

“What?! No! I think you look incredible! I just...Stai così bene che ho dimenticato come parlare,” He mumbles, and you step back, huffing. 

“You know I don’t speak Italian, Mista.” 

He flushes, and you stare for a moment. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him blush. 

“I said you look so good I forgot how to speak,” He turns away from you, biting his lip. “I mean it. You look amazing in that dress.” 

“You think so?” 

“Yeah, definitely,” He sounds breathless. “Let’s get this one. There is nothing terrible about this dress.” 

You shuffle your feet when you reach the counter, flushing when you hear the clerk tell Mista how much he’ll be paying. 

“Oh, Mista, no, Let’s go back and find a cheaper dress,” You tug on his arm. “Or let me pay for some of it.” 

“Absolutely not,” He pulls out his wallet, handing the clerk his card. “I told you I’d pay, right? So let me pay. Don’t worry about the price.” 

“Who’s even getting married?” You ask, dropping your arms and clasping your hands in front of you. He grins down at you when the purchase is made and slides his arm through yours, leading you out of the store. 

“You’ll meet them at the wedding.” 

You slide into the passenger seat of his car, checking your phone. He puts the dress in the trunk, slipping behind the wheel and starting the car a moment later. 

“It’s only two thirty, do you want to go get lunch? My treat?” 

“After you already blew so much on me?” 

“Please?” 

“Mista, I couldn’t. Really. You can come join me in my apartment if you’re quiet and let me study.” 

“I’ll cook for you then!” He drives off, smiling to himself. You sigh, fixing your gaze out the window. 

-

You’re roused by your phone ringing early in the morning, and you groan, answering it without even checking the caller ID, your voice thick with sleep. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, get ready. You can do whatever you want with your hair. I’ll be there in about forty five minutes.” 

“Mista?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh, jesus,” You pinch the bridge of your nose, yawning. “You really expect me to be able to do my hair in forty five minutes?” 

“No, of course not. I’m going to make you breakfast. We don’t have to leave for another four hours.” 

“Jesus Christ,” You yawn again. “Door’s unlocked. Just walk in.” 

-

“Hey,” You jerk awake when your shoulder is shaken, and bolt up, narrowly missing Mista’s face. 

“Shit! What time is it?!” 

“Relax, you still have plenty of time,” Mista steps back, tilting his head. “Did you fall back asleep?” 

“Unintentionally,” You sheepishly avoid his gaze. “Sorry about that.” 

“Hey, that’s why I came over so early. C’mon.” He grasps your hands and pulls you out of bed, righting you when you stand so you don’t fall over. “Coffee?” 

“Huh? No, I’m just going to take a quick shower.” You wipe at your eyes, and he smiles at you, lopsided. You stare at him blankly. “What?” 

“Nothing. You’re cute when you wake up, that’s all.” He tweaks your nose and leaves your bedroom, humming to himself. You stretch and head towards your bathroom. 

The shower does a good job at waking you up.

You enter the kitchen, in nothing but a slip and a robe, running a towel over your face. 

“Should I wear makeup?” 

“If you want,” He answers, setting a plate of pancakes in front of you. “I personally don’t think you need it.” 

“You made these?” 

“Yeah.” 

“They look good.” You take a bite, your eyes fluttering closed. “They taste good too.” 

“Hey, thanks.” He grins. “Do you mind if I use your bedroom to change?” 

“Go for it.”   

He emerges some time later, fixing the cuffs of his shirt, and you stare, dumbfounded. He catches your eye and grins easily, running a hand through his hair. 

“My eyes are up here,” He jokes, and you flush, looking away. “Like what you see?” 

“You wish,” You shoot at him, placing your thumb nail in between your teeth. He laughs, nudging your arm with his fist. 

“Did you think maybe I was bald under my hat? I know, my hair does come as a shock to some people, but don’t let it get your panties in a twist.”

“Go change into your dress if you’re ready,” He pours himself another mug of coffee, leaning against the counter and watching you with glinting eyes. You slide out of your chair, face flushed, and disappear into your room. 

Twenty minutes later, you emerge, dress on, makeup and hair done, facing another problem. 

“Uh, Mista? What am I going to do about shoes?” 

“Go ahead and just wear whatever for now, we’ll stop somewhere on the way. And make sure to take a jacket, it just started raining.” 

“Lovely,” You grab the nicest coat you own and shrug it on, pulling your umbrella out of the side closet after tugging on the shoes sitting by the door. Mista checks his phone, humming. 

“Ready?” 

“Alright. I’m part of the wedding party, but I won’t be away from you for long.” He offers you his arm and takes the umbrella from you, walking you out to his car and helping you into the passenger seat. You scroll aimlessly through your phone, nerves causing your hands to shake the longer the car ride goes. 

Halfway through the ride, he turns on the cd player and sings along quietly, tapping the wheel to the beat of the song. You’re surprised to find that he has an amazing singing voice. 

He catches your gaze out of the corner of his eye and grins, winking at you.

“You’re catching flies, bombolone.” 

You flush, looking back down at your phone. He chuckles, pulling into the parking lot of a shoe store you’ve barely even dreamed of seeing the inside of. 

“What size shoe do you wear? I’ll go in and pick something out for you.” 

“Oh, uh-” You tell him, and he grabs the umbrella from the backseat. “But-” 

“I better not hear you complain about me buying you something else, Tesoro,” He catches your eye, his glinting. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. We’re friends, right?” 

“At least let me pay you back?” 

“Absolutely not,” He smiles, leaving before you can get another word in edgewise. You slump against the seat, exhaling sharply.

He returns roughly fifteen minutes later, box in hand, a smile on his face.

“They match your dress,” Is all he says, and drives off, humming to himself. 

-

You’re asking yourself why you ever agreed to this when he pulls up to the venue, and your nervousness only grows when he reaches into the backseat and hands you a small box. 

“Relax, I’m not asking you to marry me yet,” He jokes, opening the box for you. “It’s just a corsage.” 

“Even if you did ask, I’d say no.” You watch as he slips the flower onto your wrist. He jokingly slumps back into his seat and throws an arm over his eyes, groaning. 

“Merda! How do you expect me to go on like this? I’ll just stare forlornly at the wall the entire wedding! I won’t even dance!” 

His joking manner chips away at some of your anxiety, and you can’t help but smile. 

“You’ll move on, I’m sure. Maybe I’ll finally be able to finish my schoolwork when you do.” 

“No chance,” He grins and peeks at you from under his arm. “Pull your seat back and change into your shoes so we can go in. I’ll have to leave you pretty soon but just pick a seat wherever and I’ll meet back up with you after so I can take you to the reception.” 

“I know what’s bothering me about this,” You say, opening the shoebox and gazing at the blue satin flats inside. “You never have anything this planned out.” 

“Ah, you can’t say never,” He jokes. “I had a whole plan to ask you out after I met you in Professor Nero’s class.” 

“You dropped that class, Mista.” 

“Who knew that biochem would be so difficult?” He sighs wistfully. “I just don’t have the brain for it. Who would have thought we’d see each other again in Sociology?” 

“Did you finish your paper yet?” You ask him, tugging the new shoes on. 

“Absolutely,” He laughs. “Absolutely not. I haven’t even started it.” 

“Mista, that’s due on friday.” 

“Ah, I’ll get it done,” He waves you off. “We have other things to worry about right now.” 

He steps out and around the car, opening up the umbrella and your door for you. Instead of offering you his arm, he laces your hands together as you walk into the massive church. 

“Mista, Siamo tutto qui!” A younger boy, with black hair and bizarrely violet eyes waves Mista down, and Mista calls over to him. 

“Ah, arrivo tra un minuto, Narancia!” 

“Mista, am I going to be the only english speaker at this whole wedding?” 

“Nah, ‘course not,” He squeezes your hand. “Everyone here speaks English, some better than others. I gotta get going, sit anywhere in the chapel but the first three rows.” 

“O-okay,” You find you miss his hand when he lets go, and you watch him walk down the hall, tossing his arm around a slender blonde man. 

You suppose it’s good to know he’s this familiar with everyone he comes across, You think to yourself as you take your seat and clasp your hands together. 

Other guests begin to fill the pews as time goes on, some casting you weird looks, other’s ignoring you completely, some smiling. You bite the inside of your cheek, jumping when the music starts. You watch as the groom makes his way up to the front- a long silver haired man in a black suit and purple lipstick. Trailing behind him is a young woman with bright pink hair, the purple haired boy you saw earlier, and a different, grumpier looking blond. The first blond follows him, and he’s followed by Mista, who winks when he catches your eye. Everyone stands when the- other groom starts to walk down the aisle, donned in an elegant white suit, his raven hair pristine and perfectly in place. 

The actual ceremony flies by for you, mostly because you barely understand any of the Italian being spoken. Mista grins over at you when the couple kisses, and when you finally meet back up with him at the back of the church, he pulls you into a hug. 

“Let me introduce you to my famiglia, bombolone.” 

“O-okay?” There’s not much you can do but follow him, and you’re skidded to a halt in front of the married couple themselves. 

“Bucciarati, questa è quella ragazza di cui ti ho parlato, da scuola.” 

The man in the white suit turns and smiles at you warmly, taking your hand and brushing his lips against your knuckles. 

“Parli italiano?” 

“Uh, molto poco,” You’re nervous, but much less in front of this man than you thought you’d be. He nods. 

“How are you enjoying your time here?” His accent is thick, but his english is near perfect. 

“I love it here,” You tell him, clasping your hands in front of you. “My Italian classes are giving me a hard time, but I am working hard to learn the language.” 

“Ciao,” The other man says gruffly, glancing over you before turning away. Bucciarati smiles, waving his hand. 

“Don’t worry about him, he’s like that with everyone new. I’m surprised Mista convinced you to come.” 

“I have a hard time saying no to him,” You confess quietly. Bucciarati laughs. 

“He can have that effect on people, can’t he?” 

“Come meet Giorno,” Mista tugs on your arm, pulling you out of your conversation. Bucciarati reprimands him in italian and waves you off. 

-

You step out of the passenger seat of his car, hurrying into the convention center where the reception is being held. Mista waits in the car for the rest of the wedding party, watching you go. 

It’s later in the night when Mista approaches you out on the patio. You had retreated from the cacophony of loud music and voices, nursing your fourth glass of sweet red wine and watching as the clouds roll through the dark sky. 

“You disappeared on me,” He rests his forearms against the railing, and you glance at him, eying him appreciatively when you see that his jacket has been discarded and the sleeves of his dress shirt have been rolled up. The alcohol is doing well to make your judgement fuzzy, so you reach over and squeeze his arm. 

“Loud.” 

“It can be, yeah,” He nods, noting the way your cheeks are flushed. “How much have you had?” 

“This is my last one. Promise.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” He smiles, looking up at the sky. The loud, boisterous music turns into something soft and sweet, and you hear Mista take a deep breath.

“Would you come dance with me? Per favor?” 

You look down into your half empty wine glass, nodding. He pulls it from your hands, setting it down on the ledge, and moves to guide you back inside. You pause, just at the door. 

“Can we dance out here? I don’t want to take any attention away from the newlyweds. And it’s quieter out here, I can hear myself think.”  

“Of course,” He smiles and takes your elbows gently in his hands, pulling you against his chest. You stumble and fall, a giggle spouting from your mouth. “God, I finally get you on a date and you’re drunk.” 

His tone is teasing, and he rests his hands on your hips to keep you steady. 

“Not that drunk,” You giggle again, winding your arms around his shoulders. He tilts his head down towards you, his grin morphing into a smirk. 

“After this dance, I’m making you drink some water,” He lifts a hand and tweaks your nose. You flush and, thanks to your clouded judgement, bury your face into his chest. He rests his chin on top of your head, humming softly along to the song that filters through the door. 

-

You’re nearly sober by the time you make it back to his car, and he asks if you want to go home or if you’d like to spend the night at his place or if you’d like him to take you back home. 

“Do you live alone?” 

“Yeah, I have a one bedroom just off campus.” 

“How big is your bed?” 

“I was going to sleep on the couch.” 

“That didn’t answer my question,” You say, leaning back against the seat. 

“It’s a double.” 

“Mm, sure then. I’ll stay,” You smile over at him. “I can help you write that Sociology paper tomorrow then.” 

“Curses! You’ve revealed my hidden plan!” He slumps jokingly, burying his face in his hands. You laugh, and god, he could listen to the sound of you genuinely laughing forever. 

You step into his apartment, slipping the flats off of your feet by the door. He steps around you after slipping his own shoes off, and turns the kitchen light on. 

“Want some tea? It’ll probably do you good to prevent a hangover tomorrow.” 

“Sure.” You sit gingerly on his couch, looking around. He watches you for a moment, disappearing into his bedroom after putting the kettle on the stove. 

When he comes out, He hands you a folded pile of something soft and tells you to go ahead and shower and change, and that your tea will be ready by the time you’re done. 

You do as he says, washing your face and changing into the clothes he provided. 

You inspect the blue hoodie and clean pair of shorts he gave you, smiling to yourself. You never expected to dance with him, much less spend the night at his place and wear his clothes. The hoodie smells faintly of gunpowder, and you think to ask if he maybe visits the shooting range. 

Steam billows out of the bathroom door when you open it, and Mista teasingly asks if you’ve left him any hot water, handing you a warm mug of something that smells delicious before he disappears into the bathroom himself, emerging some time later in sweats and a loose t-shirt. You catch yourself eyeing him appreciatively again, and firmly turn your gaze down to the almost finished mug of tea. 

He joins you on the couch, tossing his arm across the back of it and flicking the tv on. For one of the first times, it’s silent between the two of you, and comfortable. Before long, you scoot closer to him and rest your head against his shoulder, and you can’t blame alcohol for that decision. Part of you is terrified, but the other part just feels warm and sleepy and content. 

“Woah, don’t fall asleep on me, bombolone,” He wraps an arm around you and peels you away from him, smiling softly. “If you’re tired let’s get you to bed.” 

“Mista, I want to cuddle with you,” You say, meeting his eyes. “It’s really scary, but I want to do it.” 

“Why is cuddling with me scary?!” 

“I may be realizing that I have a tiny amount of feelings for you,” You bite your lip. “And no one’s ever- I’ve never been held like the way you held me while we were dancing. It made me warm and fuzzy inside.” 

“That so?” He smiles, resting his cheek against the top of your head. You nod. 

“I promise that’s not the alcohol talking either. Please?” 

“I can’t say no to you,” He finally sighs, standing and pulling you up. You positively beam at him, and it’s his turn to flush and look away. 

He takes your hand and retires to the bedroom with you, allowing you to cuddle up against him when you both lie down. There’s a feather-light kiss pressed to your forehead, and your eyes have slipped closed. 

-

You wake first the next day, and notice you’re on your side facing Mista. His arm is draped over your side, and he’s snoring softly. His face is much more boyish when he sleeps, his face completely relaxed. You stretch, turning onto your back, and think about what you told him last night. 

Seeing him like this only solidifies the feelings that have nestled in the center of your chest, and you curse yourself lightly when you realize that he’s won, and that you aren’t even upset that he’s finally won you over after a year of knowing you. 

He grunts softly in his sleep and drags you closer, so you turn to face him again and card a hand through the short curls on top of his head. His eyelids flutter, and you’re met with his impossibly dark eyes the next moment. 

“Cazzo, you’re really cute when you’re sleepy,” He reaffirms what he said to you yesterday, giving you a lopsided smile. You blush, trying your best to keep a smile off of your own face. 

You don’t do a very good job at it. 

“You too. You snore though.” You avert your eyes, covering your mouth with one of the hoodie sleeves. 

“Shoulda heard yourself last night. Though a weed wacker had gone off in my room.” 

“I do not snore!” You gasp, sitting up. He laughs and drags you on top of him, securing his arms tight around you so you have nowhere to go. 

“I wouldn’t call it snoring so much as a 747 temporarily taking up residence in the back of your throat.” He hums, keeping that cocky grin on his face. You scoff. 

“I do not snore.” You state it again, firmly, and he laughs, squeezing you. 

“There are ways of getting me to shut up,” He says lightly, and you narrow your eyes, tilting your head back. 

“Why is that my responsibility? Shut yourself up, Mista.” 

“D’you mind?” 

“By all means, I’ve been asking you to for a year.” 

He smiles, then, and grabs the front of his hoodie, dragging you down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. They’re extraordinarily soft, and they do more to shut you up than him. When he pulls away, you stare at him for a moment, before cupping his face in your hands and leaning down to kiss him again, and again, and again, until you have to physically drag yourself away for air. 

“Cazzo,” He pants, cupping the back of your neck with his palm. “Just...wow.” 

“Yeah,” You nod dumbly, searching his face. “Give me more.” 

His eyes glint, and he flips the two of you so that your back is pressed against the sheets. 

“Are you sure?” 

“God, yes. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and I am absolutely certain that I want to do it,” You reach up and drag him down to meet your lips again. His breath catches in his throat, and he worms his way down to your neck, his hands pushing up the hem of the hoodie he gave you. 

You arch your back so he can slide it off, and he groans out loud when your chest is laid bare before him. 

“Cazzo, You’re not cute, bombolone, you’re actually really fucking hot,” He breathes, cupping your breasts in his hands. You flush at his words. 

“Even the playing field,” You tell him, and you don’t have to twice because he’s already shrugging his shirt off. You’re finally met with the full plane of his stomach, instead of what you see when he wears his crop tops, and you trace the muscles appreciatively with a finger, stopping just at the hem of his sweatpants. He leans down, kissing your cheek, and starts to trail open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your carotid, stopping once or twice to suck gently at the soft skin there. He relishes in the way your breath jumps in your throat and grins against your skin, kissing along your collarbone and down your chest and stomach. 

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, pausing at the hem of the shorts, and you groan, twisting his hair into your hands. 

