#wow this got. longer than i expected it too

[livingthedragonlife]

i want to talk about the mimic chapter!!!!

kui is a genius at weaving overarching story themes and character themes and arcs and details into every chapter, but i love the way it happens in the mimic chapter the most.

the first thing that happens is chilchuck noticing the possibility of a mimic. he notices it instantly, because he remembers what the room looked like the last time the party was there. it's a great demonstration of how perceptive he is, and how seriously he takes his job... but he doesn't tell anybody.

the party could be in danger, there's a monster right around the corner, but he assumes (rightly, but still) that laios and senshi would only want to eat it and marcille would be mad at him for bringing it up. so he says nothing. out of sight, out of mind, ignoring the problem will have Zero lasting consequences. his emotional unavailability demonstrated right after, in a way that feels so seamless!!!

later, he wakes up marcille before he goes to refill his waterskin, but when he gets trapped in the mimic room, he assumes she fell asleep right after he left and therefore can't help him. he finds out later that he's wrong. marcille stayed awake to wait for him and woke up laios and senshi when he didn't come back. they were a little bit late, but chilchuck could have relied on his party members to be there for him, but assumed they wouldn't. he thinks quick on his feet, he figures out the puzzle in the room really fast, but he doesn't come out of it unscathed. he relies only on himself, and it almost got him killed.

obviously getting killed isn't too big a deal in the dungeon, but the point is that chilchuck put himself through unnecessary strife that could have been solved easily if they had just taken out the mimic right when they got into the room together—if he had told them there was danger in the first place. and the mimic turned out to be delicious anyway!!!!

BUT. THEN. when he finally DOES decide to be vulnerable, having learned this lesson, and tells everyone how old he is... they laugh. they still treat him like a child. they don't understand, they assume he's just as young as they did before.

this gets solved too, when he tells them about his family after the griffon/hippogriff fight. and sure, if he had been more open and vulnerable about having a family from the start, he wouldn't have to keep explaining that he's not a child only for them not to listen. but no wonder he doesn't!! no wonder he kept quiet when the one time he tried to open up, he got laughed at anyway! and that's just THIS PARTY, we know he's been through some shit with other parties—he formed a whole union about it

just!!!!!! all the actions from all the characters make sense if you look at it from their perspective, and it's all weaved so delicately into the storytelling you don't even realize how much you're absorbing about the world and the characters. chef's kiss.

[jackie-shitposts]

heyy just wondering if you're gonna make any more random Carmen stuff? i love your crack vids, and if you aren't gonna make anymore Youtube stuff thats totally fine! just love your content. thanks Jackie!

thanks for loving my stuff! but im normal about carmen sandiego now so no more videos (frantically shoving 6 videos worth of notes behind my back so you cant see them)

[starry-bi-sky]

Damian meets Dani about... oh, a few weeks after he's found out his brother was alive and living somewhere in America, and... lets say a week after he's met Samantha Manson. After that gala, it doesn't take much prodding and stalking to find out that Mansons live in Amity Park, Illinois. And if that's where Samantha was, then that's where Danyal was.

Stalking Manson's social media -- of which required a little bit of hacking as she kept her account private -- to see if there were any pictures of his brother was only slightly helpful. Most of her pictures were either scenic shots of Amity Park, photos of posters and signs of her environmental protests, fundraisers, and other such activities. The photos that did include Danyal were all carefully cropped out or angled to avoid showing his face.

The most recent photo was one of Manson at what appeared to be a gym, sitting in front of a mirror with another brown-skinned boy leaning against her. They all looked like they were coming down from exercising, Manson and the other boy -- Foley, as the tag said -- were both sitting on the ground. But the third boy, Danyal, was laying down, the angle prevented the camera from seeing most of his face and body, and what could have been seen was covered by Danyal's arm that he'd thrown over his face.

Unfortunately, as easy as it would be to take a plane down to Amity Park and hunt down his brother for answers, that would cause more problems than it would solve. Father made it explicitly clear after they'd returned from the gala and found out where the Mansons resided that they were to wait.

"If Danyal finds out that we know he's alive, he will likely try and run." Father told them, sitting at the chair in front of the Batcomputer, Amity Park's page pulled up. "He's spent the last five years in what has been, essentially, deep cover. He will not react well to finding out it's been blown."

(Damian had wanted to argue -- he's waited long enough. He wants to know what his brother's real feelings on him are. He wants to know why Danyal decided to leave the League himself. It had been a decision between Danyal and Damian over who would fake their death, and Danyal had chosen to leave. He wants answers.)

(But, Father's been quieter since the reveal of Danyal's existence was brought to him, and the memory is still fresh in Damian's mind of Father approaching him after the fight and quietly asking him why he hadn't told him about Danyal.)

(It was hard to read his face with the mask on, but the line in his shoulders, the pinch of his mouth -- Father was hurt and trying not to show it. Guilt still bubbles up in Damian's chest at the recall.)

(He feels even worse remembering his response -- rolling his shoulders back and telling Father, his stomach churning: "I thought it pointless to inform you of a son that was already dead." He didn't want his Father to mourn a child he never met, and... Damian didn't want Father to wish it was Danyal here instead of him.)

So, waiting for their plan of attack to finally be initialized, Damian allows Richard to drag him down to Gotham's mall. To get out of the house and do something else.

And it's there that he meets Danielle Fenton. Really, how unexpected. He's in the middle of conversation with Richard when she, well, bumps into him. Its not a huge bump, neither of them go to the ground nor do they drop anything, but she whirls around in utter apology while Damian is already forming an insult on the tip of his tongue.

"Oh geez, sorry! I didn't see you--" Ellie makes eye contact with him, and her voice cuts off, but her jaw stays dropped. Damian can't say he's of the same expression, but he is of similar sentiment. Brown skin only a few shades lighter than his own, black hair, glacier blue eyes that Damian has only ever seen on two people. And, as both of their eyes flick up to each other's brows, the death knell.

Father has a very unique set of facial features -- specifically, the strange shape of his eyebrows. It feels ridiculous to say aloud, but the 'batwing' shape of his brows means that anyone who knows about the Waynes would, reliably, be able to recognize them within minutes.

And this girl had them, just as Father did, just as Danyal did, and just as Damian does. She also shared an uncanny likeness to Danyal, and to mother.

Damian's hands immediately go to a dagger at his hip.

At the same time, the girl makes a strange squawking sound - like she's just had a revelation. And immediately she's jabbing a finger at Damian's face, her other hand slamming over her mouth to smother her annoying, staccato shrieking.

"You!" She squeaks, hopping in place with sparkling blue eyes. She looks around frantically, and Dick tenses up in Damian's peripherals -- likely seconds away from dragging the girl away from the crowd.

The girl laughs, giggly and excited, and lands her eyes back on him. There is an expression of awe on her face as she drops her hand from her mouth, she leans her face close to his, grinning from ear to ear. "You! You're Danny's brother!"

Damian's attention sharpens. She knows Danyal -- she looks like Danyal. She knows Danyal.

The girl couldn't be more than a few years older than Damian, but younger than 15 -- the age Danyal should be right now. She claps her hands together excitedly. "Holy cow!" She breathes, and audibly inhales, "Look at you! Wow! I thought you were a mini-Danny for a moment. But then I realized your eyes were green and you don't have his scar."

She's tilting her head side to side, looking over him like a specimen to be studied. Automatically, Damian is scowling, leaning away from her in annoyance.

That only seems to delight her more, and she laughs again. "You even have his scowl! Amazing!" She exclaims, and long-driven instinct forces Damian to ruffle up in offense, how dare she compare him--

The girl juts her hand out for a handshake, grinning from ear-to-ear. "I'm Dani with an i, but you can also just call me Ellie if it's too confusing." She waits patiently for Damian to give her his hand, and he tamps down his annoyance to reluctantly take it. Dani shakes it hard.

"You know, Danny's told me about you a few times -- never your name, no, he's always calling you starlight. It's incredible how he can share details while also keeping all the important bits out."

'He calls you starlight.'

Dani speaks quickly, excitably, like a child on a sugar rush or a teenager meeting her favorite author. She steamrolls through her sentences like she didn't just hit Damian with a sledgehammer to the chest. It's the second time he's heard someone claim that they've been told about him under a pseudonym, under the same pseudonym.

He's at a loss for words, and Richard steps in with a hearty chuckle and a hand on his shoulder. "Woah," he says, cutting off Dani with a warm smile, "I think we should probably talk about this sitting down, yes?"

Yes, Damian thinks, blinking at Dani, let's pause this for a moment. He needs a moment to breathe.

Dani blinks, and then nods, smiling back easily. "Right, good idea! I know a good spot." Then she turns and bounds into the crowd of other shoppers, and only then does Damian realize that Dani was without a chaperone.

They quickly follow after her, and perhaps if they were anyone else, they would have lost her in the crowd. The ease she moves between people makes Damian wonder about her origins -- obviously she is a clone of Danyal. The eyes, the name, the similarities are all too convenient to ignore.

However, who made her was the question. She was far too bubbly to be made by the League, and the fact that she knows Danyal and was even within speaking terms of him implied that whoever made her was within close range of him as well. Perhaps even knew him, to some level.

Most people who made clones did not do so with good intent, but the fact that Danyal told this clone about Damian meant they were close on some level. Dani likely defected then? Similarly to Superboy. Did she have powers? Did she know of the League?

She's sitting at a table in the food court when they finally catch up with her, and she looks a little sheepish as they draw up their chairs. "Sorry," she says as they sit down, smiling nervously, "I totally forgot to make sure you guys were following me."

Not a lie, Damian thinks, eyeing her up and down as he lowers into his seat beside Richard. He sniffs curtly, hiding only some of his annoyance. "It's fine. We found you, didn't we?"

Dani nods,her mouth twitching into a more relaxed smile. "You did! Yeah, wow." She stifles a round of awed giggling. "Sorry, sorry-- it's just so weird to actually meet you in person. The way Danny talked about you made it sound like he was never gonna see you again, so I kinda thought the same."

...Ah. Right. Because he faked his death without any intention of reveaing that it was fake in the first place. The squeeze of Damian's chest is unexpected and throbbing, like someone put a weight on his sternum in an effort to crush his lungs. In his chair, Richard's arms flexed and unflexed subtly.

"Well..." Damian pressed his lips together, "I am here now. It is interesting to meet you, Dani." He says, he can't say nice, the jury is still out on that one. But it is interesting. Placing his elbows on the table, he leans forward. "Are you Danyal's clone?"

Immediately Richard swats him lightly in the arm with a hiss of his name, while Dani's eyes widen comically at him. However, instead of getting defensive or even fleeing, Dani grins widely. "I am, actually. No point in denying it, right? But you haven't given me your name, Danny's brother."

