#this is from those like. expression sheets in the end roll files

[akuma-tenshi]

The Shock Page(TM)

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Two: Electric Boogaloo

Day 2: Just Out Of Sight (Almost Caught)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Spy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Uh, my original description for this on ao3 just says “Spy time, it’s Spy time everyone” and I kinda like that

Tags: Reader is the Administrator’s assistant, oral, oral under a desk, reader being a bit of a mess (just a bit), Miss Pauling shows up unexpectedly, playful/flirty banter cause I’m allowed to have fun sometimes

Word Count: 2.4k

The Masterlist

From the moment you saw your desk you knew it was going to be a long day. Sheets of paper, some stapled together, some simply sitting loosely in a pile, were placed in your desk, and from the moment you laid eyes on them you recognized what it was. Paperwork. Mindless drivel that the Administrator likely gave you to keep you busy while her only other assistant, Miss Pauling, ran errands- most of which likely consisted of corpse disposal. While you certainly wouldn’t want to switch places, it was simply a fact of life that no one enjoyed pointless busywork.

Sometimes you wondered if such mundane tasks were simply meant to keep you too exhausted to ask questions, as if your mind would eventually become too numb from boredom to think about anything besides the Administrator’s orders. Then again, you wouldn’t ask questions anyway. All that mattered to you was your paycheck. Either way, it sucked. In fact the only thing that sucked more than paperwork was when a massive stack of it was sprung on you at the last minute, which, as luck would have it, was exactly what happened approximately one hour before the end of your shift.

Pauling entered your office with an ungodly quantity of files in her arms for you. All she offered was a sympathetic look and a muttered “good luck” before leaving. You sighed, rubbing your temples and mentally preparing yourself. You knew how you worked, and you knew your pace well. If you got started now you could get it all finished with about fifteen minutes to spare, as long as you didn’t face any interruptions.

“Bonsoir, darling."

God damn it. Of course he would show up now. You looked up to see Spy standing in front of your desk with a smug look. Well, he always looked smug, it was just especially prevalent at that moment. You hadn’t even heard the door open, leaving you to assume that he had snuck in cloaked when Pauling dropped by. He didn’t even have to say what he wanted.

“Spy, I love seeing you, you know I do, but I really don’t have the time right now,” you said, motioning to your desk.

Spy only ever came to you for one reason, and you knew he liked to take his time. On any other day you would have gladly taken the opportunity for a bit of ‘stress relief,’ but now was not the most convenient time for such activities. He would simply have to wait for another day to mercilessly fuck you on your desk.

“Oh, is that so? Not even a few minutes to spare for me, ange?” He leaned on your desk, fixing you with a half lidded look. It was an expression you had seen many times before, mostly when you were beneath him, and the memory made you shiver. Still, you tried to remain focused, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Firstly- you and I both know that you can go for far longer than a few minutes,” you said, noticing the way Spy smirked at the brief stroke to his ego. “And secondly- don’t start using those fancy little pet names to try to convince me to forget about my work!” He knew all too well how much you enjoyed the sound of his voice, especially when he spoke his native language. You were positively weak for the words he used to refer to you.

“Unbelievable. You are choosing paperwork over me?” Spy feigned dramatics, doing his best to look positively scandalized by your decision to, well, do your job.

You rolled your eyes with a sigh and returned to your work, hoping that if you didn’t give him the reaction he craved he would simply leave. However, it only exacerbated the issue. Spy walked around the desk, sidling up next to you and draping an arm over your shoulder. You allowed him to kiss your cheek, a surprisingly sweet gesture that quickly turned sensual when he descended down your neck.

You shivered again, and this time you knew that there was no way he didn’t notice. “God damn it, Spy,” you whispered, letting your pen fall out of your grip and turning to press your lips against his. You could feel him grinning against your mouth. So damn smug.

A small bite on your lower lip made you gasp, and Spy let his tongue glide along your lips, a silent request for entrance which you granted with a bit more eagerness than you meant for. His body leaned against yours for balance, as he was stopped rather awkwardly in order to reach you, still seated in your office chair. The way he took control of the situation was no longer as annoying as it was alluring, and you couldn’t help but notice the arousal already building between your legs.

Spy finally pulled back, leaving you panting and breathless. “Is paperwork still preferable to this?” He asked, caressing your cheek with a gloved hand.

“It’s an important part of my job,” you whined, even though your resolve was pretty much gone at this point. “It’s stressful, and definitely not as fun as fucking you, but it has to be done.”

“Then how about I relieve a bit of that stress for you, darling?” Spy suggested. Before you could turn him down again he dropped to his knees. You were too surprised to say anything as he shifted between your thighs, essentially nestling himself in the cubby-like area beneath your desk where your legs usually rested.

“What are you doing?” you finally asked.

“I’d think that would be obvious,” Spy said, his fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt tentatively. “I can’t stand to see you so overworked, and if you would let me, I’d love to give you a well deserved break.”

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were perfectly willing from the moment he entered your office. You pulled your skirt up yourself, spreading your legs. Spy pulled your underwear to the side, chuckling as he saw how wet you already were. He ran his fingers along your inner thighs and you leaned back in your office chair, eyes wandering until they settled on the door of your office. Reality struck you for a moment.

“The door isn’t locked. What if someone comes in?” you asked, sounding only half-concerned, especially since Spy was now rubbing his gloved fingers over your clit.

“They won’t see me,” Spy said, motioning to the back panel of the desk, which thankfully reached the ground, completely hiding the man currently kneeling between your legs. “And as for you, I suppose you’ll need to practice your poker face, won’t you?”

You had never won a poker game in your life. However, you like to live dangerously. After all, someone who strived for the safe path in life probably wouldn’t be working in a building full of violent mercenaries with varying levels of mental stability.

Spy immediately went to work, his tongue delving between your folds and flicking upward to strike your clit. You made an effort to fill out at least a few of the blanks in your work, but quickly gave up and chose to surrender, leaning back in your chair with a sigh. A whimper escaped you, and that opened the floodgates for a full on moan when Spy pushed his tongue further into you.

If he kept this up you might just give in completely and let him fuck you, work be damned. You were already embarrassingly hot under the collar just from a bit of oral, and while the prouder part of you wanted to endure for a bit longer, there was another part that craved immediate satisfaction. All you had to do was choose between the two, and the choice seemed obvious.

You were about grab Spy’s balaclava, pull him back and tell him to fuck you like he originally wanted to when your plans were suddenly changed by the terrifying sound of your office door creaking open.

“Hey, sorry to barge in but I’ve got a few more papers that need to be signed,” Pauling announced, carrying a few documents that were apparently meant for you.

As for you, you reacted to the intrusion with all the grace and composure you could muster- and that would be not very much at all. You immediately jumped the moment Pauling walked in, looking far more startled than the situation warranted, and that was bound to raise suspicion. For a moment you were confident your heart was going to stop right there. With a deep breath, you composed yourself. “Miss Pauling! I didn’t know you were here!” you said with a smile that was just a bit too wide and teeth that were just a bit too clenched.

Your eyes met Spy’s with a brief glance downward. While his mouth was otherwise occupied you could tell that if he could he would be smirking up at you. The devious glint in his eyes was evidence enough that he was serious when you said you would need to exercise control over your reactions, even as he did everything in his power to make you crack.

“Really? I just dropped off your paperwork,” Pauling said, giving you a bemused look. “The paperwork you’re currently working on.”

You looked down at the papers in front of you, unable to focus on the words typed out on them, and then looked back up at Pauling, giving a smile that you prayed didn’t look too fake before muttering an awkward, “Oh. Right.”

“Are you alright?” Pauling asked, tilting her head slightly as she looked you over. You nodded as you pressed yourself against the edge of your desk, just barely hiding the fact that your skirt was rolled up and your panties were pushed to the side.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine-” your breath hitched when you felt Spy’s hands begin to caress your inner thighs again, squeezing and digging his fingers into the supple flesh. You paused awkwardly to regain your composure. “Why do you ask?”

Pauling didn’t look convinced at all. You faked a pained look.

“Cramps,” you said, praying that your lie would be convincing. “You know, that time of the month and all that.”

The suspicion on Pauling’s face melted into sympathy. “Oh, I see,” she said, nodding. “Well, the good news is that once you get that paperwork finished you should be done for the day.”

“That would be perfect…” you trailed off, biting your lip as you tried to keep the last syllable from dissolving into a breathy moan. Spy was nothing if not talented with his tongue, and he was about to prove that he was just as skilled with his hands as he worked his middle and index finger into you. You barely kept yourself from bucking forward. The gentle curl and steady thrusting of his fingers was absolutely maddening. It felt amazing, but you wished he could have chosen literally any other time to show off his many talents.

“You do look feverish, though. I really don’t want the Administrator’s only other assistant getting sick,” Pauling said. The last thing she wanted was to take on your mindless busywork for you when there were far more important tasks she could spend her time on, like disposing of witnesses. “Do you want me to get Medic before I head out-?”

“No! No, I’m fine!” you said, unable to keep the panic out of your voice. You did not need anyone else coming into your office right now. “I’m probably just stressed from all this work.” And certainly not stressed because the team’s Spy was currently beneath your desk working his fingers and tongue on and inside of you in all the right ways. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. “I’ll probably feel much better once I’m done with it! If you’d just…” Yet another awkward pause to give yourself time to muffle a whimper, “…give me time to do so.”

God, she needed to leave. Since when did Pauling even have enough free time to check on your well-being anyway? Surely she had some corpses to bury, some contracts to give out, maybe even some molars to yank out of heads, anything but this. All you knew was that you were getting dangerously close, and you were not going to orgasm in front of your colleague.

“Okay,” Pauling said, the air of finality in her tone giving you hope. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Mhm, take care!” You said, just barely hiding the edge in your voice as you waved her away.

You watched her leave anxiously and the moment the door shut behind her you felt a wave of relief wash over you, finally allowing yourself to relax knowing that you had managed to dodge suspicion. Of course, once you let your guard down, it wasn’t long until you felt the orgasm you had been desperately trying to fend off overwhelm you. In fact it was only a moment later that you found yourself arching against the back of your chair, legs trembling as you came, your hand clamped over your mouth to muffle any sounds that tried to escape.

“That was rather quick,” Spy said, finally emerging from beneath the desk. He looked down at his watch. “Only a few minutes. I believe that’s a new record.”

A few minutes? God, it felt like an eternity. A pleasurable eternity, though.

“I can’t help but wonder if, perhaps, you enjoyed having an unwitting audience,” Spy continued. “I for one certainly found it tantalizing to watch you struggle to keep your composure.”

You shot him a glare, although there was no real venom behind it. “Don’t get too presumptuous, Spy,” you warned, trying futilely to look and sound serious even as the afterglow settled over you.

Spy cupped one of your cheeks and you leaned into his touch, wondering if he could feel the warmth of your cheeks through his gloves. “Once you’re done with all this,” He motioned to the papers in front of you. “Meet me in my room, and I’ll make it up to you, ma chérie. No audience, and most importantly, no reason to hold back those beautiful sounds you make.”

Flustered, you stammered through a response, but he was gone before you could get a word out, the door to your office shutting with barely a sound. The only evidence of his presence was the lingering scent of expensive cigarettes and the afterglow that was beginning to ebb. With a long exhale, you returned to your work with newfound motivation. After all, the sooner you were done, the sooner you could get fucked properly, preferably with no unexpected visitors this time.

[mj-102009]

Echos of Who She Used to be (Bucky Barnes x oc)

Rlly on edge abt this one lmao

The first time Amanda met Bucky he wasn’t Bucky at all.

She was flat against the wall, listening for an opening, mouth covered by a thin cloth that tied under her tightly held hair. The bodies of men in front of her were just out of sight from the men.

“I don’t understand why we still affiliate with those asshole!” One yelled. “That goddamn monster they have-”

Another scoffed. “Which one?”

“He’s right.”

Bingo.

Amanda pulled a vill out of her pocket and shook it violently before opening it and letting the white milky mist spill out.

“Do you smell that?” 

“Holy shit that smells like my momma’s baked cookies.”

“What? No, it’s burnt wood, like a campfire.”

Thump! “Don’t be stupid that’s old spice and fresh cut grass.”

“Anyone else feel…tired?”

“Hehe, yeeeeeaaaahhhh.”

She turned into the room, many of the suits were already out, slumped over or even fallen out of their seats. She walked over to the end on the long table, a lanky man was snoring on the table.

With a scowl, she grabbed him by his hair and lifted him up, a moonlite glow came from her palm and he blinked tiredly. “God you’re disgusting,” She growled.

He smiled like a drunk. “Are you an angel?”

She moved her other hand to his neck, it glowed that same light. “Where does HYDRA operate from?”

His eyes dilated but he sobered up and answered. “I have the coordinates on my computer.”

Amanda grinned and dropped his head. “Thank you Mr. Smitty.”

She turned and found a red dot on her forehead, she sighed and looked at the man. He didn’t speak, just held up the gun and stared, his mouth covered by a black heavy duty sheet. She raised an eyebrow. “Winter Soldier.”

He clicked off the safety. “Echo.”

“Don’t love the name,” She grumbled, he didn’t move. “Well? Gonna shoot?”

“I have orders to stop you from killing him,” He jerked his chin towards the sleeping man.

She chuckled. “He’s fine, Soldier.”

He dropped his gun and pressed his earpiece. “Mission complete.”

Amanda blinked then shrugged and turned to the hallway ready to find her file.

The second encounter wasn’t so lucky.

It was some eighteen months later, Amanda was snapping the neck of a HYDRA lackey in Germany, several others firing off rounds.

“Come at me fuckers!” She roared in German, dropping down behind a wall and sprinting down the street.

She quickly came to a halt, a familiar greasy haired man blocking the path to her getaway car. He had the same stoic expression while her adrenaline filled one dropped and she inched her hand to a pocket knife.

“We meet again, Winter!” She exclaimed, waving comically and grinned like he hadn’t already thought of hundreds of ways to beat her ass.

He began to walk closer and pulled out two knives, Amanda grumbled and dashed at him with one pocket knife. He faked left and swung with his right, she grinned and jumped up, wrapping her legs around his shoulders and flipping him flat on his back.

This time he had the intent to kill and she wasn’t giving up.

“C’mon Jackass,” She grumbled, kicking his left blade away and stepping on his other wrist. “I got free, you can do this, man.”

He ignored her and wrenched his hand free, swinging his foot up and knocking her down. Amanda rolled onto her back and parried his knife, he pressed and pressed until he was confused.

The Soldier grunted at the impact in his groin but didn’t budge. “Give up now Echo.”

“Pretty boy I will cut your goddamn dick off,” She threatened.

He cut down harshly at her head, she rolled away and bounced up, he whipped around the look at her, but she already had her hand on his forehead and the light was making his thoughts mush.

“Hail-” He started, then his eyes cleared and he jerked back away from her, senses blinded. “STEVE- GAH WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!”

She picked up her blade and winced. “I corrected your nerves, should bring back a memory or two, gotta hurt like a bitch though.”

He saw it in flashes, a war, a boy, pain. Bucky was thrown into the driver's seat of his mind, he gasped and clutched his head on the ground. “GOD DAMNIT!”

Amanda frowned. “Winter-”

“STOP IT!” She rested her hand on his forehead and gasped, she pulled her hand back and he stopped yelling, instead he looked at her with broken eyes. “What have I done?”

Amanda’s eyes widened and she began to walk towards him. “Hurry I can help-”

His eyes glazed over and he lunged for her, she groaned in frustration getting tired of this. Before he could really do anything, she had jumped up and roundhouse kicked him.

The third encounter was much less brutal than the last.

It came almost a year later.

He was in a coffee shop, hunched over a table, Amanda was curled up on a couch with a mug. On her lap was a computer, subtly going through hidden files and such. She glanced around her until her eyes landed on his gray pullover hoodie.

As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned and looked at the gaping woman. She had on a pair of black leggings and a casual white hoodie. Bucky raised an eyebrow and raised his black mug.

Immediately she stood straight up and robotically walked over to him, laptop under her arm and tea in hand. “What are you doing here?” She hissed. “You-know-what is donezo my guy, give it up.”

He cracked a grin and analyzed her. “Not with them anymore.”

She raised an eyebrow and pulled a chair out across from him. “Oh? I heard about the whole debacle with the Avengers, totally thought you were goin’ all pew pew on ‘em.”

He shook his head. “I, uh, I should be thanking you actually, I probably would have killed them if you hadn’t done…you know.”

She nodded. “No problem.”

“Bucky,” He said, holding out his hand. “Not the other guy.”

She chuckled. “Amanda.”

The next encounter was the next week.

Then the week after that.

Then the week after that.

And so on.

Until one bleak night.

Amanda was criss-cross on her couch, a plate of pasta in front of her and a rom-com on the TV. She had just finished another HYDRA take down on the Tuesday that they usually met for dinner. He knew she would be gone, although she had said to still come, yet not one text from Bucky. This didn’t worry her, he was old and grouchy at times.

She had just looked at her phone hoping to hear from him when a sharp ring came from the porch.

“Coming!” She called, standing up and wiping her mouth. She opened the door and immediately lunged forward with a knife practically appearing from her sleeve sneering at the blonde haired man. He blinked in surprise and stumbled back. But before she could kabab Captain America’s skull, an arm was coiled around her waist and she was lifted into the air.

“Easy Doll,” Bucky grumbled in her ear, setting her down.

She ripped herself away from his touch. “What the fuck is Stars and Stripes doing in my home?”

Amanda finally turned to Bucky and instantly dropped the attitude, he was beaten bloody, his arm was in the hands of another Avenger who was staring at her like she had two heads. “Listen, I’m sorry there was an issue and I didn’t know where else to go,” He gripped her forearm firmly, she exhaled sharply and screwed her eyes shut. “Please.”

“Fuck- fine,” She stepped away and pointed at him with a grim expression. “Show them to the back bedroom, you can take the one next to mine. And you two!” She looked at Falcon and Captain America. “Anyone asks, you were never here.”

They nodded quickly, she jerked her head towards the house and walked in. “First aid kit?” The blonde asked.

“Bathroom mirror, handle all that at the table” She told him before looking at Bucky. “Have y'all eaten?”

He shook his head, she whipped out three bowls and filled them with soup. “I’m sorry.”

Amanda sighed, not looking at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He tried to tell her.

She scoffed and walked a bowl over to the other one. “Anything to drink?”

The captain came over to him. “He could use a shot of jack daniels for these stitches.”

Bucky came over and set the liquor bottle beside him. “Here.”

Amanda filled a large bowl with water and got a few clean rags. “C’mere Buck, arm time.”

The man sighed and sat a few feet away from the other two, Amanda got out a set of pliers and gestured for his shirt to come off. “Sleep or anesthetic?”

“Neither,” He told her.

She scowled and prepared the tools. “Gonna hurt like bitch.”

The Falcon spoke up. “Drugs don’t work on super soldiers.”

“Yeah well I don’t use normal drugs, Flyboy,” She told him.

He snorted. “It’s Sam, Sam Wilson.”

“Amanda Rae,” She told him, wiping down Bucky’s shoulder.

Sam quietly swore for a while until the Captain was done fixing him up, while Bucky was staring into the wall not moving. Amanda carefully and skillfully moved the plates into their places and fixed up his arm. Everything she couldn’t fix with metal tools she would mend with her mind.

At the end Bucky stood and stretched. “Thank you, Mandy.”

She flicked him on the forehead. “Go get clothes for your friends, Metal Boy.”

He rolled his eyes and moved to the hallway leaving her with the other two. The silence was comfortable before the Captain cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” He said, she didn’t look up from her toolbox, just hummed. “For fixing up Bucky, and helping him, I truly appreciate it.”

“Mmhm,” She acknowledged throwing away a few rags. “Need one of these?”

He looked down at his injuries. “Yes please, thank you ma’am.”

She nodded and tossed him a warm cloth. “Stitches?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

She finally looked up at him with an amused smirk. “Do you need stitches?”

“Oh,” He shook his head. “Probably a bandage or two but I should be okay.”

“I can help with that,” She told him, walking over.

Quickly he shook his head. “No ma’am I should be-” His train of thought hit a hard break and his brain froze in place as she loosely grabbed his hand. He weakly croaked. “Ma’am?”

Amanda chuckled and a glowing light came from her palm, Steve watched in awe as his nerve ends healed and every small bruise and scrape faded away. After a few seconds she stopped and looked him over.

“Buck should have fresh clothes in the second room to the left,” She told him, stepping back. “You can sleep in the same room as Wilson or the couch. I don't care. And don’t worry I have cameras everywhere out here, they’ll wake you up if there’s anyone in the area.”

He opened his mouth up and down like a fish. “What?”

A low chuckle came from the doorway, Bucky was leaning with a smirk. “Break him Mandy?”

“Oh you know,” She hummed while walking down the hall. “Wake me if someone is dying.”

After she was gone, Steve looked at Bucky for a long while. “You’ve been busy.”

“I suppose.”

It was silent for a heartbeat. “Who is she?”

“She’s like me,” He sighed, resting his elbows on the counter and carding a hand through his hair. “Ex HYDRA experiment, only she got lucky and I was stuck as a weapon.”

Steve licked his dry lips. “She can heal?”

“I don’t press,” He admitted. “But from what I’ve been able to understand, her family was HYDRA legacy and set her up for sale, one of the tesseract trials. They tried to change her DNA with some sort of infection but she adapted and made it her weapon. Advanced strength, speed, intelligence, the whole deal. Then the nerve control thing.”

“And she’s out of the game?”

Bucky nodded then tilted her head back and forth. “She’s been beating HYDRA down until nearly nothing.”

Steve rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “She’s a good person Buck.”

“I know.”

This is entirely self indulgent XD. Tell me if you liked it GIVE ME REQUESTS (PLEASE IM BORED)!!!

[the-bau-quinjet]

Tolerate It

Summary: Reader struggles with feeling like Hotch is growing distant.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader

Category: fluff/angst

Warnings: the reader has thoughts/feelings of inadequacy

Word Count: 3200+

Notes: This is my entry for @railmereid‘s 2k writing challenge! It was inspired by Taylor Swift’s song tolerate it! I think there’s only one direct quote (I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life). 