“God, please!” 

He laughs, a little nervously, and slides the shorts down your legs, tossing them off of the bed and spreading your legs and dipping his head between your thighs. His breath ghosts just over your clit, and you have to beg him again for him to finally start moving. 

“Sorry, I’ve just...never eaten anybody out before,” He huffs, closing his eyes and swiping his tongue up and along your folds. You gasp. “Sorry if I get a little experimental.” 

He slides his tongue up again, flicking it just right against your clit. You grip his hair harder, grinding down onto his face, your eyes squeezed shut. 

When he seals his lips around your clit and gives a testing suck, you cry out, clenching your thighs around his head. He groans against you, working to figure out what you like and what you don’t until you cry his name and arch your back, grinding against his face while you ride out your orgasm. He continues through it, forcing your thigh up and out with his free hand so he can have better access. It’s not long until you cum again, and you have to push him away when the stimulation nears pain.

“F-fuck,” You pant, blinking slowly as you try to bring the ceiling into focus. He pulls his fingers- you didn’t even notice he added more- out of you with a wet noise and holds them in front of your mouth for you to taste. 

He groans when you run your tongue along his digits, watching your face as you work diligently to clean them. He’s rock hard at this point, and itching to be inside you. 

He works off his sweatpants with a huff, his cock springing out and smacking your stomach heavily. It’s not terribly long, but dark and thick, uncut, the tip flushed pink and dribbling precum where it’s peeking out. Your mouth waters at the sight of it, but he rolls his foreskin back and nestles between your thighs, and your thoughts are clouded by what he’ll feel like inside of you. 

He takes his time, brushing the head along your folds until it catches at your entrance, and with a shaky breath, he slowly pushes in. 

You both moan when he does, your head falling back on the pillows, his hand reaching up to grip the headboard. 

“Cazzo,” He hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re so fucking tight, babe.”

He rolls his hips, eliciting a cry from you that sounds like his name, and sets a slow, heavy pace. He lifts one of your legs, resting it against his shoulder, and angles his hips so he can hit all of the best spots inside you.

“Christo, do you know how good you feel? Se non sto attento, verrò subito,” He leans down and catches your lips in a kiss, brushing against your cervix when he does. You moan into his mouth, your walls spasming around him. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groans, his hips pistoning even faster into you. “F-fuck, where do you want me to cum?” 

“I d-don’t care! Anywhere is-” Your words get cut off, and you scramble to find purchase against him when you cum for a third time. He pulls out and starts jerking furiously into his hand, and you flinch when warm cum spurts against your stomach. 

“C-cazzo, he groans, flopping down next to you when he’s spent. Both of you can do nothing but breathe and bask in the afterglow, your minds working hard to catch up to the experience. His chest heaves, and he turns his head to face you, a goofy smile on his face. “That was so hot.” 

“There’s no way that was your first time eating someone out,” You gasp, loosely clasping hands with him. He laughs. “That was too good.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” He squeezes your hand, exhaling sharply. “Fuck. Let me get you a towel. 

“If you clean me up good in the shower I’ll suck your dick for you while you write your paper,” You meet his eyes, grinning at him. His face flushes, and the next moment, he’s standing and lifting you off the bed. 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

[jihyuncompass]

Unexpected Changes

It’s time for a very special fic for a very special boy who lives in my head and my heart. Happy birthday Shawty I love you <3

I want to give a very very special thanks to my wonderful friend @otherlandshark​ for giving me this idea, your mind never ceases to amaze me and I love you so very much. 

I would also love to give thanks to everyone who has encouraged me or helped me with this fic. There’s several of you, some of which aren’t on here. But thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. 

Summary: You decide to surprise Shaw for his birthday, but some unexpected events get in the way. 

Shaw x MC

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Some cursing, adult jokes. 

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

Leaning forward you squinted at the calendar in front of you checking it, you confirmed the date, June 21st. The date was circled in a red pen, the little box for the date had Shaw’s B-day!!!!! Written in the same red felt pen. You smiled to yourself as you reached out to your phone left face down on the table beside you. 

You’d half expected a text from Shaw already, after all he usually was the one to text you first. Yet when you checked your notifications you didn’t see anything from him. You sat down at the kitchen table, considering if you should text him first, maybe he was sleeping in today, his finals should be done by now so maybe he was taking a day to rest. Even if that didn’t really sound like Shaw’s style. 

As it turns out, you didn’t have to wait too long to decide if you should text him or not. Your phone screen lit up with a text message, the contact image of a young lavender haired man. 

Shaw: Do you remember what today is?

MC: Oh I know this one!

MC: It’s monday!

Shaw:....

Shaw: Care to try again? 

MC: Ah fine, it’s the 21st of June!

Shaw: You’re not wrong, but do you know what else it is? 

MC: Hmmmmm 

Shaw: Hm?

You knew very well that Shaw’s birthday was today, but still you wanted to tease him a little bit. Maybe just to get back at him a little bit for his usual rounds of teasing you. 

MC: Maybe you should remind me what today is, since it seems I don’t know

Shaw: Or, how about we meet up? 

Shaw: With my finals I’ve haven't had the time to entertain you 

MC: Oh today? I’m not sure if I have the time…

Shaw: You can’t be that busy can you? 

MC: Shaw it’s Monday! I have a job you know 

MC: Buuuuut 

MC: It is a bit slow today, perhaps I could take the day off. 

Shaw: Meet me at the park.  Don’t be late. 

MC: Hey!!! I should be telling YOU that!!!! 

Putting your phone back down on the table you quickly rose from your seat. You had preemptively taken the day off, preparing for today weeks ago. Today was not only his birthday, but also right after his final exams for school. Both events in your eyes were worthy of a celebration. 

First, you got yourself dressed and ready, putting on the carefully chosen ensemble, an outfit more in line with Shaw’s personal style than your own, but one you knew he’d appreciate seeing you in. 

You pulled out the large picnic basket from your closet, putting it down on the table while you opened your fridge door to grab the neatly packaged and wrapped food you’d spent the night before putting together. Once you finished your personal game of picnic basket tetris you carefully snuck in a picnic blanket on top. 

The last step was the gift wrapped box sitting on the other side of your dining table, the gift was wrapped with the shark wrapping paper you’d special ordered on a whim the week beforehand. You slipped the box into your bag, trying to keep it at least a little bit hidden from view. You slipped on your shoes as you held your bag in one arm and the picnic basket in the crook of your elbow. 

The bright blue sky was the first thing you noticed when you stepped outside. The warm new summer air swaying the newly bloomed flowers on your path. The summer breeze was just warm enough that you felt a bead of sweat appear on your brow as you walked to the park you had arranged to meet at. 

Since the weather was so warm for the first time in what seemed like forever it looked like everyone in the city was outside today. Families walked into ice cream shops, groups of friends wandered into stores and restaurants. Couples holding hands walking down the sidewalk hand in hand. 

The park wasn’t any less busy, it took several rounds walking along the park to find the perfect spot to get yourself set up, after walking the perimeter for a while you found a good spot you could get yourself situated. 

Your phone rang just as you finished pulling out the last items from your picnic basket. Once the items were set down you reached out and quickly answered your phone without even really checking the caller ID. 

“Hello?”

“I’m almost there, where are you?” Shaw asked on the other end. 

“I’m sitting under one of the trees, just walk around I’ll wave when I see you” 

Shaw sighed on the other end. “You can’t just find me?” 

“Nope! You have to find me. I’m not moving.” Shaw dramatically sighed. “Just come find me. Trust me it’ll be worth it.” 

“Alright,” Shaw said. “I’ll find you, I can see the park now. Be ready.” He hung up the phone just a moment after that. 

Your eyes swept around the park looking for him. You looked for that familiar lavender hair or that patented leather jacket he seemed so very fond of. Still, it was hard to see through all the crowds of people, the way they crowded up the paths and sidewalks and made it even harder to see anyone specific. 

Once you saw that lavender hair sticking out of the crowd your hand was raised in the air, waving wildly to try and grab his attention, and as some of the people thinned out you could clearly see Shaw walking down the sidewalk, his eyes also looking around the park to try and find you. 

After waving your hands for a few more moments, Shaw's eyes met yours, a spark of recognition crossing his face, and then, his facial expression slowly changing as he noticed where you were sitting, and the assortment of food that you had put around yourself. All for him. 

He stopped just a few steps away from you, you could tell that he was trying to hide his exact facial expression. Trying to hide it with his classic cool and unbothered face, but his eyes didn't lie, and the way they seemed to be sparkling. 

"What's this?" Shaw asked as he looked down at the set up. You smiled and motioned to the blanket you had spread out on the ground. 

"Happy birthday Shaw." You said, his eyes looked like they were glowing. His pupils wide as he took it all in. His mouth was slightly open, like he couldn't quite believe what it was that he was seeing in front of him. "What are you doing just standing there! Come on, sit down." 

After a half a moment of him staring he sat down on the other end of the blanket. He still wasn't saying much, almost uncharacteristically quiet. 

"What do you think? I tried to make some things I know you like. It's no hotpot but I couldn't quite figure out how we could do hotpot in the park, but since the weather is so nice I figured that a picnic would be nice!" 

Shaw looked at you, and in the moment that he was staring at you it was like an instant change. He cleared his throat and let his usual cool and collected expression return to his face, looking cool, calm, and collected like he had been expecting this the whole entire time. 

“It doesn’t look too bad.” He finally said. You smiled at him, a comment like that from Shaw was quite the compliment. “You did all this?”

You nodded. “Yeah I made all this last night and this morning.” You handed him a can of coke and a can of pepsi, his two favorites. “Consider this a double celebration, we’re celebrating your birthday and you finishing your finals.” Shaw looked up and down at the picnic food on the blanket and you sitting on the other end of the blanket. 

Shaw’s usual smirk reappeared on his face as he popped the tab open on the can of coke, taking a long sip. “I suppose I can admit you made an okay show of pretending to forget today.” 

“I would never forget!” You said, “I’ve had the date written down on my calendar ever since I found out when your birthday was.” 

Shaw’s face was unreadable, he hid his expression by sipping on his soda. Trying to keep his face away from you, as if by looking at you it would reveal something he wasn’t ready for you to see yet. 

Maybe you would have asked if he was okay, or try to say something to make him face you again. But before you could do anything about that thought your attention was broken by the raindrops that fell right on top of your head. 

The rain started to fall faster, dark rain clouds overtaking the whole no-longer blue sky. You looked up at the sky, as the raindrops started falling faster and harder. Within seconds it was pouring down rain on the once warm soil. 

It seemed to take Shaw a bit longer to notice the rain that was soaking his hair and clothes. Once he noticed his eyes went upwards to look up at the now darkened sky. 

Although he didn't say it, and neither did you, you had a very good feeling that you knew what had caused this sudden rainstorm. 

Looking around the park, the once happy families and couples were packing up their things, running for shelter or to their cars, no one seemingly prepared for any kind of sudden rain. Even you, who should have prepared for this possibility, hadn't even considered the idea that it could rain. Especially with the person you were with. 

"Shit, the food!" You quickly tried to repackage and rewrap the food you'd brought, trying to keep it from getting wetter and ruined. 

"It's just a little rain" Shaw said looking up at the sky, he must have known the rain's origin. There's no way that he couldn't have known what caused this. 

“I would say it’s a little more than a little rain!” You tried to shove them back into the basket. "Also I don't want all this food getting wet and soggy." You pushed back some of your wet hair as the raindrops ran down your face and neck. 

Quickly you put all the food back into the basket, and motioned for Shaw to stand up, the blanket below you was already soaked, and the mud started to stick to the other side. You bit your lip and you tried to fold it up the best you could. 

“Did you bring an umbrella?” You asked him, Shaw shook his head. 

“Didn’t think it would rain.” You glared at him. “What?”

“You don’t just keep one on you in case of sudden rain? That seems to happen a lot around you.” You hugged yourself to try and keep warm as the rain soaked your clothes. 

“I didn’t think I’d need it.” Shaw said. “Besides, it’s June.” You resisted the urge to remind him that not only does it rain in June but the time of year doesn’t seem to matter when you have an Evolver who makes it rain whenever he’s in a good mood. 

Trying to hide from the rain under the tree you held the picnic basket close. “How about we go back to my place, we can eat there.” Shaw picked up your other bag, the one with his present hidden in it, biting your tongue you tried not to make clear that you didn’t want him seeing the contents just yet. But he didn’t try to look. 

“Here.” Shaw shedded his jacket and handed it over to you. You took the jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders, the arms a little too long and the jacket not quite fitting, but it was comfortable, and you could feel the lingering warmth from his body heat on it. 

“I’ll follow your lead.” Shaw said casually, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Looking out to the rest of the now deserted park you mentally mapped the quickest way home, the two of you would be soaked, no doubt, but at least you could get back. 

Together you took off into the rain, trying to walk beneath any kind of cover you both could find on the way back. You held Shaw’s jacket close, as you did the scent of peppermint and light cologne was easy to pick up, an almost comforting smell. 

Throwing open the door to your apartment building you both breathed a sigh of relief when you were out of the rain, so filled with relief it took a few moments to realize something wasn’t right. 

“Someone turned off the lights.” You commented looking at the dark lobby. Shaw punched the up button on the elevator, to no avail. No elevator sounds, no lighting up on the button. 

“The power’s out.” He said, pushing wet hair out of his eyes. “Probably the heavy rain.” 

You withheld the groan growing in your throat. “Seriously?” You tried the elevator button 

yourself, with no better result. 

Shaw didn't seem nearly as bothered as you did, or at least he pretended like he wasn't bothered. He looked to the door leading to the stairs up. 

"Come on. I won’t carry you up the stairs." Shaw said, pushing open the door. 

You followed up, slowly trudging up the long stairwell, your socks squelching uncomfortably in your shoes. Your hair dripping with the rain, Shaw's jacket being the only thing giving you the smallest bit of comfort at the moment. 

The two of you eventually made it up to your floor, and down your hallway to your door. You couldn't waste any time with sticking in your key and getting through the door. 

Your apartment was dark, just like the lobby, no lights on, not even the stove or oven. The apartment was completely dark beyond the small amount of light coming in through the window, and completely silent without the hum of the fridge or your computer. 

You set the picnic basket down on the table, rushing to the bathroom to grab towels. Grabbing the biggest towels you had in your cupboard. Tossing one to Shaw and using your own to dry your face and hair first. 

"I'm gonna change clothes." You told him. Then looked him up and down. “I’d offer you some of mine but I’m not sure they’ll fit.”  You racked your brain, there must be something you could offer him. “I could ask my neighbor, he’s a little shorter than you but maybe-” 

Shaw shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“But-”

“I’m not that wet.” Shaw said as he dried off his hair, the lavender strands still damp when he pulled the towel away. Shaw looked you up and down, that mischievous look reappearing in his gaze “You on the other hand-” He said with that tone that could have suggested anything. 

“Shaw!” You said as your cheeks flushed red. His smirk intensified at your flustered face, and you did your best to reel it in. After all that was the reaction he was hoping for. You huffed and pulled out a set of clean clothes from your closet. 

You left him in the living room while you changed clothes, drying your hair further in the darkness of the bathroom. You probably should have predicted a result like this, but it was too late to go back now. 

In dry clothes and sufficiently put back together you ventured back into the living room. Shaw stood with his shirt in his hands as he set it on your clothes drying rack in the corner of your apartment. 

Although his back was turned to you, you quickly averted your gaze from him as the flush returned to your face. You kept your eyes on the ground as you put away your other damp clothes to be washed and dried once the power was back.

“Oi.” Shaw said, You kept yourself from looking directly at him. “Why are you staring at the floor like that? Did you break your neck putting on a shirt?” Your face turned an even brighter red color as he spoke. 

“I-” You turned your head away. “I’m just thinking.” You tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. Maybe so he wouldn’t try and pull an even more embarrassed reaction out of you. 

Shaw’s slit brow raised up, his classic playful expression returning in full force. “What could you possibly be thinking about?” He said, walking towards you. Still feeling too flustered to look at him, you grabbed the throw blanket from the couch and tossed it at him. 

“You’re probably cold right? There’s no heating right now so you must be freezing.” Your words came out faster and maybe a little more jumped than you’d typically like. Watching him out of the corner of your eye he unfolded the blanket and placed it over his bare shoulders, relieving a little bit of your embarrassment. 

The picnic basket still left on the table caught your eyes once you felt calm again. The basket was still a bit wet, raindrops clinging to the top and sides of the basket. The bag with Shaw’s present is also just as damp. Glancing from the picnic basket to the blanket around Shaw’s shoulders, an idea formed in your head. 

“What’s going on in your head?” Shaw asked, poking your arm playfully. 

You smiled and looked at him. “The rain ruined my original plan but, I think I know what we can do to still celebrate.” You picked up one of the other throw blankets on the couch, and unfolded it and spread it on the living room floor. 

Shaw caught onto your plan pretty quickly, you handed him the picnic basket and pointed to the blanket. “You get this all set up, I’m going to go and find some candles so we can have a little bit of light.” 

You arranged your candles and flashlights around the blanket so there was at least some light overlooking your picnic food, even if some of the items had become slightly soggy from the rain. 

“Nice atmosphere.” Shaw joked. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “We can always eat in the dark.” 

“Nah.” Shaw said as he took a bite of the sandwich you’d made. “The dark is for other things.” He gave you a suggestive look as he said that, making your face turn red again. 

“Don’t be gross!” 

Shaw’s suggestive smirk only intensified. “I saw how embarrassed you were when you came out here. I know what I look like. You can-”

“Shaw stop it!” You said louder, trying to hide your flustered expression in the shadows left by the candles and flashlights. “I don’t care if it’s your birthday, I will make you go back out in the rain.” 

