#to get my keys to open the fucking door i apparently managed to actually forget

[cinnabeat]

my ability to forget things in less than a minute is impressive and frustrating

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT PHILLY

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-

Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

-

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

-

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

Warnings: mention of assassination, graphic smut, adult content, mentions of murder, pervy men in the workplace, falling for a villain, guns, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, alcohol.

Masterlist

Summary: Jackson just wants a normal life but thanks to his business, his chances were slim. but after meeting you, his chances it doesn't seem like such a long shot anymore.

A/N: Reading Jack's Villian wiki gave me the idea, and the personality section is what really set it in motion. He's more human than we thought, folks. I felt VERY inclined to write this. :)

Jack wasn't proud of his work. He never was. But he knew that once he got into the business, he could never get out. And as fate would have it, you met him on the job.

Your boss was a ruthless, lying, manipulative son of a bitch, and you just so happened to be his receptionist. You hated your job and the way your pig of a boss would always make it sickeningly obvious he was starring at your breasts when asking you to make a call. You hated him. Sometimes you would imagine ways to kill the bastard and get away with it too.

Apparently, someone else had the same idea, but actually took the initiative of hiring an assassin. That's where you came in.

It was a late Friday night, and after a long grueling day of putting up with your boss's demands, you were so happy to see the front door of your home. You couldn't wait to collapse on the couch with a glass of red wine and have a leisurely weekend.

You fiddled with your keys as you tried to find the right one. 'Why the hell did I have all those keys anyways?' you thought to yourself bitterly as you shuffled them around.

But the sound of a gun cocking from behind you made you freeze. Air caught in your throat as you tried to convince yourself you didn't just hear what you thought you heard.

"Don't let me stop you," a smooth masculine voice from behind you sneered, pressing what you presumed to be the barrel of the gun point-blank onto your back, "Unlock the door, step inside. Scream and you die."

You gave a small nod, your search for the right key more frantic now, and once you found it, your shaking hand fumbled with it before finally slipping it into the keyhole, your trembling hand opening the door, and you felt yourself get pushed inside.

The door slammed behind you, and that's when you whipped around, now face to face with your captor. The gun was still pointed at you, but the man who was holding it was what stopped you in your tracks.

If someone told you that morning that you were going to be held at gunpoint by one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in your life, you would have laughed in their face. But you weren't laughing now.

"What do you want?" you managed to squeak out, his piercing blue eyes bore into yours.

"Well, I have a job to do, to put it plainly, and you're one of the only people that can help me complete it," he began to explain, "And you don't have a choice."

"What are you wanting from me?"

"Your boss. I want you to call him and tell him that there's something going on and he needs to swing by the office. Once he obliges, my guys who are waiting outside the building as we speak will take it from there."

"You're going to kill him?" you gasped. Sure, you considered doing it yourself, but you never thought anyone would actually try to do it.

"You don't need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is the gun that's pointed at you right now," he concluded, reaching for your home phone, politely holding it out for you to take.

You paused, and he raised a brow. Out of instinct, you tried to bolt past him to the front door, but when you realized it wasn't going to work, it was too late. He grabbed you violently as you thrashed in his grasp before he collapsed the two of you on the couch. He held you in one position until he felt your breathing calm, your neck in a headlock as you faced away from him, panting like an angry dog.

"Stop getting cute," he hissed next to your ear, and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew his teeth were gritting.

He finally trusted you wouldn't pull anything else after he gave a harsh squeeze to your trapped throat, and he let you go, and you immediately scooted to the other side of the couch.

You felt his eyes on you, and with a sudden jerked movement, he held out what you thought was the gun, making you flinch. But with a double-take, you realized it was just the phone.

You reached out, taking it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt as if you could see something in his gaze. Something longing. Something not quite there. Reluctance.

Shaken fingers press the numbers as you click 'dial', but before you could hold it up to your ear, your captor stopped you.

"Nuh-uh. Speaker."

You nodded, pressing the speaker button before the dial tone echoed through your home. After three times, the line was suddenly picked up.

"What the hell are you doing calling at this hour?" your boss's harsh voice hissed through the phone.

"Yeah, Mr. Snider, there seems to be something happening at the office. Someone from the administration is here and demanding to see you," you tried your best to sound convincing.

"What do they fucking want?" he scorned, his tone making you flinch.

"I wish I knew, sir. They won't tell me anything," you tried to force a smile in your voice.

"Fucking useless," he grunted, making you shift uncomfortably.

"Should I tell them you're on your way?" you proposed.

"Fuck. Fine. I'll be there in 15. And hey, don't get bitchy with me, yeah? Don't forget, you work for me."

"Yes sir," you muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

All the while Jack was watching your reactions. He saw how you flinched at strong tones and saddened at the insults.

The sound of the line going dead was what snapped him back to reality, your still shaking hand setting it down on the coffee table.

"Is that all you needed?" you finally spoke.

"I wish I could say yes," his words made your gaze shift to the floor in disappointment, "I need to stay here until the deed is done."

"How long will that be?"

"After I make this phone call to let the guys know the target is on his merry way, we'll wait until I get a call back. Then we can part ways and you'll never speak of it to anyone. Or else I will have no other choice but to come back and kill you."

You curled in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees as you didn't answer, the sounds of a number being dialed making you cringe.

The sudden movement of him standing up made you flinch, and for a second you thought you almost saw a look of sympathy flash through his eyes before he held the phone to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Stu? Yeah. Yeah, she called. He's on his way. He'll be there in 10. Make it look believable, yeah? Clients aren't paying us for anything that looks tacky."

Jack continued his conversation on the phone as he made his way to your kitchen, still in clear view of you. A few moments later he came back, the phone now hung up, a glass of water in his hand.

"Drink," he commanded.

"I'm not thirsty,"

He suddenly set the phone down, taking one of your hands and wrapping it around the cup, "I don't want you passing out on me. Drink," he commanded again.

Now it felt as if you had no choice. You lifted the cups to your lips, gently sipping as he watched you like a hawk until all the water was down your throat.

"Good girl," he praised jokingly, setting the glass on the table.

He then sat down with you on the couch. There was a prolonged silence.

"What's your name?" you finally asked.

He turned to you and cocked a brow.

"Sorry... just trying to make conversation," with an assassin you added bitterly in your head.

He scoffed, the room going back to silence, the two of you waiting... listening.

"Jackson."

"What?" you questioned, looking at him.

"My name. It's Jackson."

"Oh," you replied, "Well, I'm (name)."

"I know," he smirked.

You mentally facepalmed. Of course he did. He was an or assassin for fuck's sake.

"Can I call you Jack?" you asked meekly.

"Seeing as you won't ever see me again, sure. I haven't been called Jack since I was a kid though."

You could tell he was trying to open up. Just a little. Besides, he was right. It wasn't like he was ever going to see you again.

"Why?"

"Rippner. It's my last name," he explained.

"Oh shit," you said in spite of it not being lady-like, "That was a dick move on your parent's part."

"Tell me about it."

The conversation unfolded. You spoke about names, childhood experiences, hell, even what your favorite ice cream flavor was. It was a careless conversation with the mentality of getting everything out there.

You almost forgot that your boss was being killed right as you spoke. You felt the man in front of you open up. He was okay with being vulnerable with you.

That was until the phone rang, Jack rushing to pick it up.

"Yeah?"

His facial expression was unreadable as you watched him. Finally, he hung up the phone, his face returning to the same cold and distant look it had the moment you two had met.

"Well, (name), this is where we part ways," he began, but before he could walk to the front entryway, you grabbed his hand.

He looked startled as he turned around, his eyes searching your face for an answer. Your move was bold. Risky. But you were willing to take it.

"Don't go." your mouth moved before you could stop it.

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he didn't believe it was you talking. Yet his hand was still being held tightly in yours.

"Please don't go."

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

1 Year Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

You flipped in your sleep, half awake when you realized the spot next to you was bare, the indent of the once sleepless man in his place. You sighed as you flipped back over, looking at the clock.

2:15 am.

You pulled yourself away from your kingdom of soft pillows and blankets and slipped out of bed, your feet pressing against the hardwood of your home. You left the bedroom, crept down the hallway, and when you were finally met with the living area of your home, you were met with the form of your lover.

He was hunched over on the couch, hovering over a glass of red wine that rested in his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, his blue eyes no longer piercing but distant.

The creak of the floorboards under you gave your position away, the man glancing up at you, spooked.

An instant look of regret graced his beautiful features, "Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Hush," you sighed, "It's warmer out here anyway," you concluded.

"Even without your mountain of blankets?" he smirked, thinking of how adorable you looked cuddled up under the mound of linen.

"The bed is always cold when you're not in it," you whined, stilling next to him as he continued to nurse his glass of red liquid.

"Sorry love," he sighed, setting down the glass before wrapping his arms around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened in on his heartbeat. It was soft and lulling as you felt your eyes begin to droop.

That was, until you felt his hard-on press up against your back. A smirk crossed your lips.

"Is this why you couldn't sleep?" you questioned, subtly rubbing up against his bulge as you heard his breath catch in his throat.

"As I said," he muttered, "Didn't want to wake you."

"You could have just said so," you sat up, giving him a passionate kiss, one hand going in his hair, the other going down to his crotch, where he let out a primal groan at the feeling of your touch.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm not really in the mood for foreplay," he stated, his hand reaching your lace panties and ripping them off, pulling you on his lap so you straddled him.

He pulled his boxers down to his knees, his cock springing up. The tip was flushed and angry, pre-cum leaking from the tip, the ridges of his veins pumping.

You bit your lip as you hovered over his gorgeous cock before sinking down slowly, the both of you moaning as you become one. Not long after you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

Jack growled as he grabbed a hold of your hips, helping you as he lifted you on and off his cock, searching for solace in orgasm. His eyes locked with yours as you rode him, and in his eyes, you found nothing but love and admiration, every part of him screaming in appreciation for you.

To put it plainly, he loved the way you loved.

You felt yourself tighten, yet to your disdain, your lover found his release first, a loud groan escaping his lips as he poured himself into you, the warmth in your belly growing as you felt him let go.

By the time he was finished, he was completely blissed out, but you weren't done yet. You wanted to cum. You pulled him out of you, and he watched as his spend dripped out of your swollen mound.

Before he could ask if you were okay, you were already back on him, your thighs now straddling one of his.

"What are you doing?" he asked darkly, raising a brow.

"Shut up," you hissed, rubbing your clit on the meat of his thigh, not wanting to lose any fraction that was already built up.

He caught the hint, his hands finding your hips once again as he helped you drag your throbbing cunt against the skin of his leg. All the while, he whispered filthy things in your ear, knowing it would get you there faster.

"Look at you go. Bet you're not so tired now, eh? Humping my leg like a little bunny. Such a good girl, huh?" he coaxed in your ear, and you nodded desperately, immediately agreeing with whatever he was saying. You just wanted to cum.

Finally, you felt yourself come right up to the edge. Jack knew all your body language perfectly, smirking at you as he began to speak.

"Come on, cum for me, baby. Let me watch you cum,"

And you did. Oh, you did. Your ears rang as your eyes shut tight, feeling your body tense and shake as you let your orgasm sweep you away.

Jack helped you ride through it, his words of praise now seeping into your brain.

"Good girl, there you go," he crooned as you began to catch your breath.

You panted as you slumped against him, hearing his heartbeat once more, matching your breathing with his. You felt him press a small kiss to the crown of your head.

"Thank you," he whispered, and all you could do was nod.

Then he began to stand, "Now come on. Let's go take a shower."

"Can I bring the wine?" you asked intently.

"Fuck it," he laughed.

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

3 Months Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

"You're doing it again,"

Jack looked up at you at the sound of your voice. He was sitting there, his hands folded and his jaw clenched, his leg bouncing up and down in anxiety as he went back to staring at the developing pregnancy test on the table.

"What?" he finally said.

"You're overthinking. I can see it in your face."

He rolled his eyes, seeming harsher than he intended. But he was nervous. In complete honesty, you were the first thing Jack had that had any semblance of normal. and after the things he's done and after the things he'd seen, normal was everything he wanted. And that's what this baby meant.

He craved normal. Life as an assassin didn't really scream domestic. But with you, everything he had ever wanted was wherever you were.

"Whatever the test reads, we'll be okay," you ensured, walking behind him and wrapping your arms around the anxious man, doing your best to calm his rapturing nerves.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a deep breath, "We'll be okay."

The timer suddenly went off, the both of you perking up, chomping at the bit to get to the test, your fingers clutching it as you looked at it.

You gasped.

Jack froze.

You bolted into his arms, test in hand, bawling like a baby.

"You're gonna be a dad, Jack! You're gonna be a dad!!" you squealed, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he held you tight.

He began to tear up, "Really?"

You pulled back and nodded, showing him the test that read positive. He took it in his hands as a means to do a double-take, looking at the two little blue lines.

Without a word, he embraced you again, holding you tighter. His voice was muffled against your shoulder. From him came a small:

"Thank you."

[kkusuka]

Unsupervised

Dabi/ Touya Todoroki x Fem reader

Genre: Smut

Synopsis: You haven’t seen Dabi in a year and he seems to miss you a whole bunch.

words: 1.9k

Cw: minor manga spoilers, slight degrading, overuse of the word doll, you get walked-in on and I'm sure there's a word for that I just can't think of, voyeurism

The threat of being arrested loomed over your boyfriend's head since becoming a villain. Apparently, the fear of never being free again was stomped out by his ambition to overthrow his father.

So when he was captured during an ambush, you felt your heartbreak for him. No matter what had happened in his childhood, life in prison was the only outcome you could think would happen.

Your heart shattered when you were proven right.

You haven't seen Dabi in a year, he was constantly being transferred into higher security prisons. Not to mention the times you tried to visit but he was placed in solitary right before, his bad habit of getting into fights finally caught up to him.

The time made you think about all the nights you spent laying under the stars talking about your future, a peaceful life, maybe a family. Or all the evenings you would dance around your living room in that shitty apartment as a soft waltz plays from the speaker. You’ll never get the chance to have a nice wedding or that baby girl, he would treat so well-

“Um, Y/n? You’ve been cleared to enter.”

Shooting your head up at the mention of your name you take notice of the guard holding the door to the visitation rooms open. You could feel his eyes on you as you placed the fashion magazine back into its place, before grabbing your small purse and walking over to the man.

He led you down a monotonous hallway bringing you to a stop before door number 12.

As he went to open the door he asked once more if you had anything in your purse that could aid in an escape of a high-class prisoner, you're sure the reminder of just who your boyfriend is was a dig at you. But you couldn't even care about that.

He warned you one last time before opening the door and stepping in, taking a second to stand there when a deep familiar voice rang out from the depth of the room,

“Dude, no offense but I was getting in the mood to see my girl, and seeing you really turned me off, where is she anyway?”  you rushed to step in immediately noticing the taunting smirk on his scarred face, “ah! There she is! How are ya Doll?”

Unable to hide your overwhelming rush of emotions, you almost ran towards the man, who promptly stood, letting you wrap your arms firmly around his waist. He maneuvered his still cuffed wrists over your head, pressing you into his body.

Slightly swaying your bodies, he lifted his head towards the guard, who was stationed in the corner by the door ( observation, a skill you picked up from one of Dabi’s impromptu survival lessons) raising his hands, “Man couldn't you undo these one time? They're ruining our reunion.”

You let out a soft, wet laugh at the humor that you missed so much, letting a sniffle out as he stuffed his cheek into your hair, eyes still burning into the guard.

“You know we can’t Mr. Todoroki, it’s against policy for high-class profiles”  You could tell this guy did not like you or your boyfriend and wanted to make sure you knew it.

At the excuse, Dabi let out a loud groan and spun you to sit on the couch adjacent to the chair he plopped himself onto. Settling from across from him you finally got to take a look at him, the look was reciprocated as he stared back at you.

He wasn't as skinny as you expected, that meant he was eating well, or as well as he could in this situation. His skin looked less blistered, definitely from the lack of quirk use. The staples on his hands were replaced with actual stitches and seemed to be healing.

But most notably was the white roots poking out of his dyed locks, something you would never see. He would dye his roots the second his natural color peaked through. It was almost like looking at a different person.

But his eyes, the slight upturn of his lips as he smirked back at you, and the deep chuckle when he noticed your stare. All telltale signs he was the same man you knew, and loved, for the last six years of your life.

“Whatcha lookin’ at doll?”

You couldn't help but let out a smile at the nickname, “Your hair, and your eyes, and your arms, and your, your everything. I can't believe it’s really you” Yu tried to laugh the last phrase out but your soft sobs got in the way.

He gave you a smile and held his arms out, making small ‘grabby hands’ at you, motioning you to come back into his arms.

“Well you didn't come all this way to just look at me, and, dude can’t you just take ‘em off for a minute. These things are totally ruining our moment”

Before the man could answer an intercom blared into the room a fight had broken out in the main corridor and they needed all guards in the area. Meaning he had to leave, at least for a few minutes.

He shot the both of you a look, reaching to grab his keys from his belt, opening the door, “I will be right back, I’m locking the door, the cuffs are staying on. The door will be locked until I come back, no funny business. Am I understood?”

You gave the man a curt nod as he shut the dock, as the lock clicked in place you were thrown onto the couch, your coat and purse threw to the floor. Dabi was looming over you in seconds, pulling his arms apart snapping the chain of his handcuffs.

“H-hey! What-”

“Doll, I haven't gotten off in a year and all of a sudden you show up and we were handed a golden opportunity I will not waste”  he growled as he slipped your top off.

Reaching behind you he unhooked your bra, throwing it into some corner of the room, something he’ll probably manage to sneak back into his cell with. He kneeled in between your legs leaning to take a nipple into his mouth, rolling the other, maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck I missed these, my head doesn’t give you credit, mouse” you missed this, you missed his voice, you missed the way he bit your neck as a hand reached down to maneuver your shorts down your legs.

He lifted his head, admiring the marks he left on your neck, pushing you to sit against the armrest. Then pulling your thighs to his shoulders pressing his face into your dripping core. Giving it a small lick and a guttural rumble from his throat. “Oh, baby you shaved just for me? Now I've got to give you a taste. And you’re just as wet as I remember”

Attaching his lips to your clit, giving it a suck, you followed his command of playing with your hard nipples aiding in the build of your orgasm. Reaching a hand to hand onto his colored locks, pulling him closer to you while tightening your thighs around his head. His chuckle sent shivers to your core, adding to the wetness.

His tongue was shoved deeper into your cunt as you clench around him, riding through your orgasm. Letting you fall onto the couch, painting as he released his cock from his boxers

“You know what to do Doll, get in position.”

You couldn't forget how he wanted you if you tried. It's been buried, fucked really, into you. You're sure you would have pulled your knees to your chest, opening yourself completely, presenting yourself to him, as he fucked you.

He laughed at your submissiveness, “I’ve trained you that well? All this time and you're still my cockwhore! Say it, tell me I was a bitch in heat you are for me.”

Instead of letting you answer he fully sheathed himself in your heat, his hips flushing against yours.

“I’m not hearing you talk Doll! ‘Cmon you’ve said it before, tell me how much you love my dick in your pussy.” he accompanied each word with a roll of his hips, brushing into your clit. Bringing a hand up to roll your nipple.

“I-i’m a whore for you cock, I’m a-a well-trained bitch in heat”  

“Hah! Yes, you are, my bitch in heat!”

He was pounding you into the couch, thrusting with his entire body weight straight into your cervix. Your mind was a mess of his soft growls and the finger rubbing circles around your throbbing clit. Only knowing the feeling of his cock re-carving his way into your cunt.

Mid-thrust the door swung open and you could make out the face of the shocked guard frozen in the doorway. Dabi shot a glare over his shoulder at the intruder before letting out a mocking laugh as he slowed his hip, eliciting a whine from you.

In a second, Dabi fell back, dropping you onto his cock, facing the shocked guard, who was opening his mouth attempting to speak.

“Dude, don't just stand there,” Dabi mocked snapping the guard out of whatever trance he was in, he opted to step in and shut the door going back into his former stance, “ha! Give him a show doll!”

He helped you start off by picking up your hips and dropping you back onto his cock, settling you into a steady rhythm. When you try to hang your head and look into Dabi’s burning eyes, he seems to have other ideas.  

He placed his hand under your chin and pushed your face to meet the eyes of your observer, “Not at me baby, give ‘em a show, it's what he stayed for afterall” keeping with your rhythm his other hand flew down to your clit, fondling with it, laughing when you let out a gasp of his name.

You felt eyes fall onto your bouncing breasts, taking Dabi’s words too great you reached a hand to play with your pebbles nipples, letting out a pornstar worth moan, and Dabi let out a fake moan to pair with yours.

As you felt the coil in your core begin to grow, you lost your pace opting to let Dabi bounce you on his cock until he took mercy and flipped you over, throwing a leg over his shoulder.

Sensing you were close Dabi aimed for the spot in your depths, “Please, gonna cum, Please, please!” the coil was getting tighter and your cunt was squeezing him.

“Go, whore” and with that you fell apart around his cock, milking his orgasm from him as he shoved his cum, farther into your cavern.  

A minute of breathing passed before he peeled himself off you and glanced towards the guard who choked out a command to clean yourselves up and that you only had five minutes left. Scouring the room for your clothes, Dabi surprised you when he handed your bra back until you noticed him pocketing your panties.

After staying in his arms for whatever remaining time you had left, the same guard came back and yanked the man off you and replaced the broken handcuff, locking them on his wrists.

As he was escorted out he glanced back, winked, announcing, “Bye-bye Doll, wait for next time, I’ll stuff your throat full, ok? Just wait.”  

Two weeks and he’ll have to make do on that promise.

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 7

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.4k

Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist

[a/n]

I’m so sorry for the delayed update. Things are happening in my personal life that my writing has incredibly slowed down. 

To that anon who was asking for updates, I’m sorry if I made it seem like you were rushing me (in case you weren’t). Sometimes, I just tend to feel so pressured that I easily project that to others. 

Y’all been excited for this. Here you go, a drunk Tsukishima to make up for the slow update. 

AO3 link is on the masterlist in case Tumblr crashes on you from how long this update is. 

Your eyes widen at the current state of Tsukishima. You look around warily, checking if there’s any mutual classmate you know who is around. But with how dim the club is, the attempt to do so is futile.

“Tsukishima…” you protest while prying his hands away from your waist. 

“We’re in public!” You hiss at his behavior, but he’s completely unfazed. His hands keep creeping back at the spot they were rooted at. 

His facial expression doesn’t falter either. He’s still wearing that silly grin that looks nothing like his usual ones. “So? Didn’t you hug me publicly, right in the middle of the Sendai Gym?” he counters with a cocked brow as his elated grin turns to a clever smirk.

Oh God. What has Tsukishima turned into? He’s like one of those guys who hit on you, but the difference is you’re actually flustered by it. 

Even with his hands and gaze glued to you, you turn to the bartender. “How long has he been here?” you shout. “A while now,” the bartender shouts back. 

You glance at Tsukki’s consumed glasses again. It’s only one glass and two shot glasses. How can he be this drunk already? 

You don’t wonder too long before figuring it out. Tsukishima’s definitely a lightweight, shown by his level of intoxication at the moment even though in reality, he hasn’t had much to drink.

Why did he even drink in the first place? He said he doesn’t see the point of parties. Why is he here getting himself hammered? You grimace when you realize that there’s training tomorrow. You’ve scolded members before for such behavior and now they know better than to get wasted when there’s practice the next day.

You did not expect such irresponsibility from Tsukishima, who’s always exhibited exemplary behavior.

“You should go home.” You mean to sound strict, but with his body being a bit too close, your voice falters. 

He cups the back of your head and pulls you so that his lips are ghosting against your ear.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he says haughtily.

It’s a very familiar scenario with a very different Tsukishima holding you in place. If he’s his usual self (sober and pissed off at you), you’d be teasing him for coming to this club. Instead, you’re the flustered one as his fingers brush your nape while his breath fans your ear. 

“G-go home, Tsukki,” you stutter as you feel his grip on your waist tighten.

“But why?” His hand on your nape travels down on your spine. “Didn’t you say I was welcome to go here?” The ends of your hair prickle up as he presses the warmth of his lips on your cheek when he pulls away slightly.  

It was almost the same scenario when you first saw him in this very same club - the whispering, the closeness, the incredible urge to feel his mouth on yours. The difference is Tsukishima himself. Unlike before when you two were fighting the pull of the temptation, this time, it’s worse because of his suggestive demeanor. 

“Stop it,” you chastise him with a little bit more conviction.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” He withdraws until his lips are only an inch away from yours. 

You take a deep breath, collecting yourself before pushing yourself away from him. “Go home, Tsukishima. You have training tomorrow!” you shout to make sure he hears you without leaning close to him. 

He looks at you like he doesn’t understand shit. His tipsy grin is now wiped off, replaced with an  empty, clueless Tsukishima staring at you. You don’t falter though. You continue glaring at him. Luckily, it seems to  sink in his head after a few seconds as he finally stands up.

At the first step he takes, he staggers like a high school student who got drunk for the first time. You start to feel bad for him because he looks like he really is struggling with it while continuing to fiddle with his glass as if that’s the cause of his apparent dizziness.

You position yourself underneath his arm and help him balance himself. 

You groan as you wobble when he rests some of his weight to you. How can you momentarily forget that he’s a professional athlete weighing more than 160 lbs? You’re always surrounded by tall men, and this has made you think that that height is normal, when in reality they can crush you in a snap. 

You realize that Tsukishima is a lot more busted than you thought. You can see he’s actually trying to walk normally but is failing miserably. 

You’ve already talked to most of your friends so you don’t mind helping him get back home. Not that it matters. You’d still be helping him get back home even if you hadn’t. Aside from being one of your players, he’s also your study partner. You can’t just leave him be. 

With a very drunk Tsukishima on one shoulder, you hail a taxi and carefully make him sit inside. Your initial plan is just getting him a ride home, but looking at him now, you’re not sure if that’s the best idea. He might suddenly pass out. Who knows what will happen to him then?

You sigh as you get yourself inside the cab as well. 

You give the driver the address of the Tsukishima’s while he rests his head on top of yours. “This car is moving too much,” he complains with discomfort crisp in his voice. The vehicle is rather stable. It’s the alcohol in his head that’s making things shaky for him. 

Instead of letting him lean on you, you carefully settle his head against the headrest of the car seat so he’s leaning back instead of sideways. You kneel instead of sitting so you can use your hands to keep his head steady because he’s too darn tall. 

After a short while, he lets out a sigh of relief from the stability your hands provided. His features are more relaxed now that his brows are no longer scrunched up and his lips no longer pressed in a strained manner.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head a bit to look at you. He grasps one of your wrists as he gives you a faint smile that doesn’t resemble anything he’s given you, not even the dumb one he did at the club.

It’s a tender and genuine smile that softens up his usually stern face. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Yes, you’re well aware. You hear it all the time that the word lost any shred of novelty it once had. 

But when Tsukishima says it, your heart skips a beat.  He isn’t flirting with you. He’s looking at you like he’s stating an observation he finds pleasing to him, like you’re a sight he’s truly enjoying to see.

You almost let go of his face from the uncanny feeling on your chest that’s making you uneasy, but you halt yourself when you remember that this guy’s world will spin faster than Jupiter’s rotation if you let him be.

You let out a deep sigh to calm yourself down.

“I know,” you respond firmly to hide the fuzzy mess that you are on the inside. 

“If I’m not so fucking plastered, I’d kiss you.”

You suck in a sharp breath upon hearing it, the yearning to do so creeping up fast behind you. 

You can do it yourself. You’re not dizzy. It’d be so easy. His face is already in your grasp anyways. You just have to lean forward a bit and you can easily grant him what both of you want. 

Should you?

It’d just be one of your harmless kisses, right? You’ve done it countless times before. One more shouldn’t hurt. 

“We’re here.”

You’re harshly brought back to sanity by the driver’s cue that you’ve reached his home. You’re thankful for it because you were really about to kiss him even though you’re the one who said that the deal is no more. You would have slapped yourself if your hands aren’t full.

You pay the driver and help Tsukishima get out of the car. 

You get under his one arm again and assist his steps so he doesn’t stumble. Once you reach their doorstep, he gets his keys from his pockets but scuffles trying to insert it in the keyhole. Instead of getting pissed, he laughs sardonically and faces you. 

“Look, y/n. The key is fucking stupid,” he says, completely believing that it’s the key’s fault and is actually snickering at the inanimate piece of metal’s ‘incapability’ to shoot itself where it needs to be. 

You can’t help but laugh. Even at his drunken state, he still roasts things he deems doltish. It’s funnier cause he talks a bit dopey while insulting the innocent key. He’s still failing after a while so you volunteer to do it. 

“I can do it,” he says seriously and on his next attempt, he does get it in. Then he looks at you and smirks proudly. “See?”

You shake your head and roll your eyes at how absurd he’s acting, but the grin on your face remains. He is still very much himself. It’s just that his rudeness is comically misplaced. Yet as entertaining as it is to watch, you can feel the strain in your shoulders and upper back already. 

You open the door and hope that a relative is somehow still awake to take Tsukki off your hands. Still no luck for you as you’re greeted with nothing but silence. 

“Where’s your room?” “Upstairs, left.”

Great. Can this get even worse? Your original plan is just getting him a cab. Now you have to personally walk him to his room since he’s hopeless treading on a flat surface. What more on a flight of stairs?

You ask him to close the door and lock it before you head up. “Alright, Tsukki. Let’s get you in bed,” you tell yourself as a motivational push to get the task done. 