You met Aaron on accident. It could be said that a lot of people are met on accident, and that’s just how people meet other people. But with Aaron it felt different. It felt as though every little thing that went wrong that day lead you to the accident that would introduce Aaron Hotchner into your life.

After the shit show that was today, all you want to do is get home and sleep. Maybe also eat dinner, but honestly even food is on the backburner of your mind right now. 

Your drive home from work was the first uneventful thing to happen all day, a necessary moment of peace. You made it into your apartment without any trouble, swiftly moving to change into your fluffiest pajamas and sleep.

The second your head hit your pillow, the fire alarm sounded. The blaring alarm screeched in your ears as you groaned. You forced yourself out of bed to comply with the alarm. Without thinking, you put on your slippers, grabbed your keys, and walked out the front door. 

Once you made it to the street, you turned to see the building really was on fire. It looked contained to one patio, but it was big enough for you to give up your plans of sleep. Instead, you chose to turn on your heel and walk down the street to escape the crowd. 

You didn’t have a plan as to where you were going. You just wanted it to be quiet. Before long, you found yourself in a park. Looking around, you spotted an empty bench. Perfect. You can just sit, enjoy the quiet of the park for however long it takes to fix the fire issue. 

You start trekking toward the bench, now walking with a purpose, when you notice a man chasing his child. The child laughs loudly, joy so clear on his face. The man smiles at him, still running behind him. 

His smile is so infectious, it has its own magnetic force pulling you towards him.  Switching directions from the bench, you are now walking toward the grassy area they are playing in, not looking at your surroundings. You’re so captivated by the happiness on display in front of you, you don’t notice the change in terrain. 

You end up tripping on a rock, falling and tumbling down the slight decline to land in a heap at the feet of the very man whose smile distracted you.

To make matters worse, he was not stationary. No, that would have been to simple. He was, in fact, still chasing the child. So, rather than rolling to a stop and looking up at him, you rolled right into him, causing him to lose his balance and fall over you. 

The two of you were a tangled mess of limbs piled on top of each other. Slowly, carefully the two of you separated, gingerly moving arms and legs to avoid further injury. Helping each other rise from the ground, you were both speechless, equal parts amused and horrified at what just happened. 

“Are you okay?” 

You jumped at the sudden intrusion that brought you back to reality. Spinning around, you realized it was the child. 

It took you an embarrassing amount of time to form a response. “Oh, um... yes I’m okay. Thank you.” Turning back to the man, you finally realized what just happened. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

He chuckled, a small smirk appearing on his face before he replied, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Oh, good.” Your relief was short lived as you realized what you were wearing and how you were dressed. “Please tell me you didn’t see me roll all the way down the hill?” You cringed at the thought. 

“I could say it, but it wouldn’t be very honest.”  Again, a small laugh left his lips. 

“Do you think we could pretend?” You took a deep breath as he quirked his eyebrow. “Ya know, that I didn’t just make a complete fool of myself?”

“But that’s not true! Daddy said when something’s not true it’s a lie and lies are bad.” The boy chimed in again, earning a chuckle from both adults. You bent down to talk to him. 

“You are absolutely right, lying is bad.” You nodded along with him, matching his serious expression. 

He took in your expression, as if judging the sincerity of your statement. Slowly, a smile began to form as if he was glad you agreed with him. “Do you want to play tag with us?”

Looking from him to his father, you took the slight smile and nod of his head as an invitation to accept his offer. “I would love to.”

That series of accidents led you to where you are now, though. A year and a half later you are sitting in your shared home, watching Aaron Hotchner do paperwork for what feels like the millionth night in a row. More realistically, it is the ninth night in a row, but you’re feeling lonely and dramatic. Those nine nights have been spread out over the past month, interrupted by nights he spends away from home.

You yearn to be closer to him. All it would take is for you to cross the room, but it feels as though the distance from the couch you are lounging on to the desk he is working at is too far, like there is some impassible divide preventing you from interrupting him. 

So you just keep watching. It has been 36 minutes since you started your observing. If he sticks to his pattern, he’ll pause in nine minutes to stretch, giving him the opportunity to notice your eyes on him.  You’re hopeful that this time he’ll smile when he sees you. 

So you wait. You watch him read. You notice the way his head dips just a bit lower as he tries to focus tired eyes on the smudged handwriting of a fellow agent. You notice how his hand squeezes the pen tighter than before, turning the once smooth glide of ink across the page into rushed, jagged strokes of letters. You notice the barely there wince as he flips the page, the result of the familiar feeling of a paper cut he’s grown all too used to. You notice everything he does. Which is why you’re not surprised when he speaks. 

“You’re staring.” 

Glancing at your phone, you note the time. Nine minutes later. Right on schedule. The smile you hoped for is noticeably missing, replaced by a curious tilt of his head.

“I’m basking in your presence.” 

If he wanted to, he could figure out how lonely and dramatic you are feeling. But with the majority of his energy still directed towards the many reports on his desk, he only notices the surface level. Tired, slightly miffed, but enjoying that he is home.

There was once a time when he would have noticed it all though. A time when he noticed everything about you, sometimes before you had even noticed it about yourself. You’ve learned how to hide it though, to save him the energy that would be expended to profile you. 

“You should consider a new career path. Comedy could really be for you.”

His deadpan joke doesn’t surprise you, but him rising from his desk chair does. For a minute, you expect him to come to you. To attempt to cross the impassible divide you’ve built in your head. Instead, he turns into the kitchen. He pauses at the island, drinking from the glass he never brings to his desk to prevent anything from ruining his files. 

When he returns to his desk, squandering any lingering hope that he may have been done for the night, you rise. Unwilling to do what you had hoped of him, you turn away from his desk and move toward the stairs. Just before you lose sight of him, you turn back. 

“Don’t forget to sleep tonight.” 

Your tone is soft, emphasizing your concern to cover up the lingering loneliness. 

“I’ll be up soon.”

You respond with a slight nod of your head, another thing unnoticed by Aaron as his eyes never left the files. 

You flitter through the second level as you complete your routine to prepare yourself to sleep for the night. 

You can’t help but notice the cold sheets on the empty side of the bed as you wait for Aaron, knowing you’ll likely be asleep before he comes to bed. 

--

You’re surprised to wake up the next morning with Aaron still in bed next to you. You watch his chest rise and fall with the steady in and out of his breath. His face is fully relaxed, a sight you so rarely get to see. 

You’re not sure how long you watch him sleep, but you notice when his rhythmic breathing changes pattern indicating he’s waking up. His eyes flutter open slowly, allowing you to see the exact moment he notices you. 

“You’re staring again.” 

The smile you are still hoping for is again absent from his face, too used to the frown that has taken over his features near permanently for the past month.  

“I’m still basking in your presence.”

You notice the beginnings of a grin forming on his face. The twinkle in his eyes. The slight twitch of his lips. It’s nearly there when the moment is interrupted by the distinct, shrill ringtone indicating a call from the bureau. 

You watch as he sits up to answer the phone with his typical “Hotchner”. If you hadn’t spent the last year noticing everything you could about the man, you would doubt that he had been asleep less than three minutes ago. 

His brows furrow, his body leaning forward to sit a little straighter as he takes in the information from whoever is on the other end of the phone. His eyes trace the pattern of your comforter, up until he throws the blanket off of himself to rise to his feet. He’s changing into his suit before hanging up. Without even hearing his responses, you can tell where this is headed. 

After he hangs up, you speak before he has the chance. 

“I take it you won’t be here for dinner with my parents tonight? I’ll try to reschedule it.” 

The question should express your loneliness, but you do well to hide the full truth. It’s easy to sound understanding because you are. You do understand, which is why you never plan to tell him how you feel. 

The grim expression is enough for you to know you’re right, you don’t need the verbal confirmation. You nod your head, a smile on your face that doesn’t meet your eyes as he walks out of your bedroom. 

--

While Aaron was away, you did everything you could to keep yourself busy outside of your typical 9 to 5 workday. Aside from the typical reading, cleaning, and TV watching you normally do you; you successfully navigated another conversation with your parents about why it was necessary to reschedule dinner a second time and played action figures with Jack, always in agreement about how his daddy is a hero. 

Every night you found yourself staring at the door, hoping it would swing open and reveal him on the other side. Every night you grew less hopeful and more discouraged than the one previous. 

--

Five days after he left, Aaron returned to your shared home. Despite the late hour, you waited for him on the couch. Knowing he probably hadn’t eaten dinner, you kept some food warm for him. 

When the door swung open, you were in front of it in seconds. You pulled him into a hug, one he was too exhausted to reciprocate, and kissed his cheek. 

Moving farther into the house, he dropped his files on his desk swiftly turning to head upstairs. 

“I kept dinner warm for you.”

Your words stalled him at the bottom of the stairs. He turned around slowly, barely looking at you.

“I actually ate with the team tonight.”

His words hit you like a bus, but you turned to hide it. He didn’t eat with the team often, so you never blamed him when he stayed with them a bit longer than usual. 

“Oh, okay. I’ll just put it in a container for tomorrow then. Did you want to talk about the case?”

You’ve always been willing to help him carry the weight of his job, but you’ve been trying harder to get him to open up this past month. Typically he brushes you off, tells you he’s fine, and then buries himself in paperwork. 

He surprised you this time. Maybe he could tell you were upset, or maybe he was just too far in his head. Either way, rather than continuing on his path up the stairs, he moved to sit in the kitchen while you put the food away. 

You listened as he ranted about the local officers withholding information about the case. You listened as he complained about the poor weather. You listened to every word, slowly washing and drying the dishes until they were sparkling. You listened until you were practically asleep, leaning against the sink. You didn’t dare to interrupt in fear he would shut down again. Or maybe it was you shutting down, but that’s a thought for another time. 

When he finished talking, he rose from his chair, too worked up to sleep now, he sat down at his desk. 

You watched, noticing everything you could. 

--

Your weeks repeated much the same for the next few months. Your loneliness morphed into something new with each night you spent watching Aaron work. 

It’s one such night when everything changes. You were trying to watch him work, but your thoughts drifted away from his actions as you lost yourself in your memories. 

The first case Aaron went on after you moved in with him and Jack was the hardest for you. After a straight week of seeing him so often around the house, it felt like a slap in the face to come home and not have him there. Somehow you made it through, and you were clingier than usual when he came home. 

He noticed how it affected you. That was before you started hiding your feelings from him. He told you he thought about you in every spare moment. That he wanted to solve the case even more than usual just so he could come home to see you even just a few minutes sooner.

He calmed all of your fears, protecting you from your own intrusive thoughts about holding him back when he was working. 

You couldn’t help but think about every time he recognized how you were feeling and did what he could to help. How he would reassure you that he wanted to be with you, bringing you little key chains or stuffed animals from the cities he travelled to. How he would smile when he saw you. Where was that man now? 

You thought back to the first day you met Aaron. It was like he saved you from a terrible day, bringing a smile to your face after hours upon hours of crap. 

“Do you think we could pretend?” You laugh lightly to yourself at the memory of Jack telling you not to lie.  Not realizing you spoke the words out loud, you’re surprised to hear Aaron from across the room.

“Pretend what?” The confusion is clear in his voice and the furrow of his brows. 

“Hmm? Oh, um. I was just thinking about the first day we met.” Tears begin to brim your eyes as you think about how much everything has seemed to change. “And how you became my whole world and now I feel like I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life.” The tears are now freely falling down your face. 

Aaron looks even more confused now. “What?” He’s frozen at his desk, pen in hand, reports on the surface in front of him. 

“I’m so sorry. I just feel like I’m taking up so much of your time and you have such important things to do! God, I’m so selfish. I’ve tried so hard to hide it though, so you can focus on people who actually need your help.” The panic in your voice grows as you speak, along with the tears falling from your eyes. 

“Y/N...” Suddenly, Aaron is on his feet, easily crossing the imaginary divide you’ve built in between the couch and his desk. He slows down, moving gently as he pulls you into him on the couch, moving your legs across his lap so he could pull you into his chest. “Sweetheart, you could never take up too much of my time.” He speaks slowly, so as not to start another round of sobbing. 

“What?” Your confusion is clearly communicated with the one word question, but you’re on a roll with your feelings so why stop now. “Are you saying it’s all in my head? Bu-, but, but you’ve been so busy every time you’ve been home! I’ve barely seen you, and I’ve tried so hard to not let it bother me because I know how important what you do is! I do, I understand it all so much. I could never be mad at you for working so hard. I just feel like you’re tolerating me being here when you have so many more important things to do.” 

Now breathless, your rant ends with more tears forming in your eyes. Aaron is quick to wipe them away as they fall. “You’re right. I have been busy.” His voice is full of concern and regret as he thinks about the past few months. “But please don’t ever doubt for a second that you are the most important thing in the world to me.” He pauses for a second before continuing. “Well, other than Jack.” This earns him a slight chuckle from you before you reply. 

“Jack is the most important to me too.” Your clear your throat, hesitant to voice your next question. “You’re not mad at me?”

Aaron looks so taken aback, you would laugh if you weren’t so nervous. “I could never be mad at you. Especially not for having completely valid feelings. I’m so sorry I haven’t been as present as I should’ve been. I love you so much, Y/N. More than I could ever put into words, and I will be doing a better job of showing you just how much you mean to me from now on.” There’s a slight edge to his voice, as though he’s annoyed with himself for you feeling this way. “Please, don’t ever hide your feelings from me. I never want to lose you.” His own voice is cracking, slight tears in his eyes at the idea of you not being in his life. 

“I promise.” You lean up to kiss him, trying to convey just how much you’ve missed him. 

“Let’s go to bed.” He lifts you up from the couch, carrying you toward the stairs. 

You shriek, clinging to him even more. “It’s only 9:15!” You laugh at his antics. “What about your reports?”

“I have more important things to do right now.” He smirks at you, quickly moving into the bedroom to show you just how much he cares about you. 

permanent tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @measure-in-pain

[leviiattacks]

I loved Ceo Levi so can I request Ceo Levi comforting the reader because she’s in financial trouble? Idk the plot it’s up to you but that sort of idea. I hope it’s not too much of a bother!! Also happy birthday ❤️

author note :: very rushed and not that great at all but i hope it’s enjoyable anon !! also thank u for the birthday wish <333 if you’d like for me to idk expand on this request you can always request again my ask box is open !! <33333 word count :: 1.5k

levi’s worried about you

like super worried

ultra worried

mega, super, ultra worried?????

all the synonyms for large aren’t enough to explain how distracted he is whilst he stares at you from across the table.

the entire team meeting today you’ve sat down with a glazed expression, you’re clearly out of it and don’t want to be present

on a few occasions he notices you gnaw at your lips anxiously and your eyes shift everywhere showing you’re clearly uncomfortable

team meetings are normally two hours long on a monday to discuss production plans extensively but levi can’t even make it to the thirty minute mark before he’s dismissing everyone

“we’re ending early i don’t feel well.”

mr ackerman letting the team leave early again... it’s the second time he’s done it now but HEY, the employees have no complaints!!

levi knows something’s bothering you when you don’t move an inch from your seat

you probably haven’t even heard what he said about leaving because you’re so zoned out

now,,,,levi’s never really been big on physical contact and he’s not great at comforting or using words either but he still double checks the door is locked so he can speak to you privately

you start sobbing as soon as the sound of the door clicks

“y/n, what’s wrong?” he’s cautious in his approach but places a hand on top of yours gently to test the waters

but you only start crying even more ?!?,!,

which panics him because oh my god what did he do...???,?.

did he do something wrong???

you know what, he’s just going to copy what people do in the movies and hope it goes well

your sobs echo through the room and he thanks himself that the cement walls are definitely thick enough for you to not be heard by your colleagues

slowly but gradually you get a grip and it almost looks like you have to force yourself to a halt midway just to wipe the tears at your eyes

it’s at times like these that levi thanks you for having an expressive face because he would hate to not notice you felt this horrible

“i suggest you carry on if you haven’t got it all out yet. from personal experience it’s better when someone sits with you.”

levi’s warm words embrace you and you look at his arms then his heat pressed suit. he’s in a completely different world compared to you and a feeling of sickness soon overpowers the warm feeling in your chest

why are you sitting here and crying like a pathetic fool in front of your boss??

ok, maybe he’s a little more personal than a boss you aren’t sure what he really is but that doesn’t matter

“y/n, i have something to say.”

FUCK. this is it. you’ll be fired for being unprofessional and improper. this is IT. the end of your professional career.

you want to run out of this room at full speed and hurl yourself out of one of the windows never to be seen again...

but,, you won’t do that, that’s embarrassing

instead you steel yourself and look at him with as much courage as you can muster (which to be clear is not very much)

“if you ever need to take a day off for mental health reasons you’ve always been allowed to so please feel free to take the rest of the day off if you’d like.”

he’s... not firing you?

“but before that, would you like to let me know what’s happened? can i maybe help?”

you purse your lips feeling the premature humiliation

he can help, anyone with as much money as him can but you don’t want him to aid you. the guilt would eat you away

but you do want to confide in him and tell him what’s wrong

you want to tell someone about it at least

“i’ve been evicted from my apartment” your voice is barely above a whisper and levi just looks at you mouth agape

he pays you enough to live comfortably

how could you be getting evicted?

“i have to pay for my mother’s medical expenses so it’s stressful i send most of my earnings hom-”

levi shushes you with his input. “i’ll pay off the debt so you don’t be evicted and i’ll also give you a pay rise.”

at that you’re just pure shocked

is he even thinking right now???

because this isn’t the strong willed strategic business man you know

“no??? i can’t leech off of you??”

“you’re not leeching. i am investing in you.”

you’re a little lost now but choose to hear him out

“you work for me already and i greatly value your work. now you’re in a tough position. correct?”

you nod your head in response

“and for you to still work for me you’ll need a home. correct?”

again you nod

“so allow me to pay off the debts. it’s for both of our benefit.”

that however really isn’t levi’s reasoning at all. he couldn’t care less about that, he just doesn’t want to see you shoulder the pain and stress of it all alone

staring at him teary eyed you sniffle

“would you-” your voice cracks and you cough “really???”

you look so desperate and vulnerable and levi feels frustrated for not spotting the warning signs of your struggle any sooner

you had been coming to the office looking more restless, you had been drinking more coffee and despite the excessive caffeine consumption he still caught you dozing off at your desk at least four times

he places a hand on the centre of your back and pats you three times as if you’re members on the same ship

“yes i mean it, take it easy.”

his simple sentence is enough to cause all of your rational thinking to jump away and you drag him in by the neck into a tight hug

you’re ugly crying and you know you’ll look back on this in embarrassment but your mind works on impulse, you’re unable to stop it

usually levi doesn’t like anyone messing up his suits but he can make an exception for you. he’s sure your tears have left a moist patch but he’s not mad. hell, even if you get snot on his expensive dress shirt he’ll be okay with it

“is there any way i can pay you back mr ackerman?”

he winces at the formality of your tone

“call me levi.”

your brows raise at the request

“that’s what i want in return. for you to call me levi.”

????

that’s all???

“oh, well thank you levi. i’m grateful...”

his name rolls off your tongue awkwardly the first few times and even he regrets asking you to call him by his first name

but three days later you’re walking in breezily. a pen is tucked behind your ear and you’re double checking levi’s spending sheet with a calculator in your hands.

levi literally STOPS breathing because you look so refreshed today and the colour is back on your face. you look your best when you’re stress free.

and then you say it

“levi, do you think you could spend a bit less on tea bags because OH MY LORD???”

he notices there’s no longer an air of discomfort to his name and his chest swells happily

“y/n, give me ONE good reason to not spend my money that way??”

you notice how he easily he says your first name with an airy chuckle and you could almost... ALMOST... swear the two of you are flirting

to anyone observing with no sound he looks as nonchalant as normal but really the tone of his voice is implying the suggestive nature of conversation

“maybe you should spend your money on other things you like?” your suggestion is thrown back in your face when levi scoffs choking back a laugh

“i already am spending my money on other interests of mine.”

turning to face him and to hand him a file of paperwork you look him right in the eyes

“and what interests would those be?”

levi’s gaze meander down to your lips before shooting back up to your eyes and you swear you feel a tingle in the pit of your stomach

“i’ll let you figure that out on your own. you’re smart enough.”

you’re gaping at that reply because how are you meant to know???

but, the answer to your question is far more obvious than you think.

and it’s only after work whilst you’re eating dinner that you’re able to connect the dots

he was, talking about...you??

gasping you flush bright pink and bury your face into one of your sofa’s pillows

no way, there’s no way that happened

oh no, but there really is a way

and that way is levi ackerman ;-)

[smutbymia]

classmate jeno x reader with enemies to lovers please 🥺

There were a million and one reasons why you couldn’t stand Jeno: 

1. he’s an asshole

2. he’s the student body president for the second year in a row (you lost twice)

3. he’s a popular rich kid

4. he’s smart, athletic, AND good looking (I mean seriously... who is that lucky?)

Just to list a few. 

        You went to school together all your lives and it somehow felt like each year he got more and more irritating. This year is your last year and you promised yourself you wouldn’t let whatever ridiculous rivalry you and Jeno had ruin it. And so far you had done a good job of keeping that promise until this very moment. 

School had ended for the day, marking the completion of the first week of your senior year. You were reaching for a pen that dangled from a string next to a sign up sheet when you felt the warm skin of another hand brush against yours. You raised your head planning to mutter a quick apology to the person until you locked eyes with that bastard Jeno. The soft expression on your face immediately went icy as did his. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you spat at him, the pen lingering in your hand. Jeno plucked it from between your fingers and wrote his name on the sign up sheet. Your eyes went wide and he dropped the pen, letting it hang from its string once more before turning to you and stepping forward. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he towered over you with his height. 

You groaned, stomping your feet before whining “You’re already president, why do you have to join yearbook too?” 

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Because I need more clubs for my college application.”

Your eyes shot daggers into his. You picked up the dangling pen and scribbled your name under his on the list before turning on your heels and walking into the open classroom next to you. You emerged from the room an hour later, expressionless. You pinched yourself, hoping that today was just an awful nightmare. Person after person left the room, walking past you until the hall went quiet with the exception of a few voices that lingered further down the school hall as people slowly made their way out. 