Shaw’s expression changed, but you still saw that mischievous spark, although that was just a regular feature of Shaw’s face. “You sure do get embarrassed easily.” He said as he took another bite. You ignored his comment, not interested in humoring his dirty mind further. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t have other plans today.” You said, looking up at Shaw. “I figured you’d go to Live House or hang out with the band.” 

Shaw shrugged. “Birthdays aren’t that big of a deal.” He said, sipping on the new can of cola you’d gotten him. “Besides, I knew you had something planned.” 

“Wait, how did you know?” 

“You’re not very good at surprises.” Shaw set the can of cola down as he picked at the side dishes. “I will give you one thing though, I wasn’t expecting this.” 

A smile broke across your face. “Do you like it?” 

Shaw looked back up at you. “It’s alright, you didn’t do too bad.” 

“Well,” you sat up straighter and leaned for the closed bakery box you’d set next to the picnic basket. “I still have a few surprises left in me.” You set the bakery box between you. Shaw’s expression changed as you opened up the top. Revealing the birthday cake you’d gotten for him. A simple cake frosted in blue with a dorky looking shark frosted onto the top, Happy Birthday Shaw! Written in black frosting below it. 

Shaw’s face shifted through a variety of emotions in a few seconds, at first confusion, surprise, and then he started laughing. Covering his mouth as he laughed. 

“What is that?” Shaw said between laughter. “It looks so childish.” 

You huffed, “It’s what the bakery had! And I figured you wouldn’t want a boring cake!”

Shaw managed to get his laughter under control as he looked at the cake again. “Let’s hope it tastes good for your sake.” He said, handing him a fork you both dug into the cake, not even bothering to slice it. 

The cake was sweet, and thankfully unaffected by the rainstorm, the cake flavor was fairly basic but the sweetness was enough to make it good. Shaw also seemed pleased with the flavor, taking bite after bite of the cake without complaint. 

Once the two of you had pretty much eaten the entire frosted shark you both considered that more than enough cake for the two of you. Now, it was time for your final surprise. 

Shaw was still focused on the cake when you pulled out the two gift wrapped packages, holding them out for him. 

“Your final surprise of the day, I promise.” 

Shaw took the two boxes, setting one down and unwrapping the other. You watched him intently as he ripped away the wrapping paper. 

A slight surprised noise came from Shaw as he looked at his gift. “A children’s fossil dig kit?” He held the box in his hands, the front showing two children digging in the play sand for plastic fossils. He gave you a bizarre look. 

“I thought it’d be fun! Little field work practice.” 

“It’s for children.” Shaw said. “Do I look like a child?” 

You reached for the toy. “If you don’t want it I’ll just return it then-”

Shaw pulled the box away. “Nuh uh, you don’t get to take a gift back. This is mine.” Shaw set the box down beside him, out of your grasp. You settled back where you sat, even if he wouldn’t say it, you knew he did like the gift. He picked up the second item, much smaller than the first, barely bigger than a stack of envelopes. 

Tearing the wrapping paper away, once again he seemed a bit confused by the gift in his hands. A stack of notecards, hole punched and held together by a binder ring. Each one with slightly different writing on it. 

“This is?” Shaw asked you, giving you a look. 

“It’s a coupon book, for my time and for favors. If you want to drag me along to a concert or an antique fair, you can use those, and I can’t say no.” 

“And I can use these for any kind of favor?” 

You nodded. “Yep! Anything at all.” 

Shaw looked back at the coupon book and then at you. A particular look in his eye. As he looked at you, you watched as the blanket that had been around his shoulders started to fall. 

Opening the binder ring he handed you one of the notecard coupons. “I’m using one right now, my first request.” Shaw scooted closer to you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating from his bare torso. “I want you to spend every one of my birthdays with me.” 

“Every single one?”

Shaw nodded. “Every single one.” Your eyes were locked together, your wide eyes against his slightly troublesome gaze. Still you weren’t worried about what was going on in his head. Beyond that troublesome gaze, there was also the softness in his face, the way he looked perfectly calm, and perfectly happy. “I think I have another idea for a coupon to use right now.” 

Smiling gently at him, you reached out to hold his hand, not breaking eye contact for a second. 

“I think I’ll let this one be a freebie.” 

Shaw leaned closer, until your foreheads were practically pressed together. 

“Perfect.” He whispered, closing the small gap between you. His soft lips pressed against yours he pulled away just a centimeter after one long kiss.

“This, I think, is the best gift I’ve gotten all day.”

[violetnotez]

Bakugo x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff+small amount of angst

⤷ Word Count: 5307+

⤷ Warnings: Drunk reader, cursing, also reader+Bakugo will be aged up (early 20′s, cause no underage drinking in this house!)

⤷ Synopsis:  Bakugo doesn’t have any feeling for you. You’re just one of his shitty friends and that’s it. He’s only picking you up from a bar after your breakup because you drunk called him and not because he’s worried you’ll get hurt. He doesn’t feel his heart pang when you say you want him to drive you to his apartment, not yours. He doesn’t completely turn beet red when he sees you change into his clothes.But, as much as he denies it, Bakugo realizes he loves you when you cry to him drunkenly , saying you wished you had a lover as sweet as him

This fic is for the @bnhabookclub Bingo Event! Here’s my masterlist to see all my work for this event! Also this was actually inspired by @shoutogepi​ HC of Bakugo and Kirishima taking care of their drunk s/o! I honestly loved this headcannons so much, and they really inspired me to write a more angsty sort of spin on it. Here’s a link to her post (I also explicitly asked her if it was alright to take inspiration from her headcannons, just in case!)

Bingo Slot: Realized Feelings

Bakugo stepped his foot deeper into the gas, the engine in his car roaring as it zoomed through the dark streets.

Damn you and your shitty decisions.

He had been woken up in the dead of the night to his phone ringing annoyingly against his bedside table. Your caller ID of “Cute Shithead” was shining brightly against his face, his finger immediately taking the call. 

He had to admit, he was a little annoyed for you calling him so damn early in the morning, but hearing your voice immediately melted any irritation. By the way your words slurred together, you sounded completely wasted. That alone could turn him into a worried frenzy, but the tone of your voice sent ice down his spine.

You sounded so lonely, so defeated, as if you had lost all hope and were giving up. 

He rammed his foot again into the gas, following the directions to the club you said you were at as closely as possible over the roar of his engine. 

He was just being a decent friend and helping you out, he told himself. There was no other reason why he was helping you...it wasn’t because his heart practically dropped at the sound of your voice, or how he felt his chest tighten when you said “Please come get me Katsuki”

Or that you had called him, not anybody else, to come and get you. It was all platonic-he had to keep telling himself that.

He hastily pulled into the parking lot, his car swerving into a spot a little too haphazardly. He yanked the keys from the vehicle, closing the inky black door with a thud as he looked at the building in front of him. 

A bright, Neon green sign lit up the roof, a line of club goers filtering through as they waited for the bouncer to allow them in. It was pretty late in the night-2 am to be exact-so more people were stumbling out of the club than actually going on.

Bakugo quickly began to walk over to the establishment, his body weaving through drunken couples clambering to their cars or taxis. He was searching everywhere, helplessly trying to find your face in every person he saw.

Where the hell were you?

Bakugo turned to his side, looking at the asphalt that lead into the club. There were parking spots right there, all empty, probably for Ubers and Lyfts to come pick up people who had ordered them. THere were a few people sitting on the curb, waiting for their rides as they sat on their phone or blabbered drunkenly to their friends.

But then he spotted a familiar body, their shoulders slump down in exhaustion, their eyes downcast in defeat. He quickly made his way over, knowing exactly who that body belonged to.

“Shit y/n, the hell are you doing here by yourself-“

He quickly bent down, looking at you square in the face.

You gave him a weak smile, your eyes so full of relief and sadness he felt his heart ping from your expression.

He had to admit- you looked like a wreck. Your once meticulously curled hair was frizzy and in shambles from dancing, your makeup splotchy in places and black coating under your eyes. 

HIs calloused hands wrapped around your waist, his other arm gently pulling your free hand around his neck for support. He felt like he was moving a ragdoll-you complied with each of his movements, your body resting against his as if you depended on him

“Well, I did have some f-friends… with me…” your murmured out, your voice thick from sleep deprivation and alcohol.

“And the hell are they?”

“-they left a few hours ago…” you slurred,” I said I’d stay… a little longer”

Bakugo began to walk you to his car, the walk more like a stumble as he tried to guide you on your wobbling feet. He felt his insides heat up with an intense flame of rage, licking up and consuming his insides. How the hell could your ‘friends’ just leave you? THis was nothing like you, to be so impulsive that you became incredibly vulnerable in public. Something was seriously wrong with you, something you had to be going through.

“Shitty friends for leaving you like this.” he replied gruffly, making no attempt to hide his obvious anger. “Are you okay? Did anybody try and do anything funny to you?”

He was worried, he had to admit that to himself- you were clearly in a wrong headspace in a pretty sketchy place. Anything could go wrong, and he wanted to make sure that nothing happened.

Not because the idea of you dancing with another guy makes him want to punch a wall.

Or trying to lure you to his apartment made him want to yell and break that imaginary mans jaw, in order to keep you safe in his arms.

Nope-strictly platonic.

You scoffed at the blonde's words, a harsh chuckle spilling out of your chapped lips. “Of course Bakugo, everybody here wants to grope the girl who looks like she’s been crying all day-

“I’m fine-really”

Somehow, even with your slurring words and clouded mind, these words were the first sober syllables you had uttered.

But- if you were fine, you wouldnt be going to a club this late at night. You would have been smart enough to at least stay alert, not completely wasted, and you definitely wouldn't be by yourself. Your werent fine, and Bakugo knew it, because you werent being you.

He was impulsive, irrational, and went with his gut feeling, even if it was a stupid or dangerous idea. You on the other hand, were like his better half: calm yet forceful, a commanding tide to soothe the volcanic eruptions of his anger.

But now you were different, a choppy whirlpool of emotions that were locked away deep inside you, the effects changing your once calm and rational demeanor into something saddened and desperate.

Bakugo gave you a long look, his red eyes slanted as he tried to read what was on your mind.

He stopped your two’s trudging, finally being in front of his car.

A protest was dying to spill from his lips, to retort and fight back the obvious lie you had just uttered. But something in your tired voice made him falter, making him feel more empathy for you than frustration

“Okay then…” he sighed, “let’s get you home,”

  ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

It was unnervingly quiet.

Bakugo had the music off, worried that the thumping bass would aggravate any possible headache you had as you curled up in the seat beside him, your high heeled shoes long forgotten on the floor of his car.

He drove much more smoothly than before, his eyes desperately trying to focus on the road. He wasn't used to this kind of you-he missed your smile, and the way you would joke and laugh with him. Of course he would act like he didn't like it, giving you snarky comments and off handed insults that would only push you even more to joke with him.

Now he felt like he was next to a shell of you- you were there, right next to him, but- You weren't there. Your smile, your spirit, your light- it was being blocked by some darkness inside you.

“Are-are you mad at me Katsuki?”

You finally spoke to him, making Bakuo’s eyes wide and his heart stop in his chest.

Why did you sound so timid?

Bakugo continues to glue his eyes on the road, his voice gruff yet uncertain.

“The hell I’d be mad at you for?”

“I don’t know…” you replied softly, “you just sounded-mad”

Shit- now he felt guilty, making you feel worse than you probably already did. It was just that he was worried, and sometimes his emotions came out quicker than his words. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you out of all people could act like this.

“Well, I’m not mad at you-I’m just-“ he sighed, trying to find the words.

“- the hell were you out that late? The club scene isn’t your thing”

You shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him, cuddling yourself in closer to your body.

“I thought I told you-” you answered sadly, ‘I got dumped”

Bakugo blinked a couple times, the shock vibrating throughout his body. He knew you had a boyfriend, apparently Shindo Yo, the damn pretty boy of another hero agency.  You were his closest friend after all, so he dealt with the news as best he could, but Bakugo has never liked the guy. He always chalked it up to him being protective over you as your friend, but the way he used to feel so angry and so frustrated whenever he saw you hold hands or hug made him want to scream. A small amount of happiness filled up his chest by hearing you say you were single, instantly  making him feel guilty as he saw how distraught you were.

“The hell-“ he gulped out quickly, “what for?”

“Dont know..” you sighed, your face contorted in a grimace, “he-he said he needed to focus on his career-and that-that I was going to stop him from achieving his goals-”

Bakugo instantly felt anger erupt in his chest, his hands becoming clammy against the leather steering wheel.

“Wait-that dickwad, Shindo Yo, right? The damn extra won't amount to nothing, the hell he-”

He was rambling, the spiteful words spewing from his lips. He just couldn’t understand why your piece of shit of a boyfriend would dump someone as amazingly kind and caring as you, and go as far to say such awful words. It made him incredibly furious, and all he wanted to do was confront your now ex and give him a piece of his mind for causing you to act this way.

He was surprised though to hear your voice interject him, your tone stern yet pleading.

“Bakugo, can we not talk about it? Please?”

He wanted to kick himself for being so inconsiderate, an embarrassed blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Shit-I-okay,yeah”

The car ride continued in silence, Bakugo staring at the road in conflict, you cuddling yourself into a small ball on the leather seat.

It continued for a few minutes, until Bakugo broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“Want me to drop you off at your place?” He asked gruffly, looking at you slightly from the side. 

He noticed you shift, turning to look at him with large, pleading eyes.

“Can-can we go to your place instead?” you squeaked out, almost as if worried by his response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound mean earlier….I just- always feel so safe and warm when I go to your apartment, Katsuki”

Bakugo felt his heart quicken in his chest-you called him “Katsuki”, his name. Something in you saying that made him feel hot from flusteredness, but then you said you felt safe with him...he had never been more thankful for the darkness of night, because he knew his face was completely red.

He gulped, trying to build up the wall around his emotions you were trying to knock down. With each word or truth that spilled from your sleepy, drunken mouth, he found it harder to keep his feelings at bay. He took a deep breath, his clammy hands readjusting on the steering wheel.

You two were just friends.

He didn’t like you like that and you-you probably didn’t either.

He needed to be Bakugo, your best friend, your rock in hard times, not Bakugou, the blushing mess next to you that was concerned with his own feelings.

He clicked the turn signal on his car to the right, taking the route back to his home instead of yours as he sighed.

“-Fine.” 

Bakugo pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, the bumpy street roads now turning smooth as he fit his car through the metal gate and settled into a parking spot near his apartment. 

He turned the key of the car, killing the roaring engine as he stepped out of the car, the closing door as a soft thud as he commanded you to “Stay inside”.

Your sluggish head instantly perked at the statement, unable to understand what he had meant by that. But your body felt too tired, mentally and physically, and too weak to even protest. You stayed there, cuddled into the seat as Bakugo opened the door of the passenger seat, his arms outstretched as they tucked themselves under your body.

“Wait what are you-“ you asked sluggish, your eyes barely open as you wrapped your digits around his arms.

“I’m picking you up” 

HIs tone was calm and forceful, as if this was a completely normal occurrence between the two of you- which it wasn't. 

You instantly blushed at the prospect, excuses already forming on the tip of your tongue.

“You don’t have to, I can-“

“I could barely walk you to car and that was in flat ground,” he retorted back, I’m not gonna walk you up stairs-”

“Just let me do this”

He stated a little more softly, his voice gruff and low as he picked you up off the seat as if you weighed nothing to him. Your hands instantly latched onto his neck finding comfort by burying your head into the crook of his neck.

Shit-why you had to go and be so cute?

His grip around your body tightened, making sure you felt secure as he walked you up the plight of steps to his apartment. 

Something about this felt so surreal- your warm body against his, his hands wrapping your thighs, the way your hair felt against his cheek...these were all sensations that left his heart pounding.

All of this seemed to frustrate him as much as it brought him joy-he shouldn't feel any of these tingling sensations around you. He shouldn't feel weightless and giddy, or terrified he'd do the wrong thing around you all the time. It bothered him to know end, and made him feel so frustrated.

But the most frustrating part was the fact you were oblivious- that you had this secret power over him and you didn't even know it.

He finally stepped foot in his apartment, setting you down gently as he ruffled through his pockets for his keys. His hand was still wrapped around your waist, giving you some stability as he opened the door with a slow creak, ushering you inside.

You stepped inside, feeling somewhat out of place- you had been here countless times before: parties, get togethers, the meet up place before you would hang out with the Bakusquad….so why did it feel so strange?

The room felt more intimate in a way-you had never been here without someone else, usually Kirishima. 

And youd been here at night, but never this late, and the fact you had asked to sleep over- well, everything just felt so new and raw.

Thankfully Bakugo broke through your rapid thoughts, his vermillion eyes looking down at you with slight worry.

“You good? No needing to throw up or anything?” he asked gruffly. 

God he felt so close- you could practically feel his heat radiating into your body still, making your cold digits beg for his touch.

Your cheeks warmed at the thoughts, a small “Mm-mm” and a shake of your head the only thing you could muster to do.

He led you over to his room, passing the small kitchen and bathroom as he did.

“Then you need new clothes- get you out of that clubbing crap”

Your mouth instantly formed into a pout, your eyes looking up at your best friend.

“It's not crap-its pretty”you corrected him, your tone playfully hurt.

“More like tight,” he replied snarkily, “ how do you even move in that thing?’’

You were about to quickly retort back that he should wear the dress and find out, but then a sudden image of Bakugo wearing your skin tight dress at a club made you instantly double over in giggles. 

Bakugo gave you a questionable look, his red eyes almost judging your drunken, laughing form.

“I just keep it down with my hands silly,” you said in between giggles, your body flopping onto the plush comforter of his bed. Now you felt a little more at ease, as if the courage of alcohol had kicked into your system yet again.

Bakugo shook his head, his blonde locks swaying at the motion as he quietly said ‘Giggly ass drunk” under his breath. He began to rustle through his closet, trying his best not to stare at your form laying across his bed in such a body accentuating dress.