You huff every step you take because he really is too heavy for you and you’ve had a long night already. You’ll be sure to reprimand him tomorrow for this.

“Y/n?” 

You lift your head up from wooden steps and see Akiteru at the top end of the stairs.

“Aki-san!” You can’t be more thankful upon his arrival.

He urgently goes to you, stopping a few steps up from you and Tsukki.

“What happened to him?” Akiteru asks concernedly. 

“He’s…” you try to think of a more decent word but you can’t think of any at the moment so you tell it as it is. “He’s drunk,” you admit. 

Akiteru’s expression is even more incredulous than yours was back in the bar. He’s looking at you and Tsukki interchangeably. 

“You... you got him to drink?” 

You don’t know if you’re offended or amused because Akiteru looks like he’s extremely grateful that you caused this to his brother.

“I-uh... no. I found him like this in the club. I think you should take him already,” you suggest. You’re about to lift Tsukki’s arm off of you when you feel him resist. When you turn to him, he’s already looking at you with displeasure. “You said you would get me in bed,” he states.

Is he fucking serious? Hell no. You have no reason to do so when Akiteru is here already. “Aki-san, please,” you implore while glaring at Tsukki. 

“Umm... you heard him, y/n.”

You harshly turn your head at Akiteru from disbelief. When your gaze lands on him, he’s sporting an innocent smile, a stark contrast to knowing that the intention behind it is not so innocent.

“Aki-san?” your voice rises a bit from bewilderment at what he’s insinuating. 

“Why do you call Nii-chan by his name?” Tsukki slurs as he asks. 

“Huh?” You eye Tsukki exasperatedly. You have yet to absorb what Akiteru is implying and Tsukki is already adding up to the initial question mark hanging on your head.

“You just met him and you already call him Aki-san. We’ve been working together for three years, yet you don’t call me Kei. Not even when we ki-”

You cover his mouth and laugh awkwardly and loudly. “Tsukki! What are you talking about?” You make yourself sound clueless as you give him a very subtle glare while smiling, hoping that he gets your warning.

“When you what?” Akiteru prods, his eyes still friendly, but with amusement lurking beneath them.

You form a smile but with Tsukki’s weight and his intoxicatedness that’s causing him to babble nonsense, it comes out distressed.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” you persist. “I should really go now. It’s really late, Aki-san. Please,” you press on.

“You can stay,” Tsukki suggests with a faint smirk.

“I agree with Kei. It really is late. We’d be responsible if something happens to you,” he explains kindly, but you know his concern is only second place to what he’s actually thinking. You can tell he’s rooting for you and his younger brother.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be responsible for you,” Tsukki announces with his voice a bit garbled.

Akiteru laughs at Tsukki’s remark but thwarts it immediately as he eyes you apologetically. “Sorry about my brother,” he whispers with one hand covering his mouth. 

“Just sleep with me in my room.”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, it does. Your mouth gapes at Tsukki from how he just uttered that inappropriate statement right in front of his older brother. 

You turn to Akiteru defensively. “It’s not what you think.”

Akiteru’s courteous smile doesn’t faze as he says, “I’m not thinking anything, y.n.”

The whole situation makes you want to let go of Tsukki’s arm and jump off the railings of stairs. Then, you’ll wake up in the morning and find that you’ve escaped this entire scenario altogether.

You sigh and wave an imaginary white flag in your head. “I’ll make sure he’s fine,” you say to Akiteru.

You see his eyes light up. Since you and Tsukki are already occupying the narrowness of the stairs, Akiteru can’t go to Tsukki’s other arm to help you. Instead, he goes back up and opens a door on the left.

He keeps it open until you reach what you surmise is Tsukki’s room.

Once you get inside, you hear Akiteru speak, “Thanks for taking care of my brother, y.n.” He closes the door before you can say anything.

Rather than minding Akiteru, you pour your attention on Tsukki, getting him to sit down with his head leaning against a wall.

You feel the instant relief on your shoulders with Tsukki’s weight off them. However, you can’t ease up yet. You have to go to their kitchen and get this guy some water.

You’ll complain later or tomorrow, but for now, you’re going to focus on getting shit done.

You’re about to head out of his room when the door opens itself, causing you to yelp from shock. 

“Sorry,” Akiteru apologizes with a hushed voice. In his hand is a huge bottle of water which he extends to you with congenial fondness. 

“Goodnight,” he says prior to closing the door.

Akiteru is pleasant, but he can’t be more obvious on how he eminently pairs you up with his brother.

You don’t delve into it further as you need to get Tsukki all fixed up. You walk over to where you seated him and make him drink the water Akiteru gave.

You need to make sure he’s not totally hammered when he sleeps. You don’t want him with a hangover tomorrow and skip training when the next match is just a week away. 

He seems in need of the liquid too since he quickly finishes the bottle as soon as he takes it. He clumsily slams the empty bottle on his desk and stands up precariously.

“Woah there. Where are you going?” you ask imperiously.

“Bathroom,” he answers. He tips his head towards you as a corner of his lip shoots up. “Why? Care to join me?”

You want to fight back with a sarcastic ‘No, thank you,’ but he still walks a bit funny so you can’t exactly let him be. You sigh as you take his arm again and aid him as he walks.

“Only until the door,” you patiently answer. 

As much as you want to be a smartass like him, you need the Frog’s starting middle blocker to never miss a training. You can’t have him tripping, falling flat on his face, or accidentally bumping on a wall. 

You let him inside the restroom. Luckily, they have one on this floor so bless your shoulders and upper back. When he comes out, he looks a little less disoriented and his sense of balance is somehow stable with how he’s standing. 

You follow him as he goes back to his room. To your shock, he immediately crawls to bed without changing. ‘Disgusting,’ you comment mentally. He came from outside, a club specifically. How could he not bother changing?

“Aren’t you going to change clothes?” you ask, your grossed out tone clearly heard.

“I’m tired and I’m still slightly dizzy,” he says nonchalantly.

He begins settling down while you’re standing there, tired and dumbfounded. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” He glances around his room, probably trying to recall where he put an extra mattress. Only two seconds later, he gives his bed one firm tap as if to tell you that you’re sleeping beside him. 

You close your eyes from exhaustion and exasperation combined. You don’t want to sleep next to Tsukishima but it has been one hell of an evening already that you’ll take what you can get. He’s already sobered up a bit anyway. You’re at ease that he’ll keep his hands to himself.

You walk to his drawers and find a pair of loose clothing he can comfortably sleep in. Then you stride to his bed and give it to him. He looks at the clothes you’re holding then at you.

On a regular day, he wouldn’t dare sit on his bed without changing after spending time outside.. Tonight is the only exception because he truly isn’t up to the task anymore. He’ll just change his sheets tomorrow. 

He only wants to lie in bed and shut his eyes already. But with you handing him a change of clothes, he has no reason to not to do so anymore.

No reason but to get back at you for giving him hell when you got yourself sick and passed out with only him present to take care of you. 

“I told you I’m dizzy,” he says without accepting the clothes you’re offering him. 

“Don’t tell me I have to change your clothes myself.” He can hear you’re about to lose it and it’s spurring him on even more. He hides his smirk and shrugs indifferently, leaving it to you to decide that for yourself.

You palm your face furiously and it’s almost breaking his resolve to keep a steady face. You prove to have a sensible amount of control on your temper as you recover after one excruciating deep breath. He’s not exactly surprised though. You’ve been a manager for three years now and handling male athletes is not exactly a walk in the park if one has temper problems.

You put one knee on his bed as you start tugging his shirt up. “Why did you even drink?” 

 “Why do you care?” He answers the same way you did when he asked why you bother going to parties.

“Because I’m the one taking care of you!” you almost yell as you dress him in a new shirt. When you successfully change his shirt, you glance at his pants then to his eyes. You didn’t have to utter a word to let him know that you don’t plan to change that particular piece of clothing.

He doesn’t falter though. If he tasted hell because he had to undress your top while you were passed out, he couldn’t miss the chance to return the favor.

“So? You didn’t hear shit from me when I had to take care of your sick ass,” he says, pouring salt to the right burn so he can push you to go along with his scheme.

You clench your jaw as you avert your eyes from his.

“You were a real handful, you know that?” he continues on. “Come to think of it. You’ve heard not a single complaint from me about that night. Should I lecture you now?” His lips betray his apathetic facade when a smirk forms on his face. 

You smile at him with utter displeasure but don’t say anything as you start unzipping his pants, your spiteful eyes never leaving his amused ones.

“I’d love it if you help by lifting your sarcastic butt,” you sound distressed as you try to pull down his pants. 

He grips both your hands that are tugging on his waistband. He props himself up a bit, leaning down and closing in on your stunned yet still delightful face.

“Why do you look so surprised? You asked me to help you, right?” he asks with a subdued voice as he tugs his pants down. 

You turn your face away from his and don't answer his question as you continue what he started. His eyes never trail off your features until you successfully take his pants off

With your face still turned away from his, you grab the shorts you took earlier and toss it to his face. “Seems like you’re not dizzy anymore,” you say as you head to his closet. 

For no fucking reason, he’s laughing elatedly. He might not be dizzy anymore but he can still feel the aftermath of the drinks he rushed drinking at the club. Is this why people get drunk? Because even the most trivial things are funny?

No. It’s because he’s drunk. It’s because of how entertaining you look when you’re a flustered mess. Before you looked away, he caught the wild blush on your cheeks, the stir in your eyes, and the way your hands trembled as you undressed him.

Initially, he wanted you to put on the shorts you got for him as well. But he figures he can show you mercy and do this one on his own since he already had his fun seeing you in a flustered state.

You open his closet and pick your own set of fresh clothes to borrow. Without saying anything, you step out of his room and head towards their restroom.

The first thing you do inside is check your reflection and goddamn it--you’re blushing like a teenager about to lose her virginity.

You groan frustratedly as you softly slap your cheek with your free hand. Tsukishima is tipsy and is just messing with you. Why do you have to be so affected? 

You turn the faucet on and hurriedly wash the heat off your face. When you feel like you’ve cooled off, you look up at the mirror to check if you’re no longer a bursting tomato.

You sigh with relief when you see that your face is back to normal. You turn off the faucet and begin changing to Tsukki’s clothes.

As expected, everything is loose. His shirt is almost a dress. Actually, it already is with how it’s draping just above your knees. You had to use your hair tie to knot a portion of his shorts’ waistband for it to not to drop on your ankles. 

It’ll be uncomfortable sleeping with lumped fabric on your hips but you’d prefer that than not wearing anything underneath his shirt.

You neatly fold your clothes and go back to his room. Another wave of relief hits you when you see him lying down with his eyes closed already. His glasses are already off too. Despite the strenuous and outrageous turn of events earlier tonight, you’re actually glad that he’s safe and sleeping soundly. 

Hopefully tomorrow, he’s going to be fine and forget the shit he pulled on you tonight. 

You take a deep breath as you sit on his bed. Fortunately, his bed is wide enough for you to have some decent amount of space away from him. He also has another pillow so you can sleep comfortably with one of your own. You just pray that it won’t be so cold because there is only one blanket.

Oh well. You’ll cross the bridge when you get there. 

You get his extra pillow and lie down. Once your back hits the soft mattress, your eyes shut close on their own. You feel the weight in your legs and back settle as your body starts to relax. You know that any moment now, you’ll fall asleep so you turn to your side with your back facing Tsukishima. 

You were right. You already feel your consciousness drifting off not long after, only to be disrupted by an arm sliding over your waist.

“What the-”

“My head hurts.” 

Even if Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, you already know how close he is with warm breath fanning your nape. You’d scoot away but you’re already at the edge of his bed.

You harshly remove his arm and face him to give him a not so peaceful piece of your mind. You toss around to face him and when you do, you forget your annoyance as you’re met with a very distressed Tsukishima. His eyes are closed and his brows are furrowed together in almost a straight line. 

“How bad is it?” You ask as you gently brush his hair away from his forehead. 

“Like someone’s driving a fucking nail on my head,” he spats out with the crease on his brows getting deeper. 

You gently slide one hand under his head and so you can massage his temples with both thumbs, hopefully it’ll soothe him even just a bit. 

Thankfully, the crease on his brows and the tension around his nose and mouth eases up. “Where are your painkillers?” I ask softly. “I’ll go get one for you.”

He opens his eyes, a certain tenderness dancing in his orbs while he stares right onto yours. “Just stay here,” he utters delicately as he gradually slides his arm back to your waist. With a firm but still gentle grip on the small of your back, he draws you closer to him until there’s almost no space between your bodies. 

This is different, way too different than he was earlier. And to be honest, you’d prefer that over this. This… it’s something even you cannot name. 

Your thumbs stop moving on their own accord as he inches his face closer. You almost gasp for air with how heavy and thick it suddenly feels. 

“Uh..,” you trail off without even saying anything. You just thought if you said something, it would break the tension. However, it only made it worse.

“Hmm?”

You seem to be the only one uncomfortable as he’s still gazing intently at you like it’s nothing. 

“W-Why are you staring at me like that?” What the hell did you stutter for? This is just Tsukishima, goddamnit.

“It hurts less when I do.” You’d think he’s joking but there’s no trace of derision anywhere on his face. He removes his hand from your waist only to rest it on your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw as he says, “I don’t like that I can’t see you clearly right now.” 

It’s too much. 

Your chest feels like it’s about to explode from how fast your heart is pounding. You want to retract your hands away from him, but you can’t move them because having them there makes him feel better. 

Then he looks down on your lips, a knowing look that you’re very much familiar with.

“Tsukki, we can’t do this,” you whisper, causing his eyes to go back on yours. 

“What are we doing anyway?” he asks as if he’s not aware of what he’s stirring in you. 

“You know what,” you insist. There’s no way he doesn’t.

“I don’t. Maybe if we actually do something, I’ll know what you’re talking about.”

You squint at him with disbelief, not buying the innocent act of him not grasping the situation when he’s the one causing it. “We already broke that deal, Tsukki.”

“Then let’s bring it back,” he counters right off the bat. 

You sigh while shaking your head disagreeably. “You’re drunk,” you state plainly, reminding yourself of this fact to rationalize the way he’s behaving, to calm the havoc that he’s inciting in you. 

You put your thumbs back to work and knead his temples again.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees as he closes his eyes again. He lets out a reposed sigh, then removes his hand from your neck.

You can now rest easy as the temptation backs away himself. You keep at it, observing his stern features which are getting more lax while you continue massaging him. 

Finally, he does as you want him to do: sleep and keep his hands to himself. 

So why is there a nagging emptiness brimming inside you? You’re not actually disappointed, are you? 

“Tsukki,” you utter his name in hushed tones, hoping that he won’t respond. 

With his eyes still shut, you thought he wouldn’t. Yet, he answers just as softly as you called him. “What?”

You sigh. Why is he still awake? He could’ve been asleep already or just stayed quiet and ignored you. Then you’d be able to sleep soundly knowing that you didn’t do anything that you could possibly regret in the morning. 

You stop encircling your thumbs on his head and rest your palms on his cheeks instead. You lean closer to his face. 

“If you change your mind in the morning, forget this happened,” you whisper before you succumb to the snares of attraction you’ve been running away from since you saw Tsukishima in the bar. 

You capture his lips, gradually easing into it, giving yourself time to retreat before he responds. Apart from you not wanting to, he doesn’t give you much time at all as he puts his hand back on your neck and returns the kiss with a guttural sigh.

He eagerly nips on your lips, ardently moving against them as if he’s been wanting to do this for a while already. You respond with the same passion, pressing yourself closer to feel his body firm against yours. 

He moves his hand from your neck to the back of your head, lightly gripping your hair as he coaxes your mouth open with the flick of his tongue on your lower lip. 

You immediately yield to him, parting your lips so you can have more of what he’ll give. When he slips his tongue in and grazes yours, you taste the slight tang of alcohol. It’s very subtle, barely there, but it’s causing a buzz in your senses that no other liquor has provided. 

It’s only a kiss, but you know that this is unlike the previous harmless ones you’ve shared with him. 

Your soft moans on his mouth and his lips growing greedier with each nip tells you that this is one very dangerous kiss. 

You drag your hand from his cheek to his chest to push him away, but he suddenly tugs your hair down, giving himself access to the column of your neck. This time, rather than nudging him away, you clutch his shirt tightly, feeling his mouth trail along the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“T-Tsukishima,” you whine as his hand travels down your ass, his huge palm and long fingers tugging on the fabric as he gives one cheek a firm squeeze.

“Hmmm?” he hums on your skin before you feel his tongue swipe down on your collarbone.

Your skin is on fire but you feel like you’re drowning. Everything he’s doing is compelling you to want to go further than this, to let him touch you beneath the clothes you’re wearing, to let him kiss you wherever he pleases.

Tsukishima wants nothing but precisely that. He’d blame the alcohol, but nothing’s more intoxicating than the sound of your whimpers and your body deliciously pressed against his. His clothes hanging loosely on you only adds to his delirium. 

He knows this is going to lead to something incredibly stupid and totally reckless, but stupid and reckless has never felt this delectable. How can he not indulge himself when the promise of your rapture is just within his grasp? 

He just needs to know if you’re willing to cross the obscure boundary of the deal you once had. 

He puts his free hand to use, sliding it underneath the baggy shirt you’re wearing. He carefully skims his hand up, grazing his fingers just below your bra. Meanwhile, his other hand on your bottom goes a bit further down, only for him to slip his hand inside the oversized shorts and feel your almost bare ass.

With his other hand feeling empty, he moves his palm up and kneads one supple bosom. 

“Ah,” you clench his shirt tighter as you mewl from his touch. Even though he can’t see you clearly, your voice and the way your arch your body even closer to him is enough to cause a tent to form in his shorts. 

He withdraws away from your neck and gets back to your lips. With his hand on your behind, he lugs you closer and grinds his erection on your thigh, letting you know how much you affect him, how much he wants you right now. 

Then your body stills along with the quivering of your lips. 

He pulls back to look at you and even with his blurred vision, he can sense that you’re frightened. “What’s wrong?” Just a while ago, you were melting within his embrace. Now, you’re shaking like a leaf.

“I-” Your breath hitches when you speak. “I can’t do this,” you whisper weakly even though you’re the one who instigated the kiss that led to this. 

Although he’s confused about the sudden change of heart, he doesn’t push it. He immediately removes his hands off your delicate parts and puts considerable space between you. 

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to seem so scared,” he tells you with an insipid, yet reassuring tone. 

You are scared, but not of Tsukishima. You’re afraid of yourself, of your own desire that’s starting to get out of control. You know that one more kiss and you’ll totally cave in. 

It shouldn’t be a problem since you know that he wants you just as you want him. The hard thing poking at your thigh is enough proof. 

But what happens if morning comes and he wakes up regretting his inebriated urges? He might not be batshit drunk anymore but alcohol is still running through him. If not, he wouldn’t be openly flirting with you. 

What about you? What will be your excuse if the sun rises and he asks why you went along with his intoxicated whims?

None.

You’ll be held responsible for leading him to dance the devil’s tango when he’s not capable of consenting to it with a straight head. You don’t want that. You don’t want to see disgust and regret splashed on his face in the morning, not when you terribly enjoy his kisses and touch.

So you softly push him away. “I’ll sleep beside you, Tsukishima. That’s all I’ll do,” you say with your head down and palms flat on his chest.

“Okay,” he obliges right after you said it. “Do you want me to turn away from you?”

Your eyes shoot up and meet his somber golden ones. “N-no. It’s fine. I’ll do it,” you stammer as you shift your position so your back is facing him. You take a while before you feel your heartbeat getting steady again as the temptation dwindles down. 

You’re about to close your eyes when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder.

“Can I hold you like this?” he asks, his voice a bit farther than it was a while ago. You can tell that he’s maintaining his distance this time. 

“Just like this,” he reiterates with his hand squeezing your shoulder to let you know that his hand won’t drift anywhere else. 

You shut your eyes with a faint smile on your lips. You place a hand over his and give it a light squeeze as you murmur, “Yeah.” 

Your hand starts to slip down when tonight’s events offer you a last surprise. As your hand glides down while you’re starting to drift off to sleep, he laces his fingers with yours to keep it in place. 

You hum peacefully with a gratified smile fully forming on your lips. 

You allow yourself to have this. 

What harm can come from holding hands with your tipsy blonde middle blocker?

--

You wake up a bit refreshed. However, you can still feel the aftermath of Tsukki’s heavy figure slouched on your shoulder last night, or was it morning already? You try to massage your shoulder but as you move your hand, you feel someone else’s intertwined with it.

You press your lips together to prevent a smile when you realize that you two slept together. It’s nothing. You shouldn’t be smiling because of it. It’s just a tiny gesture of reassurance that things are okay between you two despite what almost happened.

You carefully untangle your fingers from him before you sit up. You glance sideways to see if you woke him up. He shuffles a bit but doesn’t seem to have been disturbed. 

You look out the window and see that the sun has barely risen, meaning you haven’t gotten enough sleep. You know it’s no use getting back to sleep since your mind is already fully awake. You wouldn’t dare get out his room but you’re parched and you need to use the restroom. 

You step out of his room and gently closes the door. After you finish using the restroom, you carefully go down their stairs. You take a peek if any of his relatives is up and are relieved when you see that their kitchen is empty. 

You saunter your way to their kitchen, remaining as quiet as you can be while you fix yourself a glass of water. 

“Morning.”

You flinch and almost drop the glass you just finished when you hear the unexpected greeting. You look at the source and see Akiteru, leaning sideways against the fridge with an amicable smile. 

“Oh!” You exhale a huge breath of relief as you put down your glass on the counter. You turn to him to greet him but when you face him, he eyes what you’re wearing. You follow his gaze and realize that you’re wearing Tsukki’s clothes. 

‘It’s not what you think,’ is what you want to say, but you already said that at the stairs. If you repeat it again, you’d seem more defensive than you already were. But how else would you explain yourself?

You look at him with pleading eyes and a weary smile. “I swear, it’s really not what it looks like,” you insist weakly. “I just had nothing to wear,” you add to your defense. Akiteru laughs and waves his hand considerately.

“Don’t worry! I believe you, y/n,” he says with his honest, kind smile. “It’s a bit early for you to be up though,” he remarks. 

“Yeah. My mind is all...” You hover your hands on both sides of your head and shake them while you roll your eyes inanely. 

He chuckles from the antic you didn’t even realize you did. “Wanna chat for a bit? Since you’re all,” he imitates what you did with your head but quelled and contained. 

You smile from how pleasant he is despite teasing you so much for taking care of his brother. “Sure,” you answer kindly. 

He walks towards their dining table and offers you a seat. You follow curtly and sit across him. He regards you decorously, making you feel at ease even though he’s practically a stranger.

“I have to ask, y/n. There’s really nothing between you and Kei?” he asks genuinely. You can tell that he’s looking out for his younger brother, hence the straightforward question. 

You shake your head with a courteous smile. “Nothing. I don’t know if you know, Aki-san, but I’m also his manager.”

His eyes widen.

“You’re the Sendai Frogs’ manager?”

He’s seen Kei’s games but didn’t really have the chance to meet those who stayed on the bench. In one game he has watched, he heard some people beside him saying how blessed the Frogs are for having a ‘hot’ pair of coach and manager. Although he glanced very briefly because of his curiosity, he didn’t really see much of said pair for he was too far away in the stands. You beam proudly at him as you nod, confirming that the other half of the duo is indeed as lovely as the rumors he heard. “For three years now.”

Akiteru scans your face and can’t help but feel like he’s misjudged you a bit. He thought you’re a university student who likes going out and enjoys the most out of college life. He didn’t think you’d be working as a manager for a team. “I was just making sure he got home okay because we need him for practice. The next game is already next week.”

“Isn’t it tough to be his manager?” he asks, curious about what you think of Kei as an athlete. 

“Not really. I like everyone in the team. To be honest though, he was a real pain in the a-” you cut yourself off and clear your throat. You must have realized that you’re talking to him, Kei’s older brother. Although, he wouldn’t really mind if you continue what you were about to say. It amuses him actually. 

“What I mean to say was he was a bit difficult at first. But over time, I got used to him and actually found him nice to have in the team. He’s very smart and very disciplined. Even if he’s apathetic and sarcastic at times, I know he loves being part of the Frogs,” you explain.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says truthfully as he sees that you’re fond of Kei when your eyes shimmer a bit brighter when you talk about his brother. 

“Sometimes people misunderstand him because he acts detached. The truth is when he starts caring about something, he cares deeply. That’s why he has that cool, uncaring facade,” he adds as he stares at the surface of the table. 

When he raises his gaze to you, you look a bit mystified. 

“I’m sorry! I rambled a bit there, didn’t I?” he laughs tensely. 

You smile graciously and wave your palms. “No! It’s fine. I just wasn’t sure why you’re telling me this,” you admit with an apprehensive simper. 

He grins warmheartedly. “I just felt like sharing,” he answers even though the real reason is because he’s convinced his brother likes you too and you might need to know that aspect of him.

Kei wouldn’t have allowed you to take him home no matter how drunk he is if he isn’t comfortable with you. The entertaining exchange you three had on the stairs was another clue. Lastly, Kei let you sleep in his room and you’re even wearing his clothes.

“Has he always been like that?” you ask. 

“Not really,” his smile fades, for he knows that he’s a big factor why Kei is extremely apprehensive of getting too passionate about something. He brushes it off and continues, “But he’s always had that sarcasm ever since he was little.”

You giggle at his answer. “Why am I not surprised?” you say amusedly before your eyes wander to the window. 

“The sun’s up,” you announce softly. “I should go back to Tsukki’s room. I need to change and leave soon so I can attend my earliest class.”

“Of course! Thanks for the small chat, y/n,” he says dearly.

“Any time, Aki-san,” you respond buoyantly then stand up. Instead of going back to Kei’s room, you head to the fridge and get a bottle of water. 

“He’ll probably be thirsty as f… hell when he wakes up,” you explain, receptive of Kei’s condition even though his drunk brother must have given you a hard time last night. You bow thoughtfully then head up. 

He watches you get back upstairs, careful not to make so much sound from your steps since it’s still early. Then he walks to the kitchen to get him some coffee while thinking how well you suit his younger brother. Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai  @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu @expectonothinfromme @finnydraws @namelessidentity @hqbeesun @yatoatyourservice @mrkozume @suzuyamitsuki @celestialarchiveshq @yongboxerrr @gomenpudding @kutiekoge @fizzfrick @flamingosis @korean-bbq @ihaterainbowsprinkles @red-lint @backtonormalthings @borpcorp @lonelyheartxn @venomouscreatures @lucyrocks86 @shawtiie @honestlysora​

[the-bau-quinjet]

How could you do this babe?

In Breakable Heaven chapter one! Here we go!

Summary: Reader’s ready to celebrate her anniversary with her boyfriend, but things don’t go as planned. 

Warnings: Cheating, swearing, drunk people

Word Count: ~2100

“…leave a message at the beep.”

You couldn’t help but be disappointed that he didn’t answer, but didn’t mind leaving a message. “Hey babe, I was able to close the bookstore early! I should be to yours in the next few minutes if you want to celebrate early. I know you like to have ample time to get ready, so I guess I just wanted to warn you. Anyway, I love you. See you soon.” You left the voicemail as you walked to your car. Tonight you are celebrating your three-year anniversary. You even changed into your brand new lingerie to surprise him, wearing a long coat to hide it in public. It felt a little bit wrong not wearing real clothes, but you were determined to make this the best anniversary celebration yet.

 The drive to his apartment was relatively uneventful. A light rain started about halfway through the five-minute drive. As you pull up to his apartment building, you notice the lights on in his room. “Good, he’s home” you think to yourself as you open the door, shuffling inside from the muggy DC weather. As you approach the apartment door, you can hear the soft music of the playlist you made last month featuring all of Taylor Swifts most romantic love songs. Your heart flutters as you think of the kind gesture. Of course, he would be thoughtful enough to put on music as you arrived at his apartment. Unlocking the door and untying your coat at the same time proved to more difficult than anticipated, but you managed to nudge the door open whispering “happy anniversary baby” in the sultriest tone you could.

 As you took in the rest of the apartment, your heart burst. There were roses everywhere. Candles lit a path to the bedroom. Maybe he did know how to be a romantic. Dropping your things on the counter and sliding your coat off the rest of the way, you tip toed into the bedroom to surprise him since he clearly did not get your message. The next sixty seconds felt as though time stopped. Or, more accurately, you froze and everything else in the world took on an impossible speed.

As you pushed open the bedroom door, three things caught your attention. First, you felt a surprising amount of resistant as you pushed the door over a bundle of clothes you didn’t recognize. Second, you heard the bed bouncing against the wall. Third, you saw streaks of auburn hair running through you’re boyfriend’s hands as he mercilessly pounded into a woman you didn’t recognize.

 Apparently, your entrance was too quiet for either of them to be interrupted. All you could manage was to slowly retreat into the living room, closing the door, but knocking into a side table.  You could hear them as they stopped moving, running to the door to investigate the noise. All you wanted was to get out of there though. Throwing your coat back over your lingerie, you grabbed your purse and keys, slamming the door shut. You didn’t even turn around when you heard him opening the door and calling your name. Whatever he had to say was not worth your time anymore.

 You couldn’t get the image of the two of them in bed together out of your head. You were feeling absolutely everything at once. You felt betrayed. You felt sad. A small part of you was actually glad you had a reason to end it. It had never felt like the kind of relationship that would move on. But still, you thought you were happy with him.