Damian tamps down an instinctive twitch, a trained negative response to being Danyal's anything. He nods shortly. "My name is Damian, this is my... brother, Richard." He gestures to Richard, and ignores the grin he gets burning into his temples.

"You can call me Dick, Dani." Richard says, leaning over the table to shake Dani's hand. Dani nods, an eyebrow raised amusedly. When Richard lets go, his smile carefully falters, and he feigns looking around. "Are you alone?"

Dani's eyes bug for a moment, and her smile turns strained. "Ah, my -uh, guardian is actually in another store right now. I texted them, they'll meet me here when they're done."

Lie, Damian thinks, and shares a knowing look with Richard. She's alone -- a foolish thing to be for children, especially in Gotham. If there's one thing Damian knows for certain, it's that Danyal would not allow any clone of his to wander around inept or incompetent. Especially when he is supposed to be dead.

He likely allowed Dani to live because she was not only a girl, but had something that prevented her from being easy to defeat or capture. He doesn't see anywhere where she could be concealing a weapon -- so powers, perhaps? A meta Al Ghul would be a useful asset to anyone, if she had no weapons, then powers were the next potential option.

He turns back to Dani, "I see. Can you tell me more about Danyal? It has been a long, long time since I last saw him. I am... curious to see if he's the same as I remember him."

Dani's expression falls flat and deadpan, the illusion only ruined by the toying of her mouth and the amused glimmering of her eyes. "By that do you mean if he's still a stubborn stick-in-the-mud with a mean streak a mile wide, and a weird propensity for breaking out into shakespeare when he's pissed?"

Damian stares at her. "...Yes."

The girl sighs dramatically and slumps against the table, pressing her cheek into the cold metal with her face all scrunched up. "Then yeeesss!" She whines, "I love Danny, I do. He can be a big prickly teddybear sometimes, but oh ancients, I will always hold our first meeting against him for as long as I live."

An eyebrow crawls up Damian's forehead - both at Dani's description of his brother, and the mention of their 'first meeting'. Dick sits up in his peripherals, an equally intrigued look on his face.

"How did you guys first meet?" He asks, barely bothering to hide his interest.

Propping her head up on her chin, Dani remains deadpan -- and perhaps a little pouty -- "Ehh... I claimed to be his third cousin once removed." Automatically, Damian presses his mouth into a line. She was avoiding answering the question in full. "He didn't really... take it that well."

Damian can understand why. Father's earlier explanation brings itself back to the forefront of his mind -- Danyal would not react well to finding out his death was uncovered. If Dani claimed to be related to him, then it is a miracle she was still even alive. Had it been Damian, he would have killed her on the spot.

"Yes," he hums, "I can understand why."

Dani scrunches her nose up, and eyes him warily, "Yeah, don't think I didn't see you grabbing your side earlier." She says, ignoring how Damian stiffens up faintly. "I've learned my lesson."

They fall into almost comfortable conversation after that - trading questions and answers back and forth. Dani, short for Danielle, was in Gotham to explore. She was nearly a year old, and she wanted to see the world before settling down and doing anything concrete.

Danielle asks Damian what he was doing in Gotham, Danny said they lived overseas. Damian tells her that he lives here, and she perks up and asks if he was put into foster care too.

He nearly ruffles with offense -- no, he was living with their Father. He nearly says as such -- only for a hand on his back to stop him. Richard sends him a warning look, and Damian is very vividly recalling just that weekend with Manson.

(He is still wondering how his brother managed to reach Gotham so quickly, because that was his brother. He might not have been able to see his face, but that voice was his.)

Manson was furious with them over something, furious enough that she refused him information on his brother. Enough that she was petty to hang up the phone with Damian's brother without ever even uttering a word to him of who she was talking to.

Damian looks Danielle and lies, and tells her yes, he was also put into foster care. Richard backs him up.

Danielle is a well of information on his brother -- more so than any of Manson's social media was. Despite her explorations, she's still naive -- or, at least, naive to Danyal's situation. With Richard's help it's all too easy to get her to tell them about Danyal.

He learns that Danyal was interested in astronomy. Whenever Dani visited it was like he had new facts to tell her. He learns that his brother listens to goth rock, and was particularly a fan of a band called Dumpty Humpty. Something that Damian was certainly not expecting his brother to be interested, of all things.

And, perhaps the most important piece of information of all, Danielle pulls out her phone with little prompting and shows him a recent photo of his brother. Damian prevents himself from stealing it out of her hands, forcing himself into carefully taking it with permission and showing it to Richard.

It was a simple selfie of the two of them in a park somewhere. Danyal was crouched down beside her, and while Danielle was beaming into the camera, Danyal simply wore a half-tilted, awkward smile. He was in a red muscle-tee, the last thing Damian could imagine his brother wearing.

There wasn't much to put it, Danyal was simply older. With wavy black hair framing his face and his glacier blue eyes, there was no doubt about it that he was an Al Ghul and and Wayne. The scar he's had for as long as Damian can remember -- the one he gained from protecting Damian merely a week into his birth -- split diagonally down his face. It's shrunken more with age -- well, not shrunken. Danyal merely grew.

He had old, familiar scars down his arms. Ones he gained from training. But there were ones Damian doesn't recognize -- a pinkish one near his upper shoulder that looks new. Another laceration on his other arm that still had its stitches. An ugly, mottled wound as if someone had stabbed him with a blunt object.

There was a cut on his throat, healed but certainly not years old, as if someone had meant to slit his neck and missed it's mark. His brother has been in battles, in fights, and they are recent.

Damian stares at it silently. His tongue locked to the roof of his mouth, unable to formulate a sound. He never really knew his brother in the League, he was not allowed to -- not by Grandfather, not by Mother, and encouraged by Danyal. He is a stranger to him. Damian is sick of it.

Danyal and Danielle look more like siblings than he and Damian ever did.

He looks up at the girl, and finds his voice. "Can I have this?"

Danielle is all too happy to give it to him, typing her number into his phone. It's the first message she sends him. Richard leans over Damian's shoulder with a smile, "Would you be willing to send us anything you've got on, uh, Danny?"

Danielle beams at him, looking incredibly touched, "Of course! I can give your number to Danny the next time I see him, if you'd like."

That's right, Damian realizes with white hot panic, to get these photos she has to see him in person. He can't know I know he's alive. He jolts his head up, eyes wide. "No!" He exclaims. Danielle reels back, looking surprised.

"No." Damian repeats, forcing his voice to remain calm despite still feeling panicked. "No, not yet."

"Oh." Danielle simply says, her brows furrow together. She looks like a lost fawn. It's incredibly strange to see on a face that holds Al Ghul blood. "Uh... why?"

Yes, why? Damian can't seem to come up with an excuse.

But Richard can, always a lifesaver. He wraps an arm around the back of Damian's chair. "We recently found out Danny lives in Amity Park, our family was hoping to go visit him as a surprise." He lies, easy as breathing. And it's hardly even a lie. Just the truth re-worded. Damian nods shortly.

Danielle believes it, hook, line, and sinker. She grins widely, near-impishly. She smiles so much. It is equally as strange. "That's so sweet! Okay! I won't say anything, promise." She swears, and Richard feigns a slump of relief. "Dan's pretty good at sniffing out lies, so don't tell me anything about it. The less I know, the better."

Richard nods, smiling warmly and gratefully. "That'd be great. Thank you, Dani."

Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.

She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didn’t know into his room, and who was she.

(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)

(He tells Ellie that he’s adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)

Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that she’s his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.

Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasn’t killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.

But. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And ‘Danielle’ is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.

No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.

(Ellie, pinned under Danny’s knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)

“You have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."

"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."

Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.

Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.

He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"

Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."

"...I'm leaving."

And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."

Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"

Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."

"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."

Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.

"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."

Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.

When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."

Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.

(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)

("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")

("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)

("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")

(Ellie doubts it.)

But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.

Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.

Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)

Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.

"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."

(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)

Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."

Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"

Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."

[sturnioz]

Fb!chris reaction to shy!reader flashing him randomly. Just to see that she spontaneously got her nipples pierced

truthfully, i dont see shy!reader getting her nipples pierced. but i lowkey loved this idea so i had to do it.

"i got something to tell you." you say with a bright smile as you shuffle up beside chris, who is sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers expertly rolling a joint, the other one casually tucked behind his ear — maybe forgotten about, you think, but you decide against pointing it out as you wait, hoping to have his attention.

but he doesn't look at you. instead, he hums in response, his eyes glued to the rolling paper, completely absorbed in his task to even spare you a glance. frustration wells up inside you, and your smile fades, replaced with a deepening frown as your brows knit together.

you gently poke his shoulder this time, trying to break through his focus.

"don't. m'busy." he snaps, his tone sharper than you expected — a clear sign that he's not in the mood for distractions.

you can't help but huff at that, your initial excitement now sizzling into disappointment. you grip the bedsheets tightly, longing for his attention and feeling a little annoyed at his dismissiveness that in a moment of impulse, you nudge him, hoping this time to draw him away and into the conversation want so desperately want to have.

"kid.. don't."

"i want to tell you something." you reply, trying again, your tone laced with a hint of attitude that surprises even you, and to your relief, it seems to get through to him as he abruptly turns his head, his glare sharp and his jaw clenched tightly.

"stop bein' a fuckin' brat, kid. i told you that i am busy, yeah? i told you that, 'n now you're gettin' an attitude with me? learn to behave before i—"

you find yourself lifting your shirt without thinking, revealing the new, swollen piercings you impulsively got. you can't help but grin with pride, despite the fact you cried when you got them done — but he doesn't need to know that.

chris' gaze drops immediately to your chest, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he blinks, momentarily taken aback before he tucks the joint behind his other ear, his tongue prodding at his cheek as he lets out a small hum of acknowledgment.

"wow.." he murmurs, and for a moment, you think his reaction is rather bland and disappointing. but then you notice the smirk slowly spreading across his lips, his hand reaching out to gently cup your breast.

his thumb brushes against your swollen nipple, and you can't help but hiss at the sudden sting, instinctively swatting his hand away with a sharp slap.

"sore?" he asks, an amused glint in his eyes.

"obviously," you reply, frowning slightly before gathering the courage to ask. "do.. you like them?"

"do i like them?" chris repeats, pausing as if he's considering his response. but instead of answering your question, he shifts the focus back to you. "what made you wanna do this anyway, kid? didn't think you'd be into this kinda shit."

"kitty was getting hers re-pierced, and i felt a little confident," you admit, feeling the heat creep up your cheeks. "i wanted something done too."

"confident, huh?" chris hums, licking his lips as he shakes his head. "kitty's a bad influence on you, kid. gotta stop hangin' out with her so much."

that is not the response you were hoping for, and you pull your shirt down with a small huff, obscuring the piercings from his view. chris grins, tilting his head to the side as he watches you move up his bed, settling a few feet away and grabbing your phone — you were absolutely going to tell the groupchat about this.