You hadnt seemed to notice Bakugo's rhetoric or dilemma, a soft smile gracing your lips stiill. Your propped your body up on your elbows, your tousled hair pooling against your skin.

“so what amazing little number are you gonna put me in now?”

“-This,”

You felt cloth instantly hit you square in the face, as if Bakugo had thrown it over his shoulder-most likely on purpose.

Usually you would attack the asshole for doing something like that, but you just felt too tired to even throw an insult back. Your lips pouted out once again, a small whine escaping your throat as you ripped the shirt from your face.

Bakugo grinned slightly at you ,finding your expression adorable as well as funny.  He watched you inspect the shirt, the fabric as dark as your dress.

“You would think interning with Best Jeanist would have left some fashion sense in you,” you spewed out, your face clearly distraught by the shirt he had given you.

He rolled his eyes, his grin now turning into a grimace. 

Was drunk you really that picky over a shirt?

“That was 5 fucking years ago, and I only interned with him cause he was one of the best,” he tried to defend himself, feeling his cheeks grown warm from your drunken disapproval. But his fiery personality kicked in, his tongue beginning to stutter over his words. “- just throw the goddamn shirt on before I let you sleep in that shit you call a dress”

“Or I could sleep in my underwear, there's other alternatives,” 

your words flew out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, a triumphant grin on your face as you saw how beet red Bakugo became.

A giggle escaped from your lips, the sound ringing softly against his ears.

“Dont worry Katsuki, Ill wear the clothes,” you gave him a soft smile, cuddling the clothing to your chest.

He blinked a few times, trying to get his heart to settle back into a steady rhythm.

This wasn't real.

You didn't make him nervous.

You were just his best friend- you being in his room, in a pretty dress, making flirty remarks didn't affect him.

You were drunk-you weren't yourself right now- so why did he feel so hopeful? And for what?

He quickly spun on his heel, turning around before you could catch the glowing in his cheeks.

“Whatever-just call me if you need help” he threw over his shoulder, his hands closing his bedroom food with a loud slam. 

Bakugo sat himself on the couch in his living room, his hands resting on his face, his elbow connected to his legs.

The hell was going on with him?

As he was brooding over his conflicted emotions, he heard the door of his room click open, and it seemed all his feeble attempts to slow down his heart went out the window.

There you were, clad in his black tshirt, the fabric pooling around your thighs and making your arms look tiny in the flowing fabric. You must have been wearing the shorts worn from under your dress, but still- he got a full view of your beautifully plush thighs, making heat rise to his cheeks.

Strange sensations filled his stomach, that tingling butterfly sensations filling his stomach-

The hell was wrong with him?

“For your clothes being so bland, they are pretty comfy…” you smiled up at him, his heart quickening at the small gesture.

You walked your way over the couch, resting your body opposite him, giving ample space between the two of you as you sighed in content.

“I could go to sleep right now”

Bakugo snorted, his arms wrapping against his chest as the heat continued to rise in his cheeks.

“The hell your not-”

You instantly pushed yourself up, cocking your head at Bakugou in confusion.

He had to admit it to himself- your looked-cute-, sitting there, your legs crossed with his shirt wrapped around your frame, your eyes wide and hair a mess.

He could get used to seeing you like this-

But shit he couldn't-didnt-think like that. You were his friend, nothing more.

“What do ya mean?” you asked “You were complaining about me two minutes ago, wouldn't you want me to go to sleep?”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes looking down at the floor.

“Sure but-I'm not letting you go to sleep with all that shit on your face-”

Your hands instantly went to touch your face, your digit scrubbing against the skin.

“Huh?-Oh”

You looked down, and there on your hand was your foundation, a tiny bit too dark as it had mingled with your bronzer and highlighter, black running against your skin like tire streaks on a road.

How did you not even feel that was on your face? How drunk were you?

The thought of you being so intoxicated you forgot you had makeup on seemed like the funniest thing ever, giggles dribbling out of your lips.

“Oh my god, I forgot!” you laughed, chuckles wracking through your body.

Bakugo simply shook his head, unable to contain a smirk from gracing his lips. He got up slowly, walking over to your side of the couch to offer you his hand.

“Alright cmon-you giggly ass drunk,” he smirked, his lungs tightening as you gave him a smile of your own, your smaller hand slowly taking hold in his larger one.

You leaned into his body, already accustomed to him being your support- he would at least admit it right now...you were cute

He walked you over to his bathroom, his digit flicking on the light switch. 

It was a little small, with enough room to hold two people inside. He gently pressed you against the wood of the cabinet, his hands grabbing your waist as he hoisted you on to the counter.

Any other day you would be embarrassed by this sudden closeness with your best friend but something about this felt bitter sweet. It had been so long it seemed like since someone had truly cared for you, being there by your side and making sure you were okay. It felt comforting to have Bakugou near you, but you knew this wouldnt last. You were drunk and feeling broken-is was just his obligation as your friend to get you through the night. Once you sobered up, itd be back to the way things were-bitterly lonely.

As you muddled in your emotions, your feet dangling against the cabinets, Bakugo was rummaging through in the cabinet next to you, emerging with a bottle of makeup remover.

You cocked your head at the bottle, the liquid inside an artificial yet soothing blue.

Why did he have that?

Bakugo stared down at the bottle in his hand, his red eyes quickly glancing at the writing on the side and setting it down on the counter, now rummaging for a cloth.

“This shit should work-”

Your hand grabbed the bottle, now inspecting it in curiosity.

“When did you get this?”

“Remember last time you came over,” he asked over his shoulder,” when the power went out in your apartment and you said you had to do your makeup?”

You simply nodded your head-you remembered that day. You had planned to go and watch a movie with your boyfriend-ex, and the screening was at exactly 12 am since it was premiering. You had wanted to look at least a little decent, but fate had gone against you and destroyed that plan halfway into putting on your  makeup. So you had of coursed called Bakugo, who grumpily obliged to let you use his apartment.

Bakugo’s hands gently took the bottle from yours, his hot skin brushing against yours as he applied the liquid to the cloth. His frame fit snugly in between your legs, your inner thighs brushing against the fabric of his sweatpants.

 “Well, You left it-” 

He simply stated, everything in his being trying to keep his tone leveled as he began to wipe your skin clean of the events from the night. 

You had never seen Bakugo be so gentle- he was taking his time, focusing on one small area and then moving onto the next. His strokes were even and light as air, not digging into your skin or forceful in any way. 

“And- and you kept it?” you gulped out, your eyes searching his own vermillion ones.

Bakugo was scared, terrified even-he didnt want to look you in your eyes. 

Would he do something he regretted if he did?

He was trying to control himself, to fight everything in him all night to not let you catch on to him, to not let you or himself see his true emotions...he was getting too tired to fight, and he was scared that he’d let something slip that he didnt even know about himself yet.

“Well yeah, I wasn't just going to throw it away,” he answered,” I figured you'd come and get it,”

He paused, his hand faltering against your skin for the smallest second. Maybe-it wouldn't hurt to say something...you were drunk after all, you wouldn't remember most of tonight probably….

“-also,” he gulped out, his heart beating in his chest, “ Its nice to have reminder of you here too,”

Your eyes instantly widened, the wind knocked out of your chest, constricting almost in pain.

Why did that make you feel so-so fluttery inside?

And why did it hurt so much?

Maybe because it almost sounded like-Bakugou may care for you? More than just a friendly way?

No-it couldn't….he was your best friend….but god, it felt so good to be cared for, to actually feel wanted-

And of course had to be by someone you knew you never had a chance with.

Your shoulders began to shake, realizing how much you must have screwed up-you lost your boyfriend, was humiliated by him, and then humiliated your own self by losing control. 

Bakugo was the only one you had truly could count on-he was the one person you called, and he had shown up to get you. He had tried his best to keep you comfortable, went out of his way to keep you safe, his best to keep you happy…

How long had it been since someone had been this caring to you?

Your shoulders began to shake, the weight of everything crashing down on you, tears spilling across your cheeks like rain droplets outside a car window.

How did everything turn out so wrong?

Bakugo instantly noticed your change, his body instantly panicked and worried.

“Shit-y/n, you okay? Whats wrong?” he asked, his tone desperate as he set the cloth down and wrapped his hands around your forearms, securing you as wave after wave of tears racked your body.

He wrapped you into a slow hug, his warm palms placed firmly against your back as you instantly wrapped your arms around his neck.

He felt so warm and safe, your noise buried into the soothingly sweet smell that was him. 

“Katsuki I-I-Im sorry, I didnt mean to-” you blubbered out, trying your best to apologize over your heightened emotions.

Bakugo had no idea what to do- was this just something you did when drunk? He had no idea why you had started crying, and he hoped it wasn't something he did- but telling by how in pain you looked and how quickly you welcomed his embrace, this was something he didnt do and couldn't fix-at least not quickly.

He continued to hold you tightly, his hands beginning to become clammy against your back.

“Dont say sorry-Your fine, just- tell me whats wrong,”

He felt your hands ball his shirt in your fists, your chin digging deeper into his skin.

“I wish I could find a guy as great as you,”

Shit.

Bakugo’s face turned beet red, his arms stiffening at your words- when he asked what was wrong, he didnt mean something like that.

But the truth comes out when you're drunk, and Bakugo fully believed in this saying…

Did that mean-you liked him?

He couldn't deny it now- it was too hard and everything was against him at this point.

Just the small prospect of being your lover made Bakugo’s heart quicken, the little sentence you just uttered destroying the wall he had kept to protect himself from the truth.

He liked you.

Alot actually.

He scoffed, trying  his best to remain calm as he cradled you in his arms.

“Im not as great as you think I am,”

He felt you cuddle yourself even deeper into his neck, your hair tickling his jawline.

You seemed to be calming down as Bakugo had had a mental crisis….your sobs were now sniffles, and you werent breathing as hard. But you still were cuddled deep into his body, as if using him to block yourself from the outside world.

“No you are, you really are…”you sighed quietly, “ even if you are an ass sometimes, you are very kind and sweet-

“I just wish I could date someone like you,”

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

How could he even say anything after that?

How was even able to respond?

He wouldn't-Bakugo decided to hold you quietly, as if you never said anything...but those words were echoing inside his head.

God- you could date him in a heartbeat. But, reality kicked into Bakugou- you were drunk, and just got dumped. You were just starved of touch and affection from that.

There was no way sober you would have said something so revealing as this- you saw him as his best friend, nothing more and nothing less of that. You wouldn't jeopardize your relationship by saying something that could mean the end of your friendship.

Bakugo felt the tightness of your body loosen, your breathing now regular, something so different from a few minutes ago.

“Y/n?” he asked quietly, almost timidly as he waited for a response.

Nothing.

Bakugo sighed, a small, tired smile playing on his lips

“You fell asleep huh?”

Bakugo playfully rolled his eyes as your quiet demeanor spoke the truth for him.

His hands found themselves placed against your back, wrapping against your body once again so that your legs were around his waist, his arm supporting you as he carried you back to his room.

Maybe in the morning you would remember this...maybe not. He was conflicted- a part of him hope you didn't, so your relationship could resume as normal, but- something in him hoped you remembered. And hoped you wanted to talk more about it- because if you felt the same way and meant it, he wouldn't mind to see if you two could be more than just friends.

He pecked a look at your sleeping form, your smushed face against his shoulder making his heart fill with warmth.

“Shit-if only you knew...I would date you-

“even if your a giggly ass drunk,”

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Premature

Request: ‘can i request an imagine where the reader is pregnant and luke’s away on a case when she goes into labor? and garcia has to call luke to get him home?’  

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau​ , @alvezstan​ , @saintd0lce​ , @ogmilkis​ , @reidswords​, @ssa-morgan​, @garcias-batcave​ ,  @akimagies​, @zhangyixingxing1​ , @pinkdiamond1016​

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: idk why i always picture luke with a daughter??? but anyway another DAD luke fic like yes pls, enjoy!

The worst part about being pregnant had to be the lower back aches.  Or maybe the way your swollen ankles prevented you from fitting into any of your cute shoes.  It could also be the tender breasts, the mood swings, or how food didn’t taste as good, yet somehow you were still always hungry.  Come to think of it, being pregnant, in general, was the worst. 

Currently, you were seven and a half months along.  You had 6 weeks until your daughter would be born.  6 weeks somehow felt both impossibly long and just around the corner.  On one hand, you really couldn’t wait to get your body back.  You missed wearing pants that didn’t have an elastic waistband, and the freedom of being able to get out of bed without Luke’s help.  

On the other hand, you and Luke were going to be first time parents.  This brought about a lot of anxiety and uncertainty.  There was still so much to get done before the baby arrived, that at times you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. 

“You worry too much,” Luke had told you one afternoon.  

But you disagreed.  “Luke, she’s gonna be here in less than two months and her room isn’t even close to being finished.  We still have to paint, and put together the crib-”

“We have six weeks, baby.  I’ll get it done, I promise.” 

His reassuring words did little to calm your mind or your nerves.  One thing that did keep the anxious thoughts at bay, was work.  Focusing your attention on BAU cases was the perfect distraction… until that was taken away from you too.  

“I don’t want you in the field,” Luke had stated that night.  

“You’re joking, right?”

Luke’s pressed lips and slightly flared nostril told you that no, he was not joking. 

“Luke,” you’d groaned, throwing your head back against the pillow.  “I’m fine.”

“You can barely walk, let alone chase after anyone,” he stated, his arms folding across his chest.  He always did that when he wanted you to take him seriously.  “And I know for a fact that you can’t fit into a bulletproof vest.”

You threw him your best glare.  “Okay, first off, that was mean.  Second, you can’t expect me to just sit here all day doing nothing.  I’ll go insane, you know I will.”

“Baby, you’re seven months pregnant.  You need to relax.”

“Relax?  Seriously, Luke?”  you felt a wave of frustration wash over you.  Lately you've been finding it so hard to control your emotions, so you’re not entirely surprised when you feel the burning of tears in your eyes. “I can’t relax! I’m uncomfortable all the time.  I’m fat and I’m hot and I’m sweaty. My boobs feel like they’re going to explode any second.  I’m nauseous and I’m tired and I’m hungry.  And if I stay home all day that’s all I’m going to think about.  I’m going to just sit and dwell on the fact that I am miserable.”

Luke’s face softens when he sees that you’re crying.  That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence lately, but he felt guilty for being the one to cause it this time around. 

“C’mere,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.  

And even though you’re angry with him, you don’t hesitate before scooting up the mattress and sliding into his arms.  You lay your head on his shoulder, Luke’s hand finding its way down to your lower back, where he rubs gentle circles into the sore muscles.  Being in his arms had a way of making you feel better. 

“I’m sorry you’re so uncomfortable, baby. I just- I worry about you. All I want is for you and the baby to be okay.”

You sniffle into his chest, his sweet words making your voice soften.  “I can’t sit here all day, Luke.  I really can’t.”

“I know.” He rests his cheek on top of your head and sighs.  “How about we meet in the middle?”

Looking up at him, you skeptically ask,  “How?”

“You could work the cases from the BAU,” he suggests. 

You scrunch your nose, secretly hoping that his compromise meant just giving in to what you wanted entirely.  But, as you think about it for a moment, you had to admit you didn’t completely hate the idea.  Things were getting challenging in the field.  And as much as you hated him for saying it, Luke was right- the bulletproof vests no longer fit you, and you couldn’t chase down any perps.  You were relatively useless, at least physically, at this point.  

“I’m sure Garcia would love an extra hand,” he adds. 

“Fine,” you mutter quietly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing a light peck against the top of your head.  

But, as Luke would soon find, just because you agreed to be stationed at the BAU did not mean you weren’t going to complain about it.   

The two of you walked, hand-in-hand, into the building the next morning.  Emily had called, about fifteen minutes prior, to let you both know that you had a case in Boston. 

“What if I just stay at the police precinct?”

Luke rolled his eyes.  “No.”

“Why not? I could help Reid with the geological profile- or interview the families.  There’s a lot I can do-”

“We already agreed that you’d stay here.”

You scoffed in frustration before trying another tactic. 

“You know,” you drawled, using the hand he wasn’t already holding to reach around and grip his arm.  “I’m worried about you, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you state, matter-of-factly.  “Just because I’m carrying the baby doesn’t mean I’m the only one that needs to stay safe.  It would be equally devastating if something happened to you.  You let your hand trail down the length of his arm and over to your belly.  “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”  

Luke swiped his ID badge to get inside the building before holding the door open for you, you hesitate, waiting for his response.  Luke’s lips were parted into a soft grin. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel guilty, but that was really sweet.”  He leans forward and pecks your lips lightly.  

You roll your eyes and storm into the building.  

…

“So I hear we’re going to be lab partners!” Garcia drums her fingers against the round table.  

You shrug, “Looks like it.”

“I know you’re bummed to not be in the field, but I’m so excited that you’ll be here.”

Luke’s hand reaches for yours underneath the table.  You let your fingers lace together with his before you smile back at Garcia.  Maybe being sidelined wouldn’t be all bad.  “I’m excited too, Pen,” you tell her.  

“Alright guys listen up,” Emily enters the briefing room.  “Police need our help in Boston.  Two college students have gone missing the past month, and one of the bodies was just found dumped off of I-95.  Y/N will be working the case from here, so we’ll be down a body in the field.”

Garcia hits a few buttons on the remote, making a gruesome image project onto the screen in front of the team.  She presents a few more details about the case before Emily declares, “Wheels up in 20.”

Luke’s shifting through his go bag at his desk when you approach him from behind.  You rest your hand on his back and rub up and down his soft, maroon shirt.  

“Be safe, okay?” you tell him.  You felt guilty knowing he was going into the field without you.  