 But mostly, you were pissed. Rightfully so, but you had no idea where to go or what to do. Your blind adrenaline carried you to the car, and you wound up at a bar. You don’t even remember starting the car, much less driving, but you knew you needed something to drink. You ran inside, ordering tequila shots to drown the sadness, and sat at the bar. As you sat at the bar, contemplating your existence, a man walked up to sit next to you. You had your fair share of practice with this scenario. You had mastered the right mix “fuck off” and “sorry, I’m taken” to get men like this guy to back off with just a single look. But right now, all you could manage was a halfhearted grin that very clearly said “you do not want to deal with my emotional baggage right now.” It was all in the crazed look in your eyes, you were sure of it.

 Nobody else came up to you while you were there. You couldn’t help but think over the past three years with him for signs that he was unfaithful. You couldn’t come up with any, the cheating bastard. He must have been pretty good at hiding the secret phone calls and date nights. But then again, you had your own secrets. Not that they would have made him feel like you do right now.

 After sitting long enough to consume four shots of tequila, two vodka sodas, and one dark and stormy, reality set in. All you wanted was to curl up in a ball and scream. Or cry. You were obviously not returning to his apartment, but you couldn’t go back to your own either. There was too much there that reminded you of him. The idea of walking in there to see his sweatshirt on your couch made you feel sick. You were teetering on the edge of a full breakdown when the idea struck you. Penelope.

 Penelope Garcia is your best friend. You met her at a Doctor Who convention the same day you met he who must not be named. She was there with Kevin, but they broke up a while ago. The realization that you could go to Penny’s couldn’t have come at a better time. Ha. Penny. You only call her that when you’re drunk. She’ll know what to do. You opened your phone, barely able to call up the Lyft to take you to her apartment. It’s honestly shocking you didn’t fall asleep on the seven minute drive there. Whatever, all you needed now was to get inside and forget about him.

 After entering the building, you tried the elevator. Of course it was broken. It took you about thirty six minutes to hobble your way up two flights of stairs to Penny’s floor. With each step, you considered texting her to come get you, but you knew the second you saw her you would break down. You absolutely did not want to start sobbing on these stairs. Too many people could see you. Finally arriving to her door, you were exhausted. Mentally and physically drained. Knock knock knock “Penny?” Knock knock knock “Penny?” Knock knock knock “Penny?” you imitated the Big Bang Theory, knowing the small joke would make you smile, even if just for a second. When the door finally opened, you vaulted in for a hug, not even opening your eyes.

 As you squeezed Penny, you finally broke out into a fit of sobs. Whisper yelling, you told her as much of the story as you could remember. “Penny, thank god. I left wo-ork early to surprise Dr-Dr-Drew for our anniversary – hiccup – but he was having s-s-se-sex with someone else…” you let out a strangled sob, not noticing how stiff Penny felt in your embrace. You buried your head into her as you continued “So I got very drunk and came here. Was he cheating on me this whole time?” You asked as your tears turned back to rage. “I even went out and bought this stupid, uncomfortable underwear to surprise him” you shout as your coat had begun to fall open again. After what felt like an hour of crying, but in reality amounted to no more than 60 seconds, you finally noticed something was odd. Two things lead you to a simple conclusion that was somehow difficult to comprehend in your drunk state.

 First, Penny felt taller. Second, she was wearing converse. Upon noticing these two facts, your hands traveled up the body you were hugging until you found shoulders. Turning your head up, your eyes followed the path your hands had just taken. This series of events lead to the obvious fact that whomever you were hugging was absolutely not Penelope Garcia. Penelope was in fact not even in the foyer, but rather a very attractive, tall man with slightly curly brown hair and eyes like honey was staring back at you. And you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

 --

Reid’s POV

 Spencer hadn’t actually had anything to drink since arriving at Garcia’s. No, he just drank prior to that point. Normally, he didn’t drink at all when his team got together, but this was just worth celebrating. Another serial killer was behind bars for life because of the work the team did today. Hell, even Hotch and Rossi stayed for a few hours before they left. As part of the “young crowd” on the team, he had stayed at the bar longer than the two older men before the group of you retreated to Garcia’s. Hers was the closest apartment, and everyone else wanted to keep the party going. Spencer couldn’t help but join them, not wanting to return to his empty apartment after the long day they all spent testifying.

 Finishing his second glass of water, he began to get up to get more and maybe some for the group when everyone heard the knocking. The group laughed as three consecutive “Penny’s” came from the door. “Reid, can you get that since you’re already up?” Garcia asked, motioning toward the door. “It must be Y/N. She always calls me Penny when she’s drunk.” He obliged. He obviously remembered Garcia mentioning Y/N before, but he had never met her. He swung the door open, expecting a drunk friend of Garcia’s. He was not prepared, however, for said drunk friend to throw herself at him, grasp him in an alarmingly tight hug, and start sobbing. He could barely make out what you were saying through the sobs hearing “surprise Drew”, “anniversary”, “sex”, and “drunk” before you practically screamed “I even went out and bought this stupid, uncomfortable underwear to surprise him.”

 It was clear you meant to be pouring her heart out to Garcia, but you hadn’t yet realized who answered the door. For the first time in his life, Dr. Spencer Reid couldn’t think of words to say as you ran your hands up his body to his shoulders. You were clearly taking in the information required to come to the conclusion that he is not in fact Penelope Garcia. As your eyes met his, all he could do was stare. He made every effort to keep his eyes level with yours, but one glace was all it took to be ingrained in his memory forever. He wouldn’t have looked, but the movement of your coat caught his eye as it revealed the exact type of surprise you had planned for whoever Drew was.

 The two of you were frozen, unsure of how to proceed. You looked just like he did- a deer in the headlights. Neither of you could move. Neither of you could speak. You could both hear Garcia’s voice as she stumbled down the hallway, but it sounded distant. It wasn’t until the mystery woman broke eye contact that he backed away. Trying desperately to control the blush he were sure had made its way to his cheeks.

 --

 Y/N’s POV

 The moment was broken as you felt Penny turn you towards her. The flush on your cheeks only grew as you kept your eyes on the tall man as he retreated into the living room, not having said a word. “Y/N… Y/N? Y/N!” Penny had to yell slightly to get your attention. “What happened? What are you doing here? I thought you were celebrating tonight?” She asked rapid fire. You could tell she was also a little bit drunk.

 You told her everything. The words practically falling out of you as you started crying again. “Oh babe, I’m so sorry. Here, let’s get you inside.” Penny started to guide you into the living room, but you froze “Wait! Can I borrow some clothes before I go in there? I don’t need to flash anyone else right now.” You whispered. Penny laughed, “Of course! Who did you fla- ohhh. Reid.” She said, trying to hold back the giggles.

 “Yes. If that is the very tall man with the perfect eyes and the completely tuggable hair.” You responded, not quite filtering your thoughts, as you were still very drunk.

 “I’ll be back in a jiffy!” Penny replied, not knowing how else to respond to the fact that you are very clearly attracted to the young doctor, but also going through shit right now. She would just file away this information for later.

taglist:

@mac99martin​ 

[thedistantdusk]

Arcadia, Chapter 1

My submission for the 2021 Hinny birthday challenge for the HG discord! Thanks to Liza for organizing, to @accio-broom for the Brit-pick, to @secretkeeper13 for the beta, and to anyone else who helped (I'm probably forgetting a few folks, apologies).

The challenge theme this year was content based on TV! This is an (extremely loose) X-Files AU, but you absolutely don’t need to be familiar with X-Files to understand this :D

TW (spoilers): swearing, references to (severe) mental health concerns, (eventual) consensual relations

___________________________________________________________

D A Y  + O N E

The woman probably finds herself charming as she stands in their driveway, her hands clasped in frozen excitement.

But Ginny just finds her creepy.

Really fucking creepy.

Harry drops hired car into first gear as they pull in. This woman— the head of the village council, Ginny reckons, the one she spoke to on the phone— wears perfectly-pleated Chino pants with a lavender jumper draped across her shoulders.

Her attire is standard for a posh village… especially a new-build village, one with a covenant and loads of stupid rules. It’s the woman’s eerie, opened-mouthed grin that shoots a chill up Ginny’s spine.

Her stark white teeth glint in the sun, but her smile doesn’t move an inch… and the longer Ginny stares, the more unsettled she grows. The only thing larger than her grin is the mane of yellow hair that surrounds her face like an ersatz halo.

Harry clears his throat as he turns off the car; Ginny realizes this is the first sound either of them has made since leaving London.

Awkward.

She reaches for her door handle, but the random woman gets to it first.

“You must be Jenny and Henry!” she shrieks, yanking on Ginny’s shoulders before she’s even unbuckled. “Oh, sorry! Love, do let me get the strap!”

Ginny’s on her feet and pressed to the stranger’s perfumed bosom before she has a chance to tell her she can manage just fine herself, thanks.

“Lovely to meet you in person!” the woman cries, nearly shaking with enthusiasm. It’s not until Ginny’s returned a weak squeeze that the vice-like grip around her middle weakens.

Rubbing her aching shoulder, she sneaks a glimpse at Harry; while she fought for air, he apparently climbed out of the car, only to stare at the two of them like a deer in the headlights. Now his elbow’s at an awkward angle, his hand behind his back, which could only mean one thing: he’s reaching for the wand in his back pocket.

Shit.

Ginny shakes her head and hopes her eyes convey what her lips can’t: She’s just a standard Muggle weirdo. Relax.

“I’m Jane. Jane Connors. In the flesh!” The woman (whose voice Ginny now finds painfully familiar) throws her hands in the air and twirls on the spot. “I take it you’re Jenny and Henry Petri!”

Harry interrupts with a booming chuckle before Ginny says a word; in three quick steps, he’s wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “That’s Pee-tri, actually. Like the dish,” Harry— Henry— adds with a wink. “And speaking of dish…” His eyes travel over Ginny, his voice going all deep and silky.

She bites back a shudder, hating the way her stomach drops as his fingers graze her arm. All that keeps her grounded is knowing the truth: Harry’s good at his job, nothing more. The only reason he’s suddenly become a skilled actor is that his career demands it.

Hers does too, she reminds herself firmly. And if she has any intention of successfully completing her first solo mission, she needs to get her shit together. Now.

Ginny blinks up at Harry, appropriately sobered; his eyes glimmer with mirth. As suspected, he’s only doing his job. Touch is just part of the assignment description. He has no way of knowing what it does to her— because really, truly, it shouldn’t.

And maybe if she keeps telling herself that, it’ll eventually come true.

Harry winks at Jane, tugging Ginny against his side. “My new wife and I had a long journey from the city! We were hoping to get some alone-time before tucking in, I’m sure you understand.”

Jane looks puzzled. “You— but it’s 5:43!” An uncomfortable giggle burbles from her lips. “You must be moved in by 6. Surely you’ve read the covenant rules?”

“Erm… may have missed that one,” Ginny lies. “There’s quite a few, see. We’re used to—”

But Jane shoves her fingers into her mouth, cutting her off with an ear-piercing whistle. Just as quickly, another chill races up Ginny’s spine. People up and down the street emerge from their semi-detached homes and race towards them, their faces in downcast unison.

They’ve all been watching. Waiting for the signal. Ready.

Ginny’s not sure how long ago the Department of Mysteries delivered the moving van and left it on the street, but the horde of random people aren’t fussed with the details, either. Within five seconds of Jane’s whistle, the strangers throw open the back door and begin an unloading process that reeks of military precision.

“Here’s the house key!” trills Jane, pulling it from her pocket. “Oh, and Petris!” She turns to Harry and Ginny, wagging her finger. “I’ll also need a copy of your car key, ASAP. We’re firm believers in the buddy system here in Arcadia.” She returns her attention to the stone-faced neighbors, who are now scurrying to the door. “This way, friends— right this way!”

“I— that’s really unnecessary,” Ginny says, bewildered, as people rush inside their new house, boxes in arms. “We’re perfectly able to—”

“Nonsense!” cries a man with grey sideburns as he takes a box from the back. “We’re neighborly here. You’d better get used to it.”

“Yes!” chimes another voice. A chubby man wearing a Polo and a golden necklace emerges from behind the lorry, hurrying up the walk. “We’re like a family here. We all— oh no!” He lets out a startled cry as a box labeled FINE CHINA topples from his arms and lands on the pavement with a thump.

He rushes towards it, face falling, but Ginny’s main concern is the box’s silent descent; she runs over, making a mental note to have a word with the designer of these props. Would something noisy and fragile have killed them? For fuck’s sake...

“Sorry,” the man says with a pained wince. “I’m just so clumsy. I-I promise, I’ll—”

“It’s fine,” Ginny soothes, dropping to her knees. “Don’t worry, really. We aren’t too big on dishes.”

Maybe if she keeps him talking, he won’t realize it’s bloody empty. Seriously, this is amateur shit. Luckily, he’s too distracted to notice.

The man offers a sheepish smile. “I’m Mike. Mike Snodgrass. You may have seen Mike and Jess in the resident guide, but erm…” He trails off, sadness in his voice.

Ginny cocks her head to feign confusion, but of course she’s familiar with Jess Snodgrass, 25, reported missing last November. Her photo’s been on Ginny’s desk for almost as long. Even now, Jess appears in Ginny’s mind with such startling clarity that she can almost see her beside Mike... all 5 feet of her, with curly red hair, bright blue eyes, and a lopsided grin.

Jess Snodgrass… Arcadia’s third missing person. The first to disrupt the couples-only disappearance pattern.

Mike shrugs. “But erm… it’s just me now,” he repeats. “I’m a primary teacher at Saint Julian’s, just up the road.” He nods to his left. “So if you’ve got any homework or school questions, give me a ring!” He pastes on a smile that doesn’t match his eyes; it’s an expression with which Ginny’s well-acquainted.

“I’ll have to remember that, Mike Snodgrass,” Ginny says, shaking his hand.

She immediately regrets it.

Seeing Mike Snodgrass on paper is one thing, but touch makes him human. His hand feels big and warm, his smile earnest and sweet; he reminds her so strongly of Neville that her stomach aches. Ginny breathes through her nose and focuses on the way his necklace — a medallion of Saint Julian, appropriately enough — sparkles in the sun.

“Like I said, I’m all alone,” Mike repeats, offering his hand to help her up. “If you ever need anything, Jenny, don’t hesitate to ask!”

Ginny taps her chin. “Actually, I do have a question! I reckon it’s just a rumor, though. You don’t have to confirm or deny.” She winks at him and leans in as a woman in a fleece jumper rushes past.

Mike’s smile widens, his face brightening… and ah fuck, that one hurts, because she’s about to break his heart.

“Mike…” Ginny murmurs, studying his expression. The more she says his name, the less he reminds her of Neville; she wants to keep it that way. “With everyone being so bloody hospitable here, how come there are so many disappearances?”

Mike stops bobbing. His smile vanishes as quickly as the former occupants of Jenny and Henry’s new home. When Ginny looks back into his eyes, her gut plummets with a sensation of wretched familiarity.

Because she expected sadness on his face… the same type she saw when he mentioned Jess’ name. Sadness she can deal with; sadness is painful, but she sees it all the time.

She sees something worse, though.

Fear.

And not day-to-day fear. This isn’t like hating needles or avoiding clown movies. Mike’s face is filled with the sort of wide-eyed, gripping, primal terror that seizes your insides in a vice. This is how you’d feel if your entire family were held captive in a dungeon, and a single word to the wrong person would spell their deaths.

Or how you’d feel if your ex-boyfriend were the corrupt government’s most desired fugitive… and you still fancied him very much, indeed.

“I… n-no idea,” Mike finally stutters, blinking. Then he sucks in a deep breath through his nose, his expression brightening again.

“So what do you and Henry do for work?” he asks in a booming voice, his grin now unnaturally wide. “We’ve got a carpool to the city if you’re interested. Reducing our carbon footprint is of utmost importance here in Arcadia!” He finishes by spreading his hands in each direction before placing them on his hips, that shit-eating grin still plastered across his face.

In another life, Ginny might’ve laughed. There certainly would have been a lot to cackle over, if she had the luxury of easy laughter. After all, she may as well be living in an am-dram nativity performance, complete with an overeager Joseph beckoning her to the stables after her harrowing desert journey.

Now, though, his reply only fills her with sad, professional detachment. Because fucking hell, how much did this poor man rehearse to get that line right?

She takes pity on him and snaps the bait. “My husband and I work from home,” she says, matching his volume. Someone’s clearly listening; it’s the least she can do. “You won’t see us out much.” Ginny brings the box to her hip. “And seriously, don’t worry about replacing the dishes, either. We mostly do takeaway.”

“No, let me bring you new ones,” Mike insists, his eyes pleading. “Tomorrow? Would that be—”

“What is this?” a voice demands from the back of the truck. Ginny peers around Mike’s shoulder. The man with the gray sideburns stares inside the lorry with a look of disgust.

“A trampoline!” Harry says, stepping aside as another neighbor races past. “We’re thrilled to put it in the garden, aren’t we, Jenny Cakes?”

Jenny Cakes. Is he fucking serious? Two can play at this game, prat.

“Indeed we are, Hen,” she croons, leaning into his side. “Jen and Hen.” She heaves a dreamy sigh and stares into his eyes. “We even rhyme!”

“Rhyming or not, this isn’t allowed,” the man barks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’d have to apply for a special exemption with Mr Gogolak, but in the meantime…” He checks his watch. “5:53. Seven minutes. It’ll have to go in the garage tonight. I’m Oliver, by the way— Oliver Skinner.”

Harry gives him a theatrical scowl. “I’d say nice to meet you, but those who are enemies of trampolines are generally enemies of mine.”

Ginny bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, but Oliver remains unamused. He raises his pointer finger as if to say something, but Harry gets there first.

“Onnnnly kidding!” Harry winks and claps his shoulder. “Hope we can be fast friends, Oliver.”

Oliver just glares back. “Count on it.”

_______________________________________________________

Ginny’s taking this whole thing very seriously. Not that Harry blames her.

Her voice echoes against the walls of the empty home as she paces around the sitting room, her camera flipped outward to record.

Despite his five-year Auror career, Harry has no real concept of what Unspeakables do. Which, he supposes, is by design. He knows they… know things. Secret things. Things you’d be happier not knowing. He also knows that Kingsley isn’t fond of them. Or perhaps it’s Attica Monkstanley, Ginny’s boss, who King dislikes in particular. Attica’s famous for her refusal to disclose anything — ever. This ranges from potential terrorist plots to her favorite type of sandwich. Thus, Attica isn’t particularly popular. After a career built on helping absolutely no one outside her department, the request for Auror backup on an undisclosed, top-secret endeavor went over about as well as a hippogriff stampede in a posh tea room.

Harry sighs at the blank walls of their would-be living room. King’s in charge now. Big in charge. He or Robards were the obvious choices to accompany Ginny — sorry, Unspeakable GW — on this mission, but when you’re Big In Charge, you call the shots. The shot King called was to pass the assignment to Robards, who in turn passed it to Harry; Robards decided he didn’t need to (direct quote) “take off a week from pre-existing assignments for some fake marriage, new-build village bullshit in the arse-end of Muggle nowhere.”

Admittedly, Harry’s in a bit of a lull at the moment. He’d been assigned to track and recover Yaxley, but that trail went cold on the border of Romania. Harry’s certain he’s just beyond their reach, maybe hiding in a cave, but seeing as how Harry’s not Big In Charge, his opinion doesn’t exactly matter.

Which is precisely how he’s found himself in this bland house in the village of Arcadia, pretending to be married to his ex-girlfriend… who, incidentally, he’s still hopelessly infatuated with, even five years after he ended things.

Because Harry Potter is nothing if not pathetic.

There’d been no realistic way to decline the assignment, though. Not that he’d tried. Seriously, imagine explaining that to your boss: “Mm yeah, sorry King, I can’t do my job because I still wank to the memory of Unspeakable GW riding my—”

Ginny’s narration jerks him from his thoughts. “It’s 6:15 PM on our first day of the assignment,” she dictates into her phone. “Auror Potter and I are secured in the home, posing as Muggle couple Jenny and Henry Petri.”

“Pee-tri!” Harry corrects, throwing his voice across the room.

He hopes he’s loud enough for the camera to detect, but he isn’t exactly brave enough to find out. Harry picks up their empty curry boxes and scampers into the kitchen without so much as a backward glimpse. He may have been forced into this assignment, but he’ll be damned if he can't have a bit of fun.

Her narration stops as he dips out of sight; if Harry were the gambling sort, he’d bet all the gold in Gringotts that she shot him a two-fingered salute away from the camera.

For some fucked up reason, the thought stirs something warm and exciting that lies dormant in his stomach. What’s worse is this feeling almost makes him smile.

No.

Harry draws a breath as he enters the kitchen.

As Kingsley’s told him several times, this arrangement is strictly business— regardless of his past with her. And in retrospect, yeah, the whole setup is an easy way for King to A) refuse responsibility himself, and B) put Monkstanley in a tough spot if it goes pear-shaped.

Harry pops open the rubbish bin. This is just the sort of liability King’s always looking to avoid, really, but— wait. He blinks down into the bin to make sure he’s not just seeing things, but nope… for some reason, the interior is divided into three sections, each in a different color.

Huh! Harry mulls this over before picking the blue bin at random and tossing the containers in. Maybe he’d know what each color meant if he bothered to read the covenant rules. Fortunately, he had much more exciting plans that particular evening involving Ron, loads of butterbeer, and a Canons/Falcons match from hell.

Whatever. Surely Arcadia would make an effort to clearly explain their recycling system if they really cared about the planet.

He returns to the living room just as Ginny’s providing a more in-depth introduction. “Right. I’m Unspeakable GW, badge number”— her voice becomes garbled gibberish, an extra level of concealment, before slipping back to normal speech— “and we’re here to investigate the series of unexplained Muggle disappearances in the village of Arcadia. As this may involve a potential escapee from the Thought Chamber, the Department thought it best for me to investigate. The Thought Chamber’s been my area of expertise for four years…”

Harry sinks into the sofa as she continues; he’s unsure if he should be sad or impressed that this is teaching him more about her job than she ever shared. Not that she did this for long while they were actually together, mind. Nonetheless, his chest flutters again with that stupid bittersweet pride as Ginny scans the room with the phone camera. All of this pageantry is necessary for her job, he knows. Careful documentation. Detailed recordings.

But for fuck’s sake, look at how much she’s done! She’s the youngest Junior Unspeakable in history, soon to become Senior, if this mission works out. She’s composed, she’s eloquent, she’s graceful. Another smile threatens to break through before Harry suppresses it; he just hopes that there’s someone in her life to remind her of how special she is.

She’s really dressed for the part, too. Harry’s certain that none of this is actually in her wardrobe. Seeing her out of jeans and a jumper is off-putting, but she’s done it so damn well. She once told him that most of her clothing choices were based on how easily she could wear them flying.

He swallows the sadness creeping up his throat. He doesn’t even know if she still flies, but she doesn’t in this outfit, that’s for damn sure. Her trainers are impeccably white, with a floral button-up blouse done up to her neck. She’s a bit like a young, beautiful Aunt Petunia; Harry reckons this is more or less the goal, but when she turns around to describe the stairwell, his eyes drop to her arse.

Shit.

He glances away as quickly, but he got a good look. Her casual trousers are rolled at the ankles, but they’ve done nothing to make her look… plain. Harry shuffles on the sofa, desperate for anything else to think about. Somehow, Aunt Petunia’s face still puckers in his mind’s eye, but now he can’t escape the mental image of her bent over the oven of 4 Privet Drive, only this time sporting a round, perfect—

“Potter’s here for backup,” Ginny says, returning to the sitting room. “I’m on primary investigation.”

Thank God; he sighs at the welcome distraction before remembering that bantering with her has always been an effective palate cleanser. So he does that, instead.

“Well, you know what they say,” Harry calls, leaning back against the cushions. “There’s nothing less interesting than the suburbs. Which is why I could never do your job, Jen.” He ends with a wink, resting his hands behind his head.

Ginny arches a brow, holding the camera in front of her. “And please take note, Attica, that the next time this happens, I’ll be the one to choose the names.”

She means it casually… he knows she means it casually. But something in her words pricks him. Irritates him. Wedges beneath his skin.

“Quite an assumption I’ll ever spend this much time with you again,” Harry mutters under his breath.

Shit.

He freezes. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, at least not so… bitterly. Once upon a time, he possessed the social graces to think before replying like that— but days of interpersonal nuance are long gone. They belonged to a carefree teenager with few thoughts aside from the next time he’d run his fingers through the thick, red hair that currently swayed in a long ponytail.

By the time he looks back up at her, Ginny’s face is filled with disappointment. And she’s closed her phone.

“I’ll have to redo that last bit of filming,” she says with a sniff. “But for what it’s worth?” She raises her chin. “You didn’t mind spending time with me in the distant, distant past, Auror Potter.”

Ha!

That was a tremendous understatement.

He’d been in love with her. Stupidly. Disgustingly. The first six months after the war were a blur of sex and mourning. They’d been so punch drunk and delirious that they probably used each other’s bodies more than either of them knew. He really thought they’d have a future, though… that they’d end up getting married and buying a house. Except theirs would have been different than this one. Filled with far more character and history and warmth. Their home would have smelled like baking bread and sounded like kids giggling and felt like a soft blanket on a cold night.

But none of that had anything to do with the way he snapped. So why bring it up, really?

“Sorry,” Harry whispers, tucking his hands beneath his bum. “That… I didn’t mean. I’m sorry. I just meant that we don’t see each other much, and…” He lets out a slow breath. Best to stop talking before he digs himself deeper.

“I forgive you,” Ginny says quietly. A full second passes before she offers him a smirk. “As long as I can still call you Pookie Pie in front of the neighbors.”

Harry blinks at the carpet with a sad smile. “Deal.”

[andypantsx3]

if i could keep cool | 2

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

You spent the next week with your stomach in knots.

Why had you told Shouto Todoroki to go fuck himself? He was being a total asshole, sure, but couldn’t you have kept your cool for like thirty seconds? He was going to call your boss at the cleaning service and tell her exactly what you had said to him, and then not only would you be dismissed from service at his apartment, but then you’d be so fucking fired from your entire job. You could kiss more than your Netflix subscription and fresh vegetables goodbye--your whole food and rent budget was going to hemorrhage and bleed dry.

You’d clocked into your next few shifts with baited breath, just waiting for the moment your boss demanded to speak with you in her office, shock and disappointment twisting her matronly features. Only, the entire week passed, and the call never seemed to come.

Even more confusingly, no guidance had seemed to be issued at all about the fact that you weren’t welcome in Todoroki’s apartment anymore. Your manager never said anything, never spoke to you about reassignment or a schedule change, had only asked if you felt well enough to continue to pick up your shifts in the week after the incident. She’d made a little quip about hazard pay, but hadn’t even acknowledged the incident beyond that.

So when the next Thursday rolled around and your morning lecture let out, you had no idea if you were supposed to head over to Todoroki’s apartment or not.

You stood outside the lecture hall, considering. On the one hand, you could call and ask your manager exactly what the expectations were. On the other, however, if she didn’t already know, then you telling her was going to surface the fact that he’d fired you, and that was going to lead to a more uncomfortable conversation about your employment overall. But maybe she did know, and just hadn’t mentioned it to you? What if Todoroki had just assumed that you would tell her, though, and they would send someone else in your place? If no one showed up to clean, he was going to call, and then you were going to get fired.

You started a slow path towards his apartment. Maybe you could just show up to check and see if any of your coworkers had been sent in your place. And if they hadn’t, you could finish out your last shift there. Besides, the schedule had been set specifically for when he was supposed to be out of the apartment, so it wasn’t like he was going to be there to see that it was you who was doing the cleaning. You could grab the last of the hefty tips and store that up for when you had to switch out with someone in the next week. And then all would be solved, and your Netflix subscription was the only thing that would really suffer for it.

You tapped your foot nervously as you rode the train further into downtown where he lived. Come to think of it, no one had asked you to pass off the keys to his place. Had he really not told your manager that he’d given you the boot?

The flames of your suspicion were fanned when security in the lobby of his building seemed unphased by your presence, and were confirmed when you took the elevator up to his floor and unlocked his door to peek through--none of your coworkers were in sight.

He hadn’t told anyone.

You took a few nervous steps into the apartment, shutting the door quietly behind you. You shouldered off your backpack, dumping it on one of the high stools at the kitchen island and looked around curiously. The glass from the shattered windows had been swept up, and the windows already replaced. Nothing else appeared out of order, no other evidence that the last time you’d been in here, you’d been kidnapped and almost killed.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine. You’d clean this place at lightning speed, grab your tip, and peace the absolute fuck out before anything more could happen.

You ducked down under the kitchen sink to fish out your usual supplies, pulling on a pair of gloves and grabbing the duster, a microfiber cloth, and a couple of the disinfectants and solutions. You had just piled it all on the counter and were reaching down to grab more when you heard the soft snick of a door opening.

You immediately ducked down behind the counter, and your arm shot out to grab a bottle of windex like it would do anything to protect you from whoever was approaching the kitchen with quiet footsteps. Maybe you could spray it in their eyes and make a run for it.

You stared in the direction of the footfalls, heart beating wildly in your chest.

There was a pause, and then a deep voice issued from over the counter top. “I know you’re there.”

You bit back a swear. You knew that voice, and this was even worse than encountering another villain in his apartment.