"i like 'em, by the way," you hear chris admit, and you pause, lifting your head in surprised. your eyebrows raise, and a shy smile threatens to spread across your lips at his unexpected compliment.

he nods slowly as he reaches for more rolling papers and a baggy of weed, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary before looking away.

"yeah.. like 'em a lot."

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[eddieandbird]

How Romantic—

You’re Corroded Coffin’s tour manager and you wake up realizing you drunkenly got married to Eddie the night before.

Part 2 | Part 3

tags/warnings: fluff | 2.7k words | f!reader | rockstar!Eddie | alcohol ment

———

Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary when you opened your eyes this morning. Your head was pounding, but you expected that after Corroded Coffin’s first show in Las Vegas. You went to rub the sleep out from your eyes but you winced in pain as you felt a small object scratch the corner of your eye.

“Ow! What the hell?” You hissed. You sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp.

A diamond ring sat on the third knuckle of your left hand, the sight causing you to flinch like it were a spider crawling up your leg.

“Eddie?” You shoved your sleeping client beside you. “Eddie, I think we did something really stupid last night,”

“What? Of course, we did! We’re rockstars, idiot,” He grumbled, rolling his shoulders to shake off your hand.

He attempted to roll over and fall back asleep, but this wasn’t a situation you could press the snooze button on. In a panic you pulled him up by his long hair, forcing him to sit up beside you.

“Hey!—“

“Eddie, shut up,” You said sternly, interrupting his whining. “Let me see your hands,”

You fumbled around to get a hold of them, light scratches exchanged between the both of you as you slapped each other like bickering children. Somehow you were able to catch his wrist, bringing his left hand closer to the light.

As you feared, he wore a gold band on his ring finger, with white diamonds that glistened, mocking you.

“Holy shit, no, no, no-” You cursed under your breath when you wanted to scream, but the ever-present headache prevented you from raising your voice.

Eddie flinched as you tugged at him, then chuckled when he caught the sight of his own ring.

“Looks like we got a matching set,” He said casually.

His expression didn’t change, leaving you utterly dumbfounded. You could tell he was not understanding the gravity of the situation at all.

“A matching set?— Eddie this isn’t some cute friendship bracelet thing!” You shook your head then forced his hand closer to his face like it could get him to understand.

Eddie wasn’t stupid by any means, but boy did he struggle to get the point sometimes. You knew to cut him some slack considering he was hungover just like you. However, you didn’t think you had to spell this all out for him.

Another moment passed before his eyes opened up fully. “Oh… OH!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, oh,” You sighed, relieved and irritated.

He studied his hand for a moment, tilting it in the light as he observed the jewels embedded into the gold.

“Oh wow, this is-” He mumbled to himself, his voice getting lost in a trail of thoughts.

He then went silent for a moment before suddenly grabbing your hand harshly, and yanking it into the light. “I bet yours is nicer, let me see,” He grumbled, his tone sounding almost jealous. It did nothing but work you up even more. You were unfortunately going to have to spell it out for him.

You flailed out of bed, ripping off the robe that hung on the lampshade, and covered yourself. The bewildered glare you gave Eddie only caused him to look more confused. You sighed and rubbed your aching head.

“I can’t believe I’m even explaining this to you right now,” You mumbled to yourself. You put your hands together and pointed the form at him. “Eddie, I think we got married last night,”

You hoped and prayed he would give you a different look, one that didn’t make you believe he didn’t even know his own name.

“You think? Or you know?” He countered, raising his eyebrows at you. “These rings could mean nothing, we just have to make sure,”

His expression was far more casual than it should’ve been. You didn’t know how much longer you would be able to stay patient, he was making your blood boil. He was treating this as if you were scolding him for showing up late to the gig.

As much as you wanted him to prove your theory wrong, you feared it wasn’t likely. Your eyes scanned the trashed hotel room for any other sign. To your dismay, there was a white dress tossed to the side of the bathroom. Disgust and regret painted your face as you lifted it. It was covered in red wine and smelled even worse.

“I think I found my wedding dress,” You gagged, holding it up to show Eddie.

You groaned as you just as quickly threw it back down on the floor.

Eddie’s smile wavered as he saw the state of your wedding dress. He suddenly looked nauseous as he observed the wine stains and messy wrinkles.

“We must’ve been super wasted last night,” He thought back to the night before, his mind desperately trying to recall any other details. “I can’t remember a damn thing after the first hour or so,” He said, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Yeah, no kidding,”

You examined the dress again from where you stood and bits and pieces of last night suddenly came back to you. The cheap rhinestones on it formed a pattern that haunted you.

The sight took you back to when Eddie and you stumbled downtown, giggling as you tried to keep each other upright. With one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, he used the other to point out the ridiculously lit chapel you were passing by. A window peered into a showroom with a plethora of wedding dresses.

You let out a low whistle with your finger pointed at the glass. “Jeez what a dress, huh? Have you ever seen anything more gaudy?” You elbowed Eddie in the chest playfully.

You were too amused to see that he hardly gave that stupid dress more than one glance. He was too captivated by the way you looked underneath the twinkling lights.

“I dunno. I bet you’d make it look good,” Eddie slurred back, raising his eyebrows to fight his half-lidded eyes. His sudden suggestive tone took you aback. He was always crass and liked to push buttons, but never had he been this forward with you. You felt a strange flutter in the pit of your stomach that you had every intention of ignoring.

“Alright, buddy, I gotta get you back to the hotel. You’re too far gone if you’re imagining your manager in a wedding dress,” You hiccupped, trying to pry Eddie away from the chapel windows, but he was sturdy like a wall. You yelped as he pulled you by the wrist back into him.

“I think you should go in and try it on,” He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

Shivers went down your spine, traveling down your body and convincing you it was a good idea. The sloshing liquor in your gut and the rasp of his voice was a dangerous combination. It created a switch inside your head that drained you of your professionalism, leaving only traits that would make you the woman of Eddie’s dreams. This included the boldness to slip your hand into his and say “Aw… Fuck it, why not? Let’s see how stupid it looks,”

Eddie hastily led you into the chapel, walking through the doorway and into the showroom full of gowns. The two of you were greeted by a bored employee who couldn’t look less interested in her job, but somehow had the energy to sneer at the both of you. You only took it as a sign that you should try on the stupid dress if only to spite that miserable lady at the front desk.

Just as you were joking about before, you took the gown that sat in the window and brought it with you to the fitting room. It was way too ornate and flashy for your taste, but you had the itch to try it on to humor Eddie’s curiosity. One outfit change later and you came out, propped up against the doorframe with a hand on your hip. Despite your slightly pained expression, you glittered beautifully in the dress.

“Okay I’m pretty sure this thing is a size too small because I can hardly breathe, but here it is. Happy now, Munson?” You gave an ironic smile.

You expected Eddie to laugh along with you, maybe even make a few digs at how awful the get-up was, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared at you slack-jawed. You had brought an entire galaxy to his hazy eyes. His pupils dilated with desire as he took a few sudden strides toward you.

“There is no way you’re actually making that dress look good,” He muttered in disbelief, pawing at your hips.

Eddie dragged his fingertips along your jawline, gently pushing your hair behind the shoulders. He took a step back to admire the skin around your neck that he just exposed. Your silhouette was being squeezed into the fabric and hardly left anything to the imagination. There was really no stopping Eddie now. With an uncoordinated tug, your body was pressed to his.

“What are you doing?” You asked him like he was a toddler getting caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. Delirious giggles rang out of you as half-heartedly pushed him.

“Taking my bride to the altar, duh,” Eddie leaned in, his lips tickling the nape of your neck. He spoke in that false innocent tone that you knew was laced with devious intentions. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his feather-like touches.

“You’re gonna marry me, right, princess?” His silky voice was incredibly inviting in the state you were in.

“I um- well m-” You stuttered. You could hardly stand straight, let alone answer his question properly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought. C’mon, sweetheart, you’re mine now,” He triumphantly laughed.

The receptionist’s eyes widened in complete shock as Eddie suddenly picked you up off the floor. He began walking back out the door, carrying you like a damsel in distress. Your giggling, mixed with the employee’s confused protesting was the only noise heard through the room.

Eddie barreled down the aisle of the chapel. He laughed with misplaced enthusiasm as you both stumbled closer and closer toward the pastor waiting at the end of the aisle.

You couldn’t bear to remember anything beyond that. A full-body shiver came over you as you snapped out of the memory of the night before. You couldn’t hear anything for a moment over the pounding of your heart in your ears. Your mind couldn’t wrap around Eddie and you sharing a moment so intimate and unfortunately so permanent.

“Oh, right… that’s what happened,” His voice pulled your attention back to him.

As he laid his eyes upon the dress, it repeated the events to him in his mind. He was tempted to brag about how steady he kept you in his arms even while he wasted, but he bit his tongue, knowing you’d probably snap at him again.

As the realization hit Eddie, he felt overwhelmed with emotion. Part of him couldn’t believe that the both of him had gotten married so recklessly, but another part felt a strange fluttering in his chest.

“Yeah, how romantic,” You groaned, limping to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.

Eddie followed after you, leaning against the bathroom door frame.

“You um- You’re not thinking of breaking all this off right?” he asked timidly.

As if this morning couldn’t get any more insane, of course, he had to ask you that. You shot a glare in the mirror reflection for a moment before whipping around with your arms folded.

“Munson… What the hell are you saying?” Although the message was harsh, your tone had no bite to it. You sounded much more confused than upset at this moment. You didn’t want to believe that he was genuinely considering remaining married to you.

“Hear me out,” He set his hands out, gesturing you to stop whatever angry rant you wished to go on. “Maybe this doesn’t have to be the worst thing that could happen to us,”

“What do you mean?”

“I doubt that we weren’t spotted in that chapel. If we’re lucky we have until the afternoon before we see headlines about Corroded Coffin’s main guitarist and his manager getting hitched in Vegas,” He scrunched his nose and shook a hand through his tangled hair.

There goes your deer-in-headlights look again. “God, I really am an idiot! How did I not think of that? I-”

Eddie pressed a finger to your lips, promptly shutting you up. “Yeah, yeah, you’re the tortured manager of our band, we get it. But hey, just stay with me,” He dismissed your spiral before it could even happen. He swept you up similar to how he did last night, but this time to sit you down on the bathroom counter.

“What if we just stayed married for a little while?” He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Think about it. All that press Corroded Coffin would get over something like this. We’d be a household name! It’s kind of genius,” With his hands caging you into your spot on the counter, he smiled proudly at you as he explained what he had in mind.

He could see your mind racing behind your eyes, clearly contemplating the logistics of getting media attention out of this. He leaned closer to you, keeping you to the counter. He placed his hands on either side of your thighs.