Luke sighs, turning his body so that he was facing you.  His big hands rest on your hips as he holds you out in front of him.  “You know I will.”

You nod, and you believed his words, but that didn’t mean you’d be any less worried about him while he was away.  

Luke could sense the uneasiness on your face, so he leaned in and kissed your cheek lightly before whispering,  “There is nothing that could ever keep me from coming back home to you and our baby, do you hear me?” 

Leaning into his touch, you sigh.  “Good.  Because I meant what I said; I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“We’re going to miss you out there, kid.” Rossi states as he passes your desk.  

“Keep me updated,” you respond sadly.  He pats you on the shoulder before nodding with a smile.  

With a final kiss and promises to call, Luke and the rest of the team load onto the jet to head for Boston. 

At first, you stay in the bullpen seated at your desk, running through the casefile.  You were the only one in the entire room.  By habit, you kept looking up at Luke’s desk.  Instead of his warm smile, you’re met by his empty chair.  Your eyes linger for a moment before you feel a sharp pain shoot across your stomach, making you wince.  

“Woah,” you whisper, your hand falling on your bump.  “Was that a kick?” you ask her out loud.

It didn’t take long before the silence became deafening, so after a few minutes, you stand up and waddle down the hallway to Garcia’s leir.  You knock at her door before entering. 

“Hey,” you say, your hand supporting your sore back.  “It’s like, creepy quiet out there, do you mind if I work with you, in here?”

Her face lights up.  “Of course!” Immediately, she begins clearing off a space on her desk for you to set up. 

“Thanks,” you smile, taking a seat in her spare office chair.  You try your best to sit up straight as your insides begin to cramp.  Garica turns to see your eyes squeezed shut. 

“What’s wrong?” her voice is filled with concern. 

“Nothing,” you sigh in relief when the cramp passes. “She’s kicking a lot today.”

Garcia’s face breaks out into a large grin.  “Oh! My Goddaughter’s gonna be a spunky one, isn’t she?”

…

As it turned out, there wasn’t much for you to do from the BAU.  Garcia worked tirelessly, delving into files and uncovering helpful information for the team.  But you weren’t even close to being as tech savvy as her, and besides the casefile you’d already read through four times, you didn’t have many resources to work off of.  

Whenever the team would call with questions, you’d listen intently, and try to figure out some way that you could help them.  But, by that evening, you were starting to feel pretty useless.  

“Why don’t you just head home?” Garcia suggested kindly.  “You look tired.”

You were tired.  You were tired and hungry and sore from all your baby’s kicking.  But you shook your head.  “I don’t want to be in the house alone,” you admit to her.  “It’s too quiet there without Luke.”

Garcia, of course, understands.  “Do you want to take a walk?  Just around the building?”

At first, you want to say no.  But as you consider her offer, you can’t help but admit that stretching your legs sounded pretty nice, so you agree. 

“I think I’m most excited for coffee,” you tell Garcia.  The two of you had walked the entire floor of the BAU a couple of times now and were about to head back to her office.  

“God, I can’t even imagine going nine months without coffee.  I think that would break me,” she admits.  

You start to laugh, but you’re quickly interrupted by a sudden, sharp pain in your abdomen.  

“Woah,” you gasp, grabbing your stomach.  You hunch over, desperate to alleviate some of the pain, but it only grows with intensity.  It takes your breath away for a moment, and all you can do is focus on the tiled floor beneath you as you attempt to muscle through it.  

But then you feel something burst inside of you, followed by a warm liquid rushing down your leg.

With wide, terrified eyes, you look up to Garcia. 

“Pen,” you whisper, barely recognizing your own voice.  “I th-think my water just broke...”

“Oh my god,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Oh my god, okay, okay. You’re okay.” 

She hurries to your side and wraps an arm around your waist.  You and your shaky legs are grateful for her support.  She guides you to a chair stationed in the hallway, where she helps you sit.  

The panic really starts to set in once your eyes land on your dampened pants.  

“No,” you start to shake your head rapidly.  “Pen, no I can’t- it’s too early-”

You’re amazed by how calm Garcia remains.  “It’s okay,” she tells you.  “We’re gonna get you to the hospital and everything’s gonna be fine.”

But you keep shaking your head.  “No, she’s early.  She’s too early- I need Luke, please- I can’t do this.”

“I’m gonna call Luke right now, everything’s going to be okay.”

Garcia pulls out her phone and dials your husband. She frowns when it goes to voicemail after a few rings.  

By now, there’s a steady influx of tears spilling down your cheeks. You ask softly, “Why isn’t he answering?” 

“Let me try Emily.”

You sigh a breath of relief when you hear Emily’s voice on the other end of the line.  

“Emily-” Garcia gasps. “Where’s Luke?”

You overhear her, “He’s interrogating the Unsub- why? What’s the matter?”

“Y/N’s in labor, we need him.”

“Oh my god,” Emily says.  There’s a brief pause before she tells Garcia,  “I’ll be right back.”

“Pen-” you groan, another contraction washing over you.  You hunch over in the chair and grab at the air, desperate for something to clamp down on.  

She quickly extends her hand, letting you squeeze it tightly. 

“Garcia?” you hear Luke’s sweet voice over the line.  You want to call out for him, but you can’t form the words.  

“Luke!” she exclaims, her concerned eyes never leaving you.  “Luke, Y/N’s in labor- her water just broke. You have to come home.”

You gasp and bite down on your lip as the pain suddenly intensifies.

“Breathe,” she instructs you calmly.  “Just breathe with me-”

“What?” you can hear the disbelief in his voice.  “But- she’s only seven months pregnant- that's too early-” 

The contraction passes, leaving you breathless, but you hold your hand out.  Garcia picks up on your gesture and hands you the phone. 

“Luke-” you’re on the verge of bursting into terrified tears.  “I’m so scared.”

“Baby, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You can hear the worry in his voice as he soothes you.  “I’m on my way, okay? I’m gonna take the jet, I’ll be there soon.”

“I don’t know if I can do this-”

“No, baby- of course you can, you’re so strong.  You’re gonna be okay.”

“Please hurry,” you whimper.  

“I will, I love you.”

You pass the phone to Garcia reluctantly.  You wished you could stay on the line with him.  Something about hearing his voice made you feel calmer. 

You’re shaky and weak, but Garcia helps you all the way into the elevator and down into the parking garage.  You hesitate before climbing into the front seat of her car. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her hand gently placed on your elbow. 

“I don’t want to get your seat all gross-”

You’re referring to the amniotic sac fluid currently soaking your pants.

“Are you serious?” she asks in disbelief.  “If we don’t hurry you’re going to be giving birth in my car, so I think I’ll take my chances with the water.”

You nod quickly and climb into the front seat.  While Garcia hurries around to the front, you clutch onto your baby bump tightly, wondering why the hell she was coming so early. 

Garcia winds through traffic hurriedly, every so often she glances in your direction, trying to make sure you’re okay.  “I guess they weren’t kicks,” you groan, as another contraction washes over you.  You grip the door handle until your knuckles turn white and squeeze your eyes shut.  

“Keep breathing,” Garcia soothes.  She lets you take her hand across the console and doesn’t even wince when you squish it tightly in yours.  

“I’m really scared, Penelope,” you whimper quietly, falling back against the seat when the contraction passes.  

“I know,” Garcia clicks her tongue empathetically.  

“Nothing’s ready.  Not her room- we haven’t even set up her crib yet  I’m not ready. I was supposed to have another 6 weeks to get ready-”

But Penelope is shaking her head. “You, right now, as you are, are going to be a great mother, okay? You’re ready.”

She sounded so sure, so confident in you- maybe she was right.  

…

“Where is he?” 

You’re sweating, exposed in a delivery room, and in more pain than you ever have been in your entire life.  

Garcia’s stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand and talking you through the pain.  You’d been at the hospital about two hours now.  

Currently, Garcia was dabbing your forehead with a wet washcloth.  Your contractions were about 6 minutes apart.  According to the doctor, you’d have to start pushing soon.    

“I can’t do this without him. He should be here..”

“He’ll be here.”

You look up at her, exhausted and with fear in your eyes. 

Garcia squeezes your shoulder.  “And if he’s not here, then we’ll do this together, okay? You and me.”

“Promise you won’t leave?”

She nods.  “I promise.”

…

Luke’s sprinting through the maze of a hospital trying desperately to find the delivery room number that Garcia texted him.  He’s already been redirected by a couple of nurses, but every floor looked the same. 

The door number came into sight when he turned the corner.  He doesn’t hesitate before running the final distance between the two of you. 

Luke swings the door open, only able to exhale when his eyes finally land on you.  

You’re sitting up in your bed, hair tied up messily and cheeks flushed.  

As soon as you see him, he sees your shoulder slump, like you’ve exhaled a breath of relief.

“Luke-” 

His name is barely audible, but it’s enough.  

“I’m here, baby,” he assures you, crossing the room in just two, large strides. 

Garcia’s on the opposite side of your bed, clutching your hand tightly.  After pressing his lips against your sweaty forehead, he looks at her and mouths, ‘thank you’.  

She nods, “Of course, it was nothing.”  She says it casually, like she didn’t just spend the last three hours comforting you through labor, doing his job for him, making sure you were safe.  

It was everything. 

Minutes after Luke arrives, the doctor tells you it’s time to push.  

You flash Luke a scared glance, but he wraps an arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, his lips feel comforting.  “You can do this.” 

You sigh, because like you said, being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.  

...

When her soft cries fill the air, you’re finally able to breathe again.  You collapse back against your pillow, exhausted and sweaty.  

Luke’s still cupping your hand in his, his much larger fingers wrapping themselves around your skin.  He’s looking towards the doctor, who’s holding in his arms, your baby girl. 

“Is she okay?” you ask weakly.  

Luke nods.  “She’s small, but she’s so beautiful.” 

Because she’s premature, you’re not able to hold her right away.  Instead, she’s bundled up and taken to the NICU.  

“No-” you protest pathetically.  “I want her with me-”

“I know,” Luke whispers.  “But they gotta keep her warm.  They’re gonna put her in an isolette.  They said we can visit as soon as you’re ready.”

Without hesitating, you attempt to sit up in bed. “I’m ready,” you declare weakly.  

Luke’s hand pushes against your shoulder lightly in protest.  “No, baby. You need rest-”

You found yourself growing angrier and angrier.  You wanted to see your baby- wanted to hold her.  But your body betrays you.  You’re just so exhausted that you can’t even fight against him.  Instead, you fall back against the pillow and huff out a choppy, frustrated sob.

“I know,” he says.  He sits on the edge of your bed and reaches his hand out to brush some of the loose strands of hair away from your face.  He leans forward and presses his lips to your sweaty forehead. “You did so good.” He whispers against your skin.  “So, so good.”

You close your eyes against his touch, letting it wash over you. 

“How small is she?” you ask when he finally breaks away. 

Luke’s lips pressed together in a thin line and he didn't answer immediately.  After a moment he sighs.  “She’s small.” 

“She’s gonna be okay though, right?” You look to Luke for all the answers.  And he wants to give them to you.  He wants to give everything to you. 

He nods.  “She’s gonna be okay.  She’s a fighter, like her mom.”

…

Your daughter has to stay in the NICU for two, agonizingly long weeks.  After a couple of days, you start to get some energy back.  But seeing her in that box, and not being able to hold your baby when you wanted was taking its toll emotionally. 

You and Luke stayed at the hospital for the entirety of the two weeks, never wanting to leave her alone.  

It was painful and hard and exhausting, but together, it almost seemed bearable.  

The team visited in shifts.  Garcia arrived first with a giant bundle of pink balloons.  Spencer and JJ brought magazines and books to keep you busy.  Tara has a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Matt and Kristy brought you clothes to change into.  Rossi and Emily brought various dishes for the two of you to eat.  By the end of your two weeks, you felt incredibly grateful for your BAU family. 

On the day that you and Luke were finally given the okay to take your daughter home, you found your nerves inching their way back into the forefront of your mind. It was an absolute relief that your premature daughter turned out to be healthy and safe and as beautiful as ever.  But you thought about the unfinished room at home and your stomach twisted into knots. 

“Where are we gonna put her?” you asked, imagining the crib you’d bought and never put together.  

“I’ll put it together when we get home,” Luke assures you.  “Can’t be that hard.”

You nodded, pushing the thought away.  It didn’t matter.  Not when you had this miracle of a baby in your arms. 

When Luke pulled the car into the driveway of your house, you both stared at your home, hesitating before getting out of the car, as if it was just now hitting you how much everything was about to change.  

Luke gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ready?” he asked. 

You nod, everything was changing for the better.  “Ready.”

You keep her cradled to your chest as you make your way through your home.  The first order of business for Luke was to put together the crib, so your daughter would at least have a place to sleep.  

You’d worry about the rest later.  

But when you climb the stairs, you’re startled to see Garcia standing in your hallway, a cheeky grin on her face.  

“Pen, hi,” you smile.  You’d given her a key to take care of Roxy and water your plants while you were away at the hospital, you assume that was what she was here for.  

“Hi,” she smiles wide.  “Oh my goodness, is that my little bundle of joy! Let me see!” 

You pass Penelope your daughter, watching adoringly as the two interact. 

“Is someone else here?” Luke asks, peering down the hall when he hears voices. 

Garcia nods, her signature, ear to ear smile spreading across her face.  “Yeah, actually we have a surprise for you guys.” She passes your daughter back to you before turning.  

“Who’s ‘we’?” Luke asks skeptically. 

“Oh, just shut up and follow me,” she says.  Her heels click as she walks down the hall towards the bedrooms.  

When you turn the corner into your daughter's room, you can’t help but let out a loud gasp.  Your jaw practically falls to the floor, surprised to see the entire team piled inside.  

Two walls of the room were painted a beautiful shade of pink, while the other two were a soft gray.  There were various decoratives hanging on the walls, tying everything together perfectly.  There were also numerous shelves filled with an assortment of stuffed animals, toys, and books.  And in the corner stood the hardwood crib that Luke and you had bought, completely put together and accented with a beautiful mobile hanging above it.  

“Oh my god,” Luke gawks, clearly just as surprised as you. 

“You guys-” you start, but you before you can finish your sentence you start to cry.  “You guys did all this?”

The smiling faces of the rest of your team answer your question.  

“How?” Is all you can manage to say.  

“Well, I picked out the colors and the decor,” Garcia says, like it’s obvious. “Emily and Tara both helped paint.”

“And I've put my fair share of cribs together,” Matt chuckles, patting the edge of the darkwood.  “It took no time at all.”

“JJ and Spencer got together the books and the stuffed animals,” Garcia motions towards the corner of toys.  

“And I supervised,” Rossi smirked, making everyone laugh. 

“Guys, this is too much.” Luke shakes his head in disbelief before exhaling and saying sincerely,  “thank you.”

You nod in agreement.  “This is… amazing.  This is more than I could have ever dreamed of.  I love it.  She’s gonna love it,” you motion towards your now sleeping baby, mouth open and drooling on your chest.  

The team knows how exhausted you and Luke are from being at the hospital for the past two weeks, so they don’t stay long.  Slowly, they begin filing out of your house, offering both you and the new BAU baby with hugs and kisses goodbye.  

Garcia’s the last to leave as she gathers her coat from your entryway chair.  

“Pen, I know this was your idea,” you mumble.  “You didn’t have to do all this.  Thank you.” 

She shakes her head, her eyes rolling as she hugs you gently.  When she pulls away, she smirks,  “If you thought I was going to let my Goddaughter come home to an unfinished room, you are underestimating how much I am going to spoil her.”  

With that, she's out the door, leaving you and Luke and your newborn baby alone in the house for the first time as a family of three. Luke wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side securely.  You sigh, all of your anxiety and fears melting away.  Being in his arms had a way of making you feel better.  

[cuddlesslut]

Live my Life Ch.1

Kuroo x fem reader

Summary: sometimes life is full of making the wrong choices and not knowing till it’s to late.

A/N: this is chapter one of my new story. I’m still writing the Home series I must really wanted to start this story as well. I hope you guys like this one.

Warning: Angst, Smut, Drunk Sex, Underage drinking, toxic behavior

You found yourself sitting in this dingy bar nursing a drink you weren’t supposed to have. This had become part of your routine. It all started about three weeks ago. Your friend Kana, or well you suppose she could be called a friend she was more of a friend of a friend. She seemed nice enough kind of the free spirit type of girl always into the new big trend, not really what you would describe yourself as, more of what you wanted to be. You weren’t exactly some shy shut in but still your anxieties held you back from charging head first into in life and taking the bull by the horns. That’s why you surprised even yourself when you offered to be Kana’s bar buddy.

Kana is bartender at this whole in the wall bar with dim lighting. It got fairly good business but not enough to warrant more than one bartender at a time. That being the case Kana would often be there by herself well late into the night, the neighborhood wasn’t horrible but it still was unsettling sometimes. So as her bar buddy you would come at some point in her shift and find a free seat at the bar hopefully far enough distance from any other patrons. You’d order some fries or whatever greasy snack food you craved and waited there with her while she worked until she was ready to lock up. It was pretty easy you’d just sit there offering her someone to talk when she was bored or when she need to escape some overbearing customers. She’d make her way over too you and pretend to make you a drink. Although she offered you a drink you usually turn her down for the clear fact that you were underage when it came to drinking. It was perfectly fine for you to sit in the establishment since it also served food but at the age of 18 drinking was still prohibited. Being the laid back girl and bartender she was Kana didn’t care about bending that rule for a friend.

Most nights you’d pull out some school work on your tablet that your carried with you or just read some stories on your phone. Usually trying your best to avoid conversation with the regulars. That didn’t work as well as you hoped and soon enough you were quickly learning all of the local gossip and being included in the group known as the regulars. Which is what you were since you found yourself here four nights out of you week. You didn’t mind spending so much of your time here with Kana it was kind of nice to stray from your comfort zone plus you and Kana were steadily getting closer as friends too. Everything was smooth sailing until you met him.