Slowly, you climbed to your feet, stomach sinking. That pair of two-toned eyes fixed on you unblinkingly, and a carefully-crafted mask of blank stillness slid over his handsome features. It was too deliberate, and your last hope that maybe he wouldn’t remember you was snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

“I, uh, thought you weren’t supposed to be here,” you said by way of explanation, cringing. You were so absolutely fucked.

He considered you carefully. You noted he was wearing a deep blue button up over white trousers, which was decidedly not his hero uniform, and any hope of him being on his way out to patrol was similarly extinguished.

“I owe you an apology,” he said quietly.

You startled so violently that you dropped the windex. “W-what?”

His eyes tracked you closely, and you felt like you might burst into flame from the intensity of his focus. “I was...mistaken about who you were.”

You stared at him incredulously. How could he be mistaken about who you were if he had no damn idea in the first place?

Your confusion must have shown clearly on your face, because he sighed. “My manager schedules the cleaning days. I didn’t realize that you were--that is to say, I thought you were a fan who had broken in and managed to get kidnapped while you were at it.”

You gaped. He’d thought you were a crazy fan? Suddenly, his comments about your stupidity and you invading his privacy made complete sense. Maybe just after being rescued was not the time for him to have made those comments, but you could see why he had, if he’d thought you had forced your way into his home and had been in the process of going through his things before you were surprised by a villain.

“Oh, I, um...nope. Not a fan,” you managed. Well, yes a fan, but not in a breaking and entering kind of a way. And not a fan in the last week. Your twitter, which had previously featured the occasional retweeted shot of his abs, had now been filled with a lot of anti-Todoroki content, including one truly horrible picture of him photoshopped with a half ice, half flame beard, looking horrendously like his father.

Todoroki let out a slow breath, and you thought you could see it mist in the apartment air. Was his quirk acting up? He must still be annoyed, regardless.

“Well glad that’s cleared up now. I’ll just, uh, go then,” you said, grabbing an armful of the cleaning supplies and shoving it back under the sink hastily. When you stood back up, you almost had a heart attack, as he had rounded the counter so quietly that you hadn’t heard him, and was now standing in between you and your escape.

“Wait,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I want to make up for what I said to you. You...didn’t deserve that, especially not right after you’d just been kidnapped by a villain.”

You eyed the space between his hip and the counter, wondering if you should make a break for it anyway, and if his hero reflexes were fast enough to stop you. The air in the apartment was growing increasingly discomfiting and it was clear Todoroki hated this.

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. You saved me, we can call it even.”

Something flashed behind his eyes. “It’s my fault you were taken in the first place. I'd like to apologize properly.”

Your own sense of shame slowly crept up on you and your face burned as you suddenly remembered the way you’d told him to go fuck himself. He’d been a douche to you, yes, but he’d literally saved your life and you’d told him to go fuck himself.

You accidentally blurted as much. “You don���t actually have to go fuck yourself.”

He stared at you, and your cheeks heated. Jesus Christ, you needed to leave.

“Uh, I mean. You saved my life,” you babbled, suddenly desperate to put conversational distance from the phrase go fuck yourself. “And yeah what you said to me was super rude, but what I said to you was also super rude. So, um, I’m sorry too. And I really would just like to call it even and forget about it because it’s super embarrassing for both of us and I could literally die thinking about it.”

You could admit, now, that you knew it had been extra embarrassing for him. Even though it wasn’t your fault, in the past week, you’d seen nothing but headlines exploring the rumors that Todoroki had a secret lover. Luckily your name had been kept out of things, but even you could tell it was costing his agency a lot not to just throw the real story out there and the contact details to your cleaning service to calm the media firestorm.

You could only imagine how uncomfortable things could get for you if all of Japan got wind of what had happened, and just what you’d said to him afterwards.

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” Todoroki said, and you tilted your head in question.

“Hadn’t planned on what?”

“Fucking myself,” he clarified, looking serious, and you choked on a laugh.

A small smile tugged at his mouth, then, and some of your discomfort with him evaporated. So the hero had a sense of humor.

“Oh, well that’s good, then," you said. Then you added, "That’s probably a job for your actual secret lover.”

He raised a white eyebrow. “Not you, too.”

You threw him a smile. “But I have evidence. I saw that homemade soup in your fridge once with the love note attached.”

It took him a moment, but then Todoroki smirked. “Ah yes. That secret lover.”

“Cute pet name, too,” you said.

Todoroki let out a low laugh. “You fucking fuck, was it?”

You laughed too, tension easing from your shoulders. Maybe Todoroki wasn’t all bad, then. He had a sense of humor, it seemed, and he’d apologized to you for what he’d said. Maybe you wouldn’t be fired after all, and you could just peacefully transfer your shifts without any blowback from your manager. You could probably weasel your way into a friend’s Netflix account anyway. You’d miss the vegetables, though.

“As it happens, however, I did already plan more of an apology,” Todoroki said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You looked up at him, your brow furrowing. “You planned...more of an apology?”

He gestured to a tall vase of white tulips on the kitchen counter. They hadn’t been there any of your previous shifts, but you hadn’t really taken note of them when you’d walked in today. You’d just assumed they were sent by a fan or something.

“I’ve been told that they mean forgiveness and new beginnings. I had hoped that we might...start over,” he said. He looked a little self conscious again.

“I didn’t bring you any flowers,” you blurted.

He coughed suddenly, like he was stifling a surprised laugh. “I hadn’t expected them.”

Your eyes were drawn back to the tulips. They were pretty, their petals thick and full like they had just been about to bloom before they were picked, and they were stark white, like fresh snow, or the right half of Todoroki’s distinctive mop of hair. You hadn’t ever been given flowers before, except for the time you’d graduated middle school. Flowers from your aunt didn’t really count, though.

“Thank you,” you said, looking back up at Todoroki. He was watching you closely, and you felt embarrassment prickle over your skin at being stared at with such intensity. Was he always this intense? Various twitter memes had suggested yes, but it was one thing to know it abstractly and another to experience it in real life, especially when he was even more overwhelming to look at in person.

Now that your anger with him had burned away, you could admit that Shouto Todoroki was way too handsome for anyone’s good, least of all yours. He was tall, leanly muscled, and broad across the shoulders with a trim waist and impossibly long legs. His face, too, was almost unreal, so carefully and perfectly structured with a high-bridged nose, a soft, sensuous mouth, and bright, intelligent eyes. Even the scar only added interest, and did absolutely nothing to detract from the striking beauty of his features.

It was honestly a surprise that you’d managed to get any words out around him at all. You supposed you had the novelty of the situation you’d found yourself in to thank for that. If you’d met him under any other circumstances you probably would have choked on your own tongue and tried to disappear as fast as you could manage.

Pretty boys were not your area of expertise.

“I also wanted to make it clear that I didn’t mean what I said,” Todoroki added in his low tone. “About your being unwelcome here. I don’t intend to interfere with your employment.”

You considered him in surprise. Did this mean...you weren’t resigned to ramen for the next two semesters?

“That’s good to hear, thank you,” you said. Then you smiled, feeling charitable. “As you can see, though, it didn’t really deter me.”

Todoroki smirked. “If I hadn’t seen the cleaning supplies already on the counter, I would be concerned that you’d come back for revenge.”

“There’s still time,” you joked. “Maybe I was going to play the long game and fill all the bottles with Sprite.”

He let out another surprised laugh. “I hope the flowers are enough of a deterrent.”

You looked over the flowers again, then smiled up at him. “The bribe has been accepted. Your countertops are safe from me.” You paused, then added, “For now.”

Something strangely like a challenge glinted in his eyes. “Be warned that I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of my countertops.”

“You don’t even use them,” you complained, “I can tell. But message received, I’ll spare them.” Your eyes searched back over them, and it dawned on you that you hadn’t been fired, and should probably actually be cleaning them if you intended to keep the job after all. “Now clear out, I do actually have to clean them now.”

Todoroki allowed himself to be bullied out of the kitchen fairly easily, though he didn’t go far.

He took a seat in the living room, which thanks to the open floor plan of his modern apartment, allowed him to supervise you easily enough. He pulled down a book from one of his shelves, but either it was super boring or he wasn’t any good at pretending to read, as it stayed flipped open to the first page for a very long time, and you thought you caught more than the occasional flash of curious grey and blue from the corner of your eye.

He didn’t last long past the first hour of pretending to read, however, and eventually wandered back over to sit at the island while you worked. He launched into a series of questions about you, and seemed genuinely curious about you now that he’d confirmed for himself that you weren’t a crazy stalker fan.

You couldn’t understand why he seemed so interested, but you found yourself telling him anything he wanted to know, detailing your classes, your cranky roommate, your job at the cleaning service to feed you during the semester, the fattie deal on broccoli you’d scored at the grocery store last week, and finally your hobbies including your love of reading, though you hadn’t had much time or budget for books since the school year began. You made sure to steer clear of any mention of your twitter, though, and the multitude of ab shots and recent slew of anti-Todoroki content on it. There was only so much of your life that could be shared with a celebrity hero.

Eventually, you’d covered all your usual ground, and had shouldered on your backpack to leave for the night, but Todoroki stopped you, and insisted on calling you a car home as it had gotten dark. You tried to decline, but on this point he seemed adamant, and not long after you found yourself bundled into the backseat of an agency car, vase of white tulips clutched in your hands.

It was only after you’d let yourself into your apartment and set down the tulips and your bag that you discovered a much thicker bundle of a tip than usual tucked into the side pocket of your backpack. You blanched as you unfolded the bills, staring somewhat stupidly down at the amount. A slim note had been tucked into the fold of the bills, and though you weren’t familiar with the neat handwriting and hadn’t even seen him go for a pen and paper, the note for vegetables was so clearly from Todoroki.

Worse, it told you that Todoroki had actually been listening to your ramblings, and you wondered what other weird things you’d said that had caught his interest enough for him to remember. You hoped nothing else, and that he’d forget it all soon enough anyway. You’d made nice now, but it wasn’t like you guys were going to be fast friends or anything.

You considered the money for a long while, then picked out the amount that was usually left out for you and added it to your wallet. Torodoki had admitted earlier that his manager handled the cleaning service scheduling, and it was likely she was typically responsible for leaving a tip aside for you as well. Todoroki probably didn’t know how much she usually left, and as much as you desperately wanted to pocket the rest of the cash and make a break for the nearest vegetable aisle, you felt weird accepting it.

You could return it during your shift early next week, and that would close out the weird fever dream that the past week had been.

And then, you could finally get back to normal.

[stxvercgersslut]

Love Without Doubt

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Part 1: It’ll be over and I’ll Still Be Asking When

Other people mentioned: Natasha, Tony, Clint, Wanda & others

Warnings: Mentions of death, heartache, language like normal, angry reader, sad steve, dead Tony, smut in the future, pregnancy, a whole load of angst and a whole lot of fluff in future parts.

Description: Losing Tony Stark was the worst thing to ever happen to you. But finding out that you were 3 months pregnant with your late husbands baby hit the nail on the head. You were alone, heartbroken and Scared. Steve’s riddled with guilt, knowing you were out there alone and pregnant hurt him, how could he leave you like that? Exactly he couldn’t.

A/n: I know the pictures are of a white girl but this is by no means a white girl fic. In fact this is reader insert! Meaning that you get to imagine yourself in this fic as y/n, so I will not be addressing the colour of her skin because that is for you to do! :) I know that this chapter is just a short one but this is the prologue. I didn’t think it needed to be that long.

A/n: ahhhh it’s been a while. I’m sorry for my absence I didn’t really plan on writing this again. But after a lot of thinking 🤔 came to the conclusion that I honestly adore this fic too much not to continue it.

Positive.

Shit!

'No no no no no! Y/n this can't be happening right now! How on earth could you let this happen?' You screamed in your head. Just some of the thoughts that were running wild in your brain as you continued to stare hundreds of tiny little holes into the pregnancy test.

Tony had always wanted kids, ever since the pair of your had begun to date those long 7 years ago he'd been open with you about his longing for children. But now the moment you should have shared with your loving husband was shared with you and your reflection in the mirror. The man you loved would never get to meet his beautiful baby and that fact alone was enough to shatter your heart into slivers. There truly was no coming back from this pain.

How could this be happening right now? More importantly, how could this be happening to you right no! After everything you'd been through the world just wouldn't give you a break?!? With Tony gone how on earth were you even going to provide of a baby? Let alone looked after it on your own!

As these questions continued to race around your brain at 100 miles an hour, your hands began to shake uncontrollably whilst tears began to fall from your eyes. It was no surprise that you were understandably distraught with the cards you'd been dealt by the world.

————————————————————

Despite your pain, Steve was going through heartbreak just as much as you were, completely traumatised due to being forced to watch one of his best friends sacrifice himself in order to save not only the world but also the universe it's self. Not only did he have the trauma but he also had the guilt of your pain looming over you.

Due to what he'd witnessed Steve would find himself experiencing nightmare after nightmare every single night, barely managing to sneak in any sleep before the images of his former best friend, Tony Stark, dying in front of him reappeared in his brain for what felt like the millionth time. It had only been 3 days since that dreaded day yet he'd been tossing and turning ever since. Living alone in his currant state was never a good idea. But since he had no one to help him through the PTSD he had to just struggle on through.  With all his failures coming back to haunt him it was tough but he had to try. Otherwise what was the point in anything?

As the early hours of the morning sunshine began to shine through his half open curtains, Steve jolted awake. Once again awakened by the deadliness of his nightmare. However, this time, unlike any other time, he woke up with an overwhelming sense of guilt towards you. His entire heart burning from what you must have been going through.  After all he knew exactly how close you and Tony use to be, how could he have been so cruel to rip that away from you when you'd been so happy?

Knowing that you'd be all alone in that huge cabin, alone with your thought eating you alive just like his were, truly didn't sit right with him. It was just in his blood to help people, whether or not they actually wanted his help was a different question but if someone was in distress, which he somehow had a feeling you were, he had to at least try and help.

Grunting, the still slightly panicked soldier stretched out his limbs, releasing all tensions from the night before as he did every morning even before the blip. It was just apart of his routine now and he'd never be able to stop that.

'Alright, time to get up I guess' the male mumbled to himself as his feet met the hard wood of his apartment bedroom floor. Ever since the blip Steve hadn't been able to stay at the Avengers compound, too afraid of having to relive all of those failures again. Now, with the compound completely and utterly destroyed, it was just an added reason for him not to go back there. Especially with everything that had gone on in there before.

He may have looked okay from the outside but on the inside? Oh he was a broken man alright. What did anyone expect from a super soldier who'd been through as much trauma as him?

As the male prepared his morning coffee his mind wandered back to you, wondering what on earth you could have been doing in a cabin all alone by yourself. Maybe you were still asleep in bed , shaking off all the loneliness and all the heart break with as much sleep as you could? If that was the case then maybe Steve could rest easier knowing that for the most part you were okay. Maybe he would have been able to forget about you if he knew for certain that you were able to slip into a state of peace when you fell asleep.

But for some reason Steve just couldn't shake the idea of you maybe crying yourself to sleep every night. Or even worse, what if you were listening to that damn hologram again? Or his voicemail again? What if you still hated him? Oh he had to put this right.

Deep down Steve knew you hated the way that he'd handled things, the way he'd brutally dragged your husband away from you. Bursting the bubble surrounding the two of you in the process. But if there was any possible way that he could put all the heartbreak right and ease his Conscience in the process then he had to try right? No matter how much you hated him right now he knew that you'd need a friend right now.

So without a second thought, the super soldier poured his morning coffee into a travel mug (one Bucky had bought him one year), threw on a t-shirt and jeans, grabbed his leather jacket as well as his keys and left the house. There just had to be a way to put this right.

As Steve made his way to the cabin that used to be shared by you and Tony, he couldn't help but lose himself in deep thought. Struggling to comprehend how life had just fucked everyone over so awfully. Yeah they managed to get their lives back and bring everyone home in the process. But what good was that when Tony didn't arrive back home to you safely? What use was bringing all the blipped back when Steve had to explain to you that your husband was never coming home. The world was cruel, that he knew for certain.

It hadn't taken him more than an hour to finally arrive at your cabin, sucking in a deep breath as he slowly exited him car and made his way up to the front door.

Was he really about to do this? Was he really about to attempt to talk to you even though he knew that you most likely hated his guts?

Apparently so since his he curled his hand into a fist and gently knocked on the door, staring is hung that he could hear the sound of joyful laughter. But in reality all he could hear was painful sobs. That was the hardest part, hearing you sob was already breaking his heart. It was times like these he truly did wish that his hearing wasn’t as strong as it happened to be.

With one more breath, Steve finally pulled himself together and knocked 3 times, hoping you’d opened the door for him.

————————————————————

You'd been so caught up in your emotional agony that you'd barely had enough time to hear the first couple knocks, but by the third knock your senses seemed to finally come back quick enough to only slightly hear the very last knock.

After straightening yourself up a little you finally made your way towards the door, dreading the panic attack that was most likely coming your way after everything you’d gone through. However, nothing had prepared you for who you found at the door upon opening.

“Steve?” You groaned almost angrily; practically spitting it out.

Tags: @jtargaryen18​ @chuckbass-love​ @et-lesailes​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @cevans-fics​ @dwights-new-plague @sweetllamaparadise @jessyballet @lharrietg @patzammit

[sachigram]

“With Teeth” Chapter 5

((click here to read on ao3!!))

Izaya is frowning down at his computer, his hands hovering above the keys of his keyboard, not moving. Next to him, Namie is typing away, a bemused little smirk on her face. She's enjoying this, clearly, and she's itching to say something biting.

“You're handling this better than I thought you would,” she says, her tone forcibly bored. Izaya blinks at her, lifting his hand to motion for her to continue. “Your little monster friend has a girlfriend now. He'll have less time for you, right? I assumed you'd be setting fires across the city by now.”

“You know what they say about assuming,” Izaya says breezily. “If anything, she's distracting him enough to leave me be.”

The chatroom is full of people chattering away about Shizuo and Vorona, who are spending a lot of time together, holding hands, exchanging glances, sharing beverages. It's sickening. Izaya feels vaguely nauseous just reading about it, but he thinks that's probably due to his insane schedule at the moment, and his lack of sleep. He keeps meaning to take a healing potion, but he forgets every time.

“Distracting. Right.” Namie types another response, fanning the flames of all the rumors circulating about Ikebukuro's hottest couple. Her smirk drops, and Izaya can't resist the temptation to dip into her mind, just a little, to see why she isn't enjoying this as much as she thought she would.

She's thinking of Seiji, of course, but also of Mika, and of Celty's head, and all the times she's been overlooked in favor of someone else. She thinks Shizuo dating Vorona is distasteful, because she's set on the idea that Shizuo must be fucking Izaya, and that's why he comes by so often. Izaya withholds a snort at that, and he graciously doesn't comment on the fact that Namie could probably have anyone she wanted, if she wasn't so obsessed with her own brother.

“Who cares, anyway?” Namie asks, closing her laptop. “The two of them together probably have conversations as interesting as watching paint dry. It's not worth even talking about anymore.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Izaya says, pushing away from his desk. He tilts his head at her. “Let's order out for dinner. My treat.”

“In that case, I'm craving something expensive.”

“Of course you are.”

***

Izaya is watching the sunset from a small window when he realizes he must have fallen asleep. He isn't at home anymore, and this is beginning to feel like the kind of dream he's been dreading to have lately, one where he knows Shizuo will show up at some point.

“Who are you?” A child's voice asks from behind him. Izaya turns, looking down at Shizuo, who is in a hospital bed, his arms wrapped, a brace around his neck. He's frowning up at Izaya, who sighs loudly before plopping into the vacant chair next to the bed.

“Oh, why does it even matter? You won't call me by my name anyway.” Izaya pulls his knees up to his chest and studies Shizuo closely. “You're here alone?”

“My family just left.” Shizuo looks up at the ceiling, seeming to decide that Izaya isn't a threat to him. “They used to stay with me a lot, but this happens all the time now, so they can't stick around as much.”

“I see.”

“I'll only be here one night anyway.”

“So who was it this time? Was it another fight?” Izaya asks.

“It's not like I wanted to fight.” Shizuo's eyebrow twitches. “I threw a swingset.”

“A swingset?”

“Yeah, but apparently it was bolted into the ground or something. Really fucked me up.”

Izaya can't help it. He laughs hard, curling into himself as he does so.

“Hey, fuck you, it isn't funny!” Shizuo snaps, but he seems to be trying not to laugh himself. “Well, maybe it was a little. The look on their faces was pretty funny.”

“Did you at least manage to hit them?” Izaya asks, still giggling at the mental image.

“No. Turns out all the time I spent lifting it gave them some time to escape.”

Izaya laughs harder. When was the last time he found something this genuinely funny? Lately all he does is work until he passes out, and he deserves it, he knows. Still, as he feels tears stinging the corner of his eyes, he thinks he feels good now, here with this kid version of Ikebukuro's monster. There doesn't seem to be anything else to do but talk to him, and their dreams keep connecting them no matter what Izaya does. He's tired of fighting it.

Shizuo is gazing at him with poorly concealed awe and wonder.

Pretty.

Izaya snorts at Shizuo's thought. What's so pretty about this scene right now? The sunset outside? The various machines hooked to Shizuo, beeping idly in the background? Shizuo keeps looking at him, and Izaya realizes, feels his face grow hot.

“Who are you?” Shizuo asks again.

“Your worst enemy.”

“Really? You don't seem all that bad.” Shizuo shifts a bit, winces. “You're not scared of me, are you?”

“Not now, not ever.”

Shizuo nods, and his lip wobbles. “People tell me all the time they aren't scared of me, but I know they are, deep down. How could they not be? They'd have to be crazy. But...” Shizuo chokes up, laughs a little. “I can tell you mean it. And if that makes you crazy, I think that's okay, because it feels good to not be feared, for once.”

Izaya lowers his legs, leaning closer to the bed. He idly touches the flimsy fabric of the blanket draped over Shizuo, who is watching him curiously. Izaya looks away.

“Sometimes you're so pathetically simple it makes me want to vomit. Sometimes it feels like a chore, hating you. Did you know that?” Izaya asks softly, and there's a long pause after his words, no sounds aside from their breathing. Even the machines have somehow gone quiet.

“So then why do you?” Shizuo asks at last.

“Isn't it funny that it's been so long of us hating each other that I forgot what caused it in the first place? I think you did, too.” Izaya crosses his arms over the bed, puts his head down. “People like us will always be at each other's throats. It's just the way it is.”

“You sound like a grownup,” Shizuo says, glaring now. “They always say that, when they don't know the answer to something. 'It's just the way it is.' If you don't know, then why does it matter in the first place?”

“Believe it or not, I am a grownup. I'm only a kid right now because you're one, too. We're always the same age in these dreams, even if only one of us remembers the future at a time.” Izaya lifts his head enough to grin at Shizuo, who blushes and immediately turns away. He seems to be trying to gather the courage to say something, but there's suddenly a knock at the door, and Izaya turns towards it. “Expecting someone else?”

“Huh?”

“There's knocking.”

“I don't hear anything.”

Izaya stands. “Oh. This may be in real life. I think I'm waking up.”

“Waking up? Does that mean leaving?” Shizuo's eyes look panicked. “When will you be back?”

“I never know. Why do you keep wanting to see me so badly? You're the one pulling me back here, you have to be.” The room starts to grow fuzzy as the dreamscape begins to fall apart around them.

“You're not scared of me. You laughed at me instead of running— Fuck!” Shizuo seems to be trying to get up to grab Izaya, but he can't with his arms bandaged. “Tell me your name so I can find you again!”

“You'll just call me a flea anyway, won't you? So it doesn't matter.”

***

Izaya opens his eyes to discover he passed out at his desk at some point. He sits up and frowns at the container of pasta next to him. He remembers ordering dinner for himself and Namie, and then...

“Ugh. Of course she just left,” Izaya mutters to himself. Namie is an opportunist if nothing else. She isn't the type to stick around and see what happens next, unlike Izaya. Another knock sounds at the door. “Who is it?” Izaya calls, feeling sluggish. He checks his phone to find he's been asleep for about two hours.

“Me!” Shinra's voice replies, muffled from the door. “Let me in, would you? I've been knocking forever!”

Grumbling, Izaya makes his way across the room, opening it for Shinra, who waltzes inside like he owns the place.

“Hi! I'm working late tonight, and I didn't have time to eat dinner before I left, so I figured while I was in Shinjuku I could come see what you had—“ Shinra stops talking and tilts his head to the side, observing Izaya. “You look awful. What have you been up to?”

“Also working,” Izaya says. He reaches up to wipe crusted drool from the corner of his mouth. “So you came to raid my fridge?”

“Ah, yes!” Shinra turns and continues his march to the kitchen. “I just got done with an emergency call, and next I'll be going to visit another patient. I didn't want fast food, so here I am! Did Yagiri-san make anything?”

“Should be leftovers somewhere around here.” Izaya looks back at his own pasta, feels his stomach rumble. He can't remember the last time he really ate or slept fully.

“Why don't we eat something together?” Shinra asks. “You look ready to fall over.”

Izaya ends up tossing the pasta. It was congealed together, and not very good in the first place. Namie picked the place to order from, but he'll definitely complain enough about it later to where they don't order from there again. Shinra actually goes through the trouble of throwing together some fried rice, because Izaya doesn't have the ingredients for much else. He'll have to send Namie for groceries.

“So what are you working on so religiously, anyway?” Shinra asks as they sit down. “I haven't seen you this absorbed in work for a while.”

“It's not just one assignment, but multiple. All of them are due around the same time.” Izaya eats a bite of rice and shrugs. “It's just poor timing.”

“More than that though, right? I heard Shiki-san was pissed at you for multiple reasons. Sounds like he's keeping you overloaded on purpose.” Shinra smirks at him. “You can never leave well-enough alone, Izaya-kun.”

“'Well-enough',” Izaya scoffs. “If he had his way, I'd be locked in a cage, of use only to him and his little cronies.”

“That's what you signed up for. You'll get yourself killed if you keep meddling. I mean, come on, Akane-chan? What did you think would happen by sending her off on her own like that?”

“Who says I was behind any of that? Akane-chan has a smartphone. Kids like her are always going to be involved in things, because they want better than they're given.”

“I don't believe you, and I know Shiki-san doesn't, either. It's clear he's punishing you, but...” Shinra leans closer, lowers his voice like he thinks Shiki is in the next room. “To be honest, I thought you'd have it way worse than this. You ordered Shizuo-kun's attack too, didn't you? I thought Shiki-san would hang you upside-down.”

“Again, Shinra, you're reaching way too far. I never said I was responsible for Shizu-chan either.”

Shinra pouts, and then sits back in his chair, shoveling down more rice. “Fine. Don't tell me. Just take better care of yourself, at any rate. It's not like you can't cure the effects of fatigue with your power. You're choosing to suffer, right? But then again, you've always been like that.”

“Don't you have another appointment soon?” Izaya asks, annoyed by Shinra and his big mouth. He's often wondered if friendship is supposed to be this exhausting, but it isn't like he has anything else to compare it to. Shinra was always the only one crazy enough to stick around.

“I'm only saying. You should accept your punishments and actually learn something from them every now and then. It seems like you just bounce back, more determined to make a nuisance of yourself than before.”

“If I don't make a nuisance of myself, I'll die from boredom,” Izaya lilts. “It's really that simple.”

“More like you're worried about being forgotten.”

Izaya resists the urge to throw something at Shinra, who is wearing a strange expression, something akin to actual concern.

“You've improved on your acting ability,” Izaya says, pushing away from the table. “Don't act friendly towards me now. It doesn't suit you.”

“I am your friend,” Shinra insists. “I'm the only one you've got, so maybe you should listen to me once in a while.”

“It always goes back to Celty anyway. What, are you worried I'm going to use her for something too dangerous?”

“Celty agrees with me that it's unusual for you to allow Shizuo-kun to be in your space as you have. Are you actually feeling guilty?”

“Are you?” Izaya stands and grabs a bottle of red wine from his counter before he pads over to his desk. “I don't have the time for this, Shinra. See yourself out when you're ready to go.”

Shinra sighs loudly, finishes his dinner, and picks up his briefcase. He walks towards the door.

“Take care of yourself, Izaya-kun. If you even know how to.”

Izaya uses his magic to slam the door shut behind Shinra, and then he drinks until he passes out.

***

He wakes hours later, in bed somehow.

Groaning, he sits up, trying to remember the night before. His mouth feels like cotton, and his head feels like it's trying to split itself open. He thinks he may throw up at some point in the very near future.

“Feeling better?” Tsukumoya asks from beside him. The shades are drawn closed, and the room is still dark despite the sun being out. Izaya glares at the vampire in his space.

“Why are you here?” he croaks.

“You don't remember? You invited me. We fucked.” Tsukumoya has his laptop, and is typing ridiculously fast even as he speaks. “It was quite the evening.”

“I'm serious. You just keep popping up. It's annoying.”

“Mm. I had a feeling you were being your usual destructive self. There's water for you on your nightstand.”

Izaya reaches next to him, grabs the glass before chugging it. His stomach immediately churns dangerously in protest.

“Why not take a healing potion? I know you have plenty of them,” Tsukumoya says, still not looking at him.

“Don't need it.”

“Right, you don't. The great Orihara Izaya doesn't need anything or anyone, how could I forget?” Tsukumoya finally glances over at him. “You might need to reconsider. Tonight's the night of the full moon. You'll need to be alert when your puppy visits.”

“Fuck, is it? I forgot all about it.” Izaya groans and flops back into the bed, rolling away from the annoying vampire in his space. “You weren't supposed to come until tomorrow.”