“I know you hate the attention,” He continued softly, looking at you with puppy dog eyes. “But this is a good idea. We have to capitalize on our screw-up... For the band of course.”

A choked exhale escaped you before you set your head in your hands for a moment. Your mind drew up a montage of all the disapproving faces you’d have to explain this to, all the uncomfortable interviews you’d have to speak in, and all the death threats made by Corroded Coffin’s fans to you.

“Do I really have a choice in all this?” You mumbled through the spaces in between your fingers.

Eddie flashed a wry smile. “I guess not,” he teasingly held up his ring finger as if he was flipping you off. “Bottom line, when we walk out of this hotel, we are officially husband and wife. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this to make the rest of the tour miserable. So you can either mope around the bus for the next two months and have more rumors spread in your absence, or you can hold your head up high and make a spectacle of our marriage for the sake of the band,”

Eddie’s grin grew wider as he saw the exhaustion creeping onto your face. He knew exactly how much you hated the attention, but he also knew that you cared just as much about the success of Corroded Coffin. He leaned closer to you, his body now almost completely pressed against yours.

“I don’t like either of those options, just throw me off the balcony and be done with it,” You dramatically huffed and smacked your head on his shoulder. He snorted at your reaction.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” he taunted, his fingers gripping your thighs in a tight but affectionate grip. “Where’s that infamous strength of yours, huh? What happened to the badass manager that keeps us in line?”

You gave him the weakest glare you had yet. He was right about one thing: you cared about Corroded Coffin more than anything else. It was time to step up and do what you had to for them, for Eddie.

“Alright!” You blurted out. “Fine, let’s do this, but as soon as tour is over, we get a quiet divorce and we move on like nothing ever happened,”

“Yeah, totally, for sure,” Eddie nodded his head half-convincingly, then lightly smacked your leg with approval. He was beaming, looking forward to all the fun he was about to have with you. “Alright, get all dolled up for brunch, I’m starving. It’s time for your grand debut, Mrs. Munson,”

“Hey, I never agreed on changing my name!” you whined, pushing Eddie off of you to get down from the counter.

Eddie chuckled as you suddenly stood up from the counter.

“Well get used to it, because I’m going to keep calling you that,” he teased. “You’re officially stuck with me now, Mrs. Munson,”

[just-jordie-things]

just like my crush - fushiguro megumi

word count: 3.8k warnings: swearing, reader is doped up from anesthesia summary: confessing that you have a crush on someone really isn't that hard. all it takes is anesthesia clouding your judgment. a/n: brought to you by my lovely nanami flowershop anon's beautiful brain !!!

___

Injuries in this line work wasn’t unusual.  Someone was always occupying Shoko’s little infirmary and keeping her busy.  Nasty gashes, sprained wrists, broken bones- it was practically a part of the job description.  No, it wasn’t pretty, but at least with a master of the Reverse Cursed Technique on site, the mishaps that came with assignments never lasted too long.

Because of this expectation, Megumi had never been put in a position where he worried over someone’s well being after an exorcism gone awry.  He’d had life threatening wounds get healed more times than he could count on both hands, hell, Yuji lost a hand and got that back! 

So why did he feel sick to his stomach when she took a bad hit during an assignment? Why did his throat close up too tight for him to explain the situation to the manager on the assignment? Or to Ieiri when he got her back to campus? Why was there a cold sweat racing down his spine, but his insides felt like they were on fire? 

Despite all of Ieiri’s insisting that (y/n) was fine, that she’d gotten here just in time, that she was healed and would wake up at any time- likely without the memory of what happened- and that she would still be fine then… Megumi didn’t tear himself out of that room in the infirmary even once.  

When she does wake up- two days and a couple hours later- he doesn’t look too good.  He’d pale and he’s been bouncing his leg for so long it’s gone numb, but the relief that washes over him brings some color back to his face.

Her eyelashes flicker about a few times before she finally opens her eyes, but his attention is drawn to the way her hand twitches above the stark white sheets.

“Hey,” He murmurs, as quiet as he can stand to speak.  He didn’t want to startle her, and he thinks that if she were to flinch back at him, he’d flinch too.  “(y/n), you awake?” He asks when she doesn’t say anything right away.

Then her eyes finally find him, and with a hazy gloss over her blown pupils, she smiles.  It’s slow, and so, so impaired, but it’s pretty nonetheless.

“Oh, wow,” 

Her voice is strained, likely from not having been used for a couple days, but the light and breezy way in which she speaks is enough for him to know that her anesthetics haven’t worn off.  The stoner-like smile also tipped him off pretty well, but Megumi’s sure now.

“You know who you look like?” 

It’s not the question Megumi’s expecting, and his confusion is obvious in the way a tiny knot forms between his brows.  He would’ve thought  ‘where am I?’ or ‘what happened?’ would be in order, but maybe the anesthesia was more on top of her than he would’ve thought, so he hums in response and waits for her explanation.  Surely she’ll have something silly to say, it wouldn’t be the first time she called him a sea urchin for his messy hair.

“You look jus’ like my crush” (y/n) half-slurs back.  She tilted her head in his direction, trying to get a better look at him from where she was laying, but the rest of her body felt too heavy to move.

Megumi’s eyes widen, and before he can stop himself a small laugh comes out.  Confusion, humor, and disbelief blend into the overwhelming relief in knowing that Ieiri hadn’t been lying to him to protect his feelings.  (y/n) would be completely fine.

Maybe a little bit high, but still, completely fine.

Her shoulders shake in the slightest when she laughs in response to his own little chuckle, delighted purely by his reaction.

“I’m serious,” She mumbles out, eyes falling heavy for a minute the longer she stares at him.  “And it’s a compliment too, b’cause he’s, like, really cute”  “I didn’t know you were crushing on anyone” Megumi hums, leaning his elbows against the edge of her cot so that he could prop his chin in his hands.  Amusement flickers in his eyes when her expression noticeably shifts.  Her eyes widen and her lips part but no words come out.  Was he actually making her nervous? Who the hell did he look like in her eyes right now that had her reacting like this? 

Megumi can’t recall a time she’d ever talked to him about crushing on anyone.  Nothing of the sort, not even a hint.  And he’d definitely never seen the ruthless sorcerer appear so… 

Well, she looked like a girl with a crush.  A blush was forming on her cheeks the longer he held eye contact with her, and the way the corners of her mouth twitched and betrayed her as she tried to bite back a smile.

“Y-yeah, duh,” She stammers back at him with a sassy roll of her eyes.  Megumi’s quick to push his hand against his mouth to stifle his laughter.  “The point of a crush is it’s secret” 

“So you’re not gonna tell me then?” He asks curiously.

She probably didn’t know it, but (y/l/n) (y/n) was the only person in the world that got to see the playful side of him.  It was hard not to act on his intrigue, though.  It was too entertaining to see her in this state… and the rapid beating of his heart in his ribcage made him ache to know more.

But she shakes her head against her pillow, sealing her lips shut to further prove her point.  She’s still smiling, though, and she hasn’t torn her eyes off of his since she woke up.

“How’re you feeling, anyways?” Megumi decides to steer the topic back to one of more importance.  “Anything hurt? Can I get you anything-?” 

“Even your eyes are pretty like his,” She interrupts him, and then sighs as though this was a large inconvenience for her.  “You must be related,” She says matter-of-factly.

He hopes that when the drugs wear off she doesn’t remember this moment, because Megumi knows his face is as red as a tomato with how fiery his skin feels.  A nervous laugh bubbles out of him before he could choke it down, and her whole face lights up in response.

“You must not get compliments often, huh?” She teases in a slow drawl.

“I… I guess not,” He says, followed by more nervous laughter that happens against his will.  “But thank you, (y/n).  That’s very… kind” 

He’s painfully awkward, and he knows that as soon as he leaves this room he’s going to overthink this entire interaction, but for now he tries to bask in the warmth that sparks from knowing she thinks he has pretty eyes.  Or at least, she does when she’s so doped up she can’t quite focus on a conversation.

But at least she's obviously not in any pain.  Megumi’s worries begin to melt away, but that might just be the work of her flattery.

“You’re welcome,” She grins back at him, but she just as soon furrows her brows and regards him curiously.  Even after staring at him so shamelessly, she suddenly doesn’t appear to recognize him one bit.  “I thought Megumi only had a sister, though”

It comes out in a mumble, and he’s sure that she’s talking to herself in her deluded state, but the rush of heat that floods his chest and shoots up his neck is nearly too much to bear.

She actually didn’t recognize him this whole time? Was she talking about him this whole time? Was the flattery not a drug-induced misconception and actually-?

Before he can settle on a question to ask her to clear his confusion, she’s settling back into her pillow and her eyes are falling shut.  Megumi opens his mouth, ready to force out the first thing that comes to mind, but she drifts off almost immediately.  Her chest rising and falling in slow, steady movements.

It felt like a cruel prank.

Now he was left sitting and gaping at her unconscious form.  His heart is racing and his leg is bouncing again, and Megumi thinks he might be even more anxious for her to wake up this time.

He decides then and there that when she does, and when she’s of sound mind again, he’ll ask her about it.  Because if she really did have a crush on him he’d have to finally get over his ridiculous anxiety and make a move. ___

A week after making a full recovery, (y/n) comes to the decision that if she wants Megumi to talk to her, she’ll just have to corner him.

She’s not sure why he hasn’t been talking to her- hence her cornering plan- but ever since her last assignment had gone awry and she’d been put on a minor hold, he’d been dodging her.  And sure, Megumi wasn’t always the most sociable guy, but he was a friend and even if he didn’t feel like hanging out, he wouldn’t completely ghost her like this.

Of course she’d tried asking Yuji and Nobara about it, but they were a dead end.  They’d been just as surprised as she was that he’d been avoiding her.

I thought you were best friends, Yuji had frowned at the idea of a falling out between his two friends that he cared about so much.

Maybe he realized you have a crush on him and pussied out, Nobara had cackled at the scenario, not feeling an ounce of worry that this weird bump wouldn’t get resolved.

Needless to say, (y/n) was quick to steer her investigation far away from them, before the blabbermouths could do what they do best and blab around the wrong people.

She corners him while doing laundry, of all things.

“Hey,” 

And when she walks into the room while he’s tossing his freshly washed laundry into the dryer, Megumi hits his head on the lid when he swivels around in shock to see her there.

“Oh god, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine- it’s fine,” He answers all too quickly, before she’s even finished her question.  “I’m almost done with the washing machine” 

(y/n) can’t help but chuckle a little bit, seeing as she wasn’t currently holding a basket of laundry, but Megumi’s already back to filling up the dryer.  It appears every piece of clothing he tosses in is monochrome- mostly black, but a few gray pieces here and there.  This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is a bit funny.