Things had gotten just slightly worse. When choosing the president for the Yearbook club, you and Jeno ended up in a deadlocked vote -- thus encouraging Mr. Park, the faculty member in charge to come up with the brilliant idea of electing you both to share the presidency. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had to be in the same club. Now the two of you would be spending basically the entire year together working on such an important project. 

“Im not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me,” you repeated to yourself quietly as you slowly walked towards the nearest exit, in what felt like a daze. 

“That is quite the mantra,” teased Jeno. He had left the classroom last after talking with Mr. Park and caught up to you at some point. You jumped at the sound of his voice. 

“What do you want now?” you groaned.

Jeno stepped in front of you blocking your path. 

“Does it look like I want to be president with you? I’m being mature about it because it’s what everyone else wanted so you should stop acting like such a brat,” he spat. 

“You’re calling ME a brat? How ironic,” you scoffed, “You’re already in a ton of different clubs and hold multiple presidencies. What else could you possibly need for your college application? You could even buy your way in if you wanted to.”

Jeno froze at your final sentence. You continued the assault of words. “You know what your problem is? You can’t stand to lose,” you said, standing toe to toe with him. Jeno chuckled under his breath before bending slightly so that his face was hovering over your face. 

“You know what your problem is, princess? You’re okay with losing unless it’s to me,” he began, “You may still be royalty but that doesn’t mean you are anywhere near as powerful as I am,” he said as he straightened himself back up, walking backwards as he spoke. He tapped on one of the series of pins fastened to his school uniform jacket and you dropped your gaze to see what he was gesturing to -- it was a golden line drawing of a king’s crown. You locked eyes one last time before he turned around and stormed out of the school, leaving you standing alone in the empty corridor, blood rushing through your body with your fists balled up at your sides. 

That night you returned home, diving right into your study routine and getting an early start on some assignments to distract yourself from the awful day you were having. You had just gotten comfortable in bed when your phone buzzed with new notifications. You leaned over to squint at the bright screen. 

JENO: It’s Jeno 

JENO: School tomorrow. 5:30pm. 

You groaned before reaching for the device to type out a reply. 

Y/N: How did you get my number?

JENO: I’m the student body president. I can do anything I want. 

JENO: Just be there we have work to do. 

You rolled your eyes at his response before locking your phone and drifting off to bed.

The next day flew by the way Saturday’s typically did. You had breakfast with your family before heading out for a jog and coming home to do some workouts on youtube in your bedroom before taking some time to study and do some yearbook club work. When that evening finally rolled around you threw on some black biker shorts and a comfy oversized black graphic tee with some rock bands logo printed on the front before putting your hair up into a bun. 

Your school uniform was very preppy looking and you had to keep up appearances so every other part of your appearance had to be up to the same standard everyday. This resulted in you dressing quite “girly” so you enjoyed being able to dress down on the weekends when you weren’t out socializing.

Once you were done getting ready you made your way over to the school. According to Jeno, he had both keys and permission for the both of you to get some work done despite it being a Saturday. A security guard was parked outside by the gates when you arrived and you held up your yearbook club pass before he gave you a quick nod then immediately returned to watching some sports game on his phone screen and eating a sandwich. 

When you finally entered the school and got to the Yearbook/Media club lounge, you found Jeno leaning back in a computer chair as he clicked away at the mouse with his eyes glued to the monitor. He didn’t hear you when you entered because of the headphones he had covering his ears. He was dressed down too. He sported grey sweatpants, and a white t-shirt and his black hair looked slightly damp as the strands clumped together slightly and rested against his forehead. He nodded his head to music, and tapped his free fingers against the desk he was seated at. 

When you stepped further into the room he spun in his chair to face you. Jeno’s eyes scanned the entirety of your body before he slipped the headphones down to his neck and spoke. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your preppy headband, all that makeup, and those stupid earrings you always wear,” he muttered. 

Okay, low blow. The downside to wearing school uniforms is that you lose a lot of your individuality, and the school rules limit what you can and cannot wear. In fact, students had to fight for the right to accessorize until the ban was lifted. You personally enjoyed wearing tons of different earrings from hoops, to waterfalls and of course you felt a nice headband would draw together your academia look. Both were your signatures and makeup was just a given at such a fancy school. 

“I’d insult you back but honestly you look a lot less annoying when you’re not wearing that preppy uniform jacket filled with pins and patches,” you snapped back. 

“Whatever, I never said it was meant to be an insult,” he mumbled before gesturing for you to come look at his computer screen. 

“I’ve been working on the first draft for the welcome week pages. I think we should follow this layout and theme for the rest of the yearbook. I’m submitting it to Mr. Park,” said Jeno.  

You looked over the screen as Jeno waited for your feedback. “I like my version better,” you said after a few minutes. 

“Your version? Let’s see it then,” he urged. You took a USB keychain that hung with the rest of your keys out of your bag and connected it to the computer before leaning over Jeno and pulling up the file. He shifted his chair backwards to give you room, and sat back as he admired you from behind. It wasn’t until you spoke to him again that you realized what he was doing. 

“How does it look?” you asked as the document loaded onto the screen.

“Real good...” he said as his voice dropped an octave. You turned your head to face him, catching him with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyes still set on your backside before he drew them up to meet your gaze and flashing you a cheeky smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons. 

“Stop being a perv and come look,” you said sternly as you changed your position, lowering yourself to your knees by the monitor. Jeno scooted his chair forward again before looking up at your work. Within seconds he had a series of critical comments spilling from his mouth thus triggering a heated argument between the two of you. 

“You know what? I’m tired of going back and forth with you. Let’s just send both to Mr. Park and see which one he likes best,” he challenged. You were both on your feet now and standing toe to toe like you did yesterday during your face off. 

“Fine,” you accepted. Jeno sent the files off and the two of you drifted off into other work. You were both working in the dark room, developing some film, when you heard the faint sound of an email notification ring out from the monitor in the room next door. You and Jeno immediately looked at each other before frantically wrapping up your work and rushing to the computer. 

The two of you were huddled closely by the screen when Jeno clicked on the email to reveal its contents. You both silently read the screen before you were overcome with disappointment 

Mr. Park: Hey President’s. Both look great and would work perfectly with this years Yearbook but if you want my personal opinion, I think I’m leaning more towards Jeno’s! Great work so far and kudos for being so productive on a Saturday! Reach out if you need anything. 

You groaned as you stood back up. Jeno chuckled next to you. 

“Congratulations, you win again,” you snapped at him. He was so caught off guard by your tone that his smile fell from his face immediately and was quickly replaced by a smug expression. 

“Is that all that matters to you?” he asked raising his voice, “winning?”

You were toe to toe for the third time now and it was really starting to get on your nerves because Jeno was built and tall and something about him looking down on you made this stupid position even more annoying for you. 

“One thing! You couldn’t just let me have this one thing!” you yelled back. 

“Oh... my... GOD. You are unbearable!” Jeno groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

“You want to know why I couldn’t let you have this one thing?” he started, leaning down closer to your face. He was inches from you now and his breath danced across your lips when he spoke. 

“Because... you’re such a fucking brat. Every time you whine and complain all I can think about is filling up this pretty mouth so I don’t have to hear your voice anymore,” he said through gritted teeth, reaching his hand up to your chin. 

“And your face... the look on your face every time i beat you at something or take something away from you... the way your eyes get big and teary, and the way you pout your lips like you’re doing right now” he continued, running his index finger across your bottom lip. 

“Nothing turns me on more than taming you like this,” he whispered. Your body shivered under his touch. You were fuming on the inside at his words. They hurt. Yet you were also feeling things you had never felt before. Your eyes scanned Jeno’s face, along his lips and eyes and his jawline. Your nipples hardened underneath the cotton material of your shirt. Jeno noticed. You fought back tears of frustration as one slipped down your cheek, cursing yourself for being so turned on at a moment like this. 

“Don’t cry, baby girl,” Jeno muttered as he took his free hand to wipe away at the tear as his other hand cradled your cheek. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides and you stood frozen in your spot. 

“You’ve been so worried about me ruining you, but maybe that’s exactly what you need to get rid of that attitude...hmm?” he murmured. 

“I-I hate you,” you sputtered out, sounding more whiney than angry. Jeno let out a breath of air as the corner of his mouth turned up into a brief smile. He  stepped closer to you and you stepped back until you were trapped against a table.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled as he hovered his lips dangerously close to yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. You broke eye contact with him as your gaze settled on his lips. You subconsciously licked your own as you blinked away the remainder of the dampness in your eyes. 

You didn’t notice the way you gravitated towards his lips like a magnet until he leaned away from you slightly and your lips chased after his -- not letting the distance grow too much. Your eyes were still glued to his lips which had formed into a smug grin when you noticed how you had chased after his lips like a needy girl just as you felt the first wave of heat rush to your face.

“Just as I thought...” he muttered as one of his hands dropped to your waist and you felt him tighten his grip ever so slightly. Jeno ran his hand down the side of your body, trailing his fingers along your thighs before running his hands back up again -- this time gripping the bare skin of your waist underneath your graphic tee. 

You sucked in air when his warm hands came in contact with your skin. His eyes were glued to your face and his expression showed a slight hint of darkness. Jeno gripped your waist with both hands firmly before suddenly lifting you off the floor to sit on the edge of the table you had been trapped against. 

You let out a gasp as your butt landed on the cool surface, leaving you seated with Jeno standing between your legs. He bridged the gap between you by stepping closer and pulling you by your hips -- until every part of you was pressed against him. Your hands flew up to his chest to stop you from literally crashing into his chiseled torso.  

You accidentally let out a breathy moan when your crotches met -- feeling Jeno pressed against your center, leaving only the thin material of your biker shorts and your undies between your bodies. Jeno bit his bottom lip in response and rolled his lips once more, making you whimper and sending your hands sliding from his chest down to his waist. You hesitated but your hand placement was a dead giveaway that you wanted more friction. Jeno pulled at your hips one more time as he met your center with another stroke. You felt wetness begin to pool between your legs and tightened your grip on his waist. This time it was you who pulled him forward but he froze just before your bodies could properly connect again as you desperately tried to rut yourself against him. 

“Look at me,” he ordered. Your gaze immediately locked with his, eyes wide and lips pouted, a bit frustrated that he had stopped moving. 

“Good girl... Didn’t think you’d listen to me so well the first time,” he said, rewarding you with another roll of his hips. You groaned at the contact. 

“F-first time?” you question, rolling your hips to meet his as his breathing became more unstable. 

“It’s gonna be a long year, baby,” he started, “We have to work together, so it’s my responsibility to calm you down when you get all bratty.” 

There was something really sexy about the way you both managed to continuously grind against each other in pure ecstasy while having a full blown conversation, speaking between moans and grunts. 

“I’m n-not a brat, you’re just an asshole,” you snapped as you crossed your legs at your ankles, pulling him against you even harder. 

Jeno cursed under his breath at the friction as his hands reached down to grip at your ass before mumbling, “only person who thinks i’m an asshole is you,” he taunted, “you on the other hand are widely known for acting like a complete...”

You interrupted him with another roll of your hips, as a groan slipped from his lips. “Choose your next words carefully, Jeno,” you warned. 

he chuckled before finishing his almost forgotten sentence, “princess... that’s what you’re known for. For acting like such a fucking princess,” he groaned. 

Jeno wasn’t entirely wrong. You did strive for excellence when it came to your common interests in academics and extracurriculars. In fact, a pet peeve of yours was the fact that you and Jeno were always compared to each other, with most of the school being shocked that two people who were so alike seemed to always be at war with each other. In everyone else's eyes you were both one in the same.

Though you were respected, you weren’t delusional. There were definitely people who weren’t fond of you, but you had chalked it up to mere jealousy that was inevitable for a person who excelled as much as you did to experience. Jeno must have noticed your mind wandering because he lifted your chin slightly to direct your attention back to him muttering a soft “hey...” as he snaked his free hand up your shirt, hands brushing against your bare breast. 

You moaned when you felt his fingers tease your sensitive nipple. “Whats wrong with being a princess? People only call me that because they’re jealous,” you questioned. You had definitely begun to soak through your shorts, as you watched a faint wet patch begin to show on Jeno’s joggers. You gripped at the collar of his shirt as he dropped his head down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all over the delicate skin. 

“F-fuck,” you groaned at the contact, hips jerking. 

“Exactly,” jeno said, lifting his head to lock his eyes with you again. “They’re jealous of how powerful you are... but that’s exactly what turns me on,” he confessed. 

He ran his hands along your cheek, leaning in to a whisper. “Do you know how hard it makes me when I think about turning the most powerful girl in school into a powerless mess?” Jeno tugged at one of your nipples as he finally drew your mouth into his for a kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, overcome with pleasure. 

Jeno deepened the kiss and for once you just allowed him to take control. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny that his energy was intoxicating and yes, maybe you were a little bit jealous of him for the same reasons as others were jealous of you. 

How could you not be attracted to someone who was as driven and talented and equally, if not even more powerful than you were in that regard. As much as you butt heads there was no doubt that you were very much a good fit for each other-- if all the fighting and competition were set aside, that is. But this didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the way he was making you feel. It was as if though all those years of tension had finally bubbled over. 

Jeno’s tongue swirled against yours sloppily, just the way you liked. Even your bodies seemed to be on the same page. He pulled away from you after a few minutes of making out -- leaving a trail of spit hanging from your lips to his as he lifted you off the table and carried you over to one of the couches in the lounge area of the room. 

The sun had already begun to set ages ago, and only the faint hint of the computer screens you had been working on were illuminating the room. Jeno sat on the couch with you straddling his lap as he pulled his shirt over his head. You did the same and soon enough you were both left topless. Jeno wasted no time drawing you towards him and trapping a nipple between his lips as he palmed your other breast. You arched your back into him letting his name spill from your mouth. 

He kissed his way back up your chest as he pulled you in for a kiss. 

“Mmm.. Need all of this gone,” he said as he pulled at your shorts. You got up from his lap, and he immediately began to peel off the remainder of your clothing, dragging the material down the length of your body. 

His breath hitched as he stripped you of your shorts to reveal your white cotton thong. He brushed his fingers softly against the material before mumbling to himself, “cute...” 

His fingers ran against your slit, feeling the damp material under his touch and making you grow weak in the legs. 

“You’re so wet for me already... Such a good girl,” he said. Hearing words of praise fall from his lips like that made you feel so soft. For some reason, compliments hit different when they came from him. Your eyes drifted to the growing bulge in Jeno’s joggers. 

Your mouth fell open with the sudden desire to be filled with as much of him as you could fit as you slowly fell to your knees. Jeno raised his eyebrows while he watched you intently. You tapped your fingers against his knee, “off, please” you said as you pulled at the strings in the waistband of his bottoms. 

“Fuck, do you know how good you look on your knees for me?” he said as he lifted his hips to get rid of the rest of his clothing. Your eyes went wide when he finally settled back into his seat and began stroking his length while analyzing your expression. 

For once you couldn’t blame him for the arrogant expression on his face. He had every right to be proud of what he was packing. 

“Ugh, is every part of you perfect?” you complained as you scooted closer to him. You dragged your fingernails along his thighs as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth again. Your fingers danced dangerously close to his member as he slowed the movement of his hand before letting go of himself. 

You wrapped your hand around him, shocked at how much bigger he looked between your fingers. He throbbed and raised his hips slightly, thrusting up into your first. “Needy...” you teased, looking up at him as you giggled softly. 

“Y/n” he whimpered, a bit embarrassed at the sounds leaving his mouth now that you had momentarily gained the upper-hand. Jeno watched as you pressed your tongue to the slit of his cock before popping the head right into your mouth and sinking down around his length in one go, bottoming out. 

Your lips were wrapped around the very base of his cock when you moaned around him, making your entire mouth vibrate. 

“Holy shit,” he moaned loudly as he reached out a hand to draw circles on your cheeks while you worked at his length. You lifted your mouth all the way back, as his hips jerked forward again, fucking into your mouth as another whimper fell from his mouth. Your eyes were locked in his and you couldn’t believe how different he looked. His hard expression had gone soft. You had definitely managed to strip him momentarily of his power. 

“So naughty - where’d you learn - to use your mouth like this- huh, princess?” he asked between thrusts. Your eyes watered but you continued to let him use your mouth as you watched him grow more desperate. 

You removed him from your mouth with a pop as you pumped at his length fast. Jeno cursed under his breath before letting his head fall back on the couch for a moment. 

“Gonna c-cum,” he warned. 

“Look at me,” you ordered and Jeno obeyed.

You locked eyes as you delivered the final pumps, and waited with your mouth open and your tongue out as you felt him throb underneath your grip before spurts of his warmth shot up -- spilling onto your tongue and dripping from your lips down your chin. The remainder of his cum had spilled over onto your fingers, and you released him to pop them into your mouth to clean them off. 

You were aimlessly licking and sucking at your fingers, caught up in your own world when you noticed Jeno staring at you, chest rising and falling with a surprised expression on his face. 

“Hmm?” you hummed as you titled your head, wondering if everything was okay. Jeno, who had just cum harder than he ever had in his life was in pure disbelief at how you sat so calmly and managed to look so sweet and innocent with his cum dripping down your chin as you suckled at your own fingers. The sight alone made him start to grow hard almost instantly. 

After a few seconds he snapped out of it, leaning forward and cupping your cheek in his hand like he had been all night. 

“D-don’t think I’m letting you win that easily,” he muttered. He motioned for you to get off your knees, and he drew you in for a kiss as he repositioned you both on the couch so he would be on top of you. You seemed to have sparked the competitive fire within him. 

Jeno hadn’t expected you to switch on him like that and he was determined to follow through on his promise of ruining you. 

He trailed kisses down your body, skipping your pelvic region to drop kisses along your thighs as he peeled off your panties. 

“I’m sorry but I won’t be going easy on you... not after what you just did,” he warned as he pushed apart your thighs. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your center and it drove you insane. 

Jeno carried out the first lick along the length of your slit and it was enough to have you moaning and immediately roping your hands in his hair. You had been turned on for so long that even the slightest touch felt like heaven. 

He flicked his tongue against your entrance, muttering to himself about how great you taste, teasing you as your clit yearned for attention. He worked at your flesh, dipping his tongue in between the folds of your center before prodding at your hole and slipping his tongue inside. You tried to move your hips against his mouth but he firmly held you in place.

“Jeno, p-please,” you pleaded. He smiled against your skin as  he continued to dip his tongue into your hole, driving you closer to the edge but still not quite getting you there. 

“Whats wrong, princess?” he taunted before running his tongue up the length of your slit, once again avoiding your clit. You whimpered, reaching your hand down to feel yourself before he roped his fingers in yours to stop you. He lightly flicked his tongue against your clit, just enough to send electricity running through your body but still not enough to please you entirely. 

“I want to hear you beg for it,” he said as he blew air softly against your center, the sensitivity was overwhelming. He planted a soft kiss directly on top of your clit that would have melted your heart a bit if you weren’t so violently horny at this point. So instead, your hips jerked against the plushy feeling of his pursed lips. Jeno chuckled at your body’s reaction, before repeating the action -- drawing the same result.

After the third peck landed on your clit, and the third jerk of your hips sent you into a frenzy, you simply couldn’t resit any longer. 

Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes, and words spilled endlessly from your mouth. “Please, Jeno.. fuck, please let me cum. I’m d-desperate,” you confessed as your hips raised off of the couch, and he pulled away teasingly watching you squirm beneath him. 

“How would you like to cum, baby?” he asked.

“I need to feel you inside of me,” you pleaded before adding a soft “please” to the end of your sentence. 

You watched Jeno position himself at your entrance before stopping. 

“i’m on the pill, we don’t need --,” you assured him, reading his expression. 

He groaned straight away, interrupting you before you could finish as his mind drifted to places he was too ashamed to admit. He ran his head along your slit, making you twitch before he entered you with a quick snap of his hips, bottoming out immediately and forcing a scream from your lips. 

You weren’t sure what to expect from Jeno but it definitely wasn't this. He angled himself perfectly, propping you up so he was hitting all the right places as he pounded into you relentlessly. Within a single minute you were both racing towards your orgasms. 

“I’m close,” he murmured as he planted a kiss to your lips. 

“Me too,” you answered, “one last thing...” you said as he continued to thrust into you at a delicious pace. 

“Hmm.. what is it, baby?” he asked. You locked eyes with him, feeling quite shy at your next words. 

“F-fill me up, please. I want you to cum inside of me, really really badly,” you whimpered and with a final groan at your unexpected demand, you felt Jeno’s warmth spill all over your insides, sending you right over the edge and leaving your insides contracting against him. The two of you remained exactly how you were for awhile. 

Jeno was the first to move after catching his breath. He slowly slipped out of you with a breathy moan before lowering himself towards your center and softly licking at your folds even though they were covered in his own cum. 

“Shit, i’m sorry... I barely made it to the end of your sentence before letting go,” he chuckled as he lapped at your skin. 

“JENO” you shrieked as an unexpected orgasm rushed through you again when he flattened his tongue against your entire slit and you found yourself moving against his mouth in seek of more pleasure. You pushed his head away as you clenched your legs together feeling a mixture of both pleasure and agony run through your body. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry... last one, i promise” he laughed as he moved to your face to plant soft kisses on your cheeks and a peck on your lips. It took you a while to come back from your high.

     it was a bit late when you guys had finally cleaned up and locked the school back up. Jeno had driven you home in his new Volvo which he tried to convince you was a totally normal back to school gift, and had texted you for the remainder of the night about things like yearbook, and homework. It almost seemed as though what had happened was merely a dream. 

It wasn't until you were back at school on Monday that you realized that going back to normal was going to be impossible. You and Jeno still bickered over Yearbook decisions and didn’t hesitate to challenge each other during class debates but things had changed. Every annoying exchange you had simply fuelled your desire more. 

You’d get into intense match ups only to find yourselves coming up with excuses about Yearbook club to sneak out of class for quickies in Jeno’s car. He even had his way with you more times than you could count across his desk in the office he was awarded after becoming student body president. At first it was fun -- your adrenaline would pump at the thought of sneaking around so much but then things slowly started to shift again. 