“Stop complaining so much. Do you need more water?”

Grumbling, Izaya tries to piece together the night before. He drank too much, he remembers that. Shinra was being annoying. He definitely fell asleep at his desk, meaning Tsukumoya carried him to bed.

“We didn't really fuck, did we?” Izaya asks.

“No. Did you want to?” Tsukumoya's voice is annoyingly smug. “I wouldn't be opposed.”

Izaya snorts and closes his eyes, wills the room to stop spinning. “Don't flatter yourself. You're not my type.”

“I'm not? Here I thought you had a thing for monsters.”

Izaya considers throwing Tsukumoya across the room, but that would be rising to the stupid teasing, and it would require more effort than he currently wants to exert. He stays where he is, listening to the sound of Tsukumoya's fingers on the keys.

“You're being especially pitiful lately, Izaya,” Tsukumoya says after a while. “So you've lost control of your little game, so what? Maybe you should think of what to do next instead of working to the point of exhaustion. You know I hate it when you're predictable.”

“Why does it matter what I do? I'm trapped.”

Tsukumoya sighs. “Yes, you are. And what are you going to do about it?”

“Right now, I'm going to be miserably hungover. Next, who knows? It'll surprise us both.”

“If only I found you sooner.” Tsukumoya goes back to typing. “The things you could've done. Humans are always finding ways to control what they don't understand or fear. But now, you can only help yourself. If you believe you're going to be trapped forever, they've already won.”

“I know that.” Izaya thinks of the work assignments that aren't ever going to stop, and he thinks of Akane, of Shizuo. He knows he went too far, but he has to go even further still.

Tsukumoya seems like he wants to say more, but he pauses, and the typing stops once more.

“You really might want to take that potion now,” he says. “One of your executives is on his way here.”

***

Izaya does not take the potion, and when he answers his door, it's with a slightly green complexion. Akabayashi takes one look at him, and promptly bursts into laughter.

“Oh, wow. And I thought I drank too much. You look awful, brat.” Akabayashi invites himself inside, stepping around Izaya. “I'm doing a wellness check on behalf of the boss. You understand, right?”

“Seems like I have more people in my life than I thought,” Izaya says, closing the door before moving to his couch. “This is my third wellness check.”

“Hard to believe a roach like you has friends, but then again, this city has an infestation. You missed a deadline today.”

“I got a little carried away last night. I've been in bed all day.”

“But you answered the door fully dressed, like you've been up and about,” Akabayashi presses.

“I sensed you coming,” Izaya lies.

Akabayashi hums in thought, and he grins menacingly. “Ya know, I ran into Heiwajima the other day at Sunshine. He seemed really interested in who bit him and why.”

“You should tell him,” Izaya says. “If anything, it would get him off my back for a while.”

“Oh, don't act innocent. We all know who made the phone call that started everything.”

“Clearly what I want doesn't matter. You've made that abundantly clear.”

Akabayashi walks closer to the couch, and he leans closer to Izaya. “Watch yourself, kid. Just because you haven't been caught in the act yet doesn't mean we don't know you're guilty. That magic of yours will only get you so far with us.”

“If your power spans so far, you shouldn't be worried about what I did or didn't do. If you really knew I was guilty, you'd have killed me by now,” Izaya says.

“Assuming monsters like you actually have enough humanity left to die.”

“Why don't we both find out?”

They glare at each other, and Izaya can sense from Akabayashi that the executive would like nothing more than to tear him limb from limb, but he won't. It would be against Shiki's wishes, and as much as Akabayashi hates it, he has to follow orders, or he'll be next on the chopping block. He takes another step towards the couch, but before he can do or say anything, the door slams open with such force that it bangs against the wall and cracks it.

“Hello, Shizu-chan,” Izaya calls without breaking eye-contact with Akabayashi. “Entertain yourself for a moment, will you?”

“What the fuck is this?” Shizuo asks. He growls when he notices Akabayashi. “Oi! I still have questions for you, asshole!”

“I'm sure you do,” Akabayashi says, standing up straight again. He grins at Shizuo. “I can't answer 'em for you, though. Sorry about that.”

“I could always beat it out of you,” Shizuo says, cracking his knuckles. “I'm even stronger than I used to be, since you bastards made me into a monster.”

“You wouldn't get far. I'd relax, if I were you.” Akabayashi turns back to Izaya. “Get to work, brat. Shiki's only so forgiving.” With that, he turns on his heel, and goes towards the door. Shizuo makes to stop him, but Izaya lifts his hand and summons Shizuo backwards, towards the couch.

“What the fuck!” Shizuo shouts, fighting it. “Let me go!”

“Don't make me exert myself, Shizu-chan. I'm having a rough day,” Izaya says. Shizuo turns and glowers at him, but his features soften.

“What's wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“Yes.” The door opens and closes, and Izaya knows he's alone with Shizuo once more. “You didn't knock this time.”

“Didn't think I needed to. It's not like you weren't expecting me.” Shizuo leans down, scrutinizes Izaya. “You're hungover.”

“Don't read my mind,” Izaya huffs, curling into himself.

“I didn't. You reek of alcohol.”

Grumbling, Izaya summons a blanket and throws it over himself. He doesn't know if he prefers Tsukumoya's company to Shizuo's, but at the moment, he thinks he'd rather deal with the vampire. At least for a little bit.

What a messy flea. Shizuo thinks, and then he walks away from the couch. There's the sound of him sifting through the fridge, but there isn't anything for him to find. Namie had the day off, and Shinra cooked what little was available the night before.

“You might have to order out,” Izaya calls. “You have a couple of hours before sunset.”

Shizuo growls loudly, thinks something about Izaya being useless, and then pulls out his phone. Izaya stays where he is and doesn't move, enjoys the silence for a few moments before it's ultimately shattered by Shizuo, who is suddenly sitting on the couch near Izaya, but still far enough to where they're both comfortable.

“I ordered pizza,” Shizuo says, and he leans back against the couch cushions. “You should foot the bill.”

“If you wanted me to pay, you could've ordered something better,” Izaya replies.

“Nah, everywhere else would've taken too long. Pizza is fast and easy.”

Izaya watches sleepily as Shizuo picks up the remote and turns the TV on, flipping through a few channels before settling on a soap opera. It should feel weird, sitting here with Shizuo, watching a woman sob because she caught her husband having an affair, but it really doesn't feel weird at all. Maybe Izaya is too tired to feel one way or another about it, or maybe their strange mental link has done the majority of the work in making them civil towards one another. Either way, Izaya feels comfortable enough to let his guard down a little, and it's an instant relief, like setting down something immensely heavy.

“So, I don't get it. Why are you just sitting here feeling like shit when you can heal yourself easily enough?” Shizuo is still looking at the screen, but he's back to poking around in Izaya's head, whether he knows he's doing it or not.

“Shut up, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says without any real bite.

“Oh. You just want to feel bad. Seems like a stupid thing for someone who's supposed to be some kind of genius, but whatever.”

The woman on screen is confronting her husband's mistress, and it winds up in a fist fight on a balcony. Izaya snorts when the mistress is pushed off to her death. How predictable. Shizuo is scowling at the TV, but he's thinking about his shared dreams with Izaya, and also about some images he's been seeing through Izaya's side of the link. He's also thinking about Shinra, who apparently ran into Shizuo last night after his last appointment. Shinra seemed worried about Izaya.

He's a good actor. Izaya sends. He always has been.

I don't think he was acting. You look worse than you normally do.

I'm hungover, as you so aptly put it. You being in my head isn't helping me feel better.

“I'm not doing it on purpose!” Shizuo snaps, and the sudden loudness has Izaya flinching. “I don't get why it's happening either, okay? I'm only just now starting to believe it's not actually you doing it.”

Because you've seemed like such a mess ever since it started. Shizuo thinks, and Izaya grinds his teeth in frustration.

“I'm not a mess.”

“What did that guy want?” Shizuo asks, changing the subject abruptly.

“Akabayashi-san stops by from time to time to threaten me. It's a pastime for him.” Izaya is starting to feel nauseous again, so he closes his eyes and wills it to go away.

“Don't you work for him, though?”

“I don't work for anybody. I'm a freelance informant for hire, and I give the organization he's part of information when they pay me for it, same as anyone else.”

Shizuo frowns, thinks something biting about Izaya working for the Yakuza. “He seemed like he wanted to hurt you.”

“Oh, he does. They all do,” Izaya says. “They'd kill me if they could.”

Shizuo doesn't like that he has something in common with the Yakuza. He grimaces before he says, “So what? You're just too strong to die or some shit?”

“No,” Izaya replies. “I'm just too important for them do dispose of. I'm part of the reason they're as powerful as they are, and they know it, even if they hate it, even if they hate me. I'm the strongest tool in their arsenal. Killing me would be crippling themselves.”

Silence follows Izaya's words. Shizuo's mind is a whirlwind now, thinking so many things at once, all laced with rage. He doesn't like anything about what Izaya said, the way it was said so flippantly, the way Izaya doesn't seem to mind. Shizuo doesn't like that Izaya thinks of himself as a tool, as something other than human, even if it might be true. Shizuo doesn't want to think of himself as other than human, either.

Shizuo doesn't seem to do well with the truth.

“That isn't true,” Shizuo growls, no doubt in response to Izaya's thoughts. “You're a person. I'm a person. We're other things too, but whatever we are, we're human first. You said so yourself, right? You can die, you can be killed. You're human enough to die.”

“I'm telling you this once, and once only, beast,” Izaya murmurs, opening his eyes to glare at the TV as he speaks. “It would be the exact same as breaking a screwdriver, or losing your favorite toy. If I died, that would be it. They would just replace me. They want to, and they would if they could, but I'm one of the last of my kind, and I'm definitely the most powerful one left. I don't care about it, because I've always known I was only useful for what I knew and what I could do. If you're going to be hated, you damn well better be useful. That's the way it is.”

“Fuck that!” Shizuo yells, and he stands, his hands clenched into fists. “What the hell are you talking about? You think it's okay to sit here and feel sorry for yourself, like you didn't have a hand in being the hated little rat you are? You think it's just because of your magic? You're the one deciding to do the shitty things you do. People hate you. If they knew you were a witch, whatever, maybe some of them would hate you more, but it's only because they hate you already. Get the fuck over yourself.”

Izaya laughs, delighted at the outburst. Doing so hurts his head, and his vision swims. This is pitiful, isn't it? Feeling useless, being forced to lie back and swallow vomit just so no one else can ask anything more of him. If he's a tool, he's a damaged one, and every time he's human, he dulls himself a little more. If this is a game to be played, and his opponents have the winning hand, Izaya will make sure none of them win. He'll destroy himself if he has to. He'll destroy everything.

“Trust me, Shizu-chan,” he croaks, “I know they would've hated me either way. The difference between us is you're searching so hard for a place to belong, and I've accepted long ago that it doesn't exist. Now would you kindly shut the fuck up? My head hurts.”

Shizuo is seething, his breaths labored as he works to calm himself down. He wants to lift Izaya up and shake him until his head pops off. Then Shizuo wants to tear apart everything in the apartment, maybe go punch Akabayashi for good measure. He hates that he sees the reasoning in Izaya's words. He hates himself, and he hates Izaya more than anything else.

“Get out of my head,” Shizuo grits out.

“I'm trying,” Izaya says, and he leaves it at that.

They lapse back into silence, and when Shizuo flops back onto the couch, his brow is furrowed, his jaw set. It's clear he isn't going to let this go, but he at least doesn't want to be in a terrible mood before his transformation. The bloodlust is worse when he's angry. He has to keep reminding himself that Izaya is a liar, first and foremost. Izaya uses words to protect himself, and Shizuo doesn't have to, and won't, ever do the same.

“Well, isn't this cozy?” Tsukumoya's voice asks as he walks down the stairs. He's wearing a hood, covering himself from the weakening rays of sun that still shine through the windows.

“I thought you left,” Izaya calls as Shizuo whirls to growl at the vampire.

“I was going to, but I figured I'd stick around to make sure you didn't die,” Tsukumoya says. He smirks at the scene of Shizuo and Izaya sitting together almost peacefully, watching trash TV in silence. “I wondered how your nights with the puppy went. I suppose I can see for myself now.”

“Why the fuck are you here?!” Shizuo barks, and then he whirls to face Izaya. “Does he always just pop up like this?”

“Not always,” Izaya says. “He stayed the night.”

“What?”

“Relax, Heiwajima-san. Rest assured, I didn't touch him.” Tsukumoya flounces past the couch while Shizuo's face turns a variety of fun colors. “At least, not much.”

Shizuo stands from the couch, and Izaya sighs loudly.

“Don't you have anything better to do?” he asks Tsukumoya, who is still looking at Shizuo appraisingly.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I trust you won't drink yourself stupid a second night in a row?” Tsukumoya says, looking at Izaya.

“I don't have the luxury tonight,” Izaya answers.

“Right, you're puppy-sitting.”

“Do you mean me, you fucking—“ Shizuo starts, and he barrels towards Tsukumoya, who easily side-steps him.

“Make sure you eat something at some point,” Tsukumoya calls to Izaya. “That pizza will help you feel better.”

“I don't want it,” Izaya grumbles, covering his head with the blanket. He hates both of the people in his space right now, and he just wants to sleep.

You must be making a conscious effort to not heal yourself if you're still this sick over a hangover. Tsukumoya's voice sounds in Izaya's head. Is this really helping anything?

Yes. Izaya can't escape either of them, can he? They're both annoyingly perceptive and persistent. He can feel fondness radiating from Tsukumoya, but it's quickly being overshadowed by the amount of fury pouring from Shizuo, who is clearly listening to their mental conversation.

“Your pizza is here,” Tsukumoya says, and the knock comes a moment later. “Make sure he eats something, please,” he says to Shizuo, and then he vanishes before anything else can be said.

***

Shizuo scarfs down the entire pizza at breakneck speed, once or twice trying to get Izaya to accept a slice before giving up. He doesn't care if Izaya eats or not, and he doesn't care if Izaya feels sick or not. Shizuo's mood increases as he eats, and by the time he's finished, he's as mellow as he ever is while sharing a space with his mortal enemy.

Izaya, for his part, is starting to feel a little better. His stomach rumbles a bit at the scent of the pizza, but his appetite wanes at the grotesquely barbaric way Shizuo eats. It seems worse than usual, more...animalistic.

In fact...something seems off about Shizuo, even for a full moon. Maybe something happened earlier, or maybe Shizuo just went too long without eating until now, but Izaya can sense the bloodlust permeating from Shizuo like a miasma.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, slowly sitting up to level his gaze at his unwanted guest. “Have you taken your potion?”

“Huh? Of course I have,” Shizuo replies. His hair is glowing from the fading rays of the sun as it descends behind the tall buildings outside.

“Have you taken it exactly as you should, the way I instructed?” Izaya asks through clenched teeth, already knowing the answer.

“Well— I drank it all a couple of days ago. I spent all day with Vorona, and I didn't want—“ Shizuo pauses at the look on Izaya's face. “What? What did I do wrong? You said to take it all before the full moon, and I did!”

“I told you to drink it every day, bit by bit, and to finish it before the full moon. The exact way you've done every month until now, because you're so pathetic in the presence of that woman that you can't follow basic fucking instructions!” Izaya snaps, and Shizuo's eyes widen.

He looks scared. Shizuo thinks, and then a beat later, Oh fuck. He's scared of me.

“Izaya, I—“ Shizuo begins, and then his hands grip his knees as his body begins to shake. The sun's rays fade at last, bathing them in twilight. “I feel...wrong.”

Izaya stands from the couch, the room spinning as he does. He's not at his full power. Even if he weren't hungover, he hasn't been eating or sleeping the way he should, buried in work as he is, and reluctant to care for himself as ever. He starts towards the stairs, in search of the healing potion he should have taken earlier, but he knows it's already far too late, as Shizuo's body is already beginning to crack and twist, and his mind is already gone, replaced by that of a true monster.

“Shizu-chan, you're such a fucking idiot,” Izaya hisses, and his sentence is barely finished before Shizuo is lunging at him, aiming for his throat.

[tashas-life]

Summer Shenanigans

Paxton and Devi spend the summer together and have a banging playlist

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Nothing really.”

“I’m outside, let’s go to the beach.”

Devi threw her bag through the back window of Paxton’s jeep and jumped in the front seat.

“Did you bring my suit?” Devi asks as she pulled on her seatbelt. Devi’s mom would never let her wear a bikini so she had to save up her money from working at the summer camp to buy it. She usually hid it at the back of her underwear drawer but since she’d been going swimming with Paxton more days than not, she just kept it in his car.

“Yep, I threw it in the laundry.” Paxton pulled out onto the road and Devi started messing with the music.

Her and Paxton were both working at the same summer camp so they spent most days together. Paxton had spent the last two summers working at the camp and Devi wanted to make her own money so she had applied too. It was also convenient because she always had a ride to work instead of asking her mom or Kamala. Paxton had promised to teach her to drive this summer but she always chickened out whenever he offered.

Devi always insisted on picking the music when they went anywhere and Paxton didn’t mind. She settled on Ariana Grande’s album and turned up the volume as Motive filled the car. Paxton rolled down all the windows and stuck his arm out to feel the breeze. It was one of the hottest days of the summer so Paxton’s shirt was mostly open and Devi had her new sunglasses on. This was the first summer that Devi was making real money and she tended to spend most of it by the time the next pay day had rolled around.

Once they got to the beach Devi jumped in the backseat and Paxton got out to stand guard. Devi was a pro at the quick change at this point and quickly shimmied into her bikini without having to take off her dress completely.

Once Devi hopped out of the backseat, Paxton grabbed the drinks cooler and Devi grabbed their towels and a speaker. Usually the beaches were packed on hot days but Paxton had a special super power of finding an empty part of the beach to spend the day. They found a spot to settle and Devi started applying sunscreen.

“Did you hear Kenny is sick again. Mono.” Paxton said with an eye roll and Devi groaned.

“You think he’s going to be out all week again? Taylor should just fire him and hire someone else at this point.” Devi tossed Paxton the sunscreen and laid down on her towel.

“Yea right, Taylor probably gave him the mono. He’ll never fire him.” Devi laughed and closed her eyes.

“I don’t even understand how they find the time to mack. Those kids never stop.” Devi said.

“Yea well, next week they’re going to be our problem again.” Usually each camp leader had about 5-10 kids to watch but with Kenny constantly gone they always ended up with more kids.

“Honestly, fuck Kenny.” Devi grumbled and Paxton nodded. “Did you see Eleanor’s insta post? Her and Trent are like embarrassingly in love.” Devi asked as she pulled out her phone to show him a boomerang of them kissing on some hike.

“I think it’s cute.” Paxton grinned as Devi made a vomiting face. “I invited them to come today but apparently they would rather be aloneeee.”

“That’s so nasty.” Devi said and Paxton laughed.

“I’m going in, you coming?” Paxton asked but Devi shook her head.

“Nah man, I’m working on my tan.” Devi said but really she just preferred laying on the sand and watching the water than actually being in it.

“Your loss.” Paxton replied, shoving her as he got up to go swimming.

……

“Okay, the thing is that I just don’t think I’m coordinated enough for this.” Devi said as she stood on Paxton’s skateboard. She felt a little embarrassed at how wobbly she was and that she was wearing her bike helmet that she got when she was ten. Paxton had his car door open and Lizzo’s album was playing. Juice blasted into the street and Devi knew people would complain soon.

“I’m literally holding on to you. You can’t fall.” Paxton said as he led her down the road.

“I feel like I could still fall.” Devi said as she started tipping back and Paxton’s grip tightened as he pulled her forward.

“I won’t let you fall Devi. Would you just trust me for once?” He asked playfully annoyed.

“Shut up, I literally trust you all the time.”

“You shut up.” Paxton countered.

“Wow, real mature.” Devi replied sarcastically.

Devi was too busy arguing to notice them start to go faster. Of course that is until she did notice. Then she was falling again and she was falling fast. Paxton managed to grab her before she fell on her face and swung her off the skateboard. Devi held onto Paxton as the skateboard started rolling down the street without them. They looked at each other and immediately started laughing.

“I think you might be right about the coordination thing.” Paxton said and Devi shoved him away from her.

“Or maybe you’re a bad teacher.” She grinned at his shocked face as she ran to grab the skateboard.

“I’m never teaching you anything ever again” he retaliated.

“Come over here and help me loser.” Paxton crossed his arm in defiance.

“Tell me I’m a good teacher.”

“Stop being a baby.”

“Wooooow, even more insults. Bad teacher and a baby.”

“Fine, you’re a good teacher. Now let’s get on with this.” Devi said as she started to get on the skateboard again.

“Thank you.” Paxton replied satisfied. He grinned and went to help her again.

……..

Usually, they were separated during their days at camp since each group rotated through activities but on Fridays all of the kids got to go to the community pool. Those were obviously Paxton’s favourite days because he got to hang out with Devi but he also loved getting to teach some of the kids how to swim.

Usually, Paxton stayed in the shallow end with the younger kids and Devi sat at the deep end with the older kids. Vacation by Dirty Heads was playing over the pool speakers and Devi had her legs in the water as she chatted with some kids.

“Yea, high school kind of sucks. What you gotta do is find a popular kid and force them to be your friend.” Devi told some kids who were going to be freshmen in the fall.

“That’s terrible advice.” Paxton laughed as he came to stand next to her in the pool. He had switched with Kenny who was now watching the younger kids. They had given up on learning to swim and were mostly just playing and splashing water at Kenny.

“Really? You got anything better?” Devi asked crossing her arms.

“Yes. Find something that makes you excited to go to school, for me that was swimming, for D it was being my best friend. And also don’t give a shit about what other people think of you.” Paxton told the kids and Devi kicked his arm. “Oh shit, I mean just don’t care what other people think.”

“I meant the best friend thing.” Devi rolled her eyes.

“You were literally obsessed-“ before Paxton could finish Devi had jumped in and shoved Paxton’s head underwater.

Paxton managed to push Devi away from him and had his arm out separating them.

“Hey, you better stop or your top is going to fall off again.” Paxton laughed and Devi’s face started burning up. Yes, the bikini was cute but it wasn’t the most reliable bathing suit she had. Rough housing had led to a very embarrassing incident that Devi was trying to forget.

“I’m going to kill you.” Devi lunged at him and Paxton managed to grab her arms.

“Hey anger issues, chill out.” Paxton said with a grin. Devi managed to pull her arms away and splashed Paxton.

“Go do your job loser!” Devi yelled as she turned to go back to her post.

……

Devi swung the door open and was surprised to see Paxton. Usually he just texted her when he got to her house.

“Let’s go for a drive.” Paxton said as he held up his car keys.

“Okayyy.” Devi said as she grabbed her backpack from the door.

“Here ya go.” He said as he tossed the keys to her. She just about dropped them and didn’t move from her front door.

“Naaaa, I don’t think today’s the day.” Devi said nervously. She had failed her drivers test last month because she hadn’t practiced enough. It was the first time she hadn’t prepared and it was also the first time she had failed a test.

“Come on D, your test is in a few weeks and don’t you want to have your licence by the time school starts?” Paxton asked as he opened the drivers side door. He motioned for her to get in and she groaned before going to the car.

It wasn’t legal for Paxton to teach her how to drive but her only other option was her mother which hadn’t worked out. Devi was pretty sure she failed her test because driving with her mom had made her so anxious that getting behind the wheel made her want to throw up even when her mom wasn’t around. She had even done drivers ed but that apparently wasn’t enough because she still failed.

“Are you sure? What if I scratch your car or something?” Devi asked as they both got in the car.

“Then I’ll literally kill you, so don’t scratch my baby.” Paxton said as he gently caressed his dash.

“That’s not really helpful.” Devi muttered as she nervously changed the seat settings.

“We’ll go to the school parking lot. It’s just down the street and the lot will be empty.” Devi nodded as she turned the car on. She kept her foot on the brakes as she looked at Paxton desperately.

“Listen to Tai, you’re going to be A-O-K.” Paxton said as he turned up the music. “Also, don’t forget to signal, you lost so many points for that.”

Paxton didn’t look nervous at all which made Devi feel a little bit better. If he could be confident in her driving skills than so could she. Devi signalled and did a very exaggerated shoulder check before she pulled onto the road. There were no cars around the whole way to the school so the only thing she had to deal with were some stop signs and one set of lights. She totally could do this.

Devi’s whole body relaxed once they pulled into the parking lot and she didn’t have to worry about hitting things or people anymore.

“That was pretty good actually. How did you fail?” Paxton asked.

“Probably because I suck at driving?” Devi told him as she put the car in park.

“Shut up, you had issues with the parallel park right?” Paxton asked as he got out of the car.

“What are you doing?” Devi asked as he closed the door.

“Im going to teach you how to parallel park.” Paxton grinned sticking his head through the window.

Devi waited as he grabbed stuff from out of his trunk. A bin full of blankets and an empty cooler he had forgotten about. He set them up as pretend cars and he went to the drivers side.

“Okay, line yourself up.” Paxton said as Devi slowly moved the car so the bin of blankets was lined up with the back of the jeep.

Paxton gave her instructions and ran around indicating for her how far to back up and how much to turn the wheel and eventually she got into the spot.

“I don’t think they’re going to let you guide me into a spot on the test.” Devi said annoyed that it took so long.

“You just gotta keep practicing, eventually it’ll just be second nature.” Paxton said as he got back in the car. “Pull out and this time I’m not going to help you.” Paxton said as she groaned.

“I hate this.” Devi said getting frustrated.

“You won’t hate this once you can drive yourself anywhere you want. Now start moving before I force you to practice highway driving.” Paxton said as he relaxed into his seat.

Devi wanted to hit him and get angry but she knew he was her only hope of passing her test in a month so she contained herself and kept practicing.

When the day of Devi’s test came around she felt pretty confident she was going to fail again. Paxton had given her a pep talk before he left her house the night before but it hadn’t helped with her nerves.

“You got this, okay? Just make sure you signal, and don’t forget the emergency brake when you do the hill park.” He told her as he held her shoulders. “By this time tomorrow, you’re going to be fully licensed because you’re a great driver.”

Devi was just as shocked as her mother when she pulled into the DMV and had almost no deductions on her test. Nalini didn’t know about Paxton teaching her to drive but she managed to convince her that is was because the tester was a lot nicer than the last one. She had smiled the entire time she got her new license and had raced back to the car. She knew Paxton would be waiting for her at her house and she was beyond excited to tell him that his methods had actually worked.

Paxton was leaning on his car checking his phone when they got home. She had to stop herself from running to Paxton to tell him the good news. She got out of the car and Nalini kissed her head before going into the house.

“How’d it go?” He asked as she crossed her arms and pretended to look disappointed.

“I passed babyyy!” She screamed as she whipped out her temporary license.

“I fucking knew it! You never trust me.” Paxton grabbed her and spun her around.

“Where do you wanna go? I’m driving.” Devi said and Paxton laughed as he got in the passenger seat.

…..

“Can you spot me ten bucks?” Devi asked as she searched through her backpack for some money.

“You have literally worked all summer, how are you always broke?” Paxton muttered as he pulled out some change from his console.

“I just don’t have any cash on me.”

Paxton gave her a handful of change and Devi looked at him annoyed.

“Quarters? Really?” Devi struggled to hold all the coins and Paxton shrugged.

“Take it or leave it, but if you want boba I suggest you take it.” Paxton grinned and Devi rolled her eyes as she realized she couldn’t open the door holding all the change.

Paxton laughed as he leaned over to open the door for her. “Get me a milk tea.” He said as she hopped out of the car.

“If I even make it there without any hands.” She grumbled.

By the time she got back with their drinks, Paxton had all the windows down blasting Young Dumb & Broke by Khalid.

“Really?!” She had to scream for him to hear her over the music. He lip synced to the lyrics as he pointed to her and dramatically danced to the music. “You’re so annoying!” She screamed as he took a big sip of his tea. He pointed at the drink as if to say that it tastes good and gave her the ok sign with his fingers. Devi just rolled her eyes and sipped on her mango slush. She guessed it was worth the embarrassing amount of quarters she gave to the cashier and having to listen to Paxton call her dumb and broke.

“Are you going to make it to Trent’s this weekend? Last party of the summer.” Paxton asked as he turned the music down.

“Have you met my mother? She’s not going to let me go to Trent’s house for a party.” Devi replied looking through Paxton’s Spotify.

“Since when do you tell your mom about going to parties?” Paxton asked snorting.

“I’m trying to turn over a new leaf this year. No more lying, especially to my mom.” She said as she put on Savage by Megan Thee Stallion and Beyoncé.

“What if she knew I was taking you?” Paxton knew the party would suck without Devi there.

“Yeaaaaa, my mom might like you now but not that much.”

“Come on D, it’s the last party of the summer. You have to go!” Paxton pouted as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Fine, fine, I’ll figure out a way to go out but there’s no way she’ll let me stay out past 11.” Paxton smiled at her and agreed to be DD so he could get her home by 11.

By the time the weekend rolled around, Nalini didn’t even seem bothered by Devi leaving. Her and Kamala had been going crazy planning her wedding and Devi tended to be unhelpful in that area. She was only good for the grunt work, which she was sure there would be a lot of once it got closer to the day.

All she had to say was that she was going to Eleanor’s house for a back to school hangout and Nalini quickly agreed to get her out of the house. Technically she wasn’t lying because they had to pick up Eleanor at her house and they were having a back to school hangout. It was just a hangout with most of the school and alcohol.