It was a usual Thursday night you got dressed in your causal but sleek outfit. Wearing a comfortable pair of Jeans that hugged your body nicely not too tight but still showed your curves. You paired it with a black blouse and black ankle boots. You freshened up your make up of the day not needing to try to hard seeing as you weren’t going there to impress anyone. In fact you preferred to not draw any attention. Your brushed through your hair finally heading out of your home and too the dingy bar. Things seemed a little off tonight some felt different but still you took your usual seat as you scanned the bar. It was fairly empty only two other customers sitting all the way at the other end of the counter. Kana wasn’t anywhere to be found, she’s probably just grabbing something back you reasoned. And sure enough you could hear a clang in the back of the establishment that was hidden from the public eye. Although it wasn’t Kana that popped around the corner. Instead stood a tall and extremely handsome guy. He was wild black hair that was strewn in a chaotic fashion but it suited him. You could tell by his physique that he was fit , not too overly muscular but when he reached up to put the box he was carrying on the top shelf you could see a peak of a very well defined v line on his tanned skin. This man was the definition of tall, dark ,and handsome. And that wasn’t even mentioning his intense honey eyes that felt like they pierced your soul with just one look. He wore a black pair of fitted jeans and a red button up with strange print on it. You could inspect the odd design more intensely as he approached you with a smirk plastered on his face. Ah they were little black cats that littered his print. The style screamed I’m stylish but quirky.

“Well hello there sweetheart how can I help you?” You could tell he was using his customer service persona. Ah he goes for the smooth talkng flirt, he probably does very well with middle aged woman, you think.

“Um yeah,” you state giving the room one more look “ do you know where Kana is?” You questioned.

His perked at the mention of your friend. You could see him relax a little as he released some tension rolling his shoulders back. “Ahh you must be YN,” he smiled placing his hands on the bar leaning forward. His voice was a notch higher no longer Using his deep Casanova tone, this one was more natural. You eyes widened at the sound of your name leaving his lips.

“Yeah,” you replied hesitant.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” he presented his hand offering a firm shake to which you awkwardly accepted. “I’m guessing Kana forgot to inform you that id becoming back to work my usual Thursday shift today did she?” He let out a small chuckle.

Damn it Kana you cursed inside your mind. You could have been cozy in bed right now. “Ha nope she did not,” you let out a sigh. “I didn’t realize she was just covering these last few weeks” you respond.

“She just had my Thursday shift Mondays and Wednesdays are still her regular days.” He grinned “she was nice enough to take my shift while I was out with some family stuff.”

“Ahh I see, well I’ll should probably get out of your hair,” you stated starting to slide off the stool.

“Hey wait you came all the way out here let me get you a drink,” he offered.

You froze in your seat for a moment kind of embarrassed. You felt heat creep to your face as you respond “ oh umm I’m not actually old enough I’m only 18,” your eye locked on the surface in front of you.

He let out a chuckle “let me see your ID.”

Your face scrunched in confusion “but-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Shh just hand it over,” he smiles. You raise your eyebrow as you reach into your handbag fishing out your ID and handing it over. He backs upmholding it as though it was valid. “Well look at that! Sure enough you’re 20,” he gives a cheeky smile “so what can I get you to drink?”

You take back your card placing it back safely in your bag a look of shock present on your youthful features. You lean forward whispering “won’t you get in trouble!” Not wanting to have someone risk their job. He lets out a haughty laugh. “My dads the owner so I’m not too worried.” He stated cockily. “So again what are you drinking sweetheart?” Again he flashed that stupid smirk that sent your stomach doing flips.

After two drinks and some idle chit chat in his free time you decided it probably be best if you headed out. He was quick to stop you. “Ahh come on dont leave so soon I was hoping you’d be my bar buddy too,” he pouted. You rolled your eyes at his teasing. It was enough to keep you there though ordering another drink to nurse. It felt nice chatting and casually flirting with this attractive stranger.

This too became part of your routine. You still went to the bar during Kana’s shift to keep her company but you kept going on Thursday and spending you night talking to Kuroo. The both of you spending most of the night getting to know each other. It was just surface things like school, you found out he was two years older than you going to a university near by studying chemical engineering,and your taste in music which was something you had a lot in common. The conversation focused mainly on you. He always directed the flow of the conversation he was so out going and smooth, always asking questions about your day liked hearing about your day as if being a 3rd year in high school was the most exciting thing. You’d sit there for hours with him trying new drinks sometimes finding yourself leaving the bar at three am as if you didn’t have class in four hours. But you didn’t care it was exhilarating this was the most rebellious thing you had ever done. The flirting was harmless never going to far. And although you wouldn’t admit you were getting a crush on the raven haired bartender.

It was just another Wednesday night but today something inside of you told you to dress up more than you’d usually go for. Tonight you wore a simple black dress with a deep neckline that really showed your figure without being to flashy. Your period had recently finished so knowing you were securely dried up you decided to go for a pair of your fancy red lace panties and a matching bra that always boosted your confidence. Not that anyone would be seeing them. You checked yourself one last time before heading out to the bar and damn did you look hot.

When you entered the bar you were surprised to it was rather busy with customers all over the place, luckily you find a seat at the bar. You noticed that Kenma was also behind the bar. Kenma was the other bartender that worked the shifts opposite of Kana and Kuroo. He was also Kuroo’s best friend. You’ve only met him a couple times when he’d come to the bar to see Kuroo while he was on shift. It must be really busy if they called him in to work the bar with Kana.

Kana gave a sigh of relief and smiled as she saw you sitting at the bar. “Oh my god girl hey,” smiled “do you see how hectic it is?” She laughed. She took a moment to fully look you over her eyes wide.

“Damn girl you look fucking hot!” You felt some pride grow in you hearing your friend complement you. She always looked amazing so hearing that she thought you looked great felt like high praise.

“You want a drink babe?” She asked although it was more a of statement as she was already whipping together a drink before you were finished nodding. She handed you a strong yet sweet drink before she was whisked away by some needy patrons.

You sipped on your drink watching Kana handle the crowd. You and Kenmas eyes would lock every now and then but it’s very short and awkward. You don’t know him very well. Part of your anxieties had you convinced he didn’t like you. But you tried not to read into it to much. Kuroo had told you once that it was just that he wasn’t much of a people person only working at the bar as a favor to Kuroo and his father. You sit there silently observing the world around you not noticing someone taking the seat next to you.

“Boo,” a husky voiced whispered into your ear sending shivers down your spine. Kuroo cackled as you jumped turning around clutching your chest.

“What the hell Kuroo!” You gasped trying to steady your breathing. “They call you in too?” You ask referring to the booming business you sat in.

“Nah it’s my day off and I wanted to come have a drink and bug Kenma,” he rose his hand singling said man for a drink. “But looks like I lucked out now I get to bother you all night,” he smirked.

“Oh really and who said I want to have you around I deal with you enough on Thursdays,” you smiled back with a sly look.

He feigned a look of hurt. “Ouch YN you wound me, I thought we were friends,” giving you look that definitely didn’t come off as just friendly. You just roll your eyes trying to hide your intrigue. “Well it seems I need to prove my friendship to you let me by you a drink.” He rested his hand on yours as he signaled for a refill on your drink.

You should have seen it coming but you acted surprised when after several drinks and a couple rounds of shots you found yourself in the back seat of his car. Your red panties tossed to the side somewhere in the vehicle. You were laying back as he dove under the hem your dress. Kuroo looked up to your face his lips barley an inch away from your heat. He had a devious look on his face as he watched your face flush with need. Your lips were swollen from the heated make out sessions you had outside the bar. He quirked his eyebrow teasingly his heavy breath tickling you. He was waiting. It was almost tortuous but you knew what he wanted.

You pouted your chest rising and falling from your hard breathing. “Please!” You begged. He smiled content with hearing your pleas before diving into you his tongue lapping at your wet folds. Your head fell back in pleasure as he ate you out like a man starved. Your moans filled the car as he worked his skilled tongue in and out of you. He could feel how close you were as he felt you clench around his fingers as he worked you loose. Relief flooded your body as you came on his face. Lust still flooding you as you watched him lick up all your juices. He moved up your body sealing your lips into a searing kiss you could taste your essence on his lips.

Your hands reached down his body grabbing at his bulge. He let out a groan in your ear before picking you up and placing you on his lap. He attacked you neck nippping and sucking harsh purple marks into your skin. He pulled the collar of your dress down pulling your breast out . Moving your bra down he latched his lips around your swollen nipple rolling it between his teeth. You let out a pained moan as you rolled you hips into his lap. He finally hit limit. He lifted you up as he pulled his pants and boxers down before lining his achingly hard length with your wet cunt before pulling you down on it. Both of your groans filled the space as you felt him fill you whole. You hid your face in his neck as you panted while he let you adjust to the intrusion. You could feel his hands roaming your ass pushing the skirt of your dress up. A sudden smack came to your ass. You let out a hiss. He rubbed the mark he left on your soft skin.

“Go ahead sweetheart ride my cock,” he demanded. His dirty words sent shivers over body. You did just as he said starting to move your hips up and down rotating on his dick as it reached deep inside of you. Your body was already on edge from your earlier release so it took no time to have you clenching tightly around him you next orgasm fastly approaching.

“Fuck you’re so god damn tight,” he groaned. Lust took over as he grabbed your hips holding you still as he drilled up into your pliant body. Your moans egged him on as he chased both of your climaxes. He loved the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him. Feeling you milk his cock drained him of his will and of his semen as he came deep into you.

You both sat there for a moment both coming down from your highs. Bodies worn from the intense session you had just had. He groaned throughing his head back, “fuck I didn’t wear a condom,” he cursed.

“I’m on birth control” you breathed moving off his lap. You searched for your panties sliding them on quickly trying to contain the mess between your legs.

“Good, that’s good,” he breathed a sigh of relief he looked around both of you. It seemed no one notice dyour little drunken romp in the parking lot. There was a slight awkward pause neither knowing what to say.

“Well that was great,” he offered, “uhh do you need a ride home?” He questioned.

You shook your head, “no I’ll just grab a quick Uber home,” you respond pulling your phone out to do just that.

He nodded seeming to like that idea not wanting you to walk home. “I’ll probably head back in and sober up a little before heading home. I definitely can’t drive right now. I’m not even sure my legs will get me back inside,” he laughed. You giggled as well. A chime rang from your phone, your ride would be pulling up soon.

“Hey give me your number and message me when you get phone safe.” He said taking the phone to send a message to himself successfully trading numbers. He gave you one more deep kiss before you left to catch your Uber.

That night your body passed out exhausted. You knew you were going to regret drinking so much tomorrow morning when you have to wake up for class.

And damn was your body sore. Your head was ponding from all the alcohol and the rest was sore from the wild sex you had. Still you woke up bright and early making sure to shower off any evidence from your delinquent activities. You made sure to take some Advil before leaving for school opting to skip breakfast since your stomach was still unstable from the liquor. Your morning classes were relatively easy not but extremely boring. You found yourself daydreaming through most of your history class thinking back to your night with Kuroo. Little fantasys of dates, and more long talks at the bar, even some naughty ideas popped into your head. It was almost like you willed him into existence because not two seconds later your phone vibrated. Your heart skipped a beat seeing his name pop up in your notifications. You laughed at the way he saved his number last night. Oh my god he texted me you thought you were so giddy. That was until you read the messages.

Kuroo 🥵: Hey YN.

Kuroo 🥵: Last night was a Mistake. Look I have a girlfriend and I love her so I think it’s best we pretend last night never happened. Sorry.

Ouch. That hurt.

General Taglist: @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @graykageyama

Taglist: @captain-janeway @elianetsantana

[bechloeislegit]

My Spy - Chapter 5

RING.

RING.

RING.

Chloe shot up in bed, looking around. When she was awake enough to realize her phone ringing is what woke her, she grabbed her phone and checked the caller ID.

"It's early on a Sunday and my day off, Jason," Chloe said, answering the call. "This had better be good!"

"Good morning to you, too, Sunshine," Jason's voice said through the phone.

"Bite me," Chloe said. "What do you want, Jason?"

"We just got word that DSM is coming back to the U.S.," Jason said. "The Director has scheduled a briefing in an hour. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"I'll meet you there," Chloe said and ended the call, mumbling, "There goes my day off."

Chloe threw off the covers and got out of bed. She went into the bathroom, wincing when she saw herself in the mirror. Blond hair was not her best look.

Chloe ran a hand through the short blonde waves and grabbed her toothbrush, putting toothpaste on it. She stuck the toothbrush in her mouth and turned on the shower.

Once Chloe was dressed and ready, she glanced through her notes. Having been the one to infiltrate DSM, she had gotten close to Kommissar, their leader. It was her intel the agency was using to finally put a stop to the German group from smuggling drugs into the United States.

Chloe threw her notes, phone, and wallet into her backpack before walking out the door.

~~ My Spy ~~

"Chloe," Matt said as Chloe entered the briefing room. "Can I see you for a minute?"

"Sure," Chloe said and followed Matt back out into the hallway.

"I'm going to need you to sit this one out," Matt said.

"What? Why?"

"DSM came to the U.S. to take over a singing tour from the Barden Bellas," Matt said. "You could compromise the whole operation if any of the Bellas see you with any member of DSM."

"First, it's been almost three years," Chloe said. "The Bellas have forgotten all about me. And, look at me; I don't look the same as I did back then. They would hardly recognize me now."

"All the Bellas?" Matt asked.

"And, second," Chloe continued, ignoring Matt's comment referencing Beca. "There is no information that we have that would put the Bellas in any place at the same time as DSM."

"But there is a possibility that could happen," Matt countered.

"The smallest of slight possibilities, maybe," Chloe said, running a hand through her hair. "Uncle Matt, I already told you that Beca moved on a long time ago and so have I. I've put a year of my life into getting Kommissar to trust me. I can't let all that time have been for nothing. Are you willing to go back to square one on this? Because that is what will happen if I'm suddenly out of the picture. Kommissar is not stupid; she'll know something is up and we will lose whatever advantage we have to take them down."

"I guess you're right," Matt sighed. "Come on. Let's get this briefing started."

Chloe nodded and followed Matt back into the briefing room.

~~ My Spy ~~

After the briefing ended, Chloe walked with her partner, Jason, to the IT Services office.

"Yo, Blondie," Agent Marc Donaldson, laughingly called out as they entered. "I got something special for you today."

Chloe smiled as she made her way over to the table where Marc was standing.

"Let's see what you've got," Chloe said, looking at the various items on the table.

"Well, since Director Collins was concerned about the Bellas being around and recognizing you," Marc said, reaching for a pair of leather cuff-like bracelets. "I've come up with a few things that should help keep you from having your cover blown."

Chloe took one of the bracelets. She looked it over and then looked at Marc.

"What's so special about these?"

"They have a hidden wire in them," Marc said. "Virtually undetectable if you are searched."

"I helped come up with the bracelet idea," Jason said, taking the second bracelet and handing it to Chloe. "They serve two purposes. You can record conversations and also cover up your ladybug tattoo."

Chloe looked down at the tattoo Jason mentioned as if seeing it for the first time. Covering it up was for the best; all the Bellas knew about her tattoo and would surely recognize it if they saw it.

"Good idea," Chloe said, snapping the bracelets on her wrists. "What else you got?"

Marc picked up a pair of large-framed sunglasses with very dark lenses. "These have a small camera built into the frames. We can watch everything you see in real-time and it will also record everything back to a link I'll send you to download on your laptop."

Chloe took the glasses and put them on. Marc turned and punched a few keys on his computer, positioning the monitor so Chloe and Jason could see. Chloe came into view, looking back at herself on the monitor.

"Look around so I can see if I need to adjust anything," Marc told Chloe.

Chloe looked around as Marc and Jason both watched the monitor.

"Perfect!" Marc said.

"Look at me," Jason told Chloe.

Chloe looked at him and he studied her face. He looked into the lenses and then smiled.

"They hide your baby blues, too," Jason said.

"That's even better," Marc said. "Gotta admit, Beale, your eyes are pretty unforgettable. Even with blond hair and that scar on your cheek, one look into your eyes by someone you know and your cover would definitely be blown."

Before Chloe could respond, Director Matt Collins walked in and walked over to stand next to Chloe and Jason.

Nothing was said and Chloe looked at her Uncle Matt; Matt looked back at her.

"Let me know as soon as you hear from Kommissar," Matt finally said.

Before Chloe could respond, one of her phones pinged with a text notification. Chloe pulled out the phone and read the message.

"Speak of the devil," Chloe said, looking from Matt to Jason. "It's Kommissar letting me know DSM is arriving in Atlanta later today and she's ready to talk about a large shipment if I'm still interested."

"Tell her you're definitely interested," Matt said. "And set up a time and place to meet."

Chloe did and waited for a reply, which came back almost immediately.

"She wants to meet tomorrow at the Metro Mall in downtown Atlanta," Chloe told Matt. "DSM has some kind of show there."

"Grab your go-packs and meet me at the hangar in thirty," Matt told Chloe and Jason.

"Yes, sir," Jason and Chloe said.

"Good luck," Marc called out as they headed for the door.

"Thanks, Donaldson," Chloe said and followed her Uncle Matt and Jason out of the room.

~~ My Spy ~~

As the jet made its way to Atlanta, Chloe and Jason were given a final briefing by Director Collins. Chloe tried to remain focused but kept slipping up and calling the Director, Uncle Matt. He didn't say anything but she knew she needed to be more careful when speaking with him, especially when other agents were around.