Soon, you would spend afternoons at his freaking massive mansion of a family home where you guys would go over yearbook work. When you didn’t have yearbook work to do, he began inviting you over for study sessions, and to do homework -- all of which would end in amazing sex. Soon those invites extended to regular hangouts for no particular reason but to enjoy each others company and you found yourself drifting away from casual hookups to something that felt heavier -- more serious. 

The final nail in the coffin was when Jeno let your little secret slip after getting so worked up in a class discussion. You had been discussing the symbolism of a film you had just watched for an english class when you began to clash. 

“Baby, that makes no sense,” he mumbled after you had shared your opinion. He was doodling aimlessly on his notebook. The entire class went wide eyed, and a few gasps were let out.

“Actually, it makes perfect s--” you began before freezing. You had just noticed his mistake, and everyone had noticed yours which was how the pet name didn’t seem to phase you at all. Luckily Mr. Park quickly moved on to another topic as you both sat cursing yourselves silently. 

After the final bell rang for the day, you locked eyes with Jeno. 

“Idiot,” you mouthed. He offered you a sheepish grin in return as he approached your desk.

“I’m sorry, it slipped,” he began, “but now that every knows..” Jeno, slipped his arm around you as you entered the hallway. Most students minded their business, which you were grateful for while others stared and whispered. 

“I have a student body meeting for the next hour... you have debate team right?,” he said as you approached an intersecting series of hallways. You nodded.

“I’ll meet you outside then, and we can go to mine to go over the photographer schedules for this months events,” Jeno said. 

“Sounds good,” you responded before turning on your heels to head in the opposite direction. Jeno’s grip on your wrist had him tugging you back towards him. 

He stood above you with an annoyed expression on his face, pouting. He pulled your face close to his, mumbling about you being heartless before he planted a lingering kiss on your lips, of course drawing the attention of onlookers. Your cheeks were on fire when he pulled back, leaving you flustered and a bit embarrassed as he shot you a final wink before checking his watch and rushing off to his meeting. You turned around to head to debate club, wondering how exactly your biggest enemy had turned into the sweetest, most caring lover you could have ever asked for. 

[avictimofthejazz]

↕ - a memory that may or may not have happened for Micheal Knight

✂ - a vivid memory for Maggie Sullivan

a memory that may or may not have happened for Michael Knight

Michael frowns, the perturbed expression pulling his lips downward. The biggest problem with getting shot in the head twice, and having a metal plate holding the various pieces together, is that things get… fuzzy. Particularly anything that happened before he became Michael Knight…

The fragments are persistent though, leading him to hope this memory can be trusted at least.

The catfish is huge, almost as tall as the seven-year-old trying to reel it in, and probably weighs twice as much. If not for the taller man behind him holding the rod steady, all the fish had to do was give a good tug and pitch the boy into the lake. Mister… what is his name again? Mister Weblin… their neighbor… the old man is giving him instructions on how to reel the fish in and not lose his catch. He is trying to listen but he is laughing too hard to really pay attention…too excited by the fact that he finally caught one…

The memory cuts off there, leaving Michael grappling with the fragments. He does not even know if he ended up bringing the fish in after all… Shaking his head, he rubs at the spot in his forehead where he imagines he can feel the firmness of the plate. Then he takes a sip of coffee. If he goes chasing ghosts much longer, he is just going to give himself a headache.

a vivid memory for Maggie Sullivan

Shaking her head, Maggie pulls the blood-stained sheets off her examination table. She thought she had put these kinds of injuries behind her when she finally left Vietnam, but every time Hannibal and his crew roll into town, someone is generally sporting some catastrophic injury. It is only when they are all together though, as if the chaos is compounded the more members of the A-Team end up in the same area.

When John comes up on his own, they generally get to enjoy a decent evening when dinner and some beers. Face comes up about once a month to settle the account with her, and update the medical files she keeps. Those afternoons are always peaceful, and he normally brings a nice bottle of wine as a thank you gift. Murdock shows up sometimes… once he brought a young lady named Kelly to collect a litter of kittens abandoned under Maggie’s porch. Kelly also took the skunk kit that had been joined the cohort. BA came up to help her with her car, or to do repairs on her house. Amy sometimes made the trip when she wanted to spend the weekend somewhere peaceful….

But when any or all of them started existing in the same space, disaster usually followed. The newest casualty is Face, now comfortably drugged into sleeping in an upstairs room. She had spent forty-five minutes cleaning shrapnel out of his side, and stitching closed a knife wound.

The passing thought of the injury abruptly brings her up sharp, her hands fisting in the fabric.

The wounded have been pouring in—as soon as they get one guy off the table, there is another one to take his place. She has barely had time to change her gloves between patients. The newest boy is young, barely nineteen if he is a day. His freckled features are ashen, the marks on his skin standing out even more. Even as her anesthesiologist starts putting him under, she cannot shake the thought that this kid looks just like Charlie—her teenager boy currently with his grandmother. He looks too much like Charlie. She has been thinking that more and more lately… too many of these boys should be getting ready to go off to college and trying to figure out if they want to keep going steady with their best girl. They should not be here. There is no time for these thoughts though. Leaning over to examine the wound in the boy’s abdomen, a deep cut from shrapnel, she swears quietly under her breath. Even if she were not a top-class surgeon, she would know that the fleshy blobs protruding from the injury are not normal or a good sign. They are parts of his intestines… the slice went deeper then she had initially thought. Sending up a quick prayer, hoping it does not get lost in the queue of prayers emanating from this hospital, she turns to start giving orders to her nurse.

The sound of the A-Team’s van door slamming with more force then necessary, a testament to BA’s annoyance with the situation, startles her out of her thoughts. Maggie quickly tucks the memory away. This is no time to dwell on the past. Besides, she did pull that young man through, and Private Micmack named his oldest daughter after her when he got back to the States and married his girlfriend.

Grumbling under her breath, Maggie tosses the sheet in the hamper. She needs to find a different detergent—one better at getting the blood out of everything.

[palbabor-writes]

testing, testing

@kugutsuu & @libiraki asked me about favorite positions/headcanons for Shigaraki, Dabi & Hawks & well, here we are 

warnings: ahahaha, this is dirty from the get, NSFW/18+ only, mild blood, impact play, emotional destress, sensory play

Tomura Shigaraki

i know i’ve done some, and by some i mean a plethora for him, what with those NSFW alphabet games, but those were on canon Tomura & i wanted to show off my Professor Shigaraki AU instead. who’s that you ask? you can read about the start of my University AU here.  

He would prefer to raw you from behind. 

That’s right, he’s not putting anything on. Sure, it’s risky but that’s part of your charm, for now.

It’s also on you for any kind of whoops, Plan B preventatives.

If you dare to email him about compensation for you emergency contraceptives, or your worry about the other after effects of your coupling, eh, that feels like a personal problem & he’ll be very upfront about telling you that. Honestly. He will not answer calls, or texts and it’ll likely come back as an email.

RE: about last night.... 

Regarding your previous email; I fail to see how this is relevant to our class and would prefer for you to cease and desist with these unprofessional, personal, emails. If you are needing support, please seek out the universities health and wellness resources.  

Remember, we have a midterm in two weeks. Please utilize all study halls and tutoring opportunities. My office hours are listed within the syllabus. 

All the best,

Tomura Shigaraki, Ph.D. 

Distinguished Research Professor/Associate Director of the BioDiscovery Institute of Biochemistry & Molecular Biology

Literally this is the email you will find waiting for you in your inbox. idc how much you think he ‘likes’ you - he’s got bigger fish to fry & if you’re getting too needy and he needs to cut you loose, so be it ❤️     

Alright. Now that that’s out of the way, back to the kinks!

He does like to fuck you in front of something reflective: a mirror, a window, polished metal, etc. - it lets him still see your face, but holds that barrier of aloofness and detached passion up. Keeping you at a safe arms length. It’s not like he doesn’t want to kiss you and he likes nipping and leaving marks on your skin, but it shatters his mask & he can’t have that - nope. not at all. 

Toward the end of each session he’ll make you get fully in your stomach and tell you to cross your legs. It makes you tighter and pushes the soft flesh of your ass deliciously against his sharp hipbones, giving him something to grind and rut against as he splays you out beneath him. 

It’s his go to when he’s tired & he wants to cum, there’s an early meeting tomorrow morning and he’s gotta rest. So stop being so fucking slippery and hold onto his cock, damn it.

Dabi

Dabi will likely prefer to have you on top. 

Ease of use only. It’s not like he likes the view. Of seeing your face roll through all of those sultry expressions, licking at his miss matched lips, a sharp canine catching against the burnt and heat blistered skin, holding back those groans and rumbling moans that keep threatening to escape his heaving throat as he watches you. 

No. It’s not that. It’s just easier. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself.  

Anyway. When you’re riding him it means that you’re doing most of the work. And if you’re doing most of the work then he doesn’t need to worry about you snatching at his shoulders, or cupping your arms around his neck, fingers dipping into his spiky hair. Your lips lowering, temptingly toward his own– 

nope.

There’s less risk this way. 

Besides, what happens if you jerk out a staple? Oh, fuck. Can you imagine? If your nails catch under one and just pull.  What would it feel like? Would it bring up a heady mixture of pleasure and pain that races through him? Making his cock throb and twitch, swelling with his want. Will his blood fall hot against your skin, that endless flame that sits within him smoking against you until you scream...

No.

Don’t do it.

Well, maybe just this once. Only once! Don’t think it’s gonna be a regular thing. 

Ahem. Another position he’d prefer is reverse cowgirl simply because he can do a bit of impact play.

He likes that lick and smack of his mangled hand against your curves. How you tighten over him, your cunt practically strangling his pulsing cock, making him leak another few beads of scalding precum within you. Yeah, you’ll shake if it does it in the same place twice and that’s just fucking perfect, ya’ know?  

If he’s in a pinch, in a rush between his missions, or waiting for his next rendezvous with the doctor, he’ll do what’s needed but he’d rather have you bent over something. 

The way your legs jut, how your ass presents itself to him, like an offering, your feet straining, hands plastered forward, snatching at whatever grip you can find, cunt blisteringly hot as it takes his straining length, over and over. Oooh, he likes this, he likes this so much he can’t think.

It hits the curve of his dick a little better when you’re half bent like this and he likes grabbing at your fleshiest parts, fingertips leaving bruises and cuts, marks that will stay with you until he returns. 

Hawks

For Hawks, I’d say he’s very, very sensitive. 

Part of it’s his wings & part of it is the fact that he simply doesn’t have the time to fuck much. 

So he’s gonna like to have you pressed into the mattress, wall, table, floor, whatever, ASAP. 

He’ll slow down once he’s gotten you stripped down. After all, he does like to look at you, to admire how pliant and spread you are, pussy glistening and your head turned toward him, a distant plea fading from your lips. 

Plus, when he’s fucking you from behind it’s easier for his wings stretch out behind him. 

He likes to fold them inward, against his back, when you go quiet, each feather feeling for your heartbeat, and when you’re loud, ahh, he likes to flap them. They gather up the sounds and ooze them all over the two of you, each wing beat whisking the vibrations forward and back, letting him soak up every moan and whine. That shit makes his legs shake and his pupils hone into a narrow slit, perfectly alert, and so, so hungry, ready for more and more and more. He wants you both to be a shivering heap of limbs and wings when he’s finished with you.

Speaking of, Hawks is a goddamn master at making you cum. Like, can have you so worked up that you’re doing it on his command. 

Once again, it helps that his wings can assist with this: they can feel out your pulse and sense tiny shifts in your breathing. But don’t think that’s all it is, after all, he’s also turned studying things into an art form. 

He’s memorized each shift that your face makes, how your eyes widen and then dampen, the way your nose scrunches and the sound your hands make when they scratch down the sheets. It’s all been filed away, slipped into some internal file that he can lift out with practiced ease. And fuck, does it makes him so hard, knowing that he can make you a gooey mess in seconds. 

Fully takes advantage of his feathers. He’s confident in his mastery of them and the tactile and sensory additions that they add to his game. 

Oh? You’re in an awkward position and he can’t touch you the way he wants? 

No worries, he can just send a smaller feather your way and have it frig and tweak your clit for him. 

I’d say his favorite position is to have one of your legs slung over his shoulders. 

It lets him pound into you just the way he likes, and, if he wants to switch up the tempo, he can feel how much it’s affecting you each time your thighs twitch. He also likes that he can kiss at your feet when he’s got you this way and your huffing laughs and half hearted squirms as he ruts into your slick pussy always, always make him smile. 

k, love you guys, bye.

[aliteama]

hey can i ask for geto x reader in a n au where geto didnt well- turned evil?? maybe geto also become a teacher at jujutsu high??

✧Fic✧

Geto Suguru

✧ A/N: This is a little all over the place, sorry about that o(><；)oo

✧ Sinking into the warmth that laid in your bed you pulled Geto closer to you, your cheek resting against the crown of his head. Dark hair sprawled across the soft pillows and eyes shut with a steady exhale, his chest rising and falling in time to match your breathing. Warmth leaking past the white curtains that tangled in the wind, you must’ve forgotten to close the windows last night. Hauling the puffy blanket further up to cover your shaking arms you watched his open mouth disappear under the sea of fabric.

Tucking his chin under the sheet you let your eyes rest shut. Sleeping in a little more wouldn’t hurt. A loud pang at your door made your eyes roll and an annoyed groan leave your lips as you cursed your early-riser students “Sensei!” apparently sleeping in would hurt. 

Tossing the blanket aside you already anticipated crawling back into bed at the end of the day. Fishing through drawers you found an old worn bear resting near the bottom of the dresser, “What did I tell Mimiko about leaving her things here..” tugging at your hair you picked up the beloved doll and tossed it onto the bed.

Those girls were like your children, they never cease to bring a smile to your face and make your head throb at the same time. The memory remains fresh in your mind, going on a village mission with Geto back in high school only to return with two small figures in your arms. You’ll never forget the look of shock on those stupid village folks’ faces when Geto threatened to burn it all down for doing such horrible things to children.

Watching them grow into such strong sorceress made you feel domestic in a sense, especially on the rare occasions when they’d slip up and address you and Geto as their parents. Fiddling with the buttons of your uniform you dressed appropriately in that plain dark color everyone wore. Glancing at the clock you made the executive decision of allowing your lover a little more time to rest while you deal with the children banging at your door.

Tossing the door open you saw Maki’s fist about to bang once more before she lowered it with sweat pooling at her temple, “A-ah Sensei! We didn’t know you were still asleep..” a sheepish smile graced her normally stoic features as she rubbed at the back of her neck.

Taking a quick head count in your mind you watched them line up in order. Panda, Inumaki, Maki, Nanako, Mimiko. Giving a soft pat to Makis shoulder you closed the door behind you and pushed a finger to your lips, “Geto-Sensei is going to sleep in today so let’s be quiet.”

Nodding their heads and following behind you to the track you waved at the three first years who sat on the stairs with exasperated expressions.

“Where’s Sato?”

Fushiguro was the first to speak up as he jumped into the group of kids behind you “He’s late. As per usual” 

“Well, no harm in having you three join us today! It evens out the teams anyways”

Ushering the swarm of students to run laps you sent repetitive text after text to Gojo, “I heard he’s on a mission” craning your neck you saw Geto make his way towards you with tired eyes.

Pressing his face into the crook of your neck he kissed at the soft skin while his arms rested around your middle to keep you close, “Mimiko left her doll in the room. Did you grab it?” tightening his grip around your waist you assumed that meant he forgot to get it. 

“I have it” heels clicked as Shoko descended down the stairs with the rope-hung bear under her arm, “I went to look for you guys this morning but this bear was all that was left. I thought it looked familiar”

“Well well well! This brings back memories” 

“Ah I see you finally decided to show up”

You and Shoko smiled at each other as Gojo and Geto spoke casually, it really did bring back memories. Playing hooky to go on dates and having her cover for you while Gojo ratted you out. Apologizing to Yaga while Geto took the blame. It felt like just yesterday when the four of you were sitting in the empty classroom, playing games and eating tooth-rotting snacks.

“Mimi c’mere!” calling over the more timid girl, she ran into your arms while Geto ruffled her hair from behind you “You left something in our room”

“Your room..? Ah! My doll!” 

“Here ya’ go kid” tossing the matted bear in her direction Shoko smiled at the relief washing over Mimiko’s face.

“Thank you Shoko!”

Waving her off Shoko bid everyone farewell before making her way back to the infirmary to finish sorting through files, taking the occasional sip from whichever bottle of alcohol remained on her desk.

“She’s like your kid, Nanako too”

“A kid huh?” 

Giving Gojo a peculiar look he shooed him off “Go train your students for once Satoru”

“So mean!”

Pulling your body flush against his Geto pressed his cheek to yours with a sly smile on his handsome features “Thank you for letting me sleep in my love”

“I planned on staying in too but you know how eager they are to train” staring ahead you watched Panda flip Nobara over his shoulder before rushing over to do the same to Itadori.

“We should take an off-day tomorrow, go somewhere nice”

“And leave the second years with Gojo? I’m not so sure”

“They can handle themselves” spinning you around in his hold and tilting your chin up he connected your warm lips to his “I assure you they’ll be fine”

“Maybe another kiss will convince me”

[mypersonmyg]

The Misery Chick | MYG

thank you to my favorite @kimtaehyunq for the wonderful banner, ily you talented cutie <3

pairing: Yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, a lil tiny bit of angst, college au

wc: 5.2k (issa short one)

warnings: language

summary: maybe yoongi has a fat crush on you OR he notices, that’s all

a/n: happy birthday to the one and only min yoongi! i am so so fond of him and i couldn’t not write something for him, so I hope you enjoy :D and as always feel free to send in drabble requests for the fic and blah blah blah...

honorary tag: @gukssunshine​

masterlist

To wonder about the quickened stride of the beating appendage in Yoongi’s chest, would be to question the routine catch of gaze to the lone figure at the far end of the classroom, dwarfed by cuddled fabric, consumed with the rapid turn of the lengthy page. His arm rests atop the desk’s surface, supporting the chin that minutely dips with your every flicker of expression, the parting of your lips in gasp mimed by his own. His eyes are glazed under bright light, lids threatening to blink, the passage of time too fast, but oh so slow. 

Yoongi’s knowledge is second hand, rumblings of your demeanor spread through the vine of dialogue that floats coincidentally through his ears to connect with the edges of his brain, chewed and regurgitated without second thought. He holds his refusal to high regard, refusal to believe that you’re nothing more than a student, disgruntled by circumstance. It’s not simple attraction that guides his mind to the eye of logic, the region of reason, though it was the peak of initial interest.

He notices, and that’s all. 

He notices the round of your puffed cheeks that follows a particularly surprising piece of narrative. He notices the seat left empty between you and the wall, open but not a forced invitation, and he notices the way your posture straightens when someone grazes a hair too close. He notices the deflation of your shoulders when you’re left without pair during lessons framed with the inopportunity of interaction forced to simulate the false reality of reality itself. He notices the things others are blind to in their half squint, though the picture is still blurred like the edges of a polaroid. 

The numbness of his wrist, angled by the rest of his chin, draws him from captivation despite motivation to outlast the congregation huddle before you, their fronts focused toward him, his view obscured by obligation of association. His lips form the curvature of amiability necessary for pleasantry, neck craning to the defense of blue jeans offending his locked gaze.

“Can you stop staring so hard? She’s gonna eat you alive,” Hoseok’s finger nudges at the round of Yoongi’s jaw, urging his attention completely away from his person of interest. 

“Fuck off, you don’t even know her.” 

“Neither do you, despite your dedication to staring holes into her side every chance you get. They don’t call her ‘the misery chick’ for nothing, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile.” The jab rubs the wrong direction, Yoongi’s hand landing with a thud to the thick of Hoseok’s skull. “Come on, it’s a joke.”

“Maybe to you, and to everyone else, but she is a person. You guys just don’t look beyond what you wanna see because then she’s more than just a good laugh.” Every utterance of the moniker draws is lips to a downward twitch, fists balling in the pocket of his hoodie or scraping at the fabric of stressed jeans. It’s knowing that if he’s heard it you have ten fold, the thought harboring the wish that he could fold you inward, close to the beat of his chest to shield from the displeasure of words half baked with stupidity and the ignorance of hilarity. 

“Well not everyone wants to see her between the sheets.”

Interruption of the education saves Hoseok from the verbal spar pending within the fire engulfing Yoongi’s pupils. A place of love harbors the words of war, he knows this, knows that Hoseok’s plan is to rile to the point of action, but he’s driven to the brink of insanity by twisted words of encouragement. The kindest person on the planet playing into the stereo of broken records hurled toward the edges of your delicate framing, . 

Yoongi’s hands curl around his pen, ballpoint and already dancing the page, jotting words flown from one canal to the other and back to the atmospheric toxins of brains shorting caffeine. His sleeves are suddenly burning, neck itching with the heat of nerves crawling outward from within the confines of his collar. He glances toward Hoseok staring absently at Yoongi’s decorative scrawl, raising a brow to colliding gazes.

“Is it hot?” Yoongi puckers in mumble, swiping at the skin kissing the fringe sweeping his eyeline. Hoseok’s head careens in the negative, averting gaze to the front of the room, professor droning about the coming assignment, a project that Yoongi barely catches wind of. 

The plague responsible for his discomfort of familiarity is comfort enough to stop the distant tremble of shoulders keen to the stare that meets his eyes from the room’s opposing side. He jolts, or rather the calm of his heart picks back to pace, when his eyes meet irises reflective of his own.  They’re gone as soon as he finds them, but he’s confident that the cool of his neck is confirmation that sanity isn’t all lost. 

“Dude, could you take your notes? I’m gonna need those later,” Hoseok nudges at his forearm, limp from distraction. Yoongi hurries to scribble missed lecture, patient for a lull in speech to make room for declaration. 

“She was looking at me.” 

“What?” 

“Y/n, she was looking at me. I saw her...I felt her.” 

“Maybe she was just staring off into space because this class is a snooze-fest.” Hoseok speaks through the timing of yawn, perfectly punctuating his point. “She probably doesn’t even know you exist. Though, I guess everyone knows you exist, so maybe she just doesn’t care.” 