“I actually was looking for you,” She tells him, leaning against the doorframe.  It’s half casual, and half to block his only escape.  Megumi responds with a small hum, still putting all of his focus on moving the laundry.  “Are you upset with me?” 

The question has him swiveling again, finally giving her his undivided attention.  It’s a bit unnerving, the way he straightens up and goes rigid as he stares back at her in bewilderment.  She wants to be annoyed that he has the audacity to look confused when he was the one that had been avoiding her for days, but she gives him the benefit of the doubt 

“Upset? No.  No of course not” He answers, and his words are so certain, that she believes him straight away.  But the small bit of truth doesn’t provide much relief.

“Then how come you’ve been dodging me?” She asks, unable to help her frown.  What other reason could there be? If he’s not mad at something, why would act so flaky?

“I haven’t been dodging you” 

“That’s a lie” 

“It’s not?” 

“It is,” She crosses her arms defensively.  “You haven’t been answering your phone and you always have some excuse to not talk to me.  Did I do something?” 

“Not really” 

He winces as soon as the answer leaves his mouth.  It wasn’t like him to get so careless- but it also wasn’t like him to avoid her.  Really, he was falling apart at the seams and trying quite desperately to appear as though everything was normal.  

It wasn’t working.  (y/n) could see the panic in his eyes as clear as day.  Not to mention the way his lips twitched like he was holding back further explanation.  She narrows her eyes as she studies him carefully.

“Not really?” She repeats his lame answer.  “So sort of? So I did do something?” 

Megumi’s certain that she chose to stand in the doorway so he couldn’t make an easy escape.  Would it be immature to summon the rabbits? 

“(y/n) it’s- it’s fine.  It’s me, alright?” He’s not very convincing.

“So you did something?” Another question he doesn’t want to answer.

“No- just- not really- it was just-” He stammers, and then groans, tilting his head back and glaring at the fluorescent light hanging over him.  

He recalls the way he’d sworn to himself that he’d talk to her about her little anesthesia-induced confession, and kicks himself now for cowering out of it.  Megumi never really ran away from a challenge, even when he knew he was in over his head.  But something about standing before her now and explaining how she’d inadvertently confessed to having a crush on him makes his heart beat out of sync and his throat go dry.

“Look I just don’t want things to be weird between us,” (y/n) sighs, giving up on interrogating him so heavily.  “So just… whatever it is, can we talk about it?” 

And he swoons, actually swoons.  His knees physically feel weak and he has to resist the urge to let all of his muscles relax and sink towards the ground.  It was so sweet, so considerate of her to want to mend the nonexistent conflict between them.  Megumi didn’t think it was possible to like her more than he already did, but she had a knack for proving him wrong.

So with an anxious breath, he thinks screw it and just lets it out.

“Do you remember waking up and talking to me in the infirmary?”

Her brows furrow, giving him her answer, and then her features soften with realization.

“You visited me in the infirmary?” She asks, almost in a whisper.  No, she didn’t remember, and no one had told her she’d had any visitors during her short stay there.

Megumi nods his head.

“Yeah, I… I stayed till you woke up.  And you did, for a couple minutes anyways, but you were pretty out of it.  Anesthesia and all” He explains.

She tries to rack her memory for any hazy glimpse of talking to Megumi in Shoko’s clinic, but nothing comes to mind.  She feels a little guilty now, having forgotten so easily.

“Okay…” She trails off, waiting for the rest of his explanation.  “So… something happened then?” 

Megumi hesitates, his expression twisted in mild displeasure, like he just stubbed his toe or has to deliver an oral presentation.  (y/n) tries to be patient, she really does, but the longer he draws this out the larger the pit in her stomach grows.

“Yeah,” The word comes out through a heavy breath, and he pauses for just a moment longer before admitting the last detail.  “You… you sort of confessed that you have a crush on me” 

“Oh,” 

Relief settles into her bones, and then a spike of panic.

“Oh” 

Her eyes are widening and her arms wrap tighter around herself, fingers digging into the sides of her ribs as if she could possibly ground herself with her anxiety reaching an all time high.

For fuck’s sake, she wasn’t this anxious when that Grade One tried to take a massive bite out of her body.

“You were really out of it, though,” Megumi says quickly.  “You were just… high.  You probably just couldn’t see or think straight-” 

“No, I wasn’t just high,” She cuts him off with surprising calmness in her voice, and a short shake of her head.  “I do.  Have a crush on you, I mean.  I didn’t… obviously I didn’t intend to tell you that, but, I guess high-me can’t keep a secret, so…” 

She trails off with a bashful giggle that would have embarrassed her if she wasn’t already filled to the brim with embarrassment.  Megumi’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything.  The corner of his mouth twitches a few times too, and still, he’s standing in bewildered silence before her.

It’s not that he didn’t believe her, he was eighty-five percent sure that she’d meant what she said while she was still under the influence of the anesthetics, but that fifteen percent of uncertainty was his paranoia getting the best of him.  But now she was of sound mind, dead sober, and dead serious as she stared at him and awaited some sort of reaction.

No real reaction came, unless you counted the drumming of his fingers against his side, slow at first, but picking up speed the longer they both stood there and waited for the other to say something.

Megumi knows he should say something, and probably something along the lines of; well that’s a relief because I’m actually crushing on you so hard I don’t know what to do with myself… but unfortunately, he really didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Do I even want to know how badly I embarrassed myself?” (y/n) breaks the silence with a nervous but curious smile.

“You said I looked just like your crush,” He explained, heat flooding to his face as he recalled the other things she said.  “It was actually the first thing you said when you woke up,” 

She has to laugh at that a little, to which Megumi feels some of the tension in his shoulders disappear.  The tension in the room also starts to thin out, much to his relief.

“Then you went on about how cute your crush was.  And when I tried to ask how you were feeling, after, you know, surgery and all that, you ignored me and said…” He rubs the back of his neck, growing shy as he realized he was rambling and the subject matter already had his heart racing.

“Oh god… what?” (y/n) gasps, eyes widening, hoping she didn’t let out some dirty thought that she worked very hard to keep in the back of her mind.

“You said I had pretty eyes, and then you sorta let it slip that I was your crush, so I guess you didn’t realize you were talking to me the whole time… and then you passed back out” 

She’s laughing again, but this time she covers her face with her hands in a pitiful attempt to hide her blush until it goes away.  A small groan dies at the back of her throat.  The second hand embarrassment from her past-inebriated-self was just too much.

After all this time she's done so well at keeping her feelings under wraps, of never letting it be known with a slip of tongue or lingering touch, only to tell him so brazenly while in a hospital cot… it was ridiculous.

“God… I’m so sorry, that’s… wow, that’s probably the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done” She starts off looking at him, but ends up muttering to herself and looks away, still overwhelmed by the mortification of it all.

A small smile graces Megumi’s face, and in a moment of being true to his word, he musters up the courage to speak up before she could walk away and pretend this didn’t happen.

“It was more cute than humiliating,” He tells her, and she peeks back up at him in soft surprise.  “Maybe just a little embarrassing, just a little… but… still cute” His voice gets softer the longer she looks at him and he starts to lose the confidence he started out so strong with, but he still holds her gaze, hoping that she’ll know he means it.

“Cute?” She repeats in quiet disbelief.  Megumi nods back at her with absolute certainty and sincerity.

He gives into another bout of a confidence boost and takes a few steps forward, closing some of the space between them.  (y/n) practically scrambles to straighten up away from the doorframe, her shoulders squaring and her eyes widening as she watches him move towards her.

“And for what it’s worth, I think you have pretty eyes, too,” 

It’s quieter than he intends, but his words are effective in replacing the nervous tension in the room with something much more palpable.  The electricity buzzing between them was so thick they were practically choking on it.

(y/n) smiles, slow at first, processing the sudden compliment, and then all once.  Every inch of her skin warmed from the sweet words, and she’s not sure she’s ever felt flattery like this before.  She’s never taken a compliment so to heart, never known that she was going to go to sleep that night playing it over and over in her head.

Megumi’s eyes flicker between hers for a moment, admiring the way she lights up with delight before him, and then he opens his mouth again.

“They look just like my crush’s” 

Her brows furrow and despite that feeling of embarrassment spiking in her chest again, the corner of her lips curl into a smirk that gives into a smile almost immediately after.  Megumi’s clearly amused by this reaction, laughing to himself like he was so proud of his own tease.

“That’s so corny” She mutters, before stepping away from the doorway and closing the last bit of distance between them.

Despite his nerves he anticipates her movements, large hands finding purchase on her hips and practically yanking her the rest of the way that it takes to have her body against his.  There’s no extra time for words before their lips crash fast.  The kiss is surprisingly tender for how rushed their movements were, but it had them both melting into the other right away.

Her hands are gentle as they smooth over his shoulders before wrapping lightly at the nape of his neck.  Her fingers poke into the dark strands of hair that hang there, and when she curls a few locks between her index and middle finger, he presses his lips against hers with a little more fervor.

Even once they part from one another, neither one goes very far.  Gasping for air with lips still brushing each other’s, noses bumping, and hands still holding on tight all in the name of not putting an inch of distance between them.

Still no words are exchanged as they share a look before both glancing at the open doorway behind them.  It doesn’t take verbal communication for Megumi to reach behind her to grab the door by the handle and swing it shut.  The only sound that fills the room is the white noise buzzing from the dryer cycle, and the soft giggle that’s immediately suppressed by warm, inviting lips pressing against hers again.

___

a/n: thank u again my amazing nanami flowershop anon for this really fun idea. also i just love playful megumi. he's so cute n shy &lt;3

xoxo ~ jordie

[wlwprker]

just a weekend - s.r. x fem! reader

a/n: fake dating my beloved, b99 inspired this whole concept i can’t lie😭 minimal proofreading!! i’m still new to writing for spencer so i apologize if it’s not great !! italics indicate flashback!! this was so self-indulgent omg this was longer than i expected (likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!!)

summary: spencer reid had very little “game” as it is but he has had enough of his family asking when he’s bringing someone home and so he blurts out that he has someone… a complete and utter lie. it’s just one weekend, right...?

warnings: swearing, pining, fake dating, suggestive comment, reader has insecurities

w/c: 1,829

spencer walked into the bullpen with his head down looking into the contents of his coffee cup as he walked to his desk in silence.

“good morning!” you greeted him with a big smile, but your smile changed into a look of confusion and worry when he didn’t even glance your way. you sighed and got up from your desk and stood next to his chair.

“spill right now”

spencer knew you would spend hours annoying him until he said something, so he caved.

“my family kept nagging me about a girlfriend again and so i told them that i have one and now they want me to bring her to my cousin’s party this weekend”

you tried so hard not to laugh because oh he got himself into quite the mess.