"I want you to be extra careful, Chloe," Matt said. "We have word that the Germans have shipped several cargo containers to the U.S. They are scheduled to arrive over the next few days at several different ports around the country. Atlanta is not a port area, which means they'll want you to travel elsewhere to get the shipment. We won't know which one of the shipments has the drugs in them until we know where they are sending you."

"That won't be a problem, Director," Chloe said. "I'll give them the standard I have to run it by my bosses schtick. That should appease them until we can make a plan to intercept the shipment."

"That's good," Matt said. "We'll need to know as soon as you are given the pickup location."

"I got this, boss," Chloe said, smiling.

~~ My Spy ~~

Chloe entered her Atlanta "apartment" and threw her bags on the sofa. She placed her briefing book and laptop on the coffee table and went to the kitchen. She checked the refrigerator and was not surprised to see it had been fully stocked. The agency always had "homes" for undercovers and made sure to make it look like someone lived there. This allowed the agent to plan meetings in their "homes" without raising any suspicions.

Chloe grabbed a bottle of water and made her way back to the living room, sitting on the sofa and opening the briefing book. She read through several of the notes she had made during the last interaction with Kommissar.

Kommissar and her DSM co-captain Pieter appear to be in a relationship

Kommissar and Pieter are not exclusive; they both have an eye for the ladies

Pieter may be the weak link we need to explore

Should check DSM's previous travels; may be able to work with another country to bring them down

Chloe pulled her laptop toward her and started searching DSM's website to find out where they had traveled in the last six months. She wasn't the least bit surprised to see they had been to almost every known drug exporting country in the world.

Chloe did some more research and found DSM's travels from three years back and was surprised to see they had been to Mexico on several occasions during the time Chloe had been undercover at Barden.

Chloe got excited because they have been trying to determine where in Mexico the drug pipeline had originated. Maybe she could get some information from Kommissar or Pieter to kill two birds with one stone - close down the Mexican pipeline once and for all and stop the Germans from smuggling drugs into the U.S.

Seeing the Mexican connection took Chloe back to her time at Barden, specifically to the day she lost Beca. She couldn't help the tears that stung her eyes as she remembered the look on Beca's face as she and the Bellas watched their professors and fellow students being arrested by Chloe and the other law enforcement agents.

Chloe scoffed when she thought of how Beca's father to this day was claiming his innocence. The evidence against him was more than overwhelming, and Chleo felt he deserved a much longer prison sentence than he received. Chloe had been made aware that the Prosecutors had tried to flip Mr. Mitchell, but he held fast to his claims of innocence. She couldn't blame him for that. If he told what he knew, he was admitting he was guilty and that wasn't something he was eager to do.

Chloe's mind wandered back to Beca. How was she handling her dad being in prison? Does she visit him? What does Beca's mother think of her ex-husband being involved in a drug ring? Did she know about his involvement? Was she involved as well?

Chloe shivered at the memory of her interaction with Beca's mother; that woman was one scary bitch.

Chloe pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts, stopping when she landed on Beca's number.

"Beca is just an hour away from here," she thought. "I wonder if she'll want to meet so we can talk?"

"Forget it, Beale," Chloe mumbled aloud. "It's been three years; it's time to let it go."

Chloe threw her phone onto the table and went back to her briefing book.

~~ My Spy ~~

Memories of Beca kept bouncing around in Chloe's head. So much so that they invaded her dreams.

Chloe flopped back on the bed, laughing as Beca crawled her way up Chloe's body. Beca kissed every inch of Chloe's bare skin as she made her way up, finally landing on Chloe's lips. The kiss was full of passion and want.

"Ready for another round?" Beca asked in between kisses.

"I'm ready for round 3," Chloe responded, in between more kisses. "And round 4, and round 5,-"

"God, I love you," Beca whispered before fully capturing Chloe's lips.

Chloe woke up with a start. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her forearm.

"I should reach out to Beca," Chloe mumbled and reached for her phone. "Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll want to talk."

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

A/N: It's a little shorter than the previous chapters, but I needed to end it here so I can dive a bit deeper into things in the next chapter. I'm building up to something so stick with me for the ending. I think it will be worth it.

A/N 2: I had said I wasn't posting this week because of BeChloe Week but since I completed this chapter I thought I'd go ahead and post it today. The next chapter will be posted on Thursday next week and the following chapters on subsequent Thursdays.

[biscuit-buddy]

kuzumochi. (18+)

Endeavor x Reader (Smut, Birthday Fic, 3.1k)

A/N: holy shit guys this got so much longer than expected i’m sorry if it drags at all i just had so much i wanted to get out! Also its 11:22pm so its technically still his birthday. ha. 

What do you get for the man who could already have whatever he wanted at the snap of his fingers? Being the number one pro hero meant that Enji already received truckloads of expensive things, tickets to exclusive events, and the newest technologies simply because of his status. You knew this because everything he received went through you after being thoroughly checked at security. Eight months as his personal secretary offered you a glimpse into his extravagant world and honestly left you with a small bite of bitter jealousy. Some of the things that passed over your desk could pay the rent in your measly apartment for the next year, and you were sure he never gave most of it more than a second glance. 

Your pen tapped lightly against your bottom lip as you stared at the pad of sticky notes on your desk, nothing more than illegible lines, dots, and scribbles covered the top one. With a sigh of frustration, you detach it from the stack, crumple it and toss it in the trash. Today was the first day of August, and the mental countdown to your boss’ birthday plagued your thoughts. While your job was comfortable as is, the cold treatment from the man you worked for grated on your every nerve. You’d think after nearly a year in his employment he’d begin to warm up to you, maybe even bother to remember your name. This was your chance to finally stand out to him if only you could think of something that the hero could possibly want for his birthday. 

As much as he’d probably like a break or a vacation, you were in no position to provide that for him. He obviously didn’t want for anything material either. Does he even have a sweet tooth? You wondered silently as the tapping of your pen resumed against your face. I can’t even imagine a guy like him eating a cupcake. You know what? Actually I can and it’s hilarious. I bet his mustache would burn the frosting and-

“Ahem” Well, speak - or think- of the devil and he shall appear. Endeavor himself stood at your desk with an impatient look on his stern face. The goofy smile you’d been developing at the thought of the massive man eating sweets was quickly wiped off and your back straightened at an uncomfortable pace. 

“Daydreaming on the job?” he asked, but you got the feeling he didn’t really want an answer, so you just bow your head in apology. In an embarrassed mumble, you replied, “Sorry sir, won’t happen again” and he gave a huff in response, not unlike that of a great dragon. You held back another smile at the fleeting thought of smoke puffing out of his nose in discontent, as he handed you a manila envelope stuffed to the brim with some kind of paperwork. 

“I need this hand-delivered to the Hawks Hero Office immediately. This is sensitive information I’m trusting you with.” You gingerly accepted the packet, but couldn’t avoid the brief touch of his massive hand sliding past yours. You noted briefly just how warm they were, though you shouldn’t really be surprised. Courier work isn’t exactly in your job description but lately, you’ve been desperate to suck up anyways, plus some fresh air couldn’t hurt. You stood and gave one more quick bow, “of course sir, I’d be happy to deliver it” He seemed content with your answer and turned to walk through the frosted glass double doors that led into his office without so much as another word. 

Honestly, that had gone better than most of your interactions in the past. Pleased with the slight development in your relationship you gatherers your purse and the envelope and headed for the elevator. Floors passed monotonously as you continued to float gift ideas around in your head, this was looking to be harder than you initially thought. 

Once the lift reached the lobby you made your exit, pushing past a crowd of workers who seemed to just be returning from lunch. They laughed boisterously and made no notice of you squeezing around them. Finally, you made it to the front door of the Endeavor Agency and swiped your employee ID  badge on the terminal next to the front door alerting the system that you had left the building. Fresh warm air tickled your skin as you made your way onto the sidewalk and began the trek to Hawks’ Agency. It wasn’t particularly far, only a few blocks away and the route was dotted with storefronts boasting all kinds of wares from cake to clothes to flowers.

In theory, one of the displays you passed should have given you an idea but once more you found yourself coming up blank as you approached your destination. The young man at the front desk smiled politely when you entered  “Hi there, do you have an appointment?” his eyes flickered between you and the computer screen in front of him. 

“Actually I’m here on delivery for Endeavor” you waved the yellow folder a bit to accentuate your statement “something about sensitive information?” This really wasn’t part of the job you signed up for. Face to face interactions with strangers is so damn awkward. Luckily the receptionist probably dealt with people like you all day and didn’t bat an eye before saying

“Of course, his office is on floor 22 but if he’s not in there, try the roof. I’ll let security know you’re heading up” and he began tapping at the keyboard with one hand while making a ‘go on’ gesture toward the elevator with the other. You thought about boarding but instead made your way to the staircase. I already walked this far, might as well make it a cardio day, and give myself a good excuse to order takeout for dinner. You were truly a genius, maybe it was time to apply at NASA instead of working your ass off for Mr. Hothead. 

Twenty-two floors was a bit more of a workout than you thought it would be, and when you finally arrived at the top you were mildly sweaty cheeks ruddy and more out of breath than you’d like to admit so you take a moment to calm down before opening the doors and walking past the security guard. He gave you a sideways glance but kept his mouth shut as you knocked twice on the office doors. 

The lack of a verbal response clued you into the fact that he was likely on the roof just as the receptionist had said, so you hung a left and let yourself sprint up one more flight of stairs. Once you made it through the door marked ‘rooftop’ you spotted the winged hero perched near the railing. You announced yourself so as not to startle him,

“Excuse me, Mr. Hawks? I’m here on behalf of Endeavor, he asked me to deliver this to you as soon as possible”

He wheeled around at the sound of your voice, and his eyes lit up with amusement at your disheveled appearance. “Hey, thanks! I was kind of expecting the big man himself but you’re certainly a nice surprise” he winked and took the folder from your hands “Nobody told me Endeavor hired such a cutie to be his secretary, ya think I have any chance of poaching you from him?” Despite your earlier thoughts about NASA, you had no intention of leaving your current position so you just laughed. 

“I’m flattered but unfortunately I’ve got some oddly placed sense of loyalty for him” 

“Oh I get it” he cocked an eyebrow “I would too if I was you, the guy’s a size queen’s dream after all. Gotta love the whole naughty secretary dynamic too”

You sputtered at his bluntness “Oh god no nothing like that I-”

“Aw, I’m just teasing kid, how couldn’t I when you come up here looking like that” He gestured to your flustered appearance and you immediately regretting taking the stairs moments ago “Besides, I’d be surprised if you got him to warm up to you enough to remember your name let alone bend you over his desk” He was spot on, you had to sigh at that. 

“You’re right there, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t even notice if there was an entirely different person sitting at my desk tomorrow” 

“Heh, yeah, sounds like him. But you know, his birthday is coming up maybe a gift will put you in his good graces” another effortless wink was shot your way and despite him being the one with wings, the attention really ruffled your feathers. It’s like he had a secret mind-reading quirk or something. 

“I thought of that, but I have no clue what a guy like him would even want. It’s not like shopping for your mom, where you can just give her a picture frame that says ‘Live Laugh Love’ and she cherishes it forever ya know?” Hawks snorts in amusement at your comparison. You’re right and you’ll defend that if he asks, but he doesn’t. 

“In that case, I’d be willing to let you in on a little secret, some little known Endeavor lore, a true exclusive if you ask me”

“I’m not a tabloid Hawks, just tell me already” this guy messes around a lot for being the number two hero, its an incredibly stark contrast from his only superior.

“Okay, okay, you gotta lean in though, he’d kill me if I leaked something so personal” you lean in closer as instructed and he whispers into your ear, “his favorite food... is kuzumochi” You pull back in visible disappointment. 

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, he goes crazy for the stuff. Honest to god I’ve seen him inhale an entire batch in like five minutes. You want him to notice you? Then this is the best possible way, trust me.” and for some crazy reason you do. This could actually work, if it’s really as much of a secret as the blonde claims, you’d certainly stand out among the other gifts he’s sure to get. 

You thank Hawks and turn to leave with a newfound confidence in this new plan, but not before he makes you promise to tell him how it goes after the big day. As you exit the winged hero’s agency building the work phone you were assigned chimes with a new email letting you know that you can go straight home after the drop-off, and your grin widens. Even better, now you have time to stop at the grocery store on the way home, the decision already made to go big or go home. You were bound and determined to make the kuzumochi from scratch, and it was gonna be the best damn thing your boss had ever tasted. 

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

The rest of the week dragged on in a painfully average way, the only thing keeping your mood afloat was the surprise dish you had been working on every night. You’d gone through multiple test batches, determined to get the flavor and consistency just right. The work paid off on the night of the 7th, just in time when you completed your best batch yet. With a content sigh, you washed your hands and packaged up the kuzumochi like a damn professional. Finally, you were able to take a long hot shower and climb into bed early with the anticipation of tomorrow bubbling in your chest.

Morning came quickly and your daily routine was done with care, then you grabbed the gift and began the short commute to work. Brain on autopilot, it seemed like no time at all until you were seated at your desk and logging in to the company’s computer system. The pristinely packaged gift was nestled into the corner of your desk, waiting for the perfect moment. 

This moment came just before lunch when a mildly scuffed up Endeavor breezed past you in a huff and headed straight into his office. This is it you thought Sure, he’s a little pissy at the moment but this’ll cheer him right up. And with that, you knocked once on the office door and peeked in. The sight of him slumped in the leather office chair in front of the massive floor to ceiling window, eyebrow cocked at your intrusion made your heart jump just a little. How can one man be so damn intimidating? You cleared your throat and began to speak with entirely false confidence.

“Sorry for barging in sir, I just wanted to give you a birthday gift. It’s not much, but I hope you’ll accept it” the whole situation reminded you of confessing to your crush with a box of chocolates in middle school, and it’s funny how some things never truly change. You presented the box to him and to your surprise he actually reached out to take it. 

His scrutinizing glare never let up as he untied the silky ribbon and lifted the lid, but once he recognized the contents his expression shifted quickly to one of surprise. 

“Is this... kuzumochi?” His gaze fell on you and it had nearly physical weight.

“Yes sir, I have it on uhm, good authority that it’s one of your favorites” should you admit that Hawks told you this bit of information? 

“Why?” 

“I’m sorry? Its… well, it’s your birthday, right? I wanted to get you something that would stand out.” It felt silly to admit to his face. 

“And why would you need to stand out, Y/N?” You had to keep your jaw from hitting the floor when he so casually dropped your name, the name you were sure he hadn’t even known. He decided to let you mull over the question as he took a bite of your carefully crafted treat, you could hear a small satisfied hum in his throat and it gave you chills. He beckoned you closer, “it’s delicious, would you like a taste?” when you hesitated he added, “it would be awfully rude to refuse your boss on his birthday, especially after all the trouble you’ve gone to making these”

A heavy step carries you over to his desk, like lead weights attached to your ankles. As you approach he rises out of the chair, a new unreadable look replaced the one of irritation you had been so used to all these months. “Come closer,” he said when you stopped just short of the desk. He’d never spoken to you like this before, and it sent chills down your spine. A few more steps took you around the desk to where he stood, and you barely flinched when he placed a large palm on the side of your jaw, the other held a piece of kuzumochi near your mouth. His intent was clear, he was going to feed it to you by hand. “Open” he commanded softly and you couldn’t deny him if you wanted to, so you complied.

The sweetness melted over your tongue, you truly had outdone yourself here. And once the piece was securely in your mouth, a warm thumb brushed over your bottom lip where his eyes also happened to be resting, completely content in watching you chew and swallow. The intimacy of the situation wasn’t lost on you. You recalled something that Hawks had said about a ‘sexy secretary dynamic’ and once again he was right. When the taste had completely faded from your senses, you looked up to finally meet your boss’ eye. The intensity in them shook you to your very core.

“I’ll ask you again, why do you think you need to stand out?” at this, his hand dropped from your lip down to your waist “Were you hoping for some kind of special attention?” the depth of his voice made your thighs clench, knowing full well where this conversation was heading. He noticed the action and quirked his lips into the faintest smile, one full of mischievous intent. One large step forward for him pushed you back onto the sturdy wooden desk. “I can’t possibly disappoint my favorite little employee then, can I?”

You barely had time to brace your arms behind you before his hand moved over again to res on the top of your thigh, and the one that remained on your jaw guided you into a kiss. It began soft, Endeavor was no fool. He tested the waters, your willingness, before jumping right in. The second you started to kiss back it was full speed ahead. The man was experienced for sure, he knew exactly how to coax your mouth into a dance with his own. Once his tongue pushed into your mouth it was all over for you, you’ve become a slave to the feeling.

All too quickly he broke the kiss, and you had half a mind to whine at the loss of contact. When you opened your eyes you noticed he was leaned over towards the box of kuzumochi that started everything. Odd time for a snack but okay. And when he returned to face you he did have another piece in his mouth, as well as the red ribbon you used to tie it in his hands. Your mouths met once again, this time he pushed the food into yours with his tongue. While you’re distracted with the odd sensation of kissing and eating at the same time you hardly notice the way he pushed both your arms up above your head and deftly tied your wrists together with the ribbon. When he was sure they were secure he let them drop and find a home around the back of his neck.   

You swallow the kuzumochi just as he turns up the intensity, completely claiming your mouth with his own. This time, he pushes you even further back until you’re laid completely flat on the desk. His fingers rake up and down your sides while his hips press against yours. You can feel his growing excitement pushed up against you and the feeling has you nearly moaning. Nearly isn’t good enough got the number one though, and he starts trailing kisses down your jaw and further until he reaches the junction of your neck where he bites and sucks like his life depends on it. This finally brings forth the noise he was chasing, and when you go to cover your mouth from embarrassment is when you finally realize that your wrists are bound. 