The words aren’t false, Yoongi’s following his beyond the definition of quaint, his celebrity following him from the rush of the court to the thrill of the keys. He’s hard pressed for a moment of peace, but he often finds it here, lost in you. 

“I’m serious.”

Yoongi sighs an audible defeat, Hoseok’s dropped lids and the rest of his chin atop folded arms a clear sign that his mind is beyond the classroom and beyond Yoongi’s own romantic woes. The end of the lecture appears miles from the start, the wave of dismissal a spell releasing its hold on the shackles chaining the  ghoulish appearance of sleepless students. 

Yoongi has worked himself to the brink of decision by the end of the lecture, sure enough that his stride to your desk will prove a build in the shy tint of his cheeks when he musters a faint ‘hello’. The pan of his half thought out plan doesn’t sort as well as he hoped, the rush of legs scurrying for the door tripping him up in his rush to the chair where you patiently filed notebook to bag. 

His vision is blurred by the passage of sweaters and hoodies, emblems emblazoned on sleeves and beanies sagging from the tips of bedhead. Hoseok follows after his stride in a confused wake from the desk that housed his sleepy head for the last seventy minutes, stumbling along with the drag of feet on tile. 

When destination is met, your chair is neatly housed, your figure nowhere to be found, Yoongi paces back, his sizable sneaker just scuffing the metal recline of an adjacent chair. 

“What are you doing?” Hoseok clutches the muscled fabric of Yoongi’s shoulder, stopping near disaster following the weighted displacement of the two. 

“Nothing, let's get lunch.”

The passage of days are a haze in the midst of the craze of midterms and Yoongi’s attempt to find reason to believe your glance was more than a passing innocence. The press of his back to his mattress, sheets freshly laundered, linens, scented of the artificial makings of fresh lilac courtesy of Jeongguk, are used to his mid-day collapse for a pre-study snooze. He’s swallowed whole beneath the dense of his comforter, fingers curling into the soft material, lips emitting a sigh of satisfaction. 

The buds in his ears are a dull hum, white noise to saturate the crevices of his brain still vibrating from the surge of knowledge consumed at the twice rapid pace of the semester’s schedule. His lids are aflutter, pupils rolling to the dark precipice, the unconscious already tugging at the bits of his subconscious manifested to snooze.  

The muscles of his pillowy cheeks fight upward against the smush to the firm cushioning of his mattress, arms cuddled around the decorative cushion of deep blue. A pitched giggle echoes in the receptors of his brain, bouncing against the walls, a comforting sound. It’s foreign though, the melodic stutter, yet it engulfs his chest with the warmth of affection, his stomach turning with nerves of the giddy sort. 

He teeters on the edge of more, features dancing between streams, a waterfall blur. Yoongi aches for the reach, his physical and metaphorical being extending from the depths of his full size bed, yearning for the exploration of the four walls and beyond. He can swear his fingers graze the soft of skin, the trace of lip curved in sensuality just visible through sleepy haze. The giggles grow in volume, almost as if guided toward his hasty reach. 

“Jeongguk, shut up!” Yoongi falls forward, just catching onto the ledge of his dresser, quick reflexes doing wonders for his physical well being, but the skip in his mental and the stop of his heart are undeniable. 

He's heard the voice a handful of times, an arm eagerly shooting to respond to a professor’s quarry, the hidden mumblings that he swears he’s the only one to pick up on, his smirk almost never enough to stop impending chuckle.

It’s you. 

He knows, but can’t quite grasp that just beyond the barrier of belief, past the door sealed to keep from disturbance you’re somewhere laughing with Jeongguk. He listens for a moment, unmoving, to attempt a deciphering of your intentions, but laughter has turned to the inaudible mumblings from the room across the hall.  He’s silent in his trek to the door, pulling it on rusted hinges, cringing with every scrape of copper and wood. 

He slips down the hall on tiptoe, unsure if you’re attune to the other members of the house, but not ready to face you if Jeongguk’s door swings back to reveal the occupants of the small cubical. Yoongi makes way to the kitchen, surprised to find the rest of his roommates crowded into the sizable space, each occupied with their own endeavor of strewn textbooks and half frozen toaster strudel. 

“Well well look who’s awake,” Jimin sneers playfully in Yoongi’s direction, drawing attention from the rest of the room. 

“Bet I can guess why,” Taehyung snickers, glances exchanged with a conspiratorial air, the shift of Yoongi’s feet not unnoticed by his personal tormentors. “We told Jeongguk he might wanna keep it down, we know how you like your rest.” 

“Jeongguk didn’t wake me,” Not the correct turn of phrase, realized just moments late, the flicker of pupils raising with the feigned ah ha! Yoongi side steps them all, settling on the sphere of orange grabbing his interest from the bowl on the table, plopping into the nearest chair. 

“Oh he didn’t? Well what other reason could you possibly have to forgo your pre-study nap, hmmm?” Jin pokes at the slightly greened peel of Yoongi’s fruit, hand smacked away with haste. He withdraws to card through his hair, lengthening by the day, framing his face with more beauty than should be allowed by the ethereal senior. 

“I was hungry, s’all.” He tosses scraps with each peel of fruitful flesh, eagerly sliding bits of tangerine past his puckered lips. Anything to keep his mind from the fresh dose of giggles eating at his brain like a love bitten parasite. “Who—umm, who does Jeongguk have over.” 

“Oh, Kookie has a friend over? We had no idea,” Namjoon hums, glasses perched to the bridge of his nose, arms eaten by the sleeves of his hoodie. 

“Maybe you recognize their voice? I mean, you’re the only one close enough to hear it.” Hoseok’s grin is shit eating, half hidden behind the length of his hand, fingers curling in position at the tip of his chin. 

“Oh, oh! I think I recall him saying something about a...Y/—hmmm was it…” Taehyung fakes stumbles over the name, tips of his fingers tracing the glass of his crumbed plate. 

“Y/n.” Yoongi speaks through teeth clenched, his cheeks rosy from snatched sleep and the scrutiny he’s placed himself under, the heat of a lamp concentrated in the five pairs of eyes trained on his every movement for their amusement. 

“So you do know her, why don’t you go say hi?” Jin pats him with vigour, the sound of an echoed frame permeating the air of what Yoongi has affectionately titled, friendly toxicity. Those same muffled voices grow with the trek down the stairs, threatening to give way with each step. Yoongi lifts his eyes from his half eaten fruit for the first time since he sat down, daring them to say a word out of turn with a single look. 

“It’s pretty quiet considering seven guys live here,” Your voice is audible from the front door, Yoongi’s grip tightening, juice spilling down the crevices of his hand, soiling his shirt sleeve, palms already sticky from the stress. “I have one roommate and, as you’ve seen, she can be loud enough for the both of us.” 

“I’m just as surprised as you are actually. I know Yoongi is probably asleep,” Yoongi sinks into his chair, knowing glances threatening to drop him straight through the wooden surface. “The rest are probably out.” 

“Yoongi?” Your voice strays a bit, Yoongi’s lip twitching, unsure what to think of the sudden strain in pitch. 

“Yeah, do you know him?” 

“Oh, um...kinda? Not really, we share a class together, but we’ve never talked. I’m pretty sure he’d think he’s too cool for me anyways. You know, ‘misery chick’ and all.” Yoongi levels a stare at Hoseok whose arms lift in readied defense, though his own face conjures frown at your words. Your attention clearly never spotting the longing with which he’s leveled you for the past few months. 

“You’re not the ‘misery chick’,” Jeongguk’s voice holds firm reassurance, something Yoongi wishes he could give you, but he’s glued, too curious for the thought of impromptu interruption. “People are just jerks. Besides, Yoongi-hyung isn’t like that at all. He likes to pretend he doesn’t know how cool people think he is.” 

“Guess I’ll just have to take your word for it. I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Koo.” 

The door closes, Jeongguk just as soon rounding into the kitchen, tracks dead when there are six pairs of eyes trained on his figure. “Wha—have you all been here the whole time?” 

He only takes pause momentarily, his stride leading to the fridge, a juice box of all things pulled from metal confines. The naked eye would never guess the soft interior of Jeongguk, his features contrasting with the boots swallowing his feet and the tattoos eating his arm, tracing his digits. But he’s the walking embodiment of the careful youth painting each man posted in the room, a piece of him nursed by a piece of them with each day passing. 

“Yeah, we’re just hangin’ around, Jeonggukie.” Hoseok shrugs, ruffling the base of Jeongguk’s wild curls. 

“Well you’re doing it pretty quietly, Y/n thought it was weird.” 

“Are you guys dating?” Jimin’s question is thrown with abandon, eyes trained on Jeongguk with absolute focus, Yoongi sending a glare toward the silver haired fiend. 

“No.” Jeongguk pays little mind to the question, too busy squeezing every last drop from the box clutched in his fist, doe eyes glistening with concentration. “We met last semester in lit and she’s really cool so we started hanging out. You guys should meet her sometime, she doesn’t have a lot of friends because of this dumb rumor that she’s ‘the misery chick’ which is ridiculous because she’s one of the nicest people I’ve met here.” 

“Yeah, you can bring her over any time.” Namjoon encourages, book lowered to the table, face scrunching in mental agony when he realizes the corner of his novel is soaked with the spill of orange juice. 

“She said she knows you from class Yoongi, but she doesn’t think you’d like her. I think you would though! Maybe you should try to talk to her next class.” 

“Yeah,” Yoongi readily agrees, new found vigor in his speech. “Maybe…” 

Over the next several weeks, Yoongi is sure that coincidence isn’t what found his stare locked to yours, Jeongguk’s overheard conversation clearly leaving your interest peaked about Yoongi who was forced to make his own gazes less frequent for fear of being caught. His first sighting after he floated the walls of his home like a ghost in haunt was next lecture. 

The nerves that ate at his skin the first instance of your curious scan was turned bearable by the itching of excitement to his every nerve, skin alight with the tango of possibility traversing his very being. His attention was wayward, standing at the head of the class, scooping the pages required for lecture from the overflowing desk, a minute ‘excuse me’ cutting through the thick of his cogged brain. 

“Yes?” Was his response, regurgitated dumbly despite the forming line waiting for him to budge to his waiting seat. 

“Uh...could I get by...papers.” He smiles, unintentional, but the effect is the duck of your head, refusal to meet his eyes under such a heated gaze. He’s left to stare a moment longer before the snag of his sleeve, Hoseok forcing him away, calming the mob of students too impatient to momentarily still for the fruition of his romantic interest. 

Lately, your exit from class seems somehow quicker than usual, the practiced haste too much for him to master, another obstacle to his formal introduction. Though it seems your professor can read the tension that hovers the expanse of the classroom, a thread itching to be linked by two lovers, one unknowing of the delicate pull she has on her soul suitor. 

“Okay!” The professor stands at the front of the room, barely holding the attention of the class, barely holding Yoongi’s attention until he speaks once more. “Instead of a formal midterm, I want you all to complete a joint essay, yes you heard me correctly! I want you to pair up and write an essay on the topic of your choosing—as long as that topic is related to the course.” 

Yoongi perks up, ignoring the telltale that Hoseok hopes to grab him as soon as the class is dismissed because Yoongi has a plan of his own. 

“Of course I won’t force you to choose a partner, I know some of you prefer to work alone. But no more than two people to a group. Now I can see that you’re all on the edge of your seats, but I’m feeling generous today, so you’re dismissed, but your pages are due on my desk beginning of class Monday!” The final words of the professor send the class into frenzy, those who were paying attention quick to grab hold of their half and those who weren’t suddenly catching up and scrambling for someone who’ll make do.

“Hey, we’re partners, right?” Hoseok looks at Yoongi hopeful, but Yoongi already has his sights set on you, watching everyone link up, resigned to working solo. 

“Nah, I’ve got another partner in mind if that’s okay with you.” Hoseok catches the drift rather quickly, wide smile forgoing slight disappointment at his loss of the sure A on his midterm. 

“Go for it,” Hoseok gives a light shove forward, much appreciated by Yoongi whose heart threatens to burst from his chest, sure that the nerves are painted on his face like a slice of Van Gogh. He’s just in time, your hands shoved into your pockets, ready to leave the suffocation of a space smothered in unwelcome. 

“Hey.” Yoongi can see the uncertainty, your eyes glancing to either side to ensure that he is certainly addressing you. 

“Hey…” 

“So, this midterm thing is kinda weird, right?” He can already see the snicker on Hoseok’s face, though his friend is posted at the door opposite him. Your own lips quirk, his only thought of coherency aimed at how cute the action is. You rock on your heels, he notes your style isn’t far off from the bones of Jeongguk, hoodie black and heavy boots ready to stomp through endless waves of the nauseating sea of university. 

“Yeah...I guess it’s a little unconventional. But great for people who get test anxiety,” You humor him, hands withdrawing from jeaned confines to gesture wildly to the room void of anyone but the three remaining vessels, two of which are engaged in unlikely exchange. “Did you need something?” 

“Huh?” 

“Sorry! I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a class to get to and I have a thing about being late. I figure there’s a reason you’re talking to me seeing as we’ve never actually talked before…” You catch yourself in ramble, tripping over phrases whilst Yoongi watches without missing a beat. 

He’s incredibly taken with the way the words flow without pretense, a nice change to the closed off demeanor people falsely associate with you. He would listen for a lifetime to the things you have to say, hopefully with the clasp of finger and longing glances. Your intent is nonsense, nerves eating away at the buds of your tongue. To him it’s a poetry specially curated, a tickle to his throat bringing forth the soft laughter that halts your speech. 

“I’m sorry, you go ahead I’m just...nervous.” 

“No no, don’t apologize, I like listening to you,” He coos when you smile, quick to recover before your eyes, wide and attentive find his own once more, now notably softer, safer. “I love your smile too…” 

“You’re not so bad yourself…” Soft spoken and not altogether sure is the way you speak, your class long forgotten, a blip in rear view shadowed by the shining beacon before you. “So…?”

“Right, right...I was just wondering if you’d maybe wanna work together?” Despite compliments and hinted flirtation you’re taken aback by the offer, your eyes skirting Yoongi completely, raising question to the figure station by the exit. Hoseok offers you a smile you can’t help but return his thumbs raising in the affirmative. 

“He’s all yours,” Hoseok assures, taking his leave prematurely, Yoongi still waiting for confirmation. 

“No pressure, just thought I’d ask. I think we’d work well together,” And I wanna know you, he withholds for fear of frightening you more so than the sudden acknowledgement already has.

“Well I don’t know about that, but yeah I’d love to if you’re sure.” 

“I’m positive. Wanna meet at my place after school?” 

“Sounds good.” You pull your phone swiping at the screen before passing it over. “Just text me when you’re free.” 

“I’ll text the address,” He knows it’s unnecessary, just taking precautions to shield from the admission of his eavesdrop the last time you occupied the residence. You wait until you’re once again clutching the spherical confines of your devices, checking and double checking that all digits are present, not unfamiliar with the harsh reality of falsehood buried beneath genuine interest.

“Oh, I actually know where you live. My friend Jeongguk is one of your roommates, so I know my way.” 

“Well I’m sorry we’ve missed each other, that it took me so long to say hello.” Yoongi’s legs lead him half a step closer, an accidentally purposeful close of the gap between, your eyes avoid the bottom half of his face, focusing instead on the bill of his cap and the dark hair tickling the edges. 

“Guess you’ll just have to make up for it somehow.” 

“Guess I will.” 

Your visits to Yoongi are routine over the next week, the laughter filling the hectic halls caused by him rather than his roommates. He’s seen more of you in a week than he could’ve hoped in a lifetime, even more confused about the way you’ve been outcast by a majority of your major. He’s awed by your lack of reaction to the judgement of peers, often citing it as a joke, sarcasm lacing the words. 

It’s the day before assignment is due, you’re perched at Yoongi’s desk, he’s laying on his bed, tossing his basketball in mock free throw simultaneously with his toss of ideas while your fingers type vigorously in final draft. 

This particular evening leaves you alone with Yoongi, the other members of the house trying and failing to convince you to join for their weekly outing to the nearest bar where they would no doubt drink their weight to poorly prepare for the week to come. Yoongi was swift to opt out, much preferring your company to the stench of stale beer and jokes poorly executed by Jin after he downs his fifth shot. 

You were insistent that he let you handle the rest of the paper, just pages standing between you and your final product, but he’s too fond of the way your post-its decorate the shelf over his desk, different colored notes for every paragraph, the ink of your pens highlighting each point in magenta saturation. He’s obsessed with the way you hunch to close to the pages of your textbook while scolding him for getting too close to the screen of his laptop in the next breath. 

He can’t help the thought of what could be, close calls and a hair’s breadth stepping between you all week. It’s the price of seven roommates and a lock loosened with the jiggle of a handle. The hesitancy that still fills your pupils despite the easy way his words lace with genuine interest. 

Yoongi remembered what it was like to notice, deciding that it’s much better to experience you. The moment is delicate, your soft suggestions and argumentative replies tossed with a hint of tease lacing the bite of your tone. He doesn’t try to hide the smile that breaks the mold of his face, lips dampened by the press of gums prominent from healthy reach. 

“Can I ask you a question?” He raises, your fingers slowing against the keyboard, chair swiveling to offer full attention. “Does it bother you...the whole ‘misery chick’ thing?” 

He’s not sure what possesses it, but he is sure that knowing will make things easier, break a barrier that to him doesn’t exist. He knows your breath is baited, knows you’ve been waiting for the pull of the rug, so he offers a tug, a comforting teasing sort of thing to ease your mind and close the gap of misunderstanding that he could never blame you for. 

“Can I ask you a question? Do you believe the whole ‘misery chick’ thing?” You counter, scooting along hardwood until your knees are pressed to his mattress, sinking into the cushioned flesh as far as it allows. Your stare is careful, not expectant of the negative or offended by the positive. “It’s okay if you do, just don’t lie about it.” 

There's a sadness in your delivery and Yoongi notes it immediately. Your attempt to hide the twitch of your lip and the anxious fold of your hands in your lap don’t escape him. Your tone is even, your eyes much the same and he wonders how anyone could ever believe it, he’s grateful that he never did. 

“Not for a second.” He responds almost immediately, waiting for any lingering doubt on your end. It never comes.

“Good.” Is your reply, just as even as the question itself. Your shoulders relax, posture not as stiff as before. “It does bother me, not as much as it used to, but it does. It bothers me that they don’t like that I’m not like them. I don’t mean that in the whole ‘I’m not like other girls’ way, but I’m just not Cathy college, you know? I don’t get excited about parties and drinking, I don’t need to go out all the time to have fun, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you if you do, but I don’t and because I’m not like everyone else I have to be ‘the misery chick’.

He’s sure you don’t realize it, but Yoongi see’s the build of tears in your eyes, unshed but there and it breaks him. Breaks him that something so trivial could be the defining factor of someone’s experience, that you can hide it so well at the cost of your own happiness.

“I mean, it’s college, you’d think that people have better things to do than come up with reasons to ridicule someone, but I guess I have too much faith.” You finish, glancing up to find Yoongi all ears, lips etched in frown. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for all of that.” 

“People suck.” Is all he says, hand extending toward you, inviting you to join him on his island, silent but sure. You crawl the length of the mattress, your back pressing the headboard, fingers laced with his own, warm and sweaty from nerves, yours or his neither of you are sure. 

“People do suck.” 

“I know what’ll make you feel better.” He offers, thumb running along the jagged edges of your knuckle, skin kissing skin. You lift your head, half leaning on his shoulder so your eyes meet, a reflection of picture perfect, a record in perfect sync. 

“Yeah?” 

“You should go out with me.” Yoongi doesn’t expect a snort, but the response is exactly what he receives your head averting to conceal your laughter, hands shielding your face from the expanse of an ego deflated by the graze of your accidental needle. “Why are you laughing?” 

“No I’m not—I just—you’ve been looking at me like I’m completely insane all semester! I didn’t think you liked me, I thought you were looking right through me...I kinda thought you were just coming to class high every day.” 

“I don’t even smoke, those were not the eyes of a stoner, they were the eyes of a man who’s very fond of you.” Yoongi defends his position, his usually dormant stare now bugged to exaggeration, unavailable for serious consideration. 

“My mistake, though I don’t know whether to be weirded out or completely flattered.” 

“You better be so flattered that I can see hearts in your eyes because you were pretty quick to agree to be my partner for this project!” Yoongi keeps the charade, glad to lighten the tension and draw from the heaviness of the previous conversation. It’s not a chapter that’s closed, but the beginning is the build and he’s planning an entire novel with you, so he figures his time isn’t limited by the tick of a clock nearing the midnight hour. 

“I heard I’ve got a sure ‘A’  and I’d be an idiot to pass that up.” 

“You could get a passing grade in your sleep, you can’t fool me. But you can go on a date with me.”

“So you, cool guy Min Yoongi, want to go on a date with me, ‘the misery chick’?” You gasp, hand clutched to your chest, Yoongi’s hand catching hold and bringing it to his own, to the beat of his heart, the bass begging for a melody that only you can satisfy. 

“More than anything.” 

“Well when you put it that way I have no choice but to say yes, but to be clear, I’ve definitely seen you looking at Hoseok with that same look in your eyes so you might wanna sort some stuff out first—”

[13uswntimagines]

Pranksters of the Bunch (Harry Potter AU)

Y/n is just starting to get comfortable with her new friends, when she learns about their more... playful side. We learn about more relationships and see hints of our endgame. We also get a glimpse of some other players that make up the rest of our version of Hogwarts. @literaryhedgehog

Pt. 1

“For next class, homework is to practice your transfiguration. Anyone who can get their matchstick into a needle is exempt from writing their essay. You are dismissed,” Professor McGonagall said, tapping her wand on the blackboard so the notes from the day’s lesson disappeared. As the other students began filing out of the room you picked up your bag and dropped your notes into it, careful to set your “quill” gently so the bic ballpoint pen you taped to it wouldn’t fall off.

“If you epoximose it, you won’t have to worry about it falling off” Lindsey said with an eye roll, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Some of your habits were a bit… odd. Like your preference for a pen that you didn’t have to dip in ink. 