“oh spencer, that is rough but that does not explain why you didn’t even greet me this morning”, you looked at him with an accusatory glance and his stomach dropped.

“ha-ha funny thing...”

he didn’t even have to say it, you knew and the whole thing made sense. he was awkward because he’d have to ask you to be his fake date for a weekend. that’s why he didn't look at you or speak to you.

“funny joke, spence”

spencer did not even show a sign of joking and you groaned. you weren’t a party person to begin with but attending a party as spencer’s plus one where you had to meet his family as his girlfriend instead of his best friend?

what could possibly go wrong?

“you owe me, i mean it!”

he agreed and thanked you a million times. you ruffled his hair and sent garcia a text and suddenly you were in her office telling her all about the situation.

“babe, don’t you like... adore him?”

you ran your hands through your hair in frustration and that was the moment jj walked in and looked between the two of you with confusion written all over her face. garcia caught her up to speed and jj placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

this is going to be a long damn weekend.

the dreaded weekend came much too quickly for your liking. you invited all the girls over to help you get ready and to try and ease your nerves.

after sifting through multiple outfit combinations, you finally found the perfect fit and once your makeup was done, everyone cheered and oohed and awed at you.

“spencer is going to trip over himself when he sees you”, garcia exclaimed as she brushed a piece of hair out of your face. you rolled your eyes playfully at her.

“you know he’s like starstruck by you, right?”, emily added as she helped you pick out some jewelry to match.

“he is not, he is just nice!”

all of your friends looked at like you were crazy. you just couldn’t even entertain the possibility that he saw you more than his friend.

now you have to be his fake girlfriend, no big deal!

“hey, if anything happens or you need an excuse to get away, we are all a call away, okay?” garcia reassured you and you were grateful to have such amazing friends.

the sweet moment was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door and your heart dropped.

you took a deep breath and smiled as you opened the door for spencer.

“hi spence, i’m just going to grab my bag and then we can head out”, you told him as he looked at you as if he’s never seen you before.

jj snorted as she saw spencer staring at you like a lovestruck idiot. garcia swatted her arm to keep her quiet.

“wow. y-you look amazing. i mean you always look amazing but wow. you’re just really pretty, like you always are but i- uh woah”

you laughed his compliments off because you could not let yourself even consider for a second that his words ran deeper than a compliment.

spencer kept sneaking glances at you the whole night and it was making you shy.

you pulled up to the venue and that’s when the nerves kicked in. a million questions raced through your head at a mile a minute.

what if i’m not good enough for him? will they still like me as his girlfriend and not his best friend? what if they don’t approve?

spencer put his hand on your thigh and that stopped any new thoughts from coming in.

“hey, they know you; they love you”

“spencer, they love me as your best friend, but girlfriend is new territory”

“sweetheart, it’s going to be okay, i promise, just one weekend”

sweetheart. the pet name made you feel dizzy, he was just trying to reassure you but hearing that fall from his lips made you wish this was real and he was yours.

but he wasn’t.

you didn’t respond and you both got out of the car, and he intertwined your fingers together and your heart was racing, he definitely had to have heard it.

his hand in yours felt so right, as if he was meant to always hold your hand.

this was going to be difficult.

“spencer, thank you for coming! is this the special girl?”

your heart ached at the term “special girl”. why the fuck did you agree to this?

spencer looked over at you and put his arm around your shoulder.

“happy birthday! yes, she is my girl, brought her to meet the family”, spencer said smiling.

he was killing you little by little.

“hopefully she stays after meeting them”, his cousin joked, and you giggled.

spencer was practically glued to you the whole night which was not a problem but when this was over, you were going to yearn for his touch, and you wouldn’t get to have it.

after a while, you met spencer’s family, and they all adored you and were shouting praise at spencer for picking such a good one. the night went better than you expected but you didn’t want this to be over.

just a weekend.

you barely got through a night.

you and spencer said your goodbyes and headed back to your house and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to kiss him.

i mean you’d have to look like a real couple, right? not like you’ve been hopelessly in love with him for a while and you’ve always wanted to know what it was like to kiss him.

“what are you thinking about, sweetheart?”

sweetheart. he is trying to kill you, like genuinely.

“it’s a secret”

“hmm can’t i know?”

you laughed and didn’t respond as you got ready for bed and started to walk towards the couch, but he grabbed your wrist, sending chills through your entire body.

“stay.”

you had to fight every bone in your body from kissing him right there.

two more days of this. for fucks sake.

you silently got into bed next to him and none of you mentioned how you cuddled closer together in the middle of the night.

the events of tonight’s party were still fresh in your mind as if it just happened, but it was hours ago and you were at home turned on your side, thinking about it.

“this is your girl?”

spencer held you closer as he placed a kiss to your hairline, and everyone awed at the sight.

you and spencer spent the whole night laughing, dancing and talking to everyone.

the night had come to an end and spencer stopped in front of the car and you sent him a curious look.

he didn’t say anything. he placed a kiss on your cheek.

you touched your cheek and still felt his lips there, it was a small action, but it left you feeling lightheaded.

the feeling of spencer so close to you in bed felt so right even though you knew, this would all be over soon, and you’d go back to being… friends. the word sent shivers to your whole body.

how were you supposed to go back to being friends after this?

you want to be relieved the weekend is nearly over, but you can’t. not when you’ve gotten a little glimpse into what being with him was like, you wanted it to last.

spencer was actually losing his mind. he did not know if he could handle having you this close without wanting to kiss you, he’s been hopelessly in love with you since the day you brought him his coffee order simply because you know him.

this whole weekend has made him realize that he wants to be with you and not just for a weekend.

he can’t go back to friends after this, he will actually drive himself to an early grave if he has to. he tries so hard to make the night last as long as he could but even, he can’t control time. he is now faced with the reality that at work, you will just be friends again.

spencer can’t take it. he won’t take it.

“wait!” spencer calls out as you start walking to the car. you stop in your tracks.

“why are you so far behind? your legs are longer than mine!”

he laughed at that but made no effort to walk any faster which made you even more confused.

“are you training for the slow walkers marathon? you might just win”, you shouted as you sent him an unamused glance as you pointed to your heels.

he finally caught up to you, but he stopped you from opening the car door.

“spencer! i want to go home, what are you doing?”

“prolonging the night”, he replied with a big smile on his face.

you raised an eyebrow at him but urged him to elaborate.

he didn’t respond which frustrated you. you sighed dramatically and looked at him.

“now you don’t respond? spencerrr, come on!”

“can i kiss you?”

your eyes widened comically like a cartoon character because there was no way this was real life.

“the night is over, spencer, we don’t have to pretend anymore”

“i know but i want to kiss you”

you didn’t know what to say but your eyes spoke all he needed to know.

he cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss and it was as if the world had stopped for you and him. it was only you and spencer in the middle of a dimly lit street, and it was all you've ever wanted.

you pulled away hesitantly and he smiled at you. neither of you said a word but no words needed to be said. you knew this was bound to happen.

you don’t have to pretend anymore.

“what about the whole dating coworkers thing?”, you teased as you pulled on his tie.

“quiet now”

“make me”

“i don’t think that’s a challenge you’ll win”

you hit his shoulder and he raised his hands in mock defense.

[taurussbabe]

give you my wild, give you a child

note: it's been so long since i've posted anything, missing posting and you guys, so here it is a charles fic 🎀🫶 word count: 1,3 k

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. This is it. You were pregnant, you were going to have a baby, with charles. The adrenaline of the situation got to you and you started crying. Your heard immediately thought ‘hormones’ following by a thought of the amount of times you were going to be able to use that excuse. You laughed at that, but also laughed of happiness, your hand coming to rest on your stomach as you looked down.

“hi baby” you whispered ever so gently.

You wanted to tell charles, you wished he was here, next to you, but he wasn’t, he was in Italy. This weekend was going to be special for charles, it was monza, everyone knew how much monza meant to Ferrari. You though about calling him but decided against it, after all, it could affect his racing or his focus and that was the last thing you wanted.

Keeping it a secret from him was harder than you expected, every time he’d call, you had to bite your tongue not to say it. You had decided you were going to plan something special, not telling him over the phone.

-

You sat on your couch watching the race, on the edge of your seat, charles had managed to snatch P2 yesterday and you were so proud of him, but you knew he wanted more. Luckily for him, the monza curse struck again and Verstappen had to retire the race, leaving your boyfriend in P1.

You didn’t want to get very excited because it was Ferrari, a simple strategy mistake and charles could loose the highest place on the podium, but he didn’t. you watched proudly as you boyfriend lifted his champagne bottle, spraying all the tifosi there watching him.

-

You had tried to stay awake till he got home, but sleep got the best of you, because when you woke up, you were no longer in your couch, wrapped around your blanket, you were in bed, charles arm wrapped around your waist, his hand stroking you back and his eyes glued to yours.

“good morning, mon ange” he whispered and you swore you felt butterflies in your tummy, you wondered if the baby feels it too, or something like that.

“good morning, I’m so proud of you, like bursting out of pride” you kissed him fearlessly, pouring out every bit of your love for him

“wow, if you’re like this when I win, then I should win more often” he joked “did you watch me?”

“of course I did, you were so great” you placed your hand on your stomach but quickly realized your mistake and placed it on his cheek

He kissed you again before he quickly sat up “I am making YOU breakfast” he brushed your leg softly and disappeared down the hallway.

After eating breakfast, you were going to finally tell him, but he had other ideas “I’m gonna shower, I didn’t do it last night because you were asleep, but I smell like champagne” he gave you a peck on your lips and left without saying another word.

-

You heard the shower stop as you sat anxiously on the bed, a small box next to you. He finally came out of the shower and you couldn’t help but eye him up and down, I mean, the guy looked like a Greek god, water still dripping and his chest fully exposed with a towel hanging around his hips

“oh, I didn’t know you were here” he leaned down to kiss the top of your head “are you ok? What is that?” he pointed to the box

“sit” you said seriously and he chuckled gently before realizing your tone was serious and sitting down, his face immediately dropping

“are you ok?” he grabbed your hands and gave them a tight squeeze “please talk to me”

“I have something for you” you handed him the box, and watched closely his reaction while opening it

Inside, he found a small Ferrari onesie with the name Leclerc on the back. You hoped for any kind of reaction, anything really, but he only smiled at you.

“aw, you bought something for Chiara? It’s cute but I think it’s a bit too small for her” he said and you were a bit incredulous how he didn’t got it but still managed to pull a laugh at his assumption that it was for his best friend’s baby.

That was the thing with charles though, no matter how scared or nervous you were, he always found a way to make you laugh, and you loved it.