Devi acted as casual as possible as she closed the front door but she sprinted as soon as the door closed. She didn’t want to risk her mom seeing her actually getting in Paxton’s car instead of Fabiola’s. Devi had been asking her mom for a car for weeks but still nothing. Her mom was convinced that she should have enough money saved since she had a summer job but summer camps didn’t exactly pay top dollar and Devi was pretty irresponsible with her money this summer. She figured she had two more summers to hustle before she went to Princeton.

“You look so pretty in that dress.” Paxton said as soon as she got in the car.

Devi blushed and couldn’t control her smile. “Shut up loser.”

Paxton smiled back at her as they went to pick up Eleanor and Fabiola.

Trent’s house was packed full of people but he was standing at the door waiting for Eleanor. He hugged her tightly and dragged her off to the back of the house.

Paxton went to grab them some drinks and handed Devi and Fabiola beers. “Bread soda.”

Devi rolled her eyes and shoved him away. Fabiola had learned a long time to ignore their inside jokes and she wandered off.

Paxton was always treated like a god at parties and everyone wanted their time with him. Paxton gave people his typical cool guy head nod and pulled Devi outside where it was less crowded.

“So, you excited for school to start?” Paxton asked and Devi looked confused.

“Sure, I guess.” Paxton looked nervous which made Devi more confused. “Why are you making weird small talk?”

“I just guess this is the last time we’re hanging out before school starts.” Devi’s confusion became anger very quickly.

“What is that supposed to mean? Like things are going to change when school starts?” Devi questioned starting to get upset.

“No, chill Devi. I mean I do want things to change but not the way you think.” Now Devi was back to confused.

Paxton looked frustrated and looked around them. No one was around or paying attention to them. Paxton turned back to Devi and got way closer to her than she was used to. Kiss Me More by Doja Cat and SZA was playing in the house but it sounded far away.

He touched her cheek and lifted her mouth to his. “Is this okay?” He asked nervously.

Instead of answering Devi pushed her lips against his. Paxton smiled against her and pulled her tight to him.

……

“You want me to pick you up tomorrow?” Paxton texted and Devi smiled when she saw the message.

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” She replied quickly.

“No worries, we’re both going to the same place. Better for the environment and all that”

“I’ll make a driving playlist.” He sent back a smiley face and an ok hand.

Devi couldn’t wait for tomorrow. This was going to be the best summer of her life.

[waitineedaname]

8 for roommates aha!

8. With a bunch of roommates, the mornings can really turn into HBO’s hit show Game of Toilets.

Gordon loved his friends. He really did. They had the kind of bond formed through going through a literal life or death situation together, and he cherished their friendship to no end. But if he had to live in a small apartment with them for much longer, he was going to tear his hair out.

When they had gotten their first chance to relax at Chuck E. Cheese post-Black Mesa, it quickly became obvious that he was the only one with a place to stay. Tommy and Coomer both lived in the Black Mesa dorms that were now buried under a metric ton of rubble, and Bubby had never even left the facility, but Gordon had an apartment nearby so he could host Joshua every other weekend. Gordon, being the gracious and bighearted man he was, invited them to stay in his guest rooms until they managed to get back on their feet. At first, it was okay. The Boomers could take his guest room, and Tommy could take Joshua’s bed when he wasn’t around. Eventually, Benrey showed up too, and that was also fine, whatever, Gordon had a futon in the living room. But as time wore on, Gordon found himself wishing he’d helped them all find a long term hotel to stay in or something.

He’d lived with roommates before. It was hard to get through college without living with other people. He thought his worst roommate experience would be his freshman year roommate who would forget his keys and crawl through the window at 2am, absolutely reeking. Living with the Science Team, however, proved to him that there were roommate quirks he hadn’t ever imagined. Like opening the cabinets for a midnight snack to discover Benrey already folded into the world’s most upsetting origami, eating all the cereal. Or Bubby and Coomer taking apart all of his appliances to put them back together into one mechanical abomination that no longer toasts bread or boils water, but does serve as a makeshift air fryer, for whatever reason. Or Tommy growing mystery creatures in cups of liquid left out on the windowsill.

Worst of all, somehow, was sharing a bathroom with all of them.

Gordon would admit it, he didn’t exactly have a low maintenance bathroom routine. His hair took a lot of work, okay? It was the part of his appearance he cared the most about, and that meant he had a lot of products and took a while in the shower. Sue him, it’s his fucking bathroom. Except it wasn’t anymore, apparently. Because Bubby took about ten years in the shower every fucking day, and then somehow Coomer would jump in after him before anyone else could take their opening, and then he’d take a century in the shower too. In the few minutes a day when the shower wasn’t occupied, Benrey would sneak in there and eat Gordon’s hair products. He hadn’t caught Benrey doing it yet, but he knew they were. And Tommy-

Well, actually, Tommy wasn’t that bad in the bathroom. The worst he did was tilt the showerhead up really high because he was so damn tall, but all things considered, having to reach up and tilt it back down was the least of Gordon’s concerns.

Dr. Coomer had just beaten him to the bathroom for the billionth time despite being across the damn apartment when the door opened, and Gordon collapsed on the couch with a groan. Tommy, seated at the corner of the couch and doing something to his alarm clock with a screwdriver, hummed sympathetically.

“Something wrong, Mr. Freeman?”

“Tommy, man, I love you guys but I want my fucking bathroom back,” Gordon said, running his hands down his face.

“Oh! Do- My dad’s been looking at real estate offers for us, should I tell him we’re ready to move out?”

“Wh- Yes!” Gordon took his hands off his face to stare upside down at Tommy. “Are you telling me you could’ve done that at any time?”

“Not any time, not, um, immediately after the party, but uh, yeah! I hadn’t told him we were ready yet because I thought we were having a… an extra long sleepover!”

Gordon was stunned silent, and anything he could’ve thought to say was completely derailed by Benrey wandering into the living room. “This juice is bangin’, yo,” Benrey said, smacking their lips. Gordon sat up enough to see what was in Benrey’s hand: Gordon���s high-end conditioner. The two made eye contact across the room.

“YOU!” Gordon bellowed, vaulting over the coffee table to chase after Benrey, who quickly scampered away.

Once he managed to pull Benrey down from their perch above the microwave, Gordon decided he needed to make a very important call to Mr. Coolatta.

[mindofharry]

here’s some vampire harry!!!!! pls treat him with the love and respect he deserves <3

“Honey, this is just water under the bridge” Your mother, Joanne, reassured you. She placed a rogue piece of hair behind your ear. You were both sitting on your bed, cuddling like you were 10 years old again. Getting fired, from your dream job for no apparent reason at all has basically broken you. Your mother is trying to reassure you, that it was meant to happen - that everything happens for a reason. You just want your job back.

“We’ll start job hunting again, next week. Ok?” Joanne said, you sighed and rolled over on your sighed. Your mum rubbed your back and took all the dirty cups from your room with her as she left your room.

You tried to sleep, to try and forget everything that had just happened that afternoon. But, your mind was occupied and too busy. So you decided you better start looking for some jobs, even interviews. Even though you still live with your mum, you still need money. Not just for yourself, but your mum too. All the money that comes into the house is coming from you and the jobs you have. You were finally comfortable with money, for the first in your life. But the world just really hated you at the moment.

You walk over your desk and sit down, opening up the second hand laptop you bought yourself for christmas. It’s nothing special like a mac, but it does the job. Once you’re logged in, you open google and type in ‘JOBS IN MY AREA’. You didn’t go to college and you barley passed high school, you’ll be lucky if you even get a job at the local book store.

You needed to stop this, punishing yourself. It’s not your fault, you remind yourself.

Nearly falling asleep at your desk, you decided to head to bed. Tomorrow will be better.

**

Tomorrow is not better. It’s worse than yesterday. You couldn’t even bare to open your laptop after being so disappointed last night. And you’re mum kept trying to reassure you, but you felt responsible for this.

Your mum couldn’t work, she’s not well and she’s in denial about it. She goes to AA meetings and talks with therapists, but she just can’t stay sober. You’ve tried to get her into working, but she manages to fuck it up everytime. Your mum is good mother, she took care of you and did the best she could. But sometimes you just wished she’d just stay sober, for even a week. So you could be a normal 19 year old, go out for drinks and hang out with friends. But you know she’s not a normal mum. And that’s something you just have to live with.

“Morning, love” Joanne said sipping on her ‘tea’. You knew it was alcohol so you gave her a pointed look.

She sighed and poured the drink down the sink. “Good, now go brush your teeth and we can talk” you say pulling your hair up. You mother shook her head and sighed. “I’m the mum here, Y/N. Don’t treat me like i’m the teenager” she said and you laughed. Really? This is how today’s going to go? the universe really hates me, you thought.

“You just hid vodka from me mum” you say and she sighed walking over and kissing your temple. “I’m sorry, ok? I’m trying, lovey” she said and you could tell how hard she was trying to keep together. you nodded and smiled, this was going to be a good day. Bite your tongue, Y/N.

“Yeah, i know. Now go get ready, i need help job hunting” you say and she nodded making her way out of the kitchen and up to her room. You sighed and put the kettle on. You walked into the pantry and took the vodka she had opened and poured it down the sink. Let’s see how long it takes her to notice.

You sat down with your cup of tea and one for your mum, opening up the paper and your laptop.

When your mum came back in, she looked a lot nicer and healthier. The shower did her good.

“So i saw someone looking for an assistant on facebook” Your mum said logging into her facebook on your laptop. You smiled to yourself, she really cared about you. “His name is harry i think, something along the lines of needing someone to sort out his schedule which you’re pretty good at” she said showing you the post. A few, actually a lot, of people had already liked the post and there was people sharing their CVs in the comments begging for a chance. You didn’t have the heart to tell your mum that this person wasn’t going to accept you.

“I mean, you can apply for other jobs but i think it’s perfect for you” She said biting her nip nervously. You nodded smiling in reassurance. “Yeah, it’s perfect mum. Thank you, i’ll try and get an interview. I also found a cleaning job too, so that’s good. Both jobs look like they pay well” you say with a shrug.

Joanne nodded and kissed your temple. “You’ll get a job. Don’t worry about it.”

After sending your CV to multiple possible bosses, you shut your laptop and turn your phone off of silent. Job hunting is a pain in the ass and exhausting, all you can do now is make lunch and hope for the best.

**

You were braiding your mothers hair when you got the call. You were both having a girly night as your mum hadn’t drank a sip of alcohol all day, it was definitely something to celebrate.

“Is this Y/N L/N i’m speaking with?” the voice asked, he sounded so bright and chipper. And he was irish too.

“This is her! how can i help you?” you asked and the man cleared his throat and paused for a second. “I’m offering you a job. the job” he said and you almost dropped your phone. You put it on your leg, on speaker so your mum could hear and you could multitask. You brushed the ends of your mum hair and let out a shaky breath.

“Do i need to come in for an interview?”

“Well, me and the boss would like to get to know you, get a feel of how you work on your own and with help. just like a test run, but if i’m being honest the is yours” he said and you could almost cry. “You’re exactly the kind of person Harry, my boss is looking for Y/N” he said.

“I’m niall by the way, i’m harry’s personal assistant” Niall said and you smiled.

“Well, when can i come in?”

After settling some stuff with Niall, who is kind of your boss too you were free to hang up. your mum squealed and pulled you into the tightest hug ever. “I told you, everything happens for a reason! you were exactly who they were looking for, babe” your mother said caressing your cheeks. You kissed her temple and nodded.

“You’re the best, you know that?” You said and your mum shrugged. “Eh, i’m okay” she giggled, you sat back down on the couch.

“Lay down, mum. We’ve got it sorted now”

You were going in to the offices, or as what niall called STYLES x MALIK, harry styles and zayn malik are both the bosses of the fashion company they both created. They have a headquarters in the states, but they’re just starting up a new headquarters in england, as harry and zayn grew up here and would like to see their families a lot more. Niall basically told you their whole life story over the phone, which you were very thankful for. Saves you the googling.

It was a tuesday morning, when you got the go ahead to pop in. Niall said to look nice, but casual. Like you’re going out for a dinner with your partners family. So you pull out your best high waisted flare jeans, an orange stripped shirt and tucked into your jeans. You topped it off with your lucky platforms and some jewellery. You left your hair natural, and the same with your makeup only some lip gloss and mascara.

“You look beautiful, honey”

“Thanks mum” You grinned pulling her into a hug. You placed your bag over your shoulder and took the car keys from the bowl at the front door. “I’ll be back soon, ok? Go for a walk or something” you say squeezing her hand, before leaving.

20 minutes away from you, is a angry, grumpy vampire. Niall was sat in front of harry, with a grin on his face.

“She’s literally perfect harry” Niall try to reason, but harry was having absolutely none of it. He wanted to rip that blonde son of bitch heart out.

“Niall, i didn’t want her though.” Harry said standing up from his desk, opening up a file and pointing at a picture.

“i wanted her”

Harry was pointing at a girl, blonde hair, blue eyes and great blood. He had tasted her before and worked his magic into getting her an interview - of course, she doesn’t remember him though. But this Y/N girl, he didn’t want her and he never agreed to having her come here today.

“You’ll have to fire her or make up some excuse, fuck i need something” Harry mumbled placing a hand over his eyes, Niall walked over to the fridge in the corner of harrys office he opened it up and took out a bag of blood pouring it in to a small glass. He placed it on the table standing in front of a frustrated vampire.

“She’s really good, Harry. You’ll regret it if you don’t let her do the test run” Niall said before walking to the door. “And she’s hot as fuck” he added leaving the room.

Harry hated being the bad guy, usually he’s a nice person. More lively, a bit like niall. A lot more quiet though, he’s pensive and reads people really well, one of his many talents as a vampire.

Harry was born in 1908, to a wealthy family. He had caring parents, a loving sister and good future a head of him. Until he met liam payne, they met in university decided to work together. The next thing you know, liam had his fangs in harrys neck and he was immortal. The first few years were hard, he was wreck less and did everything possible to get even a drop of blood. He met zayn five years after being turned, and he was sort of like the alpha of their ‘pack’ so to speak. He taught harry all he knew about control and using powers to get what you want, but only when you so desperately need it. They met niall in the 70s, he was freshly turned and needed help. They took him under their wings, and here they are today with a fashion company and a load of money in their pockets.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Zayn asked walking into harrys office with a few files in his hands. Harry huffed and sipped on the blood niall had poured for him. “I’m closed” harry said sitting down on his chair, zayn laughed and shook his head. “You have an interview in 5 minutes, get it together styles” Zayn said and dropped the files on his desk.

“Whether we hire or not, be nice. Her file is there, read it, study it. And keep those fangs to yourself” Zayn warned pointing at harry, then walked out of his office. Harry sighed and opened the file, stopping in his tracks when he saw your face.

You’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful.

He could tell the photo was professionally done, and you definitely had gotten someone to take it in a rush. Your CV is also a mess, but harry thinks it’s endearing. God, you’ve hypnotised him already. Harry could feel your aura through a picture, how the fuck was that even possible?

“She’s here” Niall said through the glass door. Harry nodded and cracked his neck, let’s get this over with then.

He could see niall biting his lip as she walked up, he couldn’t keep it in his pants for 2 seconds.

Niall opened the door and harry watched the girl walk in, her flares and platforms got his attention. She’s perfect. For him. Niall was still checking her out, so harry cleared his throat. Niall smirked and shook his head walking out of the office.

“Take a seat” Harry said and you smiled, sitting down. “I just want to say, i’m really grateful for this opportunity” you say, and harry nearly rolled his eyes. She’s too beautiful for a sob story. “I appreciate it” you say, and harry nodded quickly wanting to move away from anything emotional.

“um, so we don’t need you” He lied and you nearly choked on you own spit. Your eyebrows furrowed and you flushed a bit. Harry could see niall shaking his head. Damn you, super human hearing.

“Don’t need me? Niall said that i was just what you were looking for” you say, not angry just confused. Harry was impressed at how well you could keep your feelings in check, but he could feel how agitated you were becoming.

“Well, he’s wrong” Harry said and closed the file. “Have a nice day” He said with a fake smile. You couldn’t believe this. Fuck this.

“Fuck you” You said grabbing your bag and hoisting it up onto your shoulder. “Woah, Woah, what’s going on in here?” Zayn asked his hands in the air.

“Ask him, thanks for nothing” You say moving to walk out of the office. You needed to get out of here. “Just wait” Zayn called out, you stopped and sighed turning around.

“You’ve got the job” zayn said and your eyes widened in shock. “You start this friday, niall will email you detail. Use this week to treat yourself, on me ok?” Zayn said handing you a 50 dollar note. Who are you to deny money? You nodded and smiled at him. “Thank you” you say and he nodded.

“Don’t disappoint me”

**

You got yourself a coffee on the way home, you were a little overwhelmed and you needed to calm down before you went home to your mum. You just hope she didn’t do anything stupid while you were out.

“Mum, i’m home” you called out handing your bag up on the hanger. You got no response, so you looked around the house. Nothing in the kitchen or bathroom. The only places left are her room and living room.

You walked into the living room, to see your mum passed out on the couch a bottle of wine and an empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table. you sighed “Oh, mum” you said tears welling up in your eyes. “Why do you keep doing this” you mumbled picking up the wine and empty bottle, you put them away and cleaned up the cup. After that, you placed a blanket over her.

“You’ll get better soon, mum. I’ll be able to pay for it. We’ll have everything we’ve ever dreamt of and more” You say, kissing her forehead.

The next couple of days, you were nursing your mother back to health and used the 50 dollars your new boss gave you to by some groceries. Your mother really needed some hangover snacks, and she needed a lot of them. Luckily, you’ve been doing this a lot longer than you should’ve.

“Mum, i’m off to work” You said peaking through her door. She wasn’t talking to you at the moment.

“Alright, there’s medicine on the counter downstairs, snacks and stuff too. There’s no alcohol and no money, so don’t even try” You warned closing her door. God, this was so hard. You wondered how long it would take to be fired from this job.

You arrived early at the office, niall greeted you and took you to your own little office. It was nothing huge, but you absolutely adored it.

“Hey, don’t worry about harry” Niall said and you nodded. “I’m not, don’t worry” you reassured him smiling as you put down your diary.

“Good, well i’ll leave you to it” Niall said and you grinned at him.

“Good luck”

“Why?”

“You’ll need it”

[shoutogepi]

You Want Me to Call You Baby Girl?

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 10k oopsies

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : DD/BG kink, minimal booty spanking & temp play, man-handling ahaha

bio : Shouto accidentally discovers his girlfriend is much kinkier than he suspected… and he intends to test out his new knowledge as soon as possible.

author’s note : o BOY THIS IS A SPICY FIRST FIC. whew i promise im not usually this nasty actually who am i kidding yes i am :))) also side note, all characters are aged up to year 3 in this (so everyone is 18+!!)

also available on AO3 here~

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅈our duffel bag buzzes loudly, taking your attention away from the sparring match you and Ochaco were currently engaging in.

“One sec, Ochacho-chan,” you request hastily, putting your hands up in apology and bowing.

“Sure thing Y/N,” she smiles, “I need to take a break anyway!”

You squat next to your bag, hands fishing blindly through the compartment for your vibrating phone.

Shouto ♥︎ flashes across your screen, a photo of the handsome boy slurping soba lighting up the background.

“Shouto,” you pick up, huffing after your challenging training session.

“Y/N,” he replies, his suave voice instantly bringing a minute flush to your cheeks. “Where are you right now?”

“Ahhh I’m at the training center with Ochacho-chan,” you answer, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “We were working on our hand to hand combat!”

“Hmm,” he purses his lips in frustration. “I left my Search and Rescue textbook in your room yesterday. Any chance I could come by and grab your key?”

Your foot absentmindedly plays with the strap of your duffel bag, wandering aimlessly as you clutch the cellphone to your ear. “My door should actually be unlocked,” you chime,” so no need to come all the way over here!”

Shouto frowns. “You leave your door unlocked?” he pauses, “Knowing we have some questionable… characters living in the same building?” His mind is immediately on Mineta and Kaminari, the two perverts of the class.

Your laugh smoothes over his distaste, instantly bringing a small smile to his lips.

“I know you forget your things in my room so you have an excuse to see me,” you say playfully, your bottom lip captured by your teeth as you bashfully rock on the balls of your feet.

A slight blush covers Shouto’s cheeks, which he is glad you’re not there to see. “Hmm, it seems I’ve been figured out. I guess I’ll stop doing that then,” he teases, prodding you for a reaction.

“N-No, that’s okay,” you rush out, adding a hesitant laugh. “I’ll… I would take any excuse to see you,” you murmur, voice growing quieter.

Shouto’s heart flutters, momentarily at a loss for words.

“Um, anyway, my door is unlocked so just go on in. I should probably get back to Ochaco now,” you trail off awkwardly.

“Can I buy you dinner tonight?” It slips out before Shouto can even think.

A beat passes, and Shouto licks his lips in anticipation.

“I would really like that, Shouto,” you chuckle into the phone. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Of course. See you tonight,” Shouto smiles, taking the phone away from his ear and pressing the red button on his screen. He stands in front of your door for a moment, gazing at your contact picture. God, you were so cute. How he had managed to score you, he had no clue.

He’d been in his room when he called you, but walked over to your floor and dorm room as the conversation ensued. Just as you had said, when his hand touches the door handle, it gives way and he steps into your room.

Closing the door behind him, he breathes in and closes his eyes, savoring the sweet and clean smell of you that lingered on your belongings. After a moment, he walks over to your desk, his textbook in sight, but buried underneath an open notebook with your messy notes scrawled across half the page. Your laptop rests to the left of the notebook, open and upright, but the screen is black and the charger light is green, indicating the battery is full.

Shouto’s fingers automatically reach for the cord, unplugging the charger as it was best to do so for your laptop’s battery in the long run.The screen automatically lights up, a black browser popping up and displaying a video.Shouto tries to avert his eyes before he could read the screen, but he had already read the video title the instant it popped up.His face instantly bursts into a cherry-red blush, and he chokes as his throat suddenly dries, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth in shock.

You Want Me to Call You Baby Girl? Beg for Daddy, Maybe I’ll Be Nice.

Shouto’s wide eyes scan the title again, and then a third, and a fourth time to make sure he had read it correctly. You had left your door unlocked, your laptop open, and a porn website out on display?

Had you… meant for him to see this?

He shakes his head in disbelief. There was no way that his innocent and sweet girlfriend had planned this out… which meant that you would probably be mortified if you knew he had found this.

Shouto stands frozen at your desk, unsure of what to do. The two of you were no strangers to sex. You had been dating for almost seven months now, and you had been intimate together a handful of times.

But never like this… Daddy? Baby girl? Begging?

Shouto’s mind suddenly wanders somewhere very indecent, and he gulps as he shakes his head. Sure, everybody has fantasies and turn-ons… this wasn’t that far-fetched.

But that’s why he is so torn. He could leave now and pretend he had never seen this… or he could sit down and watch this video, and do to you whatever this video entailed.

Unable to make up his mind, he hastily sits in your desk chair, swiveling the back around and scooting in to sit properly in front of the laptop. This was dangerous territory.

Well… watching the video couldn’t possibly hurt, could it?

Biting his lip, his long fingers reach toward the trackpad. His fingertips hover over the key hesitantly, before he shoots up abruptly from the chair and delves his fingers in his two-tone hair.

Pacing now, he lunges across the room and bolts the door. Walking in a circle, his arms cross on top of his broad chest. Why was he second guessing himself? He had been so sure just a second ago… That’s right, he had made up his mind!

Shouto rushes over to the chair again, eagerly hopping into it. Before he could question himself again, he grabs the headphones plugged into your computer and presses play, his heart thumping against his rib cage. His knee bouncing, palms clammy, the video begins to play.

The screen remains black, but shuffling is heard through the headphones. Suddenly, a sultry male voice speaks.

“Hmmm, you’re back for more so soon, kitten?”

A fresh blush immediately bloomed on his cheeks, his adam’s apple bobbing. Hands quivering, he remains still, questioning if he should be here or not. Before he can think further, the voice starts again.

“You know it’s very naughty of you to beg for me like this, baby.” A sweaty hand lands on Shouto’s knee, his lips wavering uneasily as his fingers grab on, knuckles turning white. The voice chuckles darkly, purring almost. “What’s that, you need me to touch you? Hmm, like this? Do you like when I touch your tits like this baby girl? You’re such a naughty little thing, not wearing a bra like this. Mmm, I can’t help but touch your aching body, princess.”

Shouto sits back roughly, cheeks still bright red as he processes the man’s words. Is this… what turned you on? Could this be… what you touched yourself to? Did you… did you close your eyes and think of him when you did? His cock jumps in response, a tent rising in his pants. Fuck, this was hot.

“Did you miss me baby girl? Did you touch yourself while Daddy was gone? You know that’s against the rules.” Shouto’s mouth feels as dry as a desert, a shaky breath tumbling out of his parted lips. Holy shit, the image of you touching yourself to this makes him sweat. Would you be willing to call him that? Daddy?

“Oh baby, look at you. What a mess you’re making on our sheets… You’re dripping wet, mmmm, look at your slick, tight, little pussy.” Shouto’s eyelids fall as he imagines your hot, sweet cunt, remembering the taste of you and the way you whimper as his tongue disappears into your heat. His hand trembles, hesitantly jerking toward the tent in his pants.

“Fucking shit,” he groans, hunching over the desk as his hand rests gently on his bulge, fingertips brushing back and forth gently.

Is this how you wanted him to talk to you? You wanted him to talk dirty to you and call you these sweet names?

The voice purrs lowly, a sigh escaping the man. “You want my fingers in you baby girl? You want me to fuck you with my fingers huh? Tell me what you want, baby. Be a good girl and beg for me.”

Shouto gasps as his body shudders. Jesus, this was some kinky stuff. But… he liked it. Very much, apparently, according to his prominent erection.

“That’s very rude of you, baby girl, to address me incorrectly.”

A smirk crosses his lips as he could definitely imagine you acting like a little brat underneath him, just to irk him. You loved to push his buttons all the time, even when you weren’t fucking.

“What was that kitten? I didn’t hear you. What’s my name again?”

His eyes closed, a quiet moan falling from his lips. He could just picture you in front of him, gazing up at him with those wide and innocent eyes… calling him Daddy. Imagining that word rolling off your sweet tongue jerks him out of the chair, pausing the video.

A harsh sigh heaves from his chest, hands splayed on the desk as he pants, hunched over your laptop. Watching this video, invading your privacy… it made him feel grimy, but the feeling in his pants was just as intense.

He stands still for a moment, processing all of this, before he rewinds the video back to the beginning and plugs your laptop charger back in. After making the computer go back to sleep, he pushes himself off the desk, making sure to grab the textbook he came for. With a last glance at your laptop, he exits your room, book strategically placed on his abdomen, hurriedly returning to his room to conduct further research and take care of his… issue at hand.

~~~

You blow away the stray hair tickling your nose, diligently holding the iron away from your face. The fresh curl falls as you release the clasp, and you smear away a mascara smudge under your eyebrow, leaning into the mirror. Blinking at your reflection, you let out a shaky breath.

You unplug the curling iron, your other hand running through the curls to smoothen the neat spirals. Fixing your top, you turn away from the vanity, standing up.

Swinging your small purse off the back of the chair, you grab your jacket and shrug it on.

A knock on your door grabs your attention, and an eager smile immediately blossoms on your lips. You quickly drag your perfume rollerball across your wrists and dab it along your neck, tucking the vial into your purse and opening the door.

Your boyfriend stands in the doorway, thumb tucked in the pocket of his jeans, the other hand fixing his hair. The sherpa-lined denim jacket laid perfectly against his broad shoulders, gray t-shirt snug against his muscular chest, finishing off with black jeans tucked into his dark brown chelsea boots. His hand falls from his hair to snake around your waist, gathering you to his chest. You gladly let him scoop you up, arms coming to wrap around his neck.

“Shouto,” you mumble into his neck, breathing in his strong and fresh cologne. “You look so handsome tonight.”

He pulls back his head so your eyes lock. Something unrecognized stirs within the depths of his heterochromatic gaze. His other hand floats underneath your face, thumb and forefinger catching your chin to lock you into his stare. You’re suddenly very aware of the hand that presses into your lower back, his long fingers trailing across your jacket slightly.

He responds, voice whisper-soft. “And you look absolutely delectable, baby girl.”

He allows one second to savor your stunned expression as you process the new pet name that he had addressed you by before he guides your lips to his, capturing your mouth tenderly.

Your whimper lodges from your throat as Shouto’s lips press against yours, your hand pressing the nape of his neck towards you to deepen the kiss.

His hand drops from your chin, face pulling away from yours. His half-lidded eyes admire your flushed cheeks, and the desperate look that lurks below the surface of your expression, a smirk landing on his lips. He gently pries your hands away from his neck, kissing your cheek swiftly as he laces his fingers with yours.

“Hungry?”

Oh, so he was just going to skate on by it, like it was no big deal. You clear your throat tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and nodding quickly. “S-starving.”

“Let’s go then, baby girl, the ramen place closes in an hour,” he says nonchalantly, eyes regarding you as he watches blush blossom across your cheeks. This could be fun.

You bite your bottom lip and nod, and he exhales softly through his nose at the action, concealing a groan. He tugs on your hand, steering you toward the elevators and toward your awaiting meal.

~~~

“Y/N?”

Flustered, you look up at your boyfriend, who is watching you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Sorry, what?” You ask, embarrassed to have been caught in your own thoughts.