“I’m sorry, if I what?” you asked. “That sounds like a sneeze.” 

“It’s a spell that’ll glue it so you don’t need to use spell-o-tape,” Kelley said, appearing on your other side as Professor McGonagall left the room.  

“I can teach you, if you like. It’s super simple, even a first year could do it,” Emily offered, ignoring Lindsey’s sideways glare. 

“Then why don’t they teach it to us as first years?” You said, slamming your chair under the desk. Not that you disliked any of your classes, but the curriculum seemed to leave out a lot of useful information. 

“Because they’re afraid that it’ll just help students do better pranks,” Lindsey huffed, crossing her arms. If anyone was going to teach you things, it should be her. 

“No they’re not,” Ashlyn said, rolling her eyes. “They teach tricky techniques that are applicable to multiple spells. It’s like quidditch drills.” 

“Cause it’s so much less challenging than fighting a boggart, or accioing anything. If you mess it up, then you could glue your fingers together,” Emily snorted, shaking her head. She was just lucky that Madam Pomfrey liked her enough to not rat her out to Professor Slughorn (not that he’d actually do anything) or Professor Longbottom. 

“Or accidentally drop a banner on the Huffelpuffs?” Ashlyn said with a raised eyebrow. Emily and Kelley seemed to shrink just a bit under her gaze. 

“That was you?” You asked, eyes wide. That banner had almost knocked Cheney off her broom and Amy was pissed. Rumor had it that the Slytherin captain had taken care of the incident because it was someone in her house that did it, but no one knew for sure (at least you thought no one knew). 

“You can’t prove anything,” Emily grumbled. 

“It was them,” Lindsey nodded, smirking at you. “and Arod made sure they not only apologized, but that they actually meant it. Kelley only got away unscathed because she hid in Gryffindor tower,”  

Those two always got themselves in over their heads and something always went wrong. You could only wonder what the Slytherin chaser did to them. Amy was terrifying when she wanted to be especially when you messed with her girlfriend. 

“Of course I meant it, the banner wasn’t supposed to fall,” Emily grumbled. “The charm was supposed to last the whole game. Anyway, she made me practice the sticking charm and its reverse a hundred times so it wouldn’t happen again. Not that it matters next year when I’m actually on the team. It’s stupid that they still don’t want second years to play beater.”

“At least this time there won’t be any accidents,” Ashlyn said, smirking as she settled into a chair previously vacated by some of your second year peers. Which was when you realized it was kind of odd that she was here. Wasn’t she a third year student?

“What do you mean?” You asked, your head tilting to the side like a puppy. 

“Wait THIS time?” Lindsey, asked, looking between the three girls settling down at the desks like it wasn’t the end of the day’s classes. “Don’t tell me you’re planning another prank right now?”

“Of course not!” Kelley said, looking aghast. 

“You haven’t left the room yet,” Emily said, adopting a similarly innocent, wide eyed expression. 

“They’re going to be dumbasses and probably get detention for a month aren’t they?” You asked, looking at Lindsey for help. Though you had know been hanging out with them for the past few weeks, they were still her friends after all. 

“Oh. I don’t want detention though,” Ashlyn said flipping through a spellbook absentmindedly. “And it will be rather hard to prove we have anything to do with an event which might or might not happen in the next few days.”

“Just a word of advice, though. If you’re going to take a shower today, do it in the next two hours and don’t take one tomorrow morning,” Emily said finally, eyes softening just a little at your too nervous expression. 

“You don’t think they’re going to test your wands to see if it was you?” Lindsey asked skeptically. 

“Priori incantatem only goes so far, especially if I tutor Y/n on how to glue her pens together,” Emily rolled her eyes, and shrugged. She would argue she was just being a good friend after all. 

“With the kind of prep work we’ve done, they’d have to go back, oh, at least three days before they saw any hint that we’ve done a spell related to the event, which again, might or might not start in,” Kelley checked her watch, the face of which glowed a soft yellow, “two hours and five minutes, give or take 20 seconds.”

You wondered if she came from a muggle family too, but you had been too afraid to ask. You had never met a wizard or witch that preferred wristwatches to pocket watches before. 

“In that case, we’ll head back to the Gryffindor dorms,” Lindsey said, hastily sweeping her transfiguration notes into the mouth of her bag. “See you at dinner Kelley, Ashlyn.”

“Want to meet in the library to learn the sticking charm Y/n?” Emily asked. Lindsey stopped in the doorway, waiting for you. “Like I said, I practiced the charm literally a hundred times, so I’m really good at it now!”

“Um, I think I’m just going to focus on turning my matchstick into a needle tonight, but maybe some other time?” You mumbled, glancing up at Lindsey. (Were you imagining the slight uptick of her lips?) 

“Okay,  See you then!” And with that Emily turned back to her compatriots, who all put their heads together and started talking in hushed voices, over a sheet of paper which looked eerily similar to a playbook. 

“What do you think they’re planning?” you whispered to Lindsey as the two of you raced towards the stone staircases up to the Gryffindor tower. There was this one staircase that was the fastest way up when it was connected to the right floor, but it only stayed there for a few minutes every half hour. If you missed the window to catch it there would be two extra flights to climb. 

“You really don’t want to know. Something always goes wrong when they make plans anyway. It’s why they always get caught,” Lindsey said back equally as quiet, shaking her head. She would skin them alive if you got caught in the crossfire. You were on her off limits list (you always had been) and they had always promised to respect that. 

*****

The two of you just made it to the beginning of dinner, after taking turns in the dorm’s bathroom to shower and dry your hair (at least until it wasn’t noticeably dripping). You didn’t know when your next opportunity to take a shower unscathed would be, and you were happy you had made it within Kelley’s two hour window. 

However, despite your expectations of screams, or the sound of frogs appearing from the drains, it was a quiet night. As was the morning afterwards. It wasn’t until lunch the next day, that you learned what the prank had been. Exactly as the clock struck noon, all around the great hall people started laughing as the hair of ¾ the school population turned bright colors. 

Professor McGonagall frowned at her bright purple hair in the reflection of her teapot. Alex threw a roll at Kelley (with neon yellow hair) who was pointing and laughing at her forest green hair. Tobin and Lauren had fallen off the bench laughing over at the hufflepuff table, pointing towards their respective girlfriends matching pink hair at the ravenclaw and Slytherin tables (Tobin’s hair didn’t seem to have changed color, though Lauren’s was a pale aquamarine sort of blue).

 At the Slytherin table Michelle was admiring her jet black hair, though with a wave of her wand it seemed to be speckled with glimmering white and red stars, then she turned to resume her conversation with Joy and some of the other seventh years, who you noticed didn’t seem to have colorful hair. 

Looking around the hall, you noticed that a lot of the older students seemed to be lacking the colorful hair sprouted by most of the student body. A few Ravenclaw sixth years had only looked up briefly from studying their notes to see what the commotion was about, before returning to “The Official N.E.W.T.S. Study Guide- test prep for the procrastinator”. Hope, Brandi, Mia, Briana, Christie, Tiffany, Lorrie, Carla. You looked at the sixth and seventh years you knew from watching quidditch games. Regardless of house, almost none of them appeared to be affected by the prank.. 

“You could have told me, you know?” Alex glared, throwing another roll at her cackling girlfriend. 

“But what fun would that be?” Kelley snorted, dodging the roll and quickly snatching up the basket to remove any further ammunition out of Alex’s reach. 

“Ashlyn told Ali and Emily told Kristie!” Alex whined, her nose scrunching up just the way Kelley always loved. Alex’s angry face was too cute for her to be like or off limits. 

“I value my life too much to mess with her hair care routine,” Ashlyn said, lifting her hands in surrender at Kelley’s death stare. Ali was on her off limits list after all, and that was a line she wasn’t willing to cross. 

“And you’ll notice all three of us were also affected by this terrible prank some stranger pulled!” Kelley said, unable to keep a straight face to match her seemingly offended tone. 

“Though I think I might use my free period after lunch to practice some quidditch drills,” Ashlyn said, twirling a strand of her bright maroon hair around a finger. “I have a feeling that the color will fade after I dump the icy cooler water over my head.” 

“Need someone to send some quaffles your way?” Lindsey asked around a large bite of turkey. She was always down to practice, especially if it meant avoiding the food fight that seemed to be brewing at their table. 

“Wait, ice water?” You asked Kelley as Ashlyn and Lindsey began discussing practice plans. Kelley jumped on the opportunity to escape Alex’s ire. 

“Oh yeah, we- um, whoever pulled this terrible prank- tied the spell to the hot water pipes. It should be safe to take a hot shower by tonight, but basically anyone who used hot water last night or this morning was affected. Cold water removes it though, which is why we quidditch players will discover the counter first, as we are known for taking ice baths after practice.”

“So I have to freeze my ass off to fix this shit!!” Alex screeched, plucking at the strands of green hair falling into her eyes. 

“Come on,” Lindsey said, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards where Brandi was sitting at the front of the Gryffindor table. “Let’s go get the locker room key from Brandi so we can go practice before potions.” 

“Yeah, let’s do that” You mumbled, eyes widening at how Alex was now towering over Kelley. You didn’t know the beater could shrink so far into her chair. 

Brandi, it turned out, was talking with professor McGonagall about the house cup this year. Though no longer head of Gryffindor house, McGonagall was still invested in the team’s progress. 

“Oh, speak of the boggart, here are our two latest recruits,” Brandi said, gesturing at you and Lindsey as you walked toward her. “Professor, Lindsey is our newest chaser and Y/n is one of the best first time seekers Mia has ever seen.”

“Speaking of which,” Lindsey said jumping in, “We were hoping to practice some drills after lunch. Could we borrow the locker room keys?”

You stood just behind her, still a little intimidated by both women. 

“It is good to see some responsibility coming from some of our second year Gryffindors,” Professor McGonagall said, smiling at you- when you peeked out from behind the taller chaser- and Lindsey in turn.  “I do think some of your classmates, and perhaps even some of our third year students could learn a thing or two from you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you smiled meekly and quickly made your way out of the great hall with Lindsey and the acquired keys. “What do you think she meant by that? Do you think she knows who did it?”

“Oh absolutely,” Lindsey said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t take a Seer to predict that they’re going to have detention tomorrow night. Now come on, I want to try that new feint you read about.”  

[vegalocity]

Kiss 9- first kiss for Amnesia Spicynoodles? (Whether as Red Boy and Xiaotian or Red Son and MK, your choice).

Affection meme

9. first kiss

Goddamn i gotta get back on that AU

That's actually a very clever shorthand for the difference between 'the Son of the Monkey King' and 'The Monkie Kid' Anon hope you don't mind me using it!

Also since this is technically the first real THING i'm writing for this Au it got a lil crazy

--

It was.... weird... falling into this rhythm with Red Son.

Even he'd seemed surprised at how quickly he'd agreed to join their team while they were hunting down the weapon that could finally end the Lady Bone Demon. Sure he'd reasoned that he was doing it for the sake of his father, that their family had been taken advantage of by that demon, and this was little more than 'enemy of my enemy' but barely time at all had passed before he may as well have joined simply because he wanted to.

There weren't a lot of bunks on Sandy's Hovership, and at the start of all of this, everyone was so on edge (and in Monkey King's case injured) that it just made more sense to sleep whenever it struck rather than sort out bedroom options and who bunked with whom.

Which had lead to some interesting things so far, such as Monkey King tending to curl up against Tang as he was reading or something and taking a nap right there and how Tang seemed like... wayyy too comfortable with it despite how he'd first reacted to seeing him on New Years.

Pigsy was ALWAYS crabby in the mornings, but he was getting exponentially more frustrated after waking up for something or another he never seemed to be able to relay when he woke (probably some frustrating reoccurring dream that keeps blotting out when he wakes up, MK didn't remember his dreams much either so he could relate)

And about thee days in of Red Son working with them, he'd knocked out during some down time, and while he was sitting near him. The ship rumbled, Red Son hadn't woken, but he slid to the side until he was leaned against MK's shoulder. and... It was comfy. Red Son was warm, and soft.

And before he'd known it he was being startled awake by Xiaojiao making delighted cooing noises and the flash of her camera. And when he jostled Red Son woke up as well. He'd met his gaze for a second and his artist brain noted that his eyes were a rather lovely shade of amber, not even fiery orange or honey brown, but pure, precious stone amber.

and for a moment it had felt... nostalgic... in a way he couldn't place. and the puzzled look on Red Son's face mirrored his confusion at the sudden thought, before the demon slammed up the walls again and pushed MK away, face burning bright red.

But from there it had spiraled.

It was just so... easy? he supposed would be the word. It was almost startling how easy it was to fall into this rhythm with Red Son. Not a few months ago he was a nominal enemy, yet here they were finding themselves sitting next to eachother more often than not, sometimes close enough for shoulders to brush, their unconscious bodies rolling over at once to tangle together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

At one point they were facing a demon that had cast one of those 'greatest fear' spells over the lot of them, and before it had hit he'd felt Red Son slip his hand into his own with a small startled gasp. And before the world went black and he was covered by spiders and the looming specter of his own failures he'd squeezed back.

That had actually happened just hours ago, and MK's hand was still tingly. Everyone was a little shaken up from that one. (Monkey King had holed himself away in one of the few bedrooms there were and he sounded physically pained when MK had tried to check in on him and he'd answered that he'd rather be alone. he was pretty sure Tang was allowed in, and he tried not to take that personally. It was probably a whole 'Mentor doesn't want his student to see him freaked out' thing. If he didn't stop taking everything so damn personally he'd be a sucker for the next fear spell or whatever.) And unlike the others, Red Son didn't have any loved ones on this ship to help reassure him.

So... if their... something or another... that had been developing was gonna mean anything, that probably meant it should fall on him.

Red Son was where he'd expected him to be, half buried in engine guts in Sandy's work area, his hands were shaking and there was a far off look in his eye.

MK had to physically lift him and drag him away, and it was a lot harder without the Mystic Monkie Strength, but he managed.

in fact he'd gotten all the way to the kitchen area and Red Son had stopped struggling in his arms screeching to be let go (yet never trying to flare his fire and forcing MK to drop him) before his stamina gave out and he had to deposit Red Son in one of the chairs.

"Noodle boy i swear this truce will end in an INSTANT if you do not explain yourself-"

"You're freaking out."

"YES I AM! You would be too if your current ally just lifted you up from what you were doing and carried you to the deserted part of the ship because even the Pig is too on edge to be in here!"

"I mean from this afternoon. Red son, you've been pale as a sheet since we got out of there and your hands are STILL shaking." He watched as he hurriedly hid them in his pockets. "You need to talk to someone. And it may as well be me."

"I- I don't need to talk about ANYTHING! Presumptuous Noodle Boy... Bold of you to assume I'd just pour my heart out at some perceived internal detriment which you have no proof even exists!" The bluster and casual insults were considerably less convincing than they were when they were enemies...

...maybe he was just starting to see through them better.

Red Son pulled his hands back onto the table, as a sort of subtle show of how fine he totally was, and clenched his fists to keep them from continuing to shake.

"Red..." The nickname felt... natural. He couldn't quite explain why, but he supposed they'd been Something-or-Another-ing long enough to make it reasonable. Red Son's glare abated and was replaced quickly with a shocked expression. But he didn't shout to not be called something so short, so MK considered that a signal to continue. So he continued with what felt natural and placed a hand over his clenched fist.

The defensive anger was all but gone. And that puzzled, yet slightly awed look he kept sharing with Red Son during moments like these replaced it and those amber eyes darted down to their linked hands, as if he didn't quite know what to do next.

Eventually Red Son came to a decision, and MK let him fiddle around with his grip until their hands were linked properly. And it felt... it was that weird sense of nostalgia again. And as everything else neither of them could quite explain it felt right. familiar. Natural.

"It's not really worth talking about." Red Son responded after the moment passed. yet he didn't pull his hand away. "I know better than to believe what it had showed me."

"Red-"

"I mean, I SHOULD know better, right?" He looked away from MK then, but squeezed his hand a little tighter. "I mean- they're my parents. and they agreed me coming along with you all to take down the Lady Bone Demon was the best course of action. I know they wouldn't disown me because they believed I was becoming more aligned with you all than with the family. That just because we're friends doesn't mean I'm somehow betraying them!" Red Son was working through it in his head, and he didn't seem to really realize that he'd admitted to seeing MK as a friend, so he just squeezed his hand a little tighter and filed that away to celebrate later.

"It's irrational, and it's ridiculous that I actually feared the idea."

"It's not ridiculous, If you think it's irrational then it probably is, but it's not ridiculous. " Red Son looked back at him then and raised a brow. "I mean, who isn't afraid that they're letting their parents down in some way?" He remembered how nervous Xiaojiao was about the idea of disappointing her family, and he was always worried that he'd disappointed his fath-....

What was he thinking about again?.... right, Xiaojiao and her parents.

Red Son took his attention again and the confusion zipped right out of his mind. he gently detangled his hand from MK's and was moving to stand.

"I suppose you're right. And... In that regard I should probably thank you for allowing me the chance to properly process."

"Anytime, Red."

He stood as well, with nowhere else to go, he supposed he'd probably just go out onto the deck and do a little one-man training, heavens knew he needed it.

Red Son put a hand on his shoulder before either of them could pull away and when he turned back to face the demon-

Red Son was looking at him with intent. determination. And it was only then that MK realized that maybe holding someone's hand while they talked about some Real Shit with you, constantly sitting next to each other so as to be closer, falling asleep on each other, and sometimes when you wake up you glance at their mouth wondering how easy it would be to just...

Maybe that wasn't just all friendship overtures.

And maybe they'd had a name for their little something-or-another already.

Neither of them were ever very good at this whole 'self control' thing anyway.

Red Son was just as warm as he'd anticipated. His calloused fingers hooking under his chin as if to keep MK in place. And it was... chaste. Nothing like the fierce passionate devouring of another's mouth that he'd anticipated a demon to go for (that he'd daydreamed about) Almost... child-like. As if Red Son hadn't kissed anyone since before he hit Demon Puberty and didn't know how to do it right. And the action alone made MK feel very much like a child as well. Which was ridiculous he was a grownass man and Red Son was a fully matured demon, and the shortest most chaste little peck made him feel like a squeaky voiced kid.

When they parted he peeked his eyes open just a bit, and it seemed like Red Son had realized the same thing, the two of them shared a soft chuckle.

But then Red Son started to pull away, and that wouldn't do. MK wrapped his arms around the demon's shoulders and properly kissed him this time.

And it didn't feel quite as natural, but it did feel right.

So that was what mattered.

--

Send me stuff

[whataboutmyfries]

Russian roulette

Its here its here its finally heeeeree!!!!! I’ve been so excited for this fic for the longest time and I am so so excited to finally share it with you guys!! It’s been quite a while in the making cause I was nervous about my overall ability to keep up with a multi-chapter thing, but here we are!!!

Before you start reading this, I just want you all to know that this fic comes with a LOT of trigger warning. All of them will be in the tags of course, but I just want you guys to know to proceed with caution.

credits as always go to @lumosinlove​ Haz I have utterly CORRUPTED your characters in this one, I’m so sorry

enjoy!!

~

Chapter 1

Logan could still remember the day it had happened, the defiant fury in his friend’s eyes as he’d gone down, guns blazing 

Logan still remembered it, blood splattering his arms and face, his mouth curved in a deadly smirk as he shoved Logan out of their way, going down, guns blazing, winking at the brunette as he dived into the fray.

Logan still remembered the primal fear that ripped the scream from his chest, his arm numb from the kickback of the M4. He still remembered the screaming darkness that had taken over his head after. He still remembered him.

It was the memory of that night, a job gone wrong that had him working himself to pieces, returning to the sparring ring day after day, week after week. The mere thought of it pulling him from sleep with the sharp edge of nightmares. The what if’s and if only’s shoving his mind into a rabbit hole of unending misery.

Logan huffed in frustration, shoving down the cool rage that threatened to send him over the edge. He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose, roughly shoving his hair off his forehead. The sweat dripped off his brow as he leaned against the punching bag, flexing his fingers against fabric wrapping his hands. 

Even through the wrappings, he could feel the gentle throbbing of the rage and sorrow that had him back at the punching bag day after day after day. He looked down at his knuckles. Shit. That was going to bruise beautifully tomorrow. He sighed, walking over to the backpack on the far end of the room to get his towel and a drink of water. 

Logan hefted his pack onto a shoulder, heading over to the sparring area to clean up, unrolling the fabric from his hands as he did so. He examined his knuckles, his hands a tapestry of bruises. He couldn’t remember the last time they hadn’t been a splotchy purple-blue. 

The door slammed open, and Logan instinctively ducked to the floor, his hands going for the gun in his backpack, his posture relaxing a little when he saw who’d walked in. 

“What the fuck do you want, Nate? He grumbled, tugging his t-shirt to rights, glaring angrily at the floor as he did so, his cheeks warming at his aggressive reaction.

Nate rolled his eyes at Logan’s attitude, raising an eyebrow at Logan’s reaction to his presence. He leaned against the door, drumming his fingers against his bicep “He’s here, sir, the rookie’s here.” 

~

It took Logan all of ten minutes to shower and get dressed to meet Finn in their office. He shook the water out of his hair as his quick steps echoed in the marble hallway. The palatial mansion was HQ. He lived here, slept here, ate here. They were his family, the lions, they’d taken him in after Wyatt had died and had stood by him through every damn thing he’d been through. Regardless, it was home. It had become Logan’s home after— Logan growled, shoving the intrusive thoughts away.

Finn met him halfway to their door, casually tugging the cuffs of his shirt to rights. 

Finn was impeccably dressed as always, looking really damn good in that white button-down, the gold chain on his neck dipping into where he’s left it unbuttoned at the neck. His bespoke trousers did wonders for showing off his legs, the gold belt buckle matching the golden rings glinting in the sun.

Logan swallowed.

“So, the rookie’s coming in today. The only thing we know is the father sent him. Be on your guard.” Finn said, raising an eyebrow at Logan to make sure he understood.

Logan nodded, cracking his knuckles as he accompanied Finn into their office, the redhead making a few calls to get extra security detail around the house. Dons couldn’t take risks, no matter who sent their visitors.  