“the thing is.. this is not for Chiara” you placed his hand on your stomach and a tear escaped your eyes

“wait.. really?” he asked, his eyes getting full of tears now “like, really?” those were the only words coming out of his mouth and honestly you couldn’t judge because you couldn’t say anything, you could only nod at him

Next thing you know, charles was pulling you in for a kiss, one that left you breathless. He picked you up and spun you around, pulling you up so your legs wrapped around him. Both of your hands came to his face and cleaned the few tears that laid on his cheeks and he mimicked your movements by kissing every inch of your cheeks til there was no tears

“Are you sure?” he asked and you climbed out of his arms to show him the test you had in your bag

“pretty sure” you both stayed still for a moment, this was going to happen, you and charles were going to be parents. As you both started to realize this, you couldn’t help but wonder how you had gotten so lucky in life. “Are you happy?”

He took a few steps in your direction and pulled you in close to him, close enough that you could feel in breath on you “of course I am, you make me the happiest, I love you so much, mon amour, and I promise, I will be the best father”

“I know” you whispered, only loud enough so he could hear.

“no, I mean it, I’m gonna be the best, I’ll always be there and I’ll never, EVER, gonna let anything happen to the two of you, ever, you’re my world” he walked with you so your back fell into the mattress, his fingers playing with the hem of your (his) shirt, lifting it up enough so that he could see your belly, reaching to touch it, kneeling in front of you, his lips connecting with your stomach, whispering something to the baby, something you couldn’t even hear yourself. You immediately started crying when you saw him shed a tear, him immediately rising up to his feet, his hands on your shoulders “why are you crying? Are you okay, mon ange?”

“Yes, yes, I just… I was so scared of how you were going to react and… you know” you moved your hands around, stopping when he started laughing. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re adorable, and I love you too much” you simply smiled and let him kiss you, for a second there you forgot he was still in a towel and just realized how gorgeous and hot the man in front of you was, you must have been staring because you noticed him smirking at you, kissing you, letting his hands wonder around you, but you couldn’t help but notice how he was being a little more careful with you, too careful.

“what are you doing?” you pulled back

“kissing you…I’m sorry, did I misread the signs?”

“no, I want this” you point up and down at him “but I don’t want you to hold back”

“I’m sorry, I’m just scared to hurt you or the baby” you smiled fondly at him and kissed his jaw

“that’s cute, but I want you, and I don’t want you told back, please”

“I won’t, then” he picked you up, his towel dropping when he got the both of you in the bedroom. You didn’t know why you were so scared, this was charles, it was always going to be okay”

[loveshotzz]

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Melt With You

summary: A cancelled movie night, Steve’s first high, and a realization you weren’t expecting.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: my blog is 18+ but this will be pretty safe for work. takes place in 1988 when Elvira Mistress of the Dark came out. post season four but no mention of the upside down, fem!reader, mentions of weed smoking, mentions of being stoned and being high for the first time, mutual pining, cuddling.

A/N: first I want to dedicate this to @bewilderedbunny for pointing out that Steve Harrington is Bob coded which made me fall even more in love with him. You can also thank @dr-aculaaa for putting this brain worm in my head where it spiraled and then she entertained it again and it spiraled some more. p.s. I know her movie macabre was cancelled in 86 but brought back in the 90’s but let’s pretend.

mini series masterlist -> chapter two 🎃

Steve was close. Too close.

His thigh is warm pressed against yours, long legs spread wide taking up most of the room on the couch. The cedar that clings to the threads of his maroon sweater mix with the old spice that he’s almost sprayed too much of, and you’re surprised at how much you actually like it. You blame it on the joint you both shared, and you do it again when his socked foot touches yours from under the blanket draped across your laps and your heart rate kicks up a few beats. This was just Steve, your new friend. Eddie’s new unlikely friend.

The living room in your apartment is dimly lit in a mess of Halloween colored string lights strung up along your walls that Eddie helped you hang up last week on the first official day of fall. They fill the small space in bursts of warm orange pumpkins and tiny purple bats while Elvira Mistress of The Dark glows from the screen of your TV in front of your couch. The couch where Steve is still sitting too close. 

The flicker of your candles dances across your walls and you’re tempted to blow them all out when they keep catching the corner of your eye. Maybe that's why you can't focus on the movie you were so excited about. The movie you raised a big fuss over when the group canceled your weekly night in favor of dates and work. The movie Steve still offered to watch with you saying he had no plans anyway. You really contemplate it when you realize it’s filling your living room with the kind of smell that’s eerily similar to the one embedded in the leather of the BMW you recently started getting more rides in.

When Steve laughs you can smell the berry on his breath from the Red Vines he can’t stop eating, his fingertips glisten from the half finished tub of popcorn on the coffee table. His arm brushes the length of yours when he leans forward to toss the almost empty pack of candy with the rest of the snacks and your stare immediately finds the sliver of tan skin revealed to you when the maroon hem rides up. Stomach flipping when you spot more freckles than the ones that seem to dot the endless expanses of his perpetually sun kissed skin. 

“Wow, she’s funny!” He snickers like he just got a good surprise, leaning back into the cushions. “I didn’t know she was so funny.”

The shift in his weight makes the couch dip, bringing you closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Why is your chest tight?

Turning your head, you meet his blood shot, heavy lidded gaze and lazy smile that pushes up his pink cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve Harrington so content. So relaxed. It might have something to do with the fact that the joint you both shared was his first.

“Beauty, humor and brains? How could you go wrong?” You grin and it makes the amber in his eyes light up.

“Yeah,” He stares at you for a second longer than he’d have the guts to on a normal day before adding with a sigh “tell me about it.”

There was something different about the way he was looking at you tonight, and it makes your palms sweat. The fly away honey strands that stick out wildly by his ears look softer than normal too. Why do you want to find out? Clearing your throat, he raises his eyebrows up at you in an unphased offering of his attention.

“How are you doing big boy? You coughed quite a bit earlier.” His gaze narrows at the nickname letting you know that Steve was still very much in there.

“I think it’s perfectly normal for someone who hasn’t smoked before to cough when they take an accidental big hit,” he challenges, his sock covered toes finding yours again seemingly on their own, “and to answer your rudely asked question, I’m having a very nice time.”

He tries to keep his face straight but the smile that stretches a mile wide across yours makes him snort, the whites of his perfect teeth blinding in the dark when you wiggle your feet with his. 

“Good, I wouldn’t want Robin to come hunt me down or something.” You giggle leaning back letting your own high relax you into the couch.

Your eyes find Elvira’s generous cleavage on the screen as you try to ignore the feeling of Steve’s hand touching yours when he scratches his thigh and again when he leaves it there. 

“Robin won’t care, it’s Nance you gotta worry about. Worry wart Wheeler.” The nickname rolls off his tongue too easily and makes you both stop, letting the sounds of the towns committee trying to get Elvira out fill the silence before you both fall into a fit of laughter.

It was the kind of laughter that left hot tears streaming down your faces as you leaned even further into each other trying to catch your breath, only for one of you to mutter ‘worry wart wheeler’ when the other would finally be holding it together just to start all over again. By the time it was done, and the last few chuckles subsided, his head had found a new home on your shoulder with his forehead buried in the crook of your neck. 

The smell of his hairspray, and the soft flyaways you’d wondered about tickle your nose with his hair pressed to your cheek. Your socked feet stay tangled together as you try not to think about the size difference and that stupid saying you’d heard in middle school, and you definitely try not to think about how the tip of his pinky bumps into the side of your hand and how you don’t hesitate to hook it with yours.

Cozy. Too Cozy.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you both when your attention is finally brought back to the movie and you wonder if he’s having the same existential crisis as you at how good this feels. Eddie would never let you live it down. You and the hair?! Steve’s amused hum breaks you out of your train of thought and you already know you’ll have to watch this again when you aren’t so…distracted. 

Elvira and Bob are fighting with a monster she accidentally concocted inside of a pot instead of the casserole she was trying to make, and his finger tightens around yours when Bob almost loses the fight before he shakes against you with a chuckle. The longer the movie goes on, the more you start noticing Steve’s similarities to the hunk who stole the Mistress of the Dark’s affections, mumbling an ‘oh my god’.

God dammit, you have a crush on Steve Harrington.

The weed makes the realization floor you more than it probably would on a normal day, because you aren’t blind, anyone could tell you how handsome the former king of Hawkins is. But no one could have warned you about how soft he is, especially right now with sleepy eyes and messy hair that smells like pine and too much hair product. They wouldn’t be able to tell you how big of a dweeb he is, or as Robin affectionately calls him a ‘dingus’. They also don’t know how good of a friend he is to anyone who’s lucky to have him, like refusing to let you spend the night alone and watching a movie he knew you were excited about just because he’d actually listened when you talked about it for weeks, even saving you the first copy in Keith’s possession. 

Too bad you’ve barely retained any of it. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, you feel the slight turn of his head and the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. You try not to give yourself away and keep your gaze locked on the TV where the town has Elvira ready to be burned at the stake, and Bob has to rescue her. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, the universe just rubbing it in now. 

The side of your body he’s been leaning against starts to go numb, and no matter how much you want to stay exactly like this for whatever is left of the night, the need for circulation becomes too much. Your eyes flick down to his that haven’t haven’t wavered and that slow happy smile spreads across his pink lips when they meet. 

“You doing okay, honey.” The nickname he’s called you sarcastically in arguments sounds different when it’s wrapped in affection like this. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying -,” nerves make your throat close up and you have to clear them out before you finish, “not that I’m not enjoying this. My arm is just kind of going numb.”

Heat rises to your cheeks with embarrassment that you know is misplaced, and his eyes go wide when your words click. His reaction is fast despite the smoked joint that's snuffed out in an empty coke can on the table when he pulls away. The warmth of his body that’s invaded what feels like every inch of yours for the last hour is gone and the tightness in your chest worsens now that you miss it. Stupid crush. Stupid blood flow. 

“Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I was just so comfortable I wasn’t even thinking.” There’s stress in his tone that you haven’t heard all night and you decide that you hate it, he’s always stressed.

“Hey,” Your fingers curl around his bicep, and it flexes under the thick material of his sweater when his eyes meet yours, making you forget how to speak for a moment, “if we lay down on our sides we’ll - we’ll be more comfortable?” 

Your heart beats loud in your ears after you throw out your suggestion fully knowing there’s gotta be less than twenty minutes left of the movie at most. 

“Yeah, we can do that, like, big spoon?” He points to himself, with eyes as red as his cheeks before pointing to you with a small grin, “little spoon?”

You bite your bottom lip to contain the smile that threatens to break across your face, and it only makes his grow. 

“Yeah, just like that Harrington.” You giggle and you don’t miss the kind of glint in his eyes that sparkles because of it.

“Harrington? I thought I was big boy?” He mocks with fake offense, clumsily clambering back onto the couch letting himself fully extend.

His socked feet almost hang off the armrest but the problem is quickly solved when he turns onto his side leaving just enough room for you. One of his big hands patting the cushions in an invitation that makes you both laugh. 