A warm smile splits Shouto’s lips, a short laugh escaping. His eyes catch yours, genuine zeal clearly identifiable. “Do you want to watch a movie? I can look up what’s in theaters now. Or maybe we could get bingsu? My treat, baby girl. I know you love the mango one, from that place on the corner.”

“S-Shouto,” you murmur, eyes falling to rest on the cleared table in front of you. Your fingers pick at the corner of the discarded napkin nervously.

Shouto reaches out, his hand folding around yours, effectively making you look at him. “What is it baby girl? You wanna go home?”

Your legs clench together underneath the table, the building heat between your legs burning insatiably. He’d been calling you “baby girl” all night and you just couldn’t stand it anymore. You swallow, eyes averting from his to look at the hem of his t-shirt. “Y-Yes please, I don’t feel very well,” you answer honestly. You definitely wanted to get back to the dorms.

Shouto nods earnestly, getting up out of his seat and helping you out of your own. His left hand lands on your back, slipping underneath your jacket and making the warmth of his quirk known through your thin shirt. “No problem, Y/N, let's get you home.”

He calls an Uber back to the dorms even though you had originally walked, the restaurant being about a 25 minute stroll from the UA campus. He opens the car door for you and slides in after you, hands reaching out to click your seatbelt into place before securing his own. You blush again, murmuring a “thank you”, and grab his hand eagerly. Shouto smiles smally in return, his other palm smoothing over your joined hands.

As you step through the doors to the dorms, a burst of nerves blooms deep in your stomach. Shouto’s hot hand was again on your back, gently guiding you to your door.

Your head feeling light, your hand searches frantically for your keys in the depths of your purse. You had locked your room this time thanks to Shouto’s earlier admonishment.

Shouto’s lips press gently to your temple, making you jump in surprise. The corners of his mouth twitch upward at your reaction. ”Are you okay baby girl?” he breathes into your ear.

Your pussy quivers at his voice so close, his fingers spreading downward from your waist. His breath fans over your neck as your shaky fingers finally reach your keys. Your wrist trembles as you push the key into the door, and Shouto reaches over to turn the handle, pushing it open and slightly nudging you into the dark room.

The door shut behind you and the click of the lock is heard audibly in the silent room. A crack in your blinds casts a thick beam of moonlight onto the floor, illuminating your otherwise pitch black room.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as Shouto’s hands find your figure again, fingertips floating across your waist. His biceps caging you into his embrace, he presses a short kiss to your throat. “You don’t feel so good, baby girl?” His lips part and he places them against the column of your neck again, this time leaving behind a slick patch from his eager tongue.

You shake your head weakly, knowing your voice would come out broken and wavering. You feel his hands traveling around your waist, his hips brushing against your ass just barely.

“Anything I can do to help you, baby girl?” His voice is so low, and it drips with something almost ominous, swallowing up your senses. His teeth ghost over your throat, triggering a soft gasp from you. His mouth breaks into a sinister smile at your reaction.

“Y-Yes, I need your hands… on me,” you whimper, hand reaching up to anchor yourself on his bicep.

Shouto exhales against your skin, cock jerking in his jeans at your reply. His hands move slowly from your waist down your hips, fingers curling around your inner thighs, sliding up past the hem of your skirt. “Where do you want my hands, baby girl?”

Your legs tremble, and you curve your back into his chest, ass pushing against his crotch. A fresh blush litters your cheeks at the recognition of his clothed erection.

“You gotta tell me what you want, baby girl,” he murmurs huskily into your ear, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. They were so painfully close to your panties, a ragged breath escapes you.

Your mouth parts to reply but your words fail you, your body only being able to focus on breathing as steadily as possible. Oh god, you were so turned on right now.

His fingers brush against the edge of your panties, and your legs clamp together desperately. “Here? You want my hands on you right here? Use your words, kitten.”

A reticent moan leaves you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “P-please, Shou…”

An ardent grin raises the corners of his mouth, and for the first time tonight his breath shakes as he replies. “That’s very rude of you, baby girl, to address me incorrectly.”

Your body freezes, anxiety enveloping you in an icy grip. You absolutely knew what he meant, without a shed of a doubt. Eyes wide, you rip out of his grasp, turning to look at him.

Your eyes meet and a hesitant look penetrates his intense gaze.

“You—,” you choke out, eyes darting to the open laptop on your desk. Shouto’s eyes follow yours, and a guilty expression instantly graces his handsome face. His hands out in front of him, blush reddening his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Shouto whispers, “Please let me explain. I didn’t mean to see it, but I accidentally woke up your laptop when I was grabbing my textbook and I tried not to see it but…”

You feel absolutely mortified, eyes wide and tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You cannot believe you were so stupid to have left your laptop open and on the Incognito browser! “Oh my god,” you sniffle, pure shame encompassing you.

Shouto closes the distance between you two, arms bringing your figure into his embrace. “Y/N, I'm so sorry. Please don’t be embarrassed, there’s nothing to be ashamed about.” One hand runs through your hair repeatedly, while the other presses you tightly into his chest.

You stay silent, words once again failing you. What if he was just doing this because you thought it was hot? What if he was making himself do this, even if he thought it was freaky? You bite your lip to stop it from trembling, hugging him back.

After a moment he draws your head back so your eyes lock, and that dubious emotion once again is visible deep in his two-toned stare. “I know I shouldn’t have pressed play,” he admits, tongue slipping out to run across his lips swiftly. His eyes flick to your own lips momentarily before looking deep into your eyes once again. “But the thought of you being into this,” he groans, eyelids dropping half way and fingers clutching your hair intensely,” The thought of you touching yourself to that… Just the possibility of you imagining it was me saying those nasty things to you… God, I couldn’t help myself, baby girl. You have got me so damn infatuated with you.”

His sultry eyes bore into your wide ones, melting away all your fear and hesitance. You want to say something, anything, but your lips are just paralyzed in shock. He was into this? Your cool and composed boyfriend wanted the same dirty things you did? Your pussy throbs between your legs, desire intensifying like he had poured gasoline onto the fire.

“You can say no, baby girl. Don’t be afraid to, there will be no consequences and no hard feelings on my part. I know this is a lot to ask of you,” he breathes, his magnetic gaze buttering you up. His hand stretches around your head, middle finger pushing against your jaw and thumb brushing your cheek. “But if you want to continue, I would happily oblige. All you have to do is—“

Your hands move before you can think, lacing around the back of his neck and gathering his lips to yours. The kiss is passionate but short, catching him by surprise. The fact that he is just as considerate as ever, even in this mortifying yet exhilarating situation… it turns you on even more. This man is all yours, you are all his, and you damn straight intend to show him.

You pull back, admiring the startled expression on his features. A soft, wanton moan escapes you, your eyes falling to his lips before sneaking back up to his eyes, catching his dazed stare through your thick eyelashes. “Please continue, Daddy.”

Shouto’s dick strains against his briefs, angrily awakened by your enthusiasm. A strangled noise releases from his throat, his fingers automatically gripping you harder. His eyes wide in astonishment, he blinks at you once, twice, before his entire demeanor reverts back to his predatory behavior from earlier.

“Fuck,” he groans, smashing your lips against his. The kiss is hot and wet, his tongue immediately pushing past your lips and thrusting into your mouth. Tongue rolling over yours, his hands roughly touch your aching body. His hands fumble to tear away your jacket, your purse making a loud noise as the metal chain on the strap hits the ground.

His right hand cups your breast, squeezing diligently as his thumb rolls over the center of your bra, right over your nipple. His other hand grabs your ass cheek, gathering you closer to his body as his tongue dances with yours.

Your hands feverishly run along his body. Fist full of his hair, your other hand desperately running along his muscular shoulder, thumb dipping down to press into his collarbone.

Your mouths pull away, a string of saliva connecting your restless tongues as you both gasp for air. Your gaze meets his as you both try to catch your breath, desire clear as day in his eyes.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles on ragged breath, the fingers from the hand on your ass straining toward your panties. They successfully push them aside, the tips of his middle and ring fingers connecting with your slick hole.

Your body shakes uncontrollably at his caress, a pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you throw your head back.

Shouto pushes your body backwards, scooping you up and throwing you onto the bed. Your back hits the comforter and he’s instantly on top of you, fingers sliding back and forth easily along your slit.

“You’re wet as fuck baby girl,” he accuses, fingertips prodding your hole just barely enough to get a reaction from you. “Have you been this wet all night? Pressing your legs together underneath the dinner table and in the Uber? Hmmm, you like when I call you baby girl, don’t you?”

Your leg curls around his, trembling in anticipation. “Yes, Daddy, I love it so much,” your voice is hoarse from being breathless, and Shouto’s cock swells at your tone.

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N,” he whispers into your neck, pausing to place more hot, open-mouthed kisses along your thumping pulse. “I think you deserve a reward for being so cooperative, baby girl.” His fingers push into your tender core, neatly trimmed fingernails rubbing along the pulsating, velvety walls.

You’re positively quaking underneath him, loud and unabashed moans meeting his quiet pants. His fingers feel so good inside of you, the way he curls them upward slightly to massage that special spot he always manages to find. “Oh, Daddy,” you whine, legs opening wider to give him more access.

“God, look at you,” he taunts, voracious eyes gauging your desperate body thrashing under his. “You’re such a nasty girl, you love when I touch you like this, don’t you?”

It’s impossible to breathe, so you just nod pathetically, your nails cutting little crescent indents into the skin on the bicep he’s propping himself up with. The nod seems like just enough to satisfy him as he smirks, tongue forcing itself into your mouth again and dominating yours.

His fingers slide deeper inside of you with ease, and he curves his fingers rigidly, assaulting your pussy without mercy. “Christ, look at you. You’re making such a mess baby girl.”

Your hand grips the duvet, fingers frantically clenching the material. Your spine arches off the mattress, breasts pressing up against his chest. “Please, Daddy, I need more! Please!” you beg, your mind hazed with lust.

Shouto sighs ruggedly, his hair tickling the side of your face as his body rocks gently to the force of his fingers in your tight cunt. He leaves a short kiss on your cheek before his teeth pinch the tip of your ear, his hot breath hitting your cartilage. “I love when you beg for me, baby girl. How can I resist when you ask so kindly?”

His mouth leaves your ear, body slithering south so his face is in front of your sleek, hot pussy. His fingers leave your core, and the noise of discontent that leaves you is cut short immediately as his tongue thrusts into you. His tongue pushes in and out of you quickly, the fingers that were in you a moment ago rubbing your clit with fervor.

Your hand slaps over your mouth as you let out a stifled cry, eyes scrunching closed at the feeling Shouto was giving you. No matter how good he was making you feel, you would die of embarrassment if your classmates heard you in such a state.

“Baby girl,” Shouto pants as his mouth comes away from your cunt, his chin shining with your slick. His fingers plunge back into you, making it hard for you to look at him straight. “Do you like it when I eat you out? You like my tongue on your pussy, baby girl?” he asks, eyes glittering mischievously. His tongue wraps around your clit, pulling it into his mouth and ravishing the nerve in circles.

Your back flies off the bed once again, a hand clutching his hair for dear life. You take your hand off your mouth for a moment to reply, but your voice dies in your throat as his fingers ram into you harshly. A muffled squeal escapes you, and a dark chuckle replies from the man between your legs.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you warn, your voice unsteady. The pressure building between your legs becoming undeniable, your thighs shake slightly around Shouto’s head.

Shouto’s tongue leaves your clit, lips kissing the bundle of nerves gently. “You wanna cum, baby girl? So soon? You must be desperate, huh?”

“Oh god, Daddy,” you whine, glancing down to catch his intense gaze. “You make me feel so good, I can’t help it. Please, please let me cum.”

He smirks against your hot cunt, fingers never tiring. “You’re such a good girl, I don’t even have to tell you to beg,” he sighs, eyes closing as he savors your taste. “God, you’re so sweet and wet. Now be a good girl and cum all over my face.”

His mouth sucks your clit back in, tongue smoothing over the nerve back and forth with renewed speed. His wrist finds a new angle, allowing his fingertips to assault your cunt even deeper than before.

Your body sweats feverishly against his hot embrace, and you cry out in surprise when his right hand slips under your shirt and then under your bra. The icy temperature awakens goosebumps on your skin and your nipple hardens quickly, rolling the pert bud between his thumb and forefinger. The novel sensation pushes your body over the edge, your cunt clamping down on his fingers harshly. Your hand claps over your mouth just in time as you let out a scream, your orgasm raking through your body. Your hips dig into the mattress, your pussy clenching and throbbing and leaking your cum all over Shouto’s fingers and his mouth.

Shouto’s fingers slow, but his tongue continues to lick eagerly at your clit, lapping up the fresh essence that leaks out of your slit. His fingertips brush over your sweet spot a few more times before he takes his fingers out of your hole, his tongue taking their place and tracing circles inside of you. He trails his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top, circling the tip around your clit one last time before he pulls away, kissing your thighs with his slick lips.

Your body shivers as the tide of ecstasy recedes, eyes opening to see Shouto looking down at you intensely, his fingers in his mouth as he sucks your cum off his digits. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N,” his lips touch yours tenderly, almost softly. His fingers curl around the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His tongue shyly licks your bottom lip, and your mouth gladly grants him entrance. Your taste lingers on his tongue, but it’s pleasant as his own tongue caresses yours gently. Your fingers curl under his jacket, pulling on the trim with pleading hands. Shouto’s hands leave you for a moment as he rips it off, flinging it onto the floor. He also yanks his t-shirt over his head, discarding it as he had the jacket. Your hands eagerly land on his broad, muscular chest, savoring his delicious build. Your lips meet his again and your tongue meekly pushes into his mouth, taking him by surprise. He moans into your lips, allowing your tongue to push his into moving in sync.

Shouto shuffles backwards so he sits between your legs, his hands gripping your waist and the back of your neck again, pulling you to sit upright with him as your lips continue to push against each other.

His hand grabs the hem of your shirt, lifting it up swiftly. Your lips break away from his for just a second as your shirt leaves you, but as soon your torso is exposed his hot lips are back on yours. This time, he takes the lead, easily dominating you as he shoves his tongue roughly between your lips. You gasp, only making his quest easier than before as you allow him further access. His hands clutch onto your waist, pulling your hips toward his. Your mouths part, shared shaky breath leaving the both of you. You watch as his eyes open slowly, gaze trained on your face before trailing down, regarding your uncovered chest and the lacy bralette.

“This,” he mumbles as his lips touch yours again, on hand settling on your hip while the other pinches at the clasp of the bralette,” has got to go.” The lacy material sags as the clasp opens, and his calloused fingers brush away the straps on your shoulders. He sweeps the discarded material off the edge of the bed, focus directing to your bare chest instead. His hand cups one of your breasts softly, lips gliding against yours as he groans. “Why are you so fucking irresistible?” He ducks his head so his mouth captures your nipple gracefully, licking and skimming his teeth along it teasingly.

You arch into his touch, throwing your arms around his shoulders. Your hands grab onto his skin as a destitute mewl floats out from your lips. “Shou,” you huff, wanting to catch his determined gaze once more.

His eyes cast upward toward yours impishly, a smile curling his lips as they hold onto your pert nipple. His tongue runs over the hard bud between his teeth, making you cry out softly.  “What did you call me, baby girl?” His hand claps swiftly against your ass cheek, your body jolting against his as you let out a shaky moan.

“I, I’m sorry Daddy,” you whisper, your body dismayed as he releases your breast, head returning to your eye level. His gaze analyzes yours, watching your expression perceptively. You had responded positively to the spank. “Can I…”

“What was that, baby girl? Spit it out,” he commands, his other hand clashing against your other cheek, which jiggles invitingly, advertising the fresh red mark he had just inflicted.

“Can I p-please suck your cock, Daddy?” you finally manage to choke out, an intense blush infiltrating your cheeks. Shouto’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise at your request, but a smirk quickly rises to his lips.

“You wanna suck my dick, baby?” his lips brush underneath your jaw as he leans in, sucking the skin there harshly and lapping over it with his tongue afterwards. “God, you’re such a fucking slut for me.” His fingers graze your soft folds again, making you buck your hips against him clumsily. He gazes at his digits, watching the trail of arousal string out as he stretches his fingers apart. “You really are my good baby girl,” he remarks, eyes landing back on your pleading expression. “Alright, go ahead. Show me what your sweet little mouth can do.”

Your hips shuffle forward, placing yourself on his lap as your hands splay down his muscular back. He hums mirthfully as you trace your hands down his torso, your lips finding solace on his trapezius. You roll your hips against his slowly, savoring how his hips jut up against yours and the way his head falls back at the action.

Eagerly, you shuffle to the edge of the bed, Shouto’s body following you on his own accord. Your head tucks down, yout tongue tracing a trail down his pec and swooping around his nipple slightly. A forced cough erupts from the back of his throat at the action, his skin more sensitive than he likes to admit. His hand combs through your hair, grabbing onto it as you place more kisses down his abs, stopping at the top of his jeans. You get off of him, sliding off the bed gracefully as your knees hit the floor in one languid action.

Shouto stands, hands undoing the button on his jeans hurriedly and he pushes the denim down his thighs halfway. His hot gaze lingers on you as you tentatively move forward, lips meeting his clothed cock in an innocent kiss, eyes glancing up to capture his. A hot blush rushes across his cheeks, and he’s glad you look away, focusing your attention back to his dick. Your hand meets the prominent outline of his cock, rubbing your fingertips along the shaft as you place an open-mouthed kiss on the head, effectively wetting his briefs. He swallows thickly, watching as you shyly tug the elastic band over his hips.

His cock springs free, bouncing out to touch your cheek impatiently. You smile at the sight of his dick so ready for you. His member stands thick and long, totally upright with veins popping out and running the length of his dick, the head swollen and red with just a drop of precum sitting pearled and ready. Restlessly, you wrap your hand around his cock, lips parting and tongue dragging along the tip of him, savoring the salty, musty taste.

Shouto has a wicked grin on his lips as he watches you from above, enjoying the sensation of his cock finally being acknowledged. “Oh, baby girl, you know I don’t like to be teased. Why don—”

You cut him off, mouth opening and taking in half his dick, tongue swirling on the underside carefully. Shouto’s smirk effectively is wiped off his face as you moan, the vibration locking his legs up as he shakes slightly, shocked at your sudden actions. Quickly while you have the upper hand, you bob backwards and then toward his body again, even more of his hard cock disappearing into your hot, wet mouth. He gasps for breath, mouth open and eyes wide as he watches his dick penetrate your lips. Your sinful tongue snaking around his shaft, a quiet “fuck” slips out of him as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. You moan at his sheer size, the action constricting your throat around him and his hips jolt into you. His cock slams even deeper into your throat and you repress the urge to throw up, gagging harshly and eyes watering as his gaze locks with yours. You lean back and gasp for air, coughing shakily.

Shouto bends down, hand moving your hair to the side as his expression shifts toward concern. “Are you okay baby girl? Sorry, that was a little rough for you,” he mumbles regretfully, hand rubbing your back.

You look back up at him and his breath stills as your gaze catches his. “Oh, Daddy, I love choking on your cock,” you admit, ignoring the tears stinging the corners of your vision. Your hand grabs his slick cock once again, taking him into your mouth and starting to bob on his length at a fast pace.

Shouto’s hand flies up to cover his mouth, his brow scrunched in a mix of pleasure and awe, watching your eager actions lustfully. Holy shit, you were so fucking hot to him.

You continue to nod along on his length, savoring the way his eyes flutter as his tip reaches the back of your throat each time. His hand clutches your hair tightly, moving along complacently as you set the pace. Your other hand floats up to fondle his balls, massaging them in your palm gently as your other hand digs your nails into his thigh.

Your mouth leaves his cock with a quiet pop, a thick string of saliva trailing between your parted lips and the head of his dick. You only mean to take a quick break to gasp for breath before you continue, but Shouto has other plans.

He pounces on you, rough hands cupping your ass and throwing you up into his arms so your center slaps against his abs. Your breath is ragged, chest shaking with sheer excitement. Shouto seems just as frantic, his wet, hard dick caressing your ass cheek as he places your back against the comforter, your head gently touching the pillow. He’s panting, warm breath rolling over your cheek as his two-toned eyes pierce your own. His body hovers over yours, long locks of red and white grazing your face. Your body jumps slightly at the feeling of his tip meeting your slick entrance, rubbing between your folds gently.

Your stomach momentarily stops roiling with anticipation as butterflies suddenly appear there instead, Shouto nudging his nose softly against yours. “You ready?” he whispers, cerulean and gray orbs peering deep into your eyes, searching, probing, for even the slightest wisp of doubt.

Your hand lifts and cups his jaw, pressing your lips to his sweetly for a moment. An unspoken thankfulness for his considerate gesture transferring from you to him. Your eyes open again, all tenderness gone. “I’ve been ready for you all night, Daddy.”

A wicked grin splits his lips, eyes glinting down at you as his hips rut forward, shoving his entire length into you in one powerful thrust. A mix between a wheeze and a shout of pleasure releases from you. The sensation of your pussy stretching to accommodate his thick cock, the feeling of him pushing your cervix aside to nestle deeply inside of you, caressing your most secret and hidden spot— it makes your eyes roll back and your lips fall open, even though no noise escapes.

Shouto is still as a statue above you, expression almost pained as he tries not to even breathe. You had never been this reactive to him before, your drenched pussy gripping his cock so tightly stars briefly danced underneath his eyelids. And yet, even with how tightly your core held him, it had been so gloriously easy to just slide his dick right into your awaiting trove, your essence leaking out from your hole to dampen the sheets.

“Fuck, Daddy,” you lament, your body shaking in bliss at his cock filling you so perfectly. Your whine seems to snap Shouto out of whatever cosmic trance he was in, his hips automatically pulling away only to snap back into you, a wet smack bouncing off the walls. “Shit,” he murmurs, repeating the action. His eyes jump from your pussy swallowing up his dick, to your face of pure bliss. Your jaw falling wide open, your eyelids clamped shut tightly, eyebrows drawn upwards in the middle of your forehead as you obediently take his cock. “You’re so fucking tight baby girl,” he groans, glancing down again to watch his dick sink into your scorching, slippery core.

It’s so hard for you to find your breath. Every time Shouto’s hips hit yours you forget everything else, including how to breathe it seems. You close your mouth, teeth pinching your bottom lip and eyes prying open to catch his sizzling gaze. He stares you down, your exchange intense as he dominates you, plunging his thick cock into you again. The feeling makes your eyes flutter, a fresh blush lacing your cheeks as you look at him.

Shouto’s lips are in a self-assured smirk, eyebrows scrunched as he leans down onto you, carelessly rubbing his tip into your g-spot. Your pussy throbs and you fight back a sob of pleasure, your eyes still wet from choking on his dick minutes before. “Daddy,” you wail as he positions himself closer to you, arm curling tenderly around your waist to arch your back, pushing your hard nipples up against his strong chest. His hips dig into yours, grinding the head of his dick against your spot. Both your body and your walls shiver at the action, fingers curling into the covers hysterically.

“What do you want, baby girl?” he whispers, voice low and more gravely than you had imagined possible.

You lick your lips urgently, throwing a short look to his dick retreating from your aching slit before catching his sinful gaze again. “Please Daddy, I want you to fuck me,” your hair fanned around your pretty face, your cheeks bright red, desperation filling your wide eyes. Your needy look makes Shouto groan, his heart slamming against his rib cage. God, it was so hard for him to not give in… but he really wanted to hear you beg.

His hips glide into yours slowly, pulling out and pushing back in at a measured, hesitant tempo. Even just these careful thrusts has you covering your mouth, head tossed back in ecstasy. His hips carefully rake against yours a few more times before he leans in close. His lips ghosting over the hammering pulse in your throat. “Like this, baby girl?” His body trembles as he restrains himself, strung out like a ticking bomb as he continues his calculated ministrations.

You grab the back of his neck, lacing your fingers in the short hair and pulling harshly. He lets out a small moan, hips stuttering as he almost strays from his plan.

You wiggle your hips flush against his, opening your legs wider and securing them around his waist. “Daddy, I love your dick so much,” you whisper onto his neck, feeling his hands tremor just a bit before you smile against his skin. “Please fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Shouto sighs, pulling almost all the way out before shoving his whole cock back into you. Your eyes roll backwards in your skull and before you can even cry out, he does it again… and again, and again. His pace is so fast and hard you can’t keep up. His hips snapping harshly against yours, he fucks you like his life depends on it. His hand is turning the flesh on your waist white as he slams your hips onto his, strangled gasps falling out of his mouth. Your lips fall apart but you can’t muster any words, hell, you can’t even produce a single thought. “Fuck yes, Y/N,” he hisses, balls deep in your dripping core. “Your cunt is so wet for Daddy— you love being fucked like this, don't you, baby girl?”

All you can do is nod weakly, overwhelmed by the pressure building between your legs. You whimper, nails digging into Shouto’s prominent back muscles as your toes curl in bliss. He laughs crudely at your frazzled state, sounding more like a snarl as he continues the delicious onslaught on your g-spot.

“What was that, baby girl?” he teases short-windedly, your cunt trembling around his thick member. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

You try your best to clear your throat, but only a dissolute sob comes out. Shouto’s hand grabs your chin sharply, and your eyes fly open as his rapid pants fan your cheek. You summon some unknown force within you and push the words— any words you can think of— out of your mouth. “Your h-huge dick makes me — nnngh!— m-makes my slutty cunt feel so fucking good Daddy!” you cry, celebrating in the way your testimony summons a hot pink flush to your boyfriend’s cheeks. He continues to pound into you, his efforts revitalized. The reaction only eggs you on as your lips part on their own again. Your eyes wide as this unknown, brazen side of you surfaces,” I want you to fuck me so hard, please abuse my pussy Daddy, it’s all yours.”

Shouto’s eyes roll back at your plea, and he wonders for a split second why you’d never shown him this side of you before. He absolutely loves it. He pulls out of you for a moment and you wail at the loss of his hot, thick length. Just as fast as he left, he’s flipping you over, grabbing your hips, and raising them into the air. You barely even realize you’re on your knees before you register his cock crashing harshly into your tender core, a scream ripping through you and luckily being swallowed into your pillow. A loud clap! sounds and your ass stings, making you arch into his chilled palm. “Oh, baby girl. You’re such a fucking slut for me,” he chuckles darkly, watching your ass bounce against his pelvis and savoring the fresh pink mark. Goddamn, he never knew hitting you like this would turn him on. One of his hands reaches out and grabs your ankle, shifting the angle of your hips slightly and rocking your body back to meet his with every thrust. The other hand squishes your ass cheek, hot fingers digging into your supple skin.

“Fuck,” you huff, face retreating from the pillow to finally gasp a breath of fresh air in. “Holy fuck!” you exclaim as Shouto continues to drill his dick into you. The sheer force of him pushing so deeply into you makes a tear roll down your cheek. You’d never been fucked so good in your life. And you never imagined that Shouto would be the one to dominate you like this either-- the boy was usually so collected and calm. A sharp crack! yanks you out of your thoughts, a delectable tingling sensation spreading over your ass. Your head falls back to look at your boyfriend, who is ready to catch your gaze with a pointed, seductive look.

“You like when I treat you like this, baby girl?” he slams you onto his abs, making a startled shriek float out from you. He simpers at your reaction, hand leaving your ankle to wrap around your torso, encasing your breast while his icy thumb rubs your nipple gently.

You can’t help but curve into him, shoving your cunt harder onto his waiting cock. A short grunt slithers out of him, and his thumb and forefinger pinch the sensitive bud forcefully.  “Mmmph-- I love it so much,” you gasp, one hand shakily reaching toward your throbbing clit.

Shouto’s eyes follow the movement, and he gulps as you touch yourself, the new stimulation making your pussy instantly squeeze around him tightly. His gaze sharpens with vehemence as your cunt grasps him needily, fluttering distinctly around his dick. Your soft whimpers are muffled into the duvet as you rub your slick clit repeatedly, the tension burning between your legs building rapidly with such provocation. “Baby girl, are you close?” he whispers hoarsely, fingertips turning white as he brashly clutches you soft skin.

You nod wildly, not caring if your makeup smudges against the sheets. “I, oh god Shou, I’m so close,” you warn, pussy clamping onto him forcefully.

An anguished sob rips from your throat as Shouto pulls his cock out, leaving your cunt aching and empty. With tears springing into your eyes, you look back at him, dejection prominent in your gaze. But all he greets you with is a gentle smile, hands trailing off of you to feather his fingertips against the skin of your waist. “On your back, baby girl. I want you to look at me when you cum all over my cock,” he tantalizes, and you instantly roll over, legs stretched far apart. He snickers lightly, eyes scouring down your flushed body, lingering on your glistening, trembling core. He scoots forward, pushing your back against the headboard, tucking a pillow behind you thoughtfully. “Give Daddy a kiss, baby girl,” he murmurs, and your plush lips greet his own right away. He hums, savoring the feeling of your hot tongue rolling against his. The way you follow his orders with such enthusiasm sends fresh blood to his cock, which twitches irritably against your wet cunt.

You whine impatiently as his dick slides against your slit, his tongue driving yours into submission. Your heart hammers against your ribs in anticipation as his arms tuck underneath your knees, folding your legs against your stomach and then pushing them open so his body fits between them perfectly. His tips presses against your quivering entrance, and the hand around his cock guides himself in slow circles, collecting your arousal before he pushes into you.