Your boss’ attention is directed elsewhere though, as he reaches a hand under your skirt, past you panties, and begins to stroke your folds. You both realized how wet you’ve become at the same time, and now it’s his turn to moan. One large digit enters you as his mouth travels further south, now nipping at your collarbones and chest. Your wrists slip from around his neck and his free hand strokes upwards from your side to push your arms up over your head. Completely exposed to him he continues to ravish your skin and curl his finger in and out of your cunt. Quickly you come undone around his finger and he removes his mouth from you long enough to drag the digit along his own tongue. 

“You’re even sweeter than the kuzumochi, here” he pushes the finger into your mouth and you diligently suck the rest of your juices from it. “Good girl.” The praise itself makes you moan once again. When he’s satisfied with your work he begins to remove his pants and you finally get a glimpse of what you’re working with. You nearly get up and walk out right then, because the man is massive.

“Just relax, I’ll start slow” he reassures and stays true to his word. After a long moment of adjusting he’s fully sheathed inside you and you swear this is what heaven feels like. The moment he begins to move you know you were wrong. If that was heaven you must have finally ascended even further, to wherever gods go when they die. Endeavor fucks you hard and slow against his desk until your eyes are rolling back in your head and you can see every constellation on your eyelids. And when it’s over, you’re shaking like a leaf.

He pulls out, not giving a second glance to the fluids leaking out of you and onto the floor, and begins to untie your wrists. Both of them are red and raw from the friction of the ribbon, and he places a tender kiss on each of the marks. One more kiss on the bruised patch he left on your neck, then he’s hoisting you upwards in a sitting position. Still unsteady but slowly coming back down to earth, you feel a soft tissue wipe at the mess between your legs while a strong hand continues to keep you upright rests at your side. 

When you look up to meet his gaze, your confidence is no longer an act. “Happy birthday,” you say and for once he breaks out a genuine smile that makes him look ten years younger.

As he rests his forehead against yours he replies, “It’s not over yet” but before you can question his meaning the intercom system next to his computer rings and a voice announces “Mr. Hawks is on his way up, sir” and you choke. You did promise you’d tell him how things went. 

[shysneeze]

persuasion (part three)

George Weasley x  Malfoy!Reader

Description: a quidditch match at the burrow has the reader and george flung together again and more of the past creeping up 

Warnings: it’s 2 am, i’m not convinced ik what this is but i think it’s angsty again, i swear again most likely, lmk if i missed something pls 

authors note: I... don’t even know if this is coherent english 

tag list: @andineversawyoucoming @theweirdsideofstuff @the-grey-lady13 @peanutem @paigeyisme @wolfiepirate @sir-lili

(pls let me know if u don’t wanna be tagged anymore ik it’s awkward but id hate to think i was annoying you so i don’t mind :))

series masterlist

(Y/N) can hardly tell if she’s shaking from the cold or her nerves when she arrives in the grassy meadows of the infamous Burrow. Although the sun sits high in the cloudless March sky, the bitter chill of winter lingers and nips at her bare fingers and she grinds her teeth to stop them chittering, suddenly regretting her decision to leave her scarf at home, though glad for the flask of coffee in her tote bag.

The apparation point she’s arrived at is a bit of a distance from where Fleur explained the match is to take place, although from here, (Y/N) can see the lopsided silhouette of the childhood home George so perfectly describe to her during nights spent curled together in the astronomy tower. She can hear the faint rumble of laughter and chatter ahead and begins to worry she may be very late, picking up her pace as she trudges up the gravelly path.

It’s not until at the brow of a small hill, (Y/N) can make out what is to be the makeshift pitch for today’s match, a flat grassy field parked outside the topsy-turvy looking building she can recognise from just the stories. She remembers being guiltily envious of George’s family back then, the way he described it as loud, but cheerful, and basically everything the Manor was not.

(Y/N) is startled by how quickly that feeling has resituated itself in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the red-headed family and their friends on the field. She can no longer hide her nerves, an anxious feeling unfurling in her chest as she gets closer. She forces herself to keep on track, reminding herself that she’s here for Fleur, not to punish herself like her subconscious has suddenly decided.

“(Y/N)!”

Fleur’s voice carries from the end of the path to where (Y/N) has temporarily frozen to calm herself. Her friend’s excitement has a smile inching itself up (Y/N)’s cheeks and her feet moving again until Fleur is flinging her arms around her.

“You came!” She gushes.

“I RSVP’d.” (Y/N) reminds, smile wavering at her friend’s doubt in her. “So here I am.”

“Well it’s so good to see you.” Fleur grins. “I was just wondering when you’d arrive.”

“Am I late?” (Y/N) grimaces.

“No!” Fleur assures quickly. “No, we’re still setting up.”

“Oh.” She sighs in relief. “Can I help?”

Fleur lets out a light laugh as she loops an arm through (Y/N)’s and begins to walk them towards the others. (Y/N) can’t figure out what it is about her question that’s so funny until they’re stood behind a plump red-headed woman, hand on her hip as she gives out orders to her various children.

“You’re supposed to be getting rid of the last of the gnomes!” She chides. “Oh, Hermione dear, not you, it’s okay.”

“Not a chance Molly will let you help.” Fleur whispers, an amused edge to her voice. “Hermione’s not been a guest in years and she’s still exempt.”

“Ron, I told you to help your brother get the brooms- it’s like herding Nifflers with their eyes on someone else’s watch!”

Fleur chuckles softly at her mother-in-law before taking a step away from (Y/N)’s side and tapping the older woman’s shoulder gently as her friend’s eyes widen in panic, longing to reach out for Fleur and pull her back. She needs at least a five-minute inner pep-talk before she’ll be prepared to meet the Weasley’s mother.

It’s too late though, the lady of the house is already turning with a startled jump to face her daughter-in-law, questioning look in her eyes. Fleur nods toward (Y/N), who can only hope her face doesn’t display the sheer distraught she’s feeling inside.

“This is the friend I was telling you I was inviting.” Fleur informs. “(Y/N) Malfoy.”

(Y/N) does a bad job at hiding how she flinches at her own surname, a habit she’s had since she was old enough to realise how other people viewed her family. She gulps at the lingering confusion on Mrs Weasley’s face before the woman is plastering on a kind-hearted smile and stretching her hand out.

“Lovely to meet you, (Y/N).” She says. “Molly Weasley.”

(Y/N) scrambles to wipe the nervous perspiration from her palms embarrassingly before reaching out for the older woman’s hand and shaking it. A glint of amusement, one that mimics the twin’s in a way, flashes in the older woman’s eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Weasley.” (Y/N) says. “Thank you for having me.”

“Of course.” Mrs Weasley waves her hand dismissively. “A friend of Fleurs- and Fred’s, is a friend of the family.”

“T-thank you.” (Y/N) stutters. “I didn’t know what sort of food to bring but uh, I brought coffee.”

Embarrassment finds (Y/N) quickly, flustered by this woman’s kindness, that seems to ignore all the horrible thing (Y/N)’s family did to hers. No one warned her growing up how much guilt her surname carried, especially when the rest of her family wore it like a badge of honour right until the war. It’s worse right now though, stood in front of George’s mother, feeling as though she’s lying by omission.

“You needn’t have brought a thing.” Mrs Weasley smile kindly. “But thank you nonetheless.”

“Can I help set up at all?” (Y/N) tries, making Fleur smirk.

“Goodness, no.” Mrs Weasley laughs. “You’re a guest. No, just you find yourself a seat, my dear.”

There is no time for protest on (Y/N)’s part as Mrs Weasley is already shouting at Fred and Ginny for bickering on the pitch, exclaiming ‘you’re not even in the air yet!’. Fleur gives (Y/N) a smug look before nodding the pair onwards.

After a moment, they begin to discuss the teams. (Y/N) can only agree that it all seems rather unfair, observing that half the Gryffindor team are here, a mixture of the Weasley’s and their friends, not to mention Ginny’s professional status.. They’re laughing together at this when (Y/N) collides with a red-headed man, drawing several expletives from his lips and then a hasty apology.

“Oh shit, sorry I didn’t see you…”

George trails off, eyes meeting his unfortunate victim’s as she rubs at the spot where the broom sticks he was carrying had smacked her on the head. She drops her eyes to the ground upon recognition of his identity and mutters out a quiet apology and assures him he’s fine. Her heart is racing, much like last time they’d met eyes at the Leaky. He frowns having not expected her at all today, taken off guard, again.

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I RSVP’d.” She repeats with a sigh. “Oh, you didn’t know that.”

“No.” He admits.

“I invited her.” Fleur assures. “I told Fred.”

“That explains it.” George sighs loudly. “Stupid git.”

“Well, we’re going to get seats.” Fleur announces. “Try not to knock her over on your way past.”

“I wasn’t paying attention.” (Y/N) mumbles. “My fault.”

She looks up shyly and meets his brown eyes again, gulping at the intensity of the look her gives her. She thinks for a moment he’s never going to look away when a voice from the pitch snaps his attention away and she feels like she’s free to breathe again.

“C’mon, George.” A woman she recognises as Angelina Johnson, calls. “We need those brooms to play!”

George gives both Fleur and (Y/N) a sort of apologetic look before shouldering the boom sticks again and jogging towards the pitch where the rest of the players wait impatiently for him. Fleur watches as (Y/N) stares wide eyed at the ground, trying to still her panicked heart. She gently touches her friend’s arm and tilts her head in concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” (Y/N) exhales. “Sorry, it won’t even bruise.”

Fleur purses her lips and holds back from explaining that’s not what she was asking about. (Y/N) gives her a clearly forced smile then begins to walk again.

When they finally take a seat on one of the many picnic blankets by the other spectators, (Y/N) pulls out her flask of coffee from her tote bag and hands Fleur a cup cheerfully, as if it’ll distract from the interaction she’s just witnessed. From  the pitch, Fred is waving at them, beaming happily.

“You came!” He hollers.

“I RSVP’d!” (Y/N) calls back, barely hiding her frustration.

He lets out a laugh at her reaction, his body shakes with it and his eyes crinkle like George’s do, head tilted backwards as he chuckles. It rids her of her upset at being doubted, bringing a smile to her lips. She can note now, no longer preoccupied by trying to fight off a mental breakdown in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron, that she likes seeing him healthy

She remembers when she found him during the battle, laying almost lifeless on the ground, she wasn’t sure he’d ever be healthy again, even after she’d used all the healing spells she could think of. Hearing he’d recovered after the war was one of the first time’s she’d felt anything other than numb since Harry’s victory.

“Where’s your kit?” He calls.

“I don’t play.” She returns defensively.

“What?” He asks. “Too scared we’ll beat you?”

“Sure.” 

“Aw c’mon.” He tries. “We’ve got a spare broom.”

“Leave it, Fred.” George says, eyes lifting to find (Y/N)’s before jumping away again. “She’s scared of heights.”

(Y/N) looks away with what she hopes comes across as embarrassment, although her mind is already whirring with the fact he remembers. She finds herself swiftly falling down what she knows will be a self-destructive path and wondering what of her other quirks and habits he remembers, if he remembers how she takes her tea, or if he thinks of her when her favourite song plays. It has her feeling terrible in thirty seconds, a split second of hope killed in an instant by her own guilt.

Fred gives her an apologetic look and she shakes her head in assurance that it’s okay. He turns back to the rest of his team and leaves only Fleur staring at (Y/N) with a curious frown. (Y/N) offers her a shrug and sheepish smile that her friend sees straight through.

“I didn’t know you were scared of heights.” She frowns.

“Oh, well it’s my secret silly fear.”

“Hmm.” Fleur hums.

Fleur opens her mouth as if looking for what to say next as (Y/N) sips at her coffee and avoids eye contact, as if that will in anyway make her friend less suspicious. Fleur seems to give in though, lips shutting in what looks like defeat. (Y/N) Is glad when people begin to mount their brooms, a welcome distraction for both the women.

It takes a bit for the game to get into full swing but when it does, (Y/N) finds herself transported back to Hogwarts, sat in the Slytherin stands pretending she cares what her house’s team does, spending the entire game watching George as he flies. She watches him now, still as impressed as she always was, yet still as anxious.

“You nearly fell sixty feet.” (Y/N) hissed, pacing the boys changing rooms long after everyone else was gone. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m fine.” He rolled his eyes.

“You could have died!”

“I didn’t though.” He grinned proudly. “Were you worried about me, Love?”

She fixed him a harsh glare at his teasing, but her face softened when he reached for her, fingers fumbling for her hand and pulling her in until she landed on his lap. He pushed some hair from her face and gave her a genuine smile.

“You’re very cute all worried like that.” He exhaled. “I might nearly die more often.”

“Don’t you dare.” She warned but cupped his cheeks in her hands. “Never again.”

She leaned in and kissed the forming bruise just above his left eyebrow, the cut on the bridge of his nose and then, just in case, the mark on his jaw that she couldn’t decipher as a bruise or just some dirt. He smiled lazily at her before tilting his head in order to connect their lips in a kiss.

“I’ll try not to worry you again.”

He had, she recalls, continued to worry her almost every match. However, now she feels like she doesn’t have the same right to be worried, yet she still finds herself clutching her cup tighter every time he does a flip or when he seems like he might miss the bludger. She finds herself letting out a breath of relief when the game is called a while later.

“That was a good game.” She speaks up.

“Even with the tie.” Fleur agrees.

“It was to be expected with such a high skill set on each team.” (Y/N) shrugs.

“I’m just glad Bill is finally on the ground again.” Fleur laughs softly. “It’s like I’m holding my breath the entire time- it’s silly.”

“No, it’s not.” (Y/N) assures kindly. “Quidditch is dangerous- probably more so with your siblings.”

Fleur gives her a grateful smile before turning back to the pitch, where Lee is being grilled for his referee skills, making (Y/N) chuckle to herself. Her eyes catch George, grinning with his family and friends. Fleur follows her gaze and nods.

“You see it too?”

“What?”

“Angelina and George.” Fleur explains. “We always thought Fred but recently…”

(Y/N) hadn’t noticed in fact, she was more entranced by his  lovable lopsided grin, but now her eyes find him again and she does see it. Initially she’s more perplexed by it than anything else because Fleur is right, it was always Fred. Now though, Angelina is leaning in to George, grinning up at him and laughing dramatically at his jokes and (Y/N) despises how it makes her feel, because she left him and he has the right to move on. However, her guts are churning with jealousy and she hates it.

“Yeah.” Fleur laughs at her expression. “Confusing, huh?”

“Hmm.” She nods.

“There are few bets on it.” Fleur informs. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“I won’t weigh in.” (Y/N) manages a chuckle. “Definitely not my place.”

It becomes quickly noticeable from that point onwards and (Y/N) almost wishes Fleur had never pointed it out. As the day moves on and they all sit haphazardly spread out across the various picnic blankets, (Y/N) does find it slightly easier to distract herself though, her eyes rarely making their usual trip to George a few feet in front of her, though every so often she can feel his eyes on her. However, she finds herself somewhat relaxed as she chats with Fred and Bill.

“I’m impressed you came after seeing this idiot drunk.” Bill jokes from Fleurs side. “It’s not pretty.”

“Ouch.” Fred gasps.

“I have a feeling the morning after was uglier.” (Y/N) smirks.

“You have no idea.” Fred agrees. “George was no help either- wouldn’t bloody shut up.”  

Fred’s eyes meet (Y/N) with this, a hint at what George wouldn’t shut up about perhaps, or even who. (Y/N)’s panicked is stilled when she realises his eyes don’t hold any malice or anger, though she’s not sure why not. It’s almost understanding, the look he gives her. Despite her resolve not to, she finds herself peering over at the boy in question.

She’s caught though, his eyes filtering away from his conversation to meet hers and she inhales sharply. Something in her reaction this time has him smirking, shaking his head as he turns back to the heated debate on the best type of broom with Angelina and Ginny. It’s mortifying to (Y/N), like he’s seen her panic and knows he’s done it, what’s worse is she knows she deserves it.

She misses the time that smirk would find her across the classroom, knowing and infuriating, and almost always the gateway to a quick snog in a hidden corridor, or at dinner, across the sea of other students and only for her, swiftly followed by a wink. She hates that that smirk suddenly has guilt swirling in her stomach instead of butterflies.

“Are you okay?” Fleur whispers.

“Yep.” She assures with a faked smile. “Great.”

…

It’s when her watch reads four o’clock that (Y/N) finds herself excusing herself and flung into a seemingly endless chain for farewells. She’s again amazed by how accepting everyone is of her presence, all calling for her to join them again soon. It’s after a hug and a muttered ‘thank you’ from Fleur that she stands to leave.

She’s jittery with a sort of pride as she leaves With a few hiccups, she’s still happy to have managed to hold conversations and to relax. She doesn’t feel so compelled to cry as she had at the Leaky certainly not until she gets home. Certainly not until George’s voice is suddenly halting her in her tracks.

“Malfoy.”

That about does it though, her surname said with that animosity. She doesn’t want to turn around from fear of her distraught showing on her face. She’s only a few meters from apparating, so close that a few steps would do it. However, slowly, she turns to face him.

“Am I supposed to just call you Weasley now?”

She winces the moment it leaves her lips and lets out a quick apology. She’s no idea where it came from. He has an eerily unreadable expression, instead just passing her the tote bag she apparently left behind. She takes it shyly, eyes casting down to her feet as she thanks him. He shrugs at her, already turning on his heels. She stands still for a moment then finds herself tempted again by a part of her she has no right to have.

“George?”

He stills but doesn’t turn around and she smiles at his stubbornness, so familiar to her.

“You described it all perfectly you know.” She explains, voice soft in the quiet of the meadows, the house, and the others far behind them. “Your house and your family… I know why you love them so much.”

She doesn’t give him time to answer, already taking those few steps and apparating with a crack before he can even turn around again. He breathes out a disbelieving chuckle and shakes his head as he retreats towards the house. 

She’s always saying things he doesn’t expect and impressing him, and she knows how to make it bloody difficult to hate her.