Logan shook out his hands, sucking in a calming breath before collapsing onto his chair. 

“You have to meet Dubois at the Excelsior tonight. We got a tip he’s been skimming the funds.” Finn said absent-mindedly, his mind more occupied with reading some file. The Excelsior was one of their biggest casinos, three floors of opulent revelry. And Dubois was the sleazy good-for-nothing who ran it for them.

Logan grumbled, flipping open a file of his own, the name Dubois emblazoned in sharp, black letters on the cover. Being a Mob boss wasn’t all it was made out to be, and Logan never thought he’d get used to it. He could scarcely remember how he and Finn had come to build the Lions, one of the biggest crime syndicates in the world, second only to the snakes; a family of vicious, rabid psychopaths who cared for nothing and nobody, dispatching their targets with gruesome efficiency. 

Finn had a suspicion the snakes had been doing recon work at the Excelsior and had told Logan as much. Considering that Logan had to deal with the slimy manager, anyway, he thought he might as well look into the matter. Finn looked at him over the gold rim of his glasses, as though reading his thoughts. 

“Take Potter with you, ask him to get two of his best with him,” Finn said, referring to their head of security.  

Logan huffed, about to shoot back a retort about how he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself thankyouverymuch when there was a knock on the door. Nate leaned against the wood, a smirk playing on his lips.

“He’s here.” 

~

The rookie as it turns out was no rookie at all, rather son to the most infamous pickpocket and street magician of all time, Wyatt Knut. The man had stolen and pickpocketed thousands of dollars’ worth of goods and cash in his time, there was even a rumour going around that he’d been involved in some of the biggest heists of the era, driving his worth up to millions of dollars. 

And this was his son. Sitting in front of him, idly flicking a folded sheet of paper between his fingers, making it disappear and then appear again, his leg bouncing under the table. He looked nervous, his eyes flicking around the room, drinking up the opulent mansion around him. He snapped to attention when Finn cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in his chair. 

“The name’s Knut, Leo Knut. Lizard sent me.” 

Logan’s eyes widened at the nickname. There were very few people in the world who knew it, and this baby faced blond kid sitting in front of them sure as hell didn’t look like someone who would. The fact that he did calmed Logan’s suspicions. This was real. He wasn’t kidding.

Logan felt more than saw Finn’s interest pique. The redhead leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. The tension in the room was palpable, and it took every inch of self-control in Logan’s body to not stiffen, sit up straighter, show he was on his guard. Let blue eyes make the first move. Logan was in charge here, not him. 

Leo’s eyes dipped to the folded note in his hand as he vanished it into his sleeve and brought it back. He sucked in a breath, calming his nerves before raising his eyes to the two men sitting before him.  

“Lizard said to come to you if he didn’t return or communicate his….being alive within four days of that mission.” Leo braced for the confusion and chaos that was going to follow his next words. 

“He had a plan to take down the snakes.” 

~

Logan’s jaw dropped, his hands going slack from where they were crossed across his chest. Lizard had what?!? Granted, he was one of their best reconnaissance men, but this seemed a stretch, even for him. 

Finn, ever the diplomat, had kept a straight face, not a hair out of place. It was only through eight years of being his friend that he noticed the tension and suspicion radiating off him. 

The redhead cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And do you have any proof of this…..plan?” 

Leo grinned, the simple expression lighting up the entire room.” I thought you’d never ask”

 He raised his slender fingers, pulling a flash drive out of thin air, setting it down on the table before him. “It’s in three parts.” he nodded to the drive. “The drive, a……” He waved his hand in the air, trying to find the right words. “Map? With the targets and the blueprints and an encrypted folder on his laptop.”  

Logan barely registered what he’d said. The second Leo has flicked the drive out from between his fingers it was game over for him. Logan was mesmerised. He couldn’t stop staring at those hands, long thin fingers flipping the note in and out of sight with hypnotic movements, drumming on his thigh, gesturing broadly as he spoke. 

Finn seemed to have noticed, pressing his thigh against Logan’s under the table. He froze at the contact, Finn’s warmth seeping into him through the fabric of his jeans. Shit. Now was not the time. He shook his head, clearing his throat and focusing on the task at hand.  

Finn leaned back in his chair, his finger steepling under his chin. “And you’re just trusting us with this information? It’s been a month, why haven’t you approached us sooner? What’s in it for you?” 

Leo’s smile disappeared, shadows dancing behind those blue irises. “Lizard was like a second father to me. I’ve known him since I was a kid, he and my dad were friends.” He let out a shaky breath. “And when he didn’t return from that raid….I wanted to get revenge. I wanted to hurt anyone who dared to so much as lay a hand on him.” Leo met Finn’s eyes. “I was...hurt for a long time after his death, couldn’t figure out how to deal with the loss. It’s the reason why I’m only here now. And as for trusting you with the information…” He trailed off, putting a piece of paper on the table. 

Logan realised it was the same folded note that had been weaving in and out of Leo’s fingers as he’d spoken to them. The paper was worn, the edge soft in a way only repeated use could make them. Finn’s eyes flicked to Leo before he picked it up, glancing at Logan as he opened it. 

Logan leaned in, reading over Finn’s shoulder. In a familiar, stocky script it said: 

‘Sun, I’m going out on business. It’s the usual. Same as always, If I don't communicate in 4 days, ask around for Logan Tremblay and Finn O Hara, Tell them about mission troy. They’ll know who I am, say Lizard sent you  -P’ 

Logan’s hands shook, and he stuffed them into his pockets, still reading the note, scouring it over and over for clues, anything that would tell them that he was still alive— though he knew he wasn’t going to find anything. His eyes caught on the first word. ‘Sun’? Logan wracked his mind, trying to find any reason why Lizard has called him that. Realisation struck and Logan looked over Leo, sizing him up. 

Leo ‘the Sun’ Knut had was famous for his brilliant smile, those dimples distracting even the most stubborn of men while he swindled them out of their money. Bright as the sun and just as blinding, they said. Logan allowed himself a smirk at that. Like father, like son.  

Leo didn’t back down from his stare, raising a blond eyebrow at the intense look, cocking his head to the side. A shiver of excitement ran through Logan, bigger men had backed away from that look of his, yet this lanky child didn’t so much as falter. Interesting. 

Finn rested his elbows on the table, ever the portrait of unruffled grace. “How do we know this is real?” He asked, nodding his head at the drive sitting on the table. 

Logan could practically see the effort it took Leo to not roll his eyes. The blond shrugged, crossing his arms on the desk. “Believe me, or don’t. It’s your loss. I have my orders and if you aren’t willing to provide the resources, I’m sure I’ll find other people who are.” His gaze sharpened to a flinty glare, “I’m just trying to do right by a friend. He asked me a favour and I will not let him down” He nudged the drive forward with a long finger, the little black device sitting in the middle of the table.  “Help me or not, it’s up to you, but don’t you fucking dare get in my way.”

[allycryz]

Nsfw prompt: “Oh my god. Did we just break the bed?” for the ot6 :3

Alright, here it folks. Urianger gets spoiled, six people are very cute, a bed gets broken. Also pushed myself to write this in past tense since I haven’t done it in a while.

Rated E for Eggsplicit, is honestly pretty PWP but there’s feelings and fluff in there

“I beg thy forgiveness.” Urianger frowned at the piles of books crowding his room. His hands stroked light upon the spines, tracing letters, "I am certain thy book was here but it seems not."

“It’s alright.” Nerys said from her perch on his bed. The thin mattress creaked beneath her weight, swaying with each minute gesture. "I know you'll find it. Come sit with me."

He looked up with a hand caught in his silver locks and mouth curled into a frown. Twas not often he wore his consternation so openly and it was...quite charming. Not least of which because of the subtle pouting of his full lips. (She hoped he was not so upset as to halt her plans.)

“Nay, I shall keep searching.”

“Uri.” She patted the space beside her. “Please?”  

"I am unable to refuse such an invitation twice." Urianger moved like a dancer, once explaining that his poise and posture came from learning at the elbow of Louisoix Leveilleur. Nerys mostly believed it, seeing all the similarities in how he and the twins held themselves. And yet–she was convinced it was not the whole of the story.

He sank to his knees before her, rather than where she indicated. “It has been some time since I relaxed by thy side.”

Nerys stroked over his noble brow, nails scratching light into his scalp. “Far too long. Though this is not by my side.”

“But how else shall I do this?” He brought her hand up, leaving reverent kisses upon her fingertips. As always it made her breath catch, whether alone or in the company of their lovers.

They were not often alone, just the two of them. (And with what she planned, it would not be this way long.) There was so much she had yet to discover about him, the newest of her lovers. The sinuous sway of his hips was but one coin from a well-buried, well-protected treasure chest of knowledge. 

But there were facets of him that were extensions of the relationship they already had; as her comrade, her friend, partner of her partners. He was always kind and respectful, as willing to listen as to teach. That impish sense of humor he kept beneath it all–she had found that long before she took him as hers.

Here was one discovery that still made her tremble: the way he looked at her as if she was a treasure worth worshipping.

Another: the secretive smile upon his lips before he struck. Nerys was a moment forewarned by it before he rose to kiss her. 

Still another: how good a kisser he was. She was overwhelmed enough that one moment his lips were on hers, the next she was beneath him. The bed groaned and swayed with their movements, an anchor in the swirling sea of his presence.

Besides being noisy, the bed was on the small side. Not really what she expected. Urianger could live like a monk, subsisting on water and archon loaf with naught but a candle for luxury. But with the way he luxuriated in Haurche’s sumptuous bed or the raptures on his face when he shopped for fine clothes…

Nerys had assumed he was only a hermit when his studies called, not as a matter of course.

“We need to get you a new bed.” She murmured as he unfastened her already half-open shirt. His eyes had gone to the partly revealed breastband since her arrival. “You’ve barely any room for yourself.”

"No need, my lady. I seldom sleep here--indeed, I have moved most of my possessions to Haurchefant's and Thancred's rooms."

“Yes but-” Nerys unclasped the golden torque about his neck.  "You have been in the Sands for a week now. And I'm sure this won't be the last time you have to stay here."

"Would it comfort thee…" His words became a moan as her hands worked into his taut shoulders and nape. Were he able to, he might purr under her ministrations.

“Yes?”

"I often avail myself...of the cot in the archives."

“Uri.” She clucked her tongue. As if he and their lovers didn’t admonish her for various bad habits ranging from overextending herself to less-than-prudent jumps down cliffsides. 

Today is not about me though.

“Once again, I must beg thy gracious pardon.” He lowered his cheek to her chest, nuzzling against the swell of breast even as his hands eased down the breastband. His long fingers kneaded the sides of her chest slow and gentle. “In penance, I shall serve thee faithfully all afternoon and into the evening.”

Desire coiled in her belly. One word from her and Urianger would worship her from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Even now, his practiced healer’s touch found her pains and soothed them away. But she came here with an agenda and she must not forget it, even-

Her mouth fell open with a moan as he took handfuls of her chest, squeezing with gentle strength. That impish gleam was in his eyes when he looked down. 

“Will you…” She swallowed. “Lie on your back for me?”

“If that is thy wish…” He flipped them easily, settling her atop him. Hands slid over her bottom and squeezed. “Dost thou wish for control today?”

“Just a shred.”

His lips caught hers as she slithered down, meeting the barest resistance before he let go with a chuckle. Nerys gave him a look and received only a smile in reply.

According to Haurche, the chiton was far easier to deal with than his scholar’s robes. She never had the pleasure of unwrapping him from his old mode of dress. Piece by piece, I took him apart like a present before taking him apart as a lover might do. There is nothing quite like a reveal, my heart.

That conversation ended with Haurche performing his own slow striptease. Nerys drifted from the fond memory to the present, to the bunch of fabric now at Urianger’s waist and the silken black smalls she unveiled beneath. His cock strained against the taut fabric, twitching at the glide of her hand.

"Wilt thou let me return whatever favors thou dispenses?" His voice dropped to low and rumbly and then to a groan as she rubbed her cheek upon his clothed cock. 

“I’ll think about it...You certainly proved your tongue’s prowess when we were last together.”

Urianger sighed, either from her touches or the memory of nine days ago–him and her and Y’shtola between them. “I-I didst not sup upon thy nectar then…”

She squeezed his thigh. “No but I saw you send ‘Shtola into the heavens.”

“Where she doth belong, crowned in stars and cloaked in moonlight.” His words then turned to garbles and gasps as she mouthed against the fabric. Traced her tongue over the solid outline of his shaft and inhaled his musk.

“And what shall be her throne?” Nerys hummed against him. His hand found purchase in her hair and tugged. Heat kindled between her legs at the touch, more when he did it again. Sitting up so she could see the intent in his eyes.

“Thy visage is the most glorious sight of all…” He groaned, digging filed-down nails into her scalp until she trembled. “What better seat for our beloved than that?”

“Oh,” she breathed. It had taken him no time to master her needs and wants. Had he not watched her plenty, with a lover or two or three between them? And you really are that easy. 

Nerys would not be the only one losing sense and control. Her thumbs hooked beneath his smalls to ease them down, freeing his erect length from their confines. She squeezed his thighs as her tongue dragged up his shaft, finding the sensitive ridge under his head. 

“N-nerys-” he gasps, reaching for the white cotton sheets and grabbing them by the fistful. “I-I should have better control, than to be driven so wild so quickly.”

She pulled off of him with a soft pop of sound. "You've been locked away in here for a week with only your hand to relieve you. No wonder you're sensitive."

“I shall...endeavor to satisfy thee. Thou need not worry-”

The door opening startled her, even though it was Phase Two of her plan coming to fruition. Urianger froze beneath her before he chuckled, the sound as much sigh as it was mirthful. “My lady, didst thou invite them and not tell me?”

“Surprise.” She grinned and turned her head. Y’shtola and Thancred watched them with twin expressions of pleasure. “I hope this is alright?”

Urianger groaned. "I wouldst never turn away those I love so dearly. And they look upon me as if I am a feast laid out for their sampling."

“Ha,” Thancred snorted. "Seems like Nerys has the feasting part well in hand."

Y’shtola smiled, turning her back towards Thancred while keeping her eyes upon them. He dutifully took care of the hooks at her nape, easing the scarlet and gray dress down her shoulders. She arched an eyebrow at the pair on the bed. “Well? Don’t stop on our account.”

Nerys gave the slightest hint of her intentions–a little secret smirk she’d learned at his feet–before swallowing him down. Breathing with purpose through her nose to take him deep, deeper, deeper still. Gods but Elezen were thick, and the reduced air goaded her as much as the eyes upon her. 

The gaze of the world was ever upon her in ways that made her anxious, embarrassed, fearful. But to simply put on a show for others, to stir their passion? That was something Nerys loved. No one expected too much of her besides the occasional fling, and those were more and more rare these days. There was no time to adventure in Eorzea’s bedrooms as she once had.

How lucky, that her lovers liked to watch as much as she liked to perform, while duty kept her from the dark corners of taverns and rolls in the hay.

Urianger laid back, forearm pressed against his brow. Lowered it so he might press his fist to his mouth. Nerys hummed around him, sinking further onto him until she could take no more. It was not enough, not yet, but he moaned all the same.

The heat of Thancred’s bare skin pressed against her back and his palms curled over her breasts. Toyed with them as his lips trailed over her spine. “You need a bigger bed, Uri.”

His response was a muffled groan about clenched knuckles. Y’shtola crawled onto the bed, over him with teasing touches, and stretched her small frame between him and the wall. She seized his wrist, dragging it to lips. “Ah ah. How will she know she’s doing a good job? Let her hear you.”

“Sh-shtola-” Urianger shuddered with the full force of his body as Thancred’s hand slipped down his stomach, fondling his sack. Nerys began to lift her head, found Thancred pressing her back down.

“Good,” said Y’shtola with an approving nod. “Keep her there a moment, Thancred. Urianger–there is no one to overhear you. So I had best hear your response.”

They watched as Urianger opened his mouth, his wordless cries filling the room with their sweet, penitent notes. His reward was another fondle, another suck; Y’shtola petting his hair.

“Nerys is far too overdressed for this.” Thancred said, drawing her up at last.

“And so is he,” Y’shtola agreed before she caught Urianger’s chin and kissed him. The man made a desperate noise before giving himself over to his passion. Nine days ago, Nerys watched him do the same as he filled Y’shtola, as Nerys held her close. Then he’d had the presence of mind to extol her virtues between breathless kisses. 

The same passion is clear in his half-lidded eyes and fervent mouth. Even if he is now in a place beyond poetry.

“You should have a taste too,” Nerys gasped, writhing against Thancred’s purposeful touch over her trousers. For his complaint about her state of dress, he was taking advantage of the friction of cloth against her skin. 

“Do you think so? I think that if we both suck him, he’s liable to pop.”

“What about all his rings?”

“They’re in my quarters,” Thancred laughed against her ear. “Besides, that’s not a guarantee he’ll be able to hold off-”

“I swear to thee.” Urianger licked his lips, eyes flickering from Nerys’ mouth to Y’shtola’s hands kneading his chest to whatever expression Thancred made. "If thou drives me to completion, I shall return the favor in kind. Thou...thou should not go unsatisfied because of my folly."

“Yes, definitely folly to show us how bad you want us.” Thancred snorted. “Uri, it’s okay to come. We’re not going anywhere.”

“True enough.” Y’shtola nipped at his jaw when he tried to rise. “I was going to make him hold off but that might be cruel…”

“I’m disappointed, darling.” The new voice sent shivers through Nerys. Thancred’s steady grip kept her from turning to greet him. “It’s ever so entertaining when you’re cruel to our lovers.”

He is not due quite yet… Not that she minded. Hopefully, in his impatience he remembered to bring-

“Surely,” Haurchefant said with a laugh. “You might magick up a way to help him hold back? As all his rings are in Mor Dhona, and not always reliable.”

“That will cost you, my Lord Emissary.”

“Tell me then, O Great and Powerful Sorcerer: how much for such a device, snapping away everyone’s clothes, and your cock in my mouth later?”

Hades’ laugh was a clear ringing sound that warmed Nerys’ already heated flesh. He was often playful, this ancient lover of theirs. Seldom was he so open as she heard in the notes of his mirth, playing in harmony with Haurchefant’s chuckles. Urianger met her gaze, his smile softening even more the warm mush her heart turned into. And then he gasped as Thancred ran a teasing hand up his length and Y’shtola bit down on his shoulder. 

A snap and her clothes disappeared, along with the bunched up chiton and the black smalls shoved about Urianger’s knees. Thancred’s warm skin pressed against hers–chest to her spine, thighs to the backs of her legs, his unclothed cock hard against her rear. Before them, a ring of black and purple aether pulsed at the base of Urianger’s cock.

She put a hand to it. It felt solid but as it shimmered, she saw flashes of the skin beneath. Hades had all manner of aether tricks to aid in the bedroom. This was one she hadn’t seen before.

He knelt on the floor beside the bed as bare as everyone else. His hand slid past her a moment, she caught the motion of him patting Thancred’s cheek. Then his fingers were on her chin, tilting it up for him to brush lips against lips. She moved to deepen the contact and he pulled back, clucking his tongue. “Ah ah, your mouth is destined elsewhere.”

“One kiss won’t hurt.” Nerys squirmed against Thancred’s hold but today, he was willing to cooperate with Hades. He held her fast and pressed light kisses down the line of her neck. 

“I wonder. Now, my dear–how long should we make our scholar squirm?”

“Oh not too long. Remember why we’re here after all.” Urianger looked up at that with raw curiosity in his gaze. 

“Please, the man loves when we deny him.” Hades rose then to perch on the edge of the bed with his torso turned towards Urianger’s face. His bare fingers ran over his chest till they found the gold hoops in his nipples. A small tug set Urianger’s face and neck red with pleasure. “Does that feel good then?”

"L-lovely,” groaned Urianger. "My lady Nerys...didst thou c-conspire against me?"

She laughed. Haurchefant made himself known then with his fingers guiding her limbs, positioning Thancred alongside her. He caressed them both while they obeyed onto their hands and knees, arms and shoulders against each other. "You've been holed up here for days. I thought you were due a respite."

"And I thought you deserved a little punishment as well." Hades added, thumb circling the stiffening nipple. "Depriving us for days."

"H-ha." Urianger quirked a brow. "Couldst thou not visit me whenever thou desires, Hades? I did not bar my door to thee."

"Impudent man." Hades leaned forward to kiss him as Y’shtola tugged at his silver locks.

A hand pressed against her nape as she saw another do the same to Thancred. Haurchefant must have removed his rings prior to his arrival. She could not feel the familiar press of metal or see his signet contrasted with Thancred’s white locks. Even with his fingers bare, with him standing behind them, she would have known his touch without ever having to see them.

It was that way with all of them now. Even Urianger. She had learned the feel of him that first night with Thancred between them and his touch reaching behind her for Haurchefant, caressing her arm lightly as she shook with the overwhelming pleasure of that moment. 

“Ladies first,” Thancred purred when their eyes were level with the ring. 

Nerys laughed, from the remark, from the surge of joy rushing through her. She licked a stripe up the thick shaft. Thancred did the same, meeting her with an open-mouth kiss that had the benefit of teasing against Urianger. They pushed each other–matching every swirl, lick, and suck; triumphant when one coaxed a loud moan or gasp. It was a heady competition, egged on by Haurchefant stroking her spine and praising them both. 

“You two are exquisite,” Haurchefant sighed as his hands drew away. Fingertips dragged over her skin until she felt them dip between her thighs, heard Thancred groan aloud. Nerys half-expected the mattress to dip with Haurchefant’s weight but instead he drew her back. She had to stretch her long torso to keep her mouth against Urianger.

He accommodated and leaned forward, bracing hands on either side of her. “Dearest Thancred, you will help her for this next part? She is radiant when she takes a cock completely.”

“Hmm…” A raised eyebrow. “Alright Haurche. Long as you promise to give me something nice later. No fair if only Hades gets your mouth tonight.”

“My darling boy…” Hades raised his head and Urianger whimpered at the loss. “Since when are you the arbiter of what is fair or not?”

“You hush.”

“If you want to stop my mouth, you need to be far more creative.”