He only enters you halfway but your body quakes at the feeling of your walls welcoming him inside once more. His hips shuffle, easing his cock further and further into your sopping cunt with each thrust. His breath is heavy but measured as he finds a rhythm, battling against your clenched heat as he shoves himself inside you. His hands gently grasp the top of your hips, holding you close to himself but doing so almost tenderly. “Did you think about me when you touched yourself to that nasty video baby girl?” he pants, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. His eyes burning with dominance, tongue running ferociously under his teeth.

You gasp for breath, locking eyes with him and nodding wantonly. “Yes, yes I always think of you when I touch myself Daddy,” you attest, head falling atop the pillow as his left hand gropes your breast in response. The renewed frost of his palm causing you to jerk against him, his hips persist the assault on your core. His hot right hand pushes your calf into the air, making you tighten around him as he accesses your deepest point again.

“Is that all, princess?” Your cunt tightens against his thick cock at his prompt. His hips roll divinely against yours, the new movement making his abdomen brush against your clit. Your lip trembles, recognizing the numb feeling sprouting within you that signals your orgasm is near. “Don’t you wanna convince me to let you cum?” he presses on, thumb swiping across your perky nipple and inciting a lustful moan from you. Shouto knows that you’re hurtling toward the edge, but it’s so much fun to see if you’ll be able to control yourself for him.

“I— oh god, Daddy,” you squirm slightly in his hold, your peak dangerously impending.

“Take your time, baby girl,” he smolders, lips hung tightly in a victorious smirk. Watching you melt in his hands, he notices that he’s nearing his own climax… but he pushes the thought of it away now so he can focus on you.

You feel a wave of heat wash through your body, toes curling almost painfully as you press your lips together into a firm line. You glance down to watch Shouto’s cock disappear into your center one more time before you look at his face, catching his eye. “I,” you gulp, sucking in a breath of air before he had the chance to steal it from you. “I can never make myself feel as good as you do, Shouto.” You relish the way his eyelids sink hazily, his teeth capturing his pretty bottom lip. “Y-You make me— nghhh— feel so full when you hit my g-spot, ah!” your hands fly to his shoulders as his own viciously grip your hips, pace and force increased. “Please!” you beg,” Please let me cum Daddy! I— I’ve been so good for you, please!”

He laughs menacingly against the moist skin of your neck, “I suppose you have been a good girl, Y/N.” He can feel your legs quivering as you dangle on the edge, a wave of pride washing over him as he looks at your wrecked state. “Whose— fuck, whose pussy is this?” He leans close to your face, pushing your leg against your body even tighter.

Your voice cracks in desperation, spine curving into a crescent shape as your fingernails scrape his shoulders. “Yours! Oh my god— Yours, Shouto— Daddy! Please!”  You were so close, the corners of your vision going blurry.

His hips continue to slap against yours ruthlessly. His curled lips press a chaste kiss to your cheek, nose pressing against your ear as he commands,” Cum for me, baby girl.”

Your legs stiffen around his hips, the rubber band of your orgasm snapping brutally as your pussy clenches onto your boyfriend for dear life. His lips cover yours as you let out a defeated and unfiltered moan, hips crashing against his in ecstasy. He wheezes as your cunt voraciously grips his length, hips stuttering as he lets you ride out your climax. His mouth leaves yours and swoops down, slurping a nipple into his mouth, suckling and twirling his tongue around the peak. Your lungs burn for air as you gasp, lightning tingling from your fingertips to your toes. You brush an overwhelmed tear from your cheek, your mind beginning to fan off the clouds of pleasure.

Shouto lets go of your nipple, returning to pound into you from above. His movements are rough and fast, and they abuse your already aching g-spot even more, making your eyes nearly cross. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he rasps, perspiration dripping down the deep grooves of his muscular torso,” You’re such a good baby girl for Daddy, look at you taking my cock so well.” He throws his head back, harsh pants traveling towards the ceiling as he realizes he doesn’t have to hold back his own orgasm any longer. Fuck, was he this close to busting a nut in you the entire time?

You nudge your nose underneath his slacked jaw, making him hang his head again for you to capture his lips. His lips dance against yours clumsily, the tempo of his hips becoming jerky. You can feel his ragged breath on your skin, low moans tumbling out from his mouth as his eyes clench shut. “Daddy,” you whimper, wiggling your hips to push against his further.

Shouto curses under his breath, eyes peeling open into slits to regard your provocative expression. “Y-Yes, baby girl?” he groans, taking in the way your round breasts bounce to the glide of his thrusts.

“Please cum for me,” you plead, your hands running along his solid, sweaty frame. He moans at your request, hips bumping clumsily into yours at his heightened pace. “I want your cum to fill me up, please, Shouto,” you urge, “I need it so bad!” Your cheeks blush once again at your erotic invitation, and Shouto feels himself rip through the finish line as he takes in your bashful, demure expression.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he grumbles, his hips jutting against yours lazily as his cock spurts his hot, thick load into you. Your cunt quivering as you receive his cum, your body thrums, sharing in the ecstasy radiating off of Shouto’s rigid form. He whimpers as he pumps into you a few more times, the last of his cum shooting into your welcoming core before he stills.

Shouto’s slick torso gently sags onto your body, shaky breaths dragging into his lungs as he attempts to recover. His face falling into your neck, he groans as your pussy clenches on his still-hard dick. His palms meet the swell of your breasts, thumbs softly caressing the prominent buds that stand upright for him. His lips glide against the sleek skin of your neck, and you feel his eyelashes tickle your jaw as he places sweet and gentle kisses to your throat.

You barely recognize the fluid dribbling out of your pussy, collecting into a small puddle underneath your ass. It’s just Shouto and you in this moment, the two of you savoring each other’s presence. He stays hovering over you for a minute, body still connected with yours as he gains his sanity. Your eyes are closed, breathing finally evening out.

His lips greet yours playfully, gliding in sync as one of his hands travels to your neck, tipping your head back so he has better access to your mouth. Your lips part with a whine as he takes his cock out of you, feeling empty and sore without his warm fullness inside anymore. His tongue coasts deeper into your mouth, tangling with yours as his fingers slip into the hair at the nape of your neck. He lets your leg slide off his shoulder, placing it down next to his hip with care. He pulls his mouth away from yours, chuckling deeply as his mischievous eyes meet yours.

Your eyebrow quirks up, a small smile gracing your lips too. “What?” you pout, fingers hanging around the back of his neck.

The smile that splits his lips is blinding and so genuine, it stuns you for a moment before you process his words.

“You nasty, baby girl.”

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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make sure to shoot me an ask or a reblog if you enjoyed, nasty bb girls ♥︎ thank you for reading!!

masterlist (no other fics at this point as of feb 6, 2020)

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[sleeperswakewriting]

fire alarm

Thank you to @nicolanoodles for the prompt: “the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear AU”

AO3

Rating: G

Pairing: Levi x Petra

Petra groaned and rubbed her eyes as she slid into her slippers. Not again…She thought, throwing on her robe and grabbing her phone. She padded to her front door with not nearly as much haste as she probably should have, but she was tired. For the third time this week, her building’s fire alarm had gone off, and each time had been a false alarm. Something related to a new system, is what management told everyone, but it still didn’t make up for the fact that this was now the third night this week that she had woken up at 3 AM. By the time the firetrucks were called and the all clear was given, she barely fell back asleep before waking up at a prompt 5:30 AM to get ready for work. 

Her coworkers and students commented on her ragged appearance, which made her all the more frustrated since she was usually known for her sunny disposition, but even she had her limits, and she was someone who valued her sleep. It didn’t help that she recently moved into the building so she had nearly another year before her lease was up, and she was so sure that this apartment would be the perfect fit for her modest salary and being a single woman. 

Skirting down the stairs, Petra noticed her neighbors also lazily making their way back down, each of them with the same annoyed and dazed look. Petra knew most of the people on her floor, an elderly couple three doors down, a single mom and son across from her, and a young couple with an adorable Pomeranian that she often saw in the afternoons when she returned from work. There were a couple neighbors unaccounted for, and Petra assumed that their schedules never aligned, but she never had any noise complaints, which was the plus side to her floor. 

The summer breeze hit her as she made her way onto the grass, the moistness catching her fluffy slippers and she grumbled, wondering if the apartment complex would reimburse her for physical and emotional damage. If anything, her students will be suffering tomorrow since Ms. Ral had been at the end of her rope all week, and one more student on the red zone would take away Friday’s movie afternoon. Clearly, lack of sleep made her heartless, but at this point she didn’t care, she wanted to get back into her bed. 

Petra pulled up her Snapchat to show her friends that yet again, she would be in a bad mood all day. As she raised her phone to the apartment complex to snap a picture of the screeching disaster, she immediately noticed a man standing a few feet in front of her in his underwear. Well, his black boxer’s to be exact. He had flip flops on, and he wore a scowl equal to the people around him. His eyes focused in on her, and his grimace darkened. 

They made eye contact and Petra yelped, immediately turning around and slapping her phone to the side of her leg and out of sight. Oh my god, he must think I’m such a perv. Don’t turn around, Petra. Even if he is hot and has a six pack, you were not taking a picture of him in his underwear!

“Oi,” a man said, tapping her shoulder, and she went hot. 

Slowly turning around to meet her judgement, Petra went crimson as the man in the boxers stood in front of her. He was glaring (as he should, Petra thought) and pointed to her phone in her hand. He was only a few inches taller than her, maybe a just bit older too, with grey eyes and an undercut.  

“What the hell?” He asked, and Petra found it very hard to breathe. The last time she was this close to a near naked man was her ex-boyfriend, and that was someone she knew very well. This was a stranger! A very sexy, are-his-muscles-photoshopped stranger. 

Petra took a step back, squishing further into wet grass and she stuttered, “I-I wasn’t taking a picture of you. I was just taking a Snapchat to show my friends to complain. I would show you, but you know, Snapchat.” 

The main raised an eyebrow, not buying her story, and she groaned. “I promise I’m not a pervert. You’re really attractive, but I’m not the type to snap pictures of random guys.”

He raised his eyebrows even further, the annoyance disappearing and his expression softened to something closer to amusement. 

Realizing what she just said, hung over from lack of sleep, Petra clamped her mouth shut and took a deep sigh. 

“Let me start over. Hi, my name is Petra. I live in 34C.” She extended her hand, hoping to get into the stranger’s good graces before he reported her for harassment. 

The man shook her hand. “Levi. 34B.” 

God, could this day get any worse? He was her freaking neighbor too?! One of the nameless ones that apparently worked opposite hours. Feeling lightheaded, Petra released his hand and stared at the ground in embarrassment.

Seemingly uncomfortable with their silence, Levi coughed. “This shit sucks,” he said, pointing his thumb at the firetrucks that started to pour in. They were a good 100 feet away from the building, but the noise was enough to give her a headache. 

“Yeah,” Petra agreed lamely, her silk robe suddenly feeling too tight. 

“How long have you been living here?” He asked. 

“Just two months, I got a job in the area over the summer. You?”

“A year.”

“Oh, so are these things common? I’ve been meaning to ask around but I’m always so tired when they go off, but I’m not sure how much longer I can take it.” 

“Not really, but it’s still fucking annoying. Not like we have work or anything,” he mumbled sarcastically, running his fingers through his hair. 

Since the conversation had mellowed out and he didn’t seem as agitated at her, she allowed herself to peek at him, admiring his muscular features. Maybe he was a personal trainer? Or in the military? 

“I know, right? I have to deal with so many brats in the morning, this week has been killing me,” she commiserated. 

Levi seemed to smirk as she spoke, and she amended, “Not that I don’t like my students or anything! They can be a handful, but I usually really do like them when I’m not sleep deprived.” 

“You’re a teacher?” 

She nodded enthusiastically, “Third grade.”

“Wow,” he replied sincerely. “I couldn’t do that, too much noise.” 

“What do you do?” She asked, feeling braver. 

He crossed his arms, and Petra swallowed as the action highlighted his chest and biceps. “I’m a lawyer.” 

“Oh! Like defense attorney stuff?”

“Child welfare,” he replied, looking to the side, and Petra’s heart melted. Hot and chivalrous? She had to tell Nanaba about him later. 

“That’s amazing!” She said enthusiastically, nearly forgetting about his unclothed state, and she stepped closer to him. His eyes widened as the side of her robe brushed against his stomach, and she caught herself, giggling. 

“Aha, sorry!” She pulled the straps tighter against her. “Can I ask why you’re in your underwear?” Don’t look near his groin, Petra. Don’t try to guess how big—

“I was asleep,” Levi deadpanned, as if it were obvious. Petra looked around them, wondering if anyone else was in a similar state of disarray, but most people were in their robes or threw on a jacket to cover themselves up. Seemingly, as if Levi could read her mind, “I never know if one of these things are real or not, so I just gun for it. I guess I should know by now, but it’s a pretty knee jerk reaction.” 

“Do you want my robe?” She asked suddenly, feeling bad for him and maybe he was feeling self-conscious. 

“Hell no. I’d rather be like this than be caught dead in your pink lingerie.” 

Petra blushed furiously. “It is not lingerie! It’s a robe!” 

He nodded, and with a teasing lilt to his tone, “Sure. With a v-neck cut out to show off your cleavage. Just a robe.”

She looked down at herself for the first time since putting on the ensemble, and she grew hotter noticing the lacy and thin tank top she was wearing. It was obvious to anyone looking at her up close that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her sleep shorts cut off before her robe, making her look pants-less. 

“Do you want to sit in my car and make out until the trucks leave?” 

“W-What?!” Petra gaped, and she looked up to see Levi’s face lined in amusement, holding up his car keys. 

“I’m kidding. I was actually going to sit in there before I saw you taking a picture of me. We’ve already seen each other half naked, so it isn’t too weird to sit in a car together.” 

Not seeing how her night could get any more embarrassing, Petra nodded and found herself following Levi to his car in the adjacent lot. Maybe I should call out of work tomorrow…

“For the record, I definitely was not taking a photo of you.” 

“I wouldn’t mind if you did, though.” He said, opening the door to his black sports car, and Petra’s heart thrummed in her chest, inhaling the leather. 

Maybe the fire alarm going off wasn’t so bad. 

[haikyuuhimbosandhypebeasts]

Heliotrope

Here’s my submission for the Forget Me Not collab for Anisylum! Please note the TW as it is VERY heavy. This piece is entirely SFW though!

Ship: Tsukishima Kei x GN! Reader Genre: Angst, but some fluff in some places. Word Count: 2.2k  Trigger/Content Warnings: near death experience, hospitalization, COVID-19, vomit mention, amnesia after hospitalization, a suicide attempt is briefly mentioned, swearing because this is by me Sexy Sexy Masterlist: here!

Sand clung to skin and the harsher rays of light that usually cascaded and burnt you had died away into a fading tangerine glow. You perched comfortably on the sand, taking note of the undulating waves- they were like you in the sense that while you could crash down hard on the opposition, you would shy away in a fragile manner when faced with gentle treatment. Perhaps it was that you felt you weren’t worth such luxuries that you found it hard to make friends through your first few years of high school. Perhaps it was trying to push people away because you were afraid yet alarmingly aware of your mortality. Perhaps it was something else entirely, something you weren’t quite ready to come to terms with. What you did know was that you weren’t alone in the violent struggle through high school to make friends while you had your walls up. Next to you was someone you never thought you’d share your favorite place with; in any terms you found this boy appalling with his behavior. So appalling, you saw yourself in the way he closed himself off and cut those close with tongue lashings. You knew this only through another friend who took issue with him as you went to another school in an entire other prefecture. Words mauled their way out from your throat, breaking the silence between you and Tsukishima Kei. “I won’t ask you why you tried to do what you did today. But I will ask if there’s anyone you can talk to in your life.” You didn’t understand yourself. Why would you say that…? You don’t remember anything like this at all… His response was equally incoherent and odd. “Okay, but I’ll kill you if you go back on it.” When you opened your mouth to reply to him, the ground around you suddenly reared up like a defensive serpent. A pillar of beach sand forced its way from the ground into your throat, suffocating and trapping your lungs in permanent fullness. You could only gag and cry, unable to even see Tsukishima past the torrent of sand breaking into your body with the intent to kill you slowly…

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You woke up once more in that dull grey-blue and white room with the only sounds you could properly process being the beep of a heart monitor somewhere behind you. You had managed to halfway curl into somewhat resembling the fetal position, but something kept making you cough and gag as your throat was caught. You move your hand to whatever is catching and about to make you vomit- a tube. This tube, you followed, was in your nose good and solid, and you felt it deep enough in your sinuses you didn’t dare try to pull it out. Moving your hands felt foreign like you had forgotten how to process being human and natural motions like that. You testingly ran your right hand down the tube, taking care to not tug and cause discomfort. Your other hand came to rest on your face. It was slick from sweat, likely due to whatever the fuck you just had a dream about. At the corner of your lips was another tube and when you followed where it led it was taped to the side of your face. You lick your lips and manage to almost fall into a haze until you see movement for the first time in what feels like forever. To be fair, it is one of the most jarring appearances of a person you’ve seen in your whole life to what you can recall. A person in a full-body hazmat suit enters your room through a door you hadn’t even processed was there, then greets you as casually as they can through a plague-resistant suit. “Hey there.” You squint at them. Yeah, you have no fucking idea who this cosplayer in a hospital is, and while you should probably be polite, you feel like you got ran over not once but twice.  You try to speak to them, but you can’t. You don’t have the air for it, it’s like you have no control over your breathing. Clarity washes over you. You’re hospitalized. These are tubes because you were asleep and weren’t breathing or eating right. The realization must show on your face because your nurse speaks up again. “Don’t worry about me too much, we’re just gonna check your vitals and if you feel up to it, we can see how you do without the ventilators.” You try to manage out a “whoopee”, which unimpressively comes out as some form of odd wheeze, and your nurse begins by grabbing the blood pressure cuff covered in protective plastic while they wear a sympathetic expression.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Once you were off the ventilator, the nurse informed you about what had happened. Apparently, an ambulance was called when you were unresponsive and nearly blue in the face, sitting in front of your refrigerator with the door open. You were diagnosed with a severe case of COVID-19, something you had feared would wipe you out entirely and turn you past tense since its spread in your country. This fear wasn’t entirely irrational, either- you were immunocompromised and have been since you were a child. You grew up with being careful around others and hearing of a highly contagious new strain was something that filled you with so much paranoia you seriously considered quitting your current career and instead adopting a hermit lifestyle while completing college at home. Of course, such a thought was squashed by the slowly impending thought of rent, bills, due dates for assignments, and your bitch of a manager who lets people get close to you without a mask on. It’s not a big deal, (y/n), she once said to you. You wanted to shoehorn some tubes down her throat just to survive, see how that felt. It didn’t help that human resources wouldn’t listen to your complaint. They brushed it off since you were just a lowly sandwich maker at a chain sub place. If you had enough scraped together for lawyers right about now, they’d be totally fucked, you thought to yourself. Even more jarring is that it seemed you lost a handful of memories while in the hospital. You could remember basic outlines of people in your head- your very tall and incredibly testy roommate, your younger sister who wore glasses and was much smaller than you, and… a foggy memory of a man with messy black bedhead who had an arm wrapped around your shoulder. It hurt to think too hard. The doctor soon came by to give you test results, to check your vitals again, and to look over your records. He was a bit terse, but you can’t make the best judgments of people when they’re in plastic suits. “We’ll need to get you cleaned up by tomorrow and you should be able to head home,” he’d said, looking over your chart. You didn’t necessarily feel too ecstatic about your trip to your apartment. You remembered your roommate and how finicky he was, and you dreaded for him to belittle you over your condition. You dreaded it enough to even feel a knot of anxiety form in your stomach, wrenched in between your ribs without the intent of ever coming out. “We’ve already contacted uh…” The doctor squints at the screen, “Tsukishima… to come to pick you up tomorrow at noon. We’ll have care instructions printed out. You still have to quarantine for about a week more since your immune system isn’t at its most prime currently.” You agreed, it probably wasn’t a good recovery idea to make a couple of sammies for the public while you were recovering from a virus that had you intubated. He seemed grateful that you were lucid and cooperative, at least.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You, predictably, didn’t sleep well after being in a medically induced haze for several days. Even more predictably, you found yourself awake from anxieties of the future. Tomorrow was only a few hours away, and then you’d be home. Home… what did that look like for you? The fog in your head was thick initially. You do remember coming home from classes at a different time than Tsukishima, how when you entered he’d often be reading over homework. You remembered how sometimes he would be in the shower and the scent of cheap green apple soap filled the living room connected to it. You remembered… You remembered holding his thin frame in your arms on a bridge, pulling him back from oncoming traffic. You remember how you both collapsed and how the cold autumn air stung your lungs. You remember wide golden eyes staring back at you, as tears slowly filled them, then his normally impartial voice breaking as he hiccuped a sob, “Why? Why did you have to be in Sendai right now?” You felt tears stinging your eyes and a lump form in your throat. You found yourself in distress of your new emotions. Maybe… maybe you can sleep this horrible feeling off. Maybe this fog in your head where you need to know how deep your relationship ran will lift once you get genuine sleep.

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Finally, a knock on the door encouraged you to rouse from your sleeping state. And eloquently, you spoke your true feelings in your sleep-deprived state,  “No.” You hear the doorknob turn and the door open. There’s a lack of a greeting from your nurse nor a quick apology from your doctor for interrupting your sleep. Actually, if you’re gonna use logic, what nurse or doctor is gonna wake up their peacefully sleeping patient in recovery? Thought of it being your doctor or nurse practically evaporates once the intruder has a seat on your bed. They still haven’t spoken, so now you’re remembering what tricks of self-defense you learned online to give this person a proper ass-kicking for getting way too close. You crack your hazy eyes open to get a look at where they’re sitting and you stop dead in your thoughts as wary gold eyes peer down at you. Your eyes widen out of reflex and butterflies bloom from your stomach at seeing what you now remember is your roommate. “I knew you were awake,” He said, a wry smile on his face. His expression was betrayed by his concerned gaze, though, “Wow, you look like shit.” You don’t know entirely why past his comment feeling not as an insult, but almost as a compliment, but you smile a little, “I feel like it too.” His expression doesn’t change. He runs a large calloused hand through the tresses of your hair, though, as if to soothe you. The doctor walked in and apologized for interrupting the moment between the two of you, unsure if it was something serious. You told him it was nothing because that’s what it was to you.

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The car ride wasn’t filled with the snarky banter you had been expecting. Instead, there was plentiful comfortable silence as Tsukishima drove. You didn’t know whether to be grateful or not for the silence- you still felt quite feeble and needed way more bed rest before you could get ready to do anything for anyone. Despite the wholesome silence, you felt those round gold eyes focus on you occasionally. And even though it was comfortable, you felt a melancholy twinge in the atmosphere as he inspected you. “I know you’ll give me shit for this… but you look like you’ve lost weight. I uh…” He gripped the steering wheel harder. You glanced over at him. A shade of baby pink dusted itself across his cheekbones and nose as he focused on the road. “I’m worried about you.” Fuck, there go those butterflies again. Something in you pushed to help- to comfort- but the logical side of your brain brought you to a halt. You’d weighed it in your head a couple of times. You two act closer than just roommates, and it’s not entirely clear how or why you got up to this point… but you had a solid hunch you might be dating this guy. Maybe? You closed your eyes and rested your head on the car door as you thought. You remember how sand clung to your body and you could hear the roaring of the sea. How you watched Tsukishima focus on the waves to regulate his breathing. You vaguely remember your words breaking away from your throat and catching the salty sea air. “Why don’t we stay together?” His lanky body stiffened, then he looked at you with disbelief. “... you wouldn’t want that. I’m fucking annoying and mean.” Your eyes creased with familiarity at the line. “Yeah? So am I. We can butt heads until we balance each other out.” It looked like he wanted to cry, but his pride wouldn’t let him cry in front of you anymore today. “I won’t ask you why you tried to do what you did today. But I will ask if there’s anyone you can talk to in your life,” you reached a careful hand over to rub his back, “Kei, if there isn’t, let me be that person.” You felt how his breath shuddered. To save his pride, you looked to the ocean and watched its hypnotic movements. After a few deep, shaky inhales and exhales, he replied. “I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me. Why you didn’t let me die. I will probably come back to this point in my life several times and you’re trying to say you’ll put up with it?” There was some bite to his tone, he was trying so hard to put up walls when he had no will to do so at the moment. How long had he pushed others away from being close? If he was anything like you… it was since grade school. “Let me be your support for when you’re in pain,” You tried once more, “I’m stubborn as shit so I know I won’t give up on you.” “You’re not getting it, you fucking idiot. I’m always in pain, that’s just been life,” he snapped bitterly, glaring at you now.  “Then I guess I’ll be by your side forever.” You’d said it without thinking that day. It was like the ocean grew quieter with your words as if even Poseidon became interested in your proposition. You felt heat rise to your face at the implications of what you said. He stared at you with raised eyebrows and the slightest hint of a champagne pink hue on his face. He averted his eyes almost in a panic and watched the ocean again, suddenly very aware of his own expression. You carefully peered over at him again to see he’d only grown redder, now mirroring you. “You… don’t mean that,” He said as if it were a statement. “I do. You’re a good person inside, but you’re defensive and hurt. I’ve seen that from you in the past and I’ve learned more about you today. I want to be there for you as long as you’ll have me. Will you let me?”  He picked at the sand as if thinking it over for a moment. There was a brief pause as waves rolled over each other in front of both of you, the sound of their impact being the only thing to grace your ears. Finally, his cynical tone returned as he regained some form of his prior composure. “Okay, but I’ll kill you if you go back on it.”

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“Hey. (Y/n), we’re home,” Tsukishima gently shook your shoulder to rouse you from your sleep. You opened your eyes slowly and groaned out a swear. Tsukishima felt a hesitant smile creep up his face as he opted to just try and maneuver you into your shared home himself. He remembered how waking up was hard for you. Once he opened the passenger door you nearly fell out onto the pavement, only saved by your seatbelt and the giant himself. Your face fell awkwardly into his hip, and you grumbled at the interruption to your sleep. “You sleep like the fucking dead, christ,” he mused out loud and sat you up so it was safe to unbuckle your seatbelt. He urged you to get up more- it wasn’t that you were heavy, he just really wasn’t in the place to lift you at the moment and didn’t even know how to go about it. Regardless, he held you up by a shoulder and crouched to make it easier for you both to walk to the apartment. In some part of your sleep, you began to speak, “Kei.” He kept his gaze trained forward at the front door and struggled to grab his keys from his pocket, “Yes?” “Are we married?” Kei dropped his keys, then shot you a look of concern, “... No…?” He had to hold himself back from saying not yet, unsure of what you were getting to. He reached down to grab his keys and he focused back on the door. “Why are you asking?” He unlocked the door and threw it open, getting you both inside finally. He set you on your couch and sat on the floor in front of you. You looked at him suspiciously, now roused from your sleep. The only thing on your mind was that dream- it had to be a memory! You refused to understand it as anything but that. You prodded, “On the beach, I told you I’d be by your side forever.” He seemed to weigh your thoughts heavily in his mind, “... did you forget about us?” You didn’t expect what felt like cold water to hit your back so hard and so suddenly at his suggestion. He didn’t seem hurt at the thought, instead, he found himself occupied with your reaction. His hand reached out to rub the side of your face as you looked at him with wide, guilty eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Your sister told me this kind of thing might happen…” His calloused thumb traced over your lip, and he offered a smile the best he could, “I’ll try to explain it.” Tsukishima explained that what you remembered happened about four years ago and you had been living together ever since. He motioned to photos on the walls of the two of you and people who you could just hardly remember. When you rested your index finger on an individual who was much scrawnier than most of the people there, sitting on the bench with you and watching you speak with admiration, Tsukki put his hand over yours. “That’s your sister. She took most of these pictures, but she usually sits next to you when you have a space available.” You nodded and closed your eyes. You began to remember summers you spent with her in childhood and her yelling at you to do your homework when you bothered her as you got older. You smiled a bit. Once your eyes opened again, your finger traveled to possibly the tallest person in the room. He was big, but you remembered something warm and comfortable about that man… “That’s Kuroo. You both went to the same high school and you were in his friend group.” You both went on like that for a while until you’d cleared everyone in that picture. Once you did, you sat down to think over the new cluster of names you’d picked up. “... when you promised you’d be here with me forever, did you remember what I promised to you?” Kei asked as he sat next to you. “No… I just remember what happened on the beach up until you threatened to kill me if I took back my promise.” “Oh, right. I was going through that phase,” He seemed displeased with the comment. You found it almost funny but refrained from laughing for his sake. He continued, in a quieter tone, “I promised that if something happened to you, that I would always be here for you, too. That I’d get you back into shape.” His larger hand gently entwined with yours, “... so if you remember that promise and you’ll have me, I’d love to marry you once you get your memories back. … If you want to. I-” You cut him off with a hug to his side, trembling a bit as your emotions got the better of you. You smiled up at him. “I can’t promise I’ll be better fast, and I still feel like several trucks ran through me at once… but I’m happy,” you managed out. You didn’t know what your face looked like right about now and you didn’t have the nerve to look up into Kei’s glasses to check your reflection. He wrapped his arms around you in return, pressing the side of his face against your head. “Please, don’t give me an answer yet. You’re not in the right mental state. I’ll wait for you until you’re ready.” You ran your hands up and down his back. You weren’t exactly afraid of remembering things, but you were quite anxious for what tomorrow might bring for both of you. Despite that, you felt safe recovering in his arms, and you were sure you’d feel that way for a long time.

Have a link to the sexy sexy masterlist down here as well. Unless you’re done reading, then have a good day. But if you’re not there’s some fire stuff in that bad boy.