“Both of you hush,” said Y’shtola. Her voice trembled as Urianger suckled at her chest but still resounded with the underlying core of iron. “You’ll get your turns later, if you’re good.”

“Yes ‘Shtola,” said Thancred with a laugh. He curled a hand over Nerys’ nape and helped her ease back onto Urianger. Behind them Haurchefant praised their obedience while the head of his cock notched against her folds. 

Urianger was a writhing mess beneath them and it was beautiful. The disheveled state of his hair; the blossom of red suffusing his upper body; the sighs they pulled from him; the pattern of bites on his neck from Y’shtola and on his torso from Hades. And him, impossibly hard and impossibly large in her mouth as Thancred dragged her up and down and Haurchefant sank into her. 

Their eyes met, his mouth worked. She reached forward though it could upset her balance. Brushed fingertips against his and then seized his hand. His hips canted upwards and it was almost too much with him so lost in sensation. Somehow, she managed to take him all the same. 

His trembling lips tried again before they managed a word in the babble of whimpers and sobs. “Please...please…”

Nerys answered with her eyes while her hand reached out again, brushing against Hades’ side. Haurchefant picked up her pace and she all but collapsed. It was then Hades turned his amused look at her and the hand desperately groping at his hip.

“May I help you?”

Her eyes swept downward. She could not see the ring just then–Thancred pressed her down so far that her eyes could see only golden skin and silver, curling hair. Haurchefant sighed behind her. “What a good girl, taking him all the way. You’re doing beautifully, my heart.”

“I wonder…” Hades voice floated above her. “What could she be trying to say? Have you any notion, ser?”

“I am not a betting man-” (Thancred’s derisive snort at that became a groan.) “But perhaps she would like to be dear Uri’s angel of mercy.”

“Certainly not. Our ferocious hero?”

“Our compassionate hero.” Haurchefant’s hand joined Thancred’s and brought her up. Hades met her pleading gaze with a sigh and an incongruously soft kiss to her forehead.

“If you insist, dear.” The ring disappeared and they were all lost.

Haurchefant and Thancred pushed her down, Urianger bucked upward. Hades leaned entirely on the bed, bare chest against their scholar as he kissed him with Y’shtola dragging her nails down his back. 

“That’s it,” Haurche panted in her ear. “Help him finish, beloved, dearest, our Nerys-”

Urianger cried out as his hand reached for her-

Haurchefant knelt on the bed and filled her-

And as Urianger spilled into her mouth, the chorus of their raptures was overwritten by an earsplitting crack! There was the sensation of falling, of balance going horribly wrong as she slid backwards into Haurchefant and Hades into both of them. A strange sound escaped her mouth when the momentum and impact both caused Haurchefant to fill her and not entirely pleasantly. 

She lifted her head and Urianger looked down at her. He had not sat up. His eyes were glazed with satisfaction even as realization pierced the fog of his climax.

“Oh my gods.” Nerys stared at the ramp they occupied. “Did we just break the bed?”

Shocked silence met her question. It was Urianger who broke it with low, barely concealed laughter. He slapped a hand over his mouth and his shoulders shook with the effort of not breaking. Behind her, Haurchefant chuckled into her ear as Hades scowled at them all.  Y’shtola stretched out where she was. Thancred roared with laughter behind them on the floor.

“Th-thou didst tell me…” Urianger said, fighting to control his mirth. “That I was in need of a bigger bed.”

“And I was right!” She watched Hades vacate the space between them before squeezing Urianger’s thigh. “Now what do you have to say for yourself?”

In answer, Urianger sat up with care and eased himself down. His warm hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up to receive the brush of his mouth against hers. “That I am glad we have a Sorcerer of Eld to set us to rights.”

“Hm.” Hades dusted off his arms with great exaggeration and wounded dignity. The gleam in his pale gold eyes was the only clue he was not so piqued as he pretended. “Give me a moment. As today we are demanding favors before we do anything, I needs must calculate the price.”

“Do make haste, lovely man.” Haurchefant adjusted Nerys in his lap and the friction sent her shivering. “I would like to finish what I started.”

“If I may offer a suggestion…” Y’shtola stretched herself upwards and Nerys could not help watching the curve and rise of her bosom, the marks of lips and teeth upon the teak skin. She wrapped her arms about Urianger from behind and propped her chin upon his shoulder. “You could ask to give Nerys proper thanks for arranging all this.”

That twitch at the corners of her mouth spelled Nerys’ salvation and destruction. “Now wait a minute-”

“Brilliant as always,” Hades smirked. “While the guest of honor recovers, I would like a sampling of our event planner in exchange for my great and powerful magicks.”

“Deal!” Haurchefant said, lifting her up while the bed repaired itself with a rush of aether. He had to withdraw from her to do so but from the looks around her...she would not be empty for long. “Have a care with her, lest we break it again.”

“I have ensured it won’t tonight.” Hades stepped over and gathered her into his arms. Laid her back upon the mattress, sprawled upon Urianger’s lap. “And tomorrow we purchase Urianger a bigger, sturdier bed.”

“There, my lady.” Urianger grinned above her. “Thou shalt get thy way after all.”

“I usually do,” she said before Hades moved to have his way with her.

Not that she was complaining.

[livia-dovehallow]

future talks - gabrily

in honor of yours truly managing to score tickets to MARINA’s virtual concert next month with an afterparty pass and t shirt before they sold out, here is a un-related fluffy piece for our favorite shadowhunter couple to have ever existed !!!

Characters: Cecily Herondale, Gabriel Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood

Time/Place: 1882, London, England, UK

Documents scattered the library table in an unorganized shuffle of thoughts. Cecily scanned the names of each sheet of paper before her looking for the one she needed in that moment, growing more and more frustrated the longer it took her to find it.

Gabriel sat beside her searching as well. He had not made any sound of frustration as she had been doing but his face gave away that he felt the same way. Only Gideon across from them remained calm, though if a bit exasperated. “It’s not here, Gideon,” Gabriel stated for the third time in the last five minutes. He tossed the stack of papers he had in his hand back onto the table with a sharp slap. “How could it be missing? It’s the most important sheet of paper in this mess!”

“There’s no need to get cross,” Gideon said calmly, which only aggravated his brother more.

Cecily set her hands on the table, palms pressed against the solid wood, and inhaled slowly. Both boys ceased their bickering. Gabriel set his hand over hers gently. She looked at him, then at Gideon. “Is it possible to get a new one, Gideon?” she asked, tired. “If there is a fee, you can charge it to my brother.”

Gabriel let out a short puff of air meant as a laugh and squeezed her hand. Gideon began to gather his own set of papers, organized as he kept them always, and began to stand from the table. “I will go see if they can provide a new print now, that way if it will take time to arrive, we can still get it in before the ceremony.”

“Thank you,” Cecily said and smiled gratefully. Gideon nodded, and with a quick smile and wave, he left the library to the Hall of Records in Alicante. She turned to Gabriel, who still had her hand in his, and squeezed his fingers. “It’ll be all right,” she assured him.

Gabriel nodded and dropped his tense shoulders. She’d noticed how stressed and tense he had become over the last few days. Their wedding was only days away, and after years of courting and engagement, she knew he was as restless as she was to finally be married. “I know,” he answered with a small smile. “I just want everything to go smoothly. No hiccups or problems.”

Cecily laughed and threw her head back onto the backrest of her chair. “When has there ever been a no-problem event among this group of people, hm?” She turned back toward him and admired the way his cheekbones were enhanced by the witchlights in the library. “Gideon will find us a new marriage certificate and everything will be well.”

“Should you still be called Mrs. Lightwood if there is no marriage certificate?”

“I can do as I please.”

Gabriel smiled, affectionate and genuine this time, and turned back to the papers across the table. “Okay,” he said, mostly to himself, and reached for the first paper he saw. “That makes me feel better. We can work on the other documents while we wait for Gideon.”

Cecily pouted. “What else is there to do?” she lamented. “Mundane marriages do not involve nearly as much paperwork.”

“Do they?” Gabriel asked absently, shuffling through his pile. Cecily groaned. Over the course of their engagement, they’d completed a variety of forms and documents needed to make their union official in the eyes of the Clave. Providing birth certificates (which proved more difficult than Cecily would have liked. How was she supposed to know that her mundane-issued birth certificate had been stored in special forces?), filing for an officially sanctioned union, choosing wedding decorations and food, and not to mention the ages she spent finding the perfect wedding dress. And yet there was much to do—including having their marriage certificate ready for signing at the end of their ceremony.

“What is this?” Gabriel asked suddenly, pulling Cecily out of her half-asleep state. She blinked at him and took the page from his hand, reading the type as it came into focus.

“’Ensure your future husband is ready for life,’” she read aloud. Below was a list of topics one was meant to discuss with their betrothed prior to engagement. Cecily giggled. “It’s from a mundane women’s magazine,” she explained to Gabriel, who clearly had never touched a mundane magazine before. “Sophie or Tessa must have thrown it in with our files in jest. It’s meant to be taken at the time of engagement.”

Gabriel took back the page and studied it. “These are all quite important topics indeed,” he commented. “’Finances and Dowry, Size of Home, Duties, Children.’”

“I don’t have a dowry,” she said and raised an eyebrow at him. “That isn’t going to be an issue, is it?”

“Of course not,” Gabriel answered seriously. Cecily giggled again; she was only joking, but Gabriel was always serious about being a modern man. “And if you did, I would reject it.”

“Truly?” Cecily questioned, intrigued.

“Truly,” Gabriel answered. He turned to her. “Others see marriage as a business transaction. Indebted men seek plentiful dowries to pay off their debts, nothing more. I do not want any part of that.”

“My father would be pleased to hear you say that.” Cecily reached up and kissed his cheek gently, feeling his face lift with a smile beneath her lips. “Besides, I am proud of you for giving up most of your inheritance to Tatiana. Angel knows that girl is not deserving of your kindness.”

Gabriel’s eyes were sad. “She’s my sister,” he said with a heavy sigh. “And I hope she uses it to take care of Jesse. I think that is the primary reason I did what I did. She had a child and no salary.”

“You’re a very loving uncle,” she whispered to him. “I know you’d give anything for the little ones. I think you’ll make an excellent father.”

Gabriel flushed red and avoided her eyes, fidgeting with the magazine in his hands. “Speaking of children in the same building where your brother is present seems likes a death wish,” he said.

“For you,” she chirped with a shrug and fully turned in her seat so her entire body faced him. “Don’t worry. He’s all talk now.” Cecily paused then bit her lip. “Do—Do you not want children?”

Gabriel jumped in his seat and jerked his attention toward her once more, looking frazzled. “No!” he said quickly, then shook his head. “I mean, no that’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “I-I just never thought I’d have the opportunity to—you know—have children, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t think I’d ever get married,” he answered quietly, with a pink flush to his cheeks. Cecily felt her heart squeeze at his tone. “It was always Gideon who was groomed to carry on my father’s legacy. I was just backup really. I thought I would have given my life in the field before I was ever mature enough to get married.”

Cecily brushed her fingers through his ever-toussled brown hair and admired him. He’d changed so much over the years and she only continued to fall deeper in love with him as he did. “Did I change your mind, then?”

Gabriel’s face lifted as did the corners of his mouth. “Yes,” he confirmed with a short laugh. “I may actually grow old now.”

Cecily rolled her eyes but she laughed, happy to see him in a better place in his life than he had been when she met him. “I am glad,” she said.

“I do want children,” he added, squeezing her hand once more and looking into her eyes with those comforting green ones. “Especially with you. You’re right. I love being an uncle and being around the little ones. It’d—be very nice to have some of our own.”

Her heart burst in her chest with more happiness and love than she ever thought she was capable of. Without hesitation she surged forward and took his face in her grasp, pressing her lips to his. He smiled against her and held her steady as she leaned out of her chair. “I love you,” she mumbled.

“I love you, too.”

She pulled away from him reluctantly. “I think I need to be an aunt, first,” she said.

Gabriel blinked. “You’ve been one.”

“Not officially. We are not yet married.”

“The girls call you Aunt Cecily.”

“It needs to be official.”

He laughed and nodded. “All right,” he caved, pressing another quick kiss to her before setting her back into her seat. “Anything else you wish for upon marrying me?”

“Besides children and an official Aunt title?” She teased.

“Yes, besides those.”

Cecily pretended to ponder long and hard about her answer, despite the fact she knew exactly what it was before he even asked. “I want you to stay with me.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Is that all? Seems easy enough.”

“And also tell me how wonderful I am every single day.”

“Every day?”

“Yes.”

“All right.”

“I am not expensive to please.”

“I can see that.”

Cecily grinned at him, unable to contain her excitement to spend the rest of her life with him. She wanted a love as strong as her parents’ and she had found it. “Is there something you want from me?”

Gabriel seemed surprised by this. “Anything I want?”

“Yes, you.”

He mocked her pondering expression from moments ago, prompting her to huff in faux annoyance. “I also want you to stay with me.”

“I can do that.”

His smile was sweet and vulnerable, an expression she knew only she got to see. She hoped one day he’d look at their children with that expression as well, but until that day came, she was content being the only person in the world he looked at with such love and affection. She began to imagine what their children together would look like in her mind. Whose eyes would they inherit? Would they get her black hair or his brown? Would they have all girls or all boys or a mix? Oh, Gabriel with a daughter would be so sweet—

“Cecy? What are you thinking about?”

“Our children.”

Gabriel flushed red once more and quickly looked away and back toward their documents. “One step at a time, Cecy. We need to get properly married first.”

“Details.”

[bungou-stray-dingus]

I’m Sorry

Pairing : Akutagawa x Reader

A/N : Akutagawa’s sadness is saved for last. We all love a sad emo boy. Don’t we. Don’t we? This is all from Akutagawa’s point of view by the way. I hope you enjoy. I’m so sorry this took so long! There’s been a lot going on but it’s out now! Finally finished Angstember!

T/W : Suicide ; Depression ; Mental Illness ; Anguish ; Desperation ; Angst ; Self Harm

Angstember Day 12

Time’s had been tough, time’s were always tough. Thinking that someone like him would be able to help you was probably stupid, but you fell for him, and by some miracle he had fallen for you as well. He was never warm, never cuddly, he never showed his love all that well, but he was there. For a time, that seemed like enough, just to have someone there with you, but then the darkness became overbearing. There was nothing more you could do, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Life was already hell, so who cares if you ended up there for what you were about to do... right?

The moon was rising, the bright silvery white orb lit up the clouds in the sky that moved in front. It was almost as bright as the sun tonight, he was sure that you were out on the balcony watching it the same way he was. You loved to watch the sunset and the moon rise, you had always taken it as a sign that he would be home soon. He never let you know, but he would count down the hours to sunset, knowing that soon he would be home with you.

Tonight, that wasn’t the case. He had to work over, and he thought of shooting you a message to let you know, but he didn’t want to bother you. He allowed you to have your personal time, something that he assumed you enjoyed since you never texted him when he was at work. He never knew that you didn’t message him because you felt like a bother, that you never called him because you felt annoying, like a pain in the ass. If he knew that, he would have told you that it’s okay, that he wanted to talk to you, that he wanted to know that you’re okay.

Akutagawa wasn’t one to share his feelings, especially not with you. It made him feel weak, it made him feel soft. He wouldn’t get Dazai’s acceptance if he was weak, if he expressed how he felt to you. Maybe he shouldn’t have put Dazai ahead of you, maybe he should have told you how much he loved you, how much he loved to hear your voice, how he’d smile whenever you, on a rare occasion, would send him a text.

Maybe it’s the fact that he wasn’t brave enough, the fact that he had been rejected, thrown away, and unloved his entire life that kept him from opening up to you. The one person in his life that he truly loved, other than his sister, the one person in his life who seemed to actually want him around, who appreciates his existence, who cared. He should have told you that he loved having you around, that your existence in itself was the greatest gift, the most wonderful miracle, and it was truly a mystery to him why someone like you would and could ever love him the way that he loved you.

You hadn’t talked much all day... now that he thinks about it, you hadn’t talked at all. The hours at work seemed to drag, and although he knew he shouldn’t be worried, he couldn’t help the feeling of dread that seemed to be forming a pit in his stomach. He tried to put it off, that he was just over reacting, he wasn’t used to staying over for work, he just wanted to be home with you already. He fought the urge to call you, knowing that you’d either be sleeping already, or in the middle of watching a movie or reading. He hated bothering you, at least that’s what he felt like he was doing whenever he messaged you randomly. So he pushed the feeling far back in his mind. He would feel better once he was with you.

“Alright Akutagawa, you can head home now.” Mori stood in the doorway, watching as he filed away papers into the folders. He nodded to his boss, pushing away from the desk, handing the folders to Mori as he walked past him. As he walked down the long hallway leading to the elevator he pulled out his phone. Still no texts or calls from you, it felt weird. He was used to not having much contact with you while he was working, but something about the lack of notifications tonight made him nervous.

He made up his mind. He would call you, just to hear your voice. Just to make sure that you were okay. His fingers were steady as he dialed your number, but his heart was erratic as the ringing filled his ears. He stood in the elevator, his back against the wall as he waited for you to answer the phone, but you never did. “Dammit, Y/N...” he muttered, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

The walk home felt eerie, something that put his off. The dreadful feeling in his stomach was building, bubbling over, as if something had been left on the stove to boil. He was used to you not answering your phone, used to you not texting him, used to you being distant, so why did this bother him now?

Moonlight guided his path home, but even with the silvery light of the moon, it felt too dark. It was ominous, and the brisk autumn chill that seemed to move through his skin sent shivers through his entire body. Everything about tonight just seemed off, like something was telling him that there was something wrong. He had felt it in the office, he had felt it in the elevator, he feels it now, he just couldn’t quite place just what could be wrong.

As he made his way up the pathway to the shared home he and you had, he noticed that only the bathroom light was on. It was strange, you never kept the lights on when you went to bed, you would keep the nightlight on if you needed it, but never the actual light of a room. He tried to put it off that maybe you had just forgotten to turn it off before you laid down, maybe you were just exhausted and passed out before you realized that the light was still on.

He shook his head as he walked into the house. The door was unlocked already. That alone had his heart racing again. “Y/N?!” He called out your name, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he made his way through the home. You never left the door unlocked, you knew he had a key, you knew to have it locked the entire time you were there alone. He had told you it was to protect secret Port Mafia information, but in actuality, he just wanted to make sure you were safe. If anyone did try to break in, the locked door would have given you time to hide somewhere and call him. So, why had the door been unlocked?

“Y/N!?” He called out your name again as he pushed open doors in the hallway. He got to the bedroom and noticed that the bed was still neatly made, the light shining in from the bathroom illuminated the empty room. Did you leave? His stomach felt like it was rising in his chest as he thought of you actually leaving. His mind full of questions as he stood in the middle of the room, looking around to see if anything of yours was missing.

Your clothes were still draped over the end of the bed, his eyes finally focused in on the fabric. It was the way you placed your clothes when you were about to get out of the shower. His eyes moved to the bathroom door, still cracked open. He saw the silhouette of your body laying in the bathtub, still, almost as if you were sleeping.

He rolled his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself as he made his way into the bathroom. “It’s dangerous to fall asleep in the bath, darling.” He murmured as he walked closer to the tub. That’s when he really saw it. The water dyed red, your body pale, but your eyes were closed as if you were in the deepest, most peaceful slumber. His stomach that had once felt like it was rising in his chest had now dropped, it dropped with such force that it brought him to his knees.

“No. Darling, please. Wake up.” He pulled your hands out from under the crimson blood water mix, revealing the multitudes of cuts lining your wrists, all the way up to your forearm. “Why? What did I do? What didn’t I do?”

He couldn’t understand why. He had wanted to end it all, to leave this world many times, but he never did anything, he never acted on those feelings. He had fought to get where he is right now, he had fought for everything, even you. So why didn’t you fight? Was he not good enough to fight for, to stay alive for?

“Why would you leave me?” He shimmied out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor as he stuck both his arms into the water, trying to get a grip on you so he could pull you out of the tub. He pulled you up, holding you against his chest as he fell back on the floor, leaning against the wall.

You were wearing one of his shirts, it was soaked and clinging against your lifeless body. “Is it a sign... that it’s my fault? Was I not here enough? Why didn’t you talk to me?” He couldn’t wrap his mind around why you would have done it. He was doing his best to show you that he loved you, that he cared about you, was it not enough for you?

He knew that he was cold, he knew that he seemed emotionless, and he knew that he needed to work on that. Just because he didn’t say it or show it doesn’t mean that he loved you any less though. He loved you so much, he just didn’t know how to show it, he was scared to show it. He didn’t want to seem weak, and now he lost the one person who gave him strength, the one person who made him feel like he was worth something.

Your body was cold, his shirt was soaked from holding you against him. He shivered as a breeze moved through the room, pushing a piece of paper off the counter, a sheet that he hadn’t noticed when he walked in. It was a note... your note. “Was that you? I’m sorry... I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t make you better. I.... love you....” he felt like he was choking. He couldn’t cry, it would be weak to cry. Did it matter anymore whether Dazai thought he was weak or not? It didn’t seem like it, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Not when you were dead in his arms, the only person he’d ever allowed himself to love, and you had left him.

He carried you into the bedroom, carefully laying you on your side of the bed. It would be the last time you laid there, the last time that side of the bed would be filled. He would never find anyone else like you, no one would ever take your place, in the bed, in his mind, or in his heart. He stood next to the bed, looking down at you, the note paper felt like a red hot iron in his hand. He was scared to read it. He was scared to face the blame that he believed would be put on him, written in your hand between the lines.

Sitting on the edge of the bed he finally began unfolding the paper slowly. His breath was shaky, his nose sniffling as the tears began to stream down his cheeks. Swallowing felt almost impossible as the lump lodged in his throat. Your handwriting which was usually neat and beautiful seemed shaky, smudged, like you had been crying when you wrote it, and now he was crying while reading it.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry. I’m too weak. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t deal with it anymore, I couldn’t... I didn’t want to do it... but I felt... I’m not strong enough to keep going. I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s never been your fault... You’ve done your best and I Love you so much... I’ll see you when you get here one day, until then, I’ll be waiting...”