“I thought you hated that nickname?” you tease, butterflies that never existed before erupting when he watches you with soft eyes climb into the spot next to him.

Your head lands in the crook of his elbow, amber and spice enveloping you while one of his long fingers curl around your hip not hesitating to pull you flush against his chest like he missed you. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a wandering mind tonight. 

“I don’t,” he agrees, lips coming up right next to your ear and you wonder if he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, “but I kinda like it when you say it.”

Your body curls into him when you giggle with a throb in your core that makes your thighs press together. Steve chuckles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his feet find yours at the end of the couch like they did under the blanket. Grabbing the throw off the floor, you drape it back over the two of you when you both finally get situated. 

He feels like he’s everywhere and it’s even harder to concentrate like this, especially when all his fingers are laced with yours now. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on the top of your hand, and you can feel the way his cheeks push up into a grin every time something makes him laugh. You spend the last bit of what’s left of the movie tangled up with him like this, and neither one of you try to move when the credits roll or when the screen goes black. 

The air buzzes with the kind of tension that’s laid dormant until there’s nothing to distract you from it anymore in the new silence. His breath fans hot across your neck while the strokes of his thumb get slower, adding a little more pressure to the muscle there, and feels good enough to have your eyes flutter closed. 

Maybe it’s the darkness of your living room, or the way the tip of his nose starts to trace the shell of your ear but you get the surge of confidence you need to turn around and face him. Steve doesn’t protest at all, letting you move with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was waiting for it all along. The small smile on his face tells you he absolutely was.

The new angle has you looking up at him from under your lashes, while his hand that held yours all night covers the middle of your back bringing you to his chest, getting you just as close as before. Your legs slot together while warm lights flicker across his face, they bounce and reflect off the lingering glaze that coats his eyes. Embers burning in a mossy ground. 

It starts to feel like Steve Harrington wants to kiss you, and you’d be lying if your said you didn’t want him too.

“Hi” You whisper, the corners of your lips pulling up because they can’t help it when he looks at you like this.

“Hi” the rich honey of his voice comes out low as he dips his head down to rest on his forearm right above yours.

The tips of your noses are dangerously close to touching, and you swear you hear his breath hitch when your feet find his again. Holding his gaze, you silently dare him to read your mind so you don’t have to say it out loud. You do it first.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You try not to think about how it sounds like something you’d say at the end of a date.

“Me too, I’m uh -“ a puff of hot air fans across your face when he laughs, and you notice his first sign of nerves all night, “I’m glad I didn’t make a fool of myself or anything.” 

“I have to say I’m impressed, you handled your first joint like a pro.” Your hands dare to run up his chest, plucking a piece of lint from the threads of his sweater. You feel the way the muscles in his stomach flex for you, and you have to bite back your smirk.

“I had good company is all.” He hums, the blunt ends of his nails scratching along the dip of your back, before whispering “Is this okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut with contentment you haven’t felt in a while, your whole body melting into his with a mumbled ‘mmmhm’

“Does Elvira have any other movies we could watch sometime?” His question makes your eyes pop open, and he tries to look as nonchalant as possible before adding, “you know just me and you.”

“Not a movie, per say but she has a show I like to watch where she does funny commentary on B rated horror films.” Your two feet trap one of his between them playfully to try and ease the nerves he shouldn’t have, earning you that megawatt smile that’s made half the ladies in Hawkins swoon. 

So, Steve Harrington wasn’t a mind reader.

“That sounds like fun,” He lets out a relieved sigh that you didn’t know he was holding, close enough now for your noses to touch.

“Yeah? You wanna come have fun with me?” You tease, but it comes out sounding like a double entendre that makes your skin heat up, especially when Steve closes his eyes and groans. The nails that scratch your back freeze as he tries regaining some semblance of self control. Licking his lips, he exhales a breath out of his nose before he speaks,

“Abso-“

His answer gets cut off by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the bellowing voice of the only other person who has keys to your apartment.

“I’ve come for boobies and I brought beer! Better late than never am I ri- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, what is going on here?” Eddie’s shock is quickly replaced by amusement, dimples poking deep holes in his cheeks when he grins wildly as he takes in the two of you on the couch.

What was going on here?

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Of All Things, I Became an Aranara

You always imagined that if you woke up in the world of Genshin, the possibilities of being a Visionless wielder of elements and a slew of romantic shenanigans would lie in your wake. But when you instead find yourself in the body of an Aranara with romance likely out of the question, your only conclusion is that the gods of reincarnation isekai hate your guts.

cw. you're an aranara

pairing. scaramouche/wanderer x reader, cyno x reader, kaveh x reader, candace x reader (separate)

notes. don't feel like being an aranara today? well go ahead and go to the series masterlist and see what your life could be if you were something else in genshin.

While you would have preferred being human, you have to admit there are few things better than turning into an Aranara. You've most assuredly been given Genshin non-humanoid pretty privilege with beautiful powers concerning plants and dreams to boot.

An even bigger benefit is that you can talk, so communicating with humans in this world will be a cinch.

The only thing you can really complain about now is that you aren't really able to handle salt and spices the way you used to. But to be honest, if that's the only thing you have to complain about, you'll gladly settle with being one of the musically-inclined leaf children of the rainforest.

All of whom are your friends despite the predicament you've found yourself in. You may have technically lost the isekai 50/50 but you feel like you've won in a lot of ways too.

Scaramouche

Ironically enough he was one of the easiest individuals on the list to befriend. Why? You met him when his memories were completely reset to zero and he had a much more sweet and calm demeanor

Considering the sharp-tongue Scaramouche you're used to, it honestly gave you whiplash

Still, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the guy, bright eyed and full of wonder. It was the constant abandonments and perceived abandonments that turned Scara into the person he came

You accompany him when he regains his memories, after which he assumes that now you know the extent of his true character and the things he's done that you'll leave him now. he even encourages you to do so, shooing you away

you plopping your small self across his shoulder and telling him he's your best friend means a lot to him, even if he tells you in response that you're an idiot but you can do as you wish

Before and after regaining his memories, Scara is very clingy. Before regaining them, he slept with you nestled to his chest much like a child would a teddy bear. Afterwards, he considers it too soft and embarrassing to do so but if you snuggle up against him well, he won't stop you

Once you got lost while exploring and when you didn't come back within the time he expected you to, he grew quite panicked and nearly turned the entire forest upside down trying to find you

When he did, you were promptly scolded for making him have to look for you. What's the matter with you? Don't go traveling somewhere unfamiliar or you'll just make him have to waste time backtracking to look for you

(He was scared that you had gotten eaten or hurt or worse, that you decided to no longer travel with him, leaving him to be alone all over again)

Whenever he has nightmares, you turn his dreams into ones much happier. He tells you to stay out of his head but he appreciates the fanciful worlds you craft for him

You're also quite handy when he needs to avoid his new fanbase from the Akademiya. Taking him to the dream world to avoid talking to people is quite a useful trick of yours

But as it turns out, Scaramouche is quite popular with the Aranara and they all love to indulge him. So you kinda have some competition

You can't believe you're actually getting jealous of Aranaras. Wow, how the mighty have fallen

Cyno

A son of the desert who grew up in the rainforest, Cyno heard of stories regarding the Aranara but he never thought they'd be real. But as far as he is concerned, you're as much a citizen of Sumeru as he is

So Cyno quickly rolls with the punches and treats you accordingly with respect. Talk about a win!

But as far as you being a travel companion? Cyno isn't entirely sure since his work concerns apprehending wayward scholars and their affiliates. It's dangerous, so unless you can prove yourself to be sturdy enough to protect yourself, he'll tell discourage you from following him

Of course, he can't rightly force a creature of Dendro and dreams from doing that anyway if you stubbornly continue on with him

Thankfully, you can set his worries aside when you show not only are you adorable, but resourceful, using your powers of Dendro to apprehend criminals attempting to flee the scene when Cyno arrives (all while staying hidden in the realm of dreams. You're not trying to put a target on the back of every Aranara after all)

That aside, you don't really have any troubles with Cyno. When he rests by campfire, he will make sure you stay a comfortable distance from the flames and will teach you about GI TCG and will even tell you a joke or two (or three)

Cyno is a reliable companion. He'll protect you if you are under his protection but he doesn't make you feel less than because you're not human either

But when he isn't in work mode, he is very sweet and even let's you wear his headdress from time to time as long as you are careful with it. In return you place flower crowns atop his head

Is another protective companion. As one brought from the desert to the rainforest for the sake of experiments, Cyno knows what could happen should those at the Akademiya find out that Aranaras are more than just a tale for children

So he always makes sure you aren't sighted by those he cannot trust

Kaveh

Meeting Kaveh was a bit of an accident as you had to help disentangle from a mess of vines

For someone blessed with the power of Dendro, he isn't really one who naturally has an affinity for plants

As such, he is embarrassed when you find him in this situation. Embarrassed and quite amazed to find out that Aranara aren't just stories. One getting him out of a mess like this isn't really how Kaveh ever imagined meeting one back when he was a child

That aside, Kaveh straightens himself out, thanks you and honestly he tries to be polite about it but he has plenty of questions about your being an Aranara that you can't really answer outside of lore you got from the game

You tell him that you'll look out for him when he is prancing about the rainforest so he can avoid these sorts of mishaps in the future which he insists is unnecessary

But you're not trying to be stuck living in nature forever, you want to make sure you have guaranteed safety. It also helps that if you're going to attach yourself to a human in the game, they aren't just some random NPC. A player character comes with a certain level of stability you appreciate

Kaveh's too good an opportunity to pass up and Mehrak is quite cute too. Win-win situation

Out of everyone here though sadly, Kaveh treats you most like a pet. Something no one wants to get from a hot guy even if you understand why he treats you so

At least he gives you plenty of sweets to eat?

You become a surprising point of comfort for Kaveh when he grows frustrated with his roommate. You tend to use your powers of Dendro to weave flowers through his hair during those moments and listen when he vents

You think his kindness does him more harm than good and that he tends to be his worst critic, so you tell Kaveh to be kinder to himself

Candace

A desert really isn't the place for an Aranara but you stubbornly decided to try your luck at it anyway against your better judgement (and the advice of your fellow Aranara)

But a couple of near death experiences aside, you think you made a good decision when you get to Aaru Village. The children there are very sweet and fascinated by you, having never seen an Aranara themselves

So you become quite popular among them, making them all sweet dreams and becoming a sort of... Guardian, one might say

You also help maintain the few plantlife of Aaru Village from Sabbah's flowers to the ajilenakh trees

It isn't much work but it's honest work

Candace thought nothing of it, thinking it was cute for the children of the village to have something to talk about

Then she ran into you trying (and failing) to get some food from the storage and that is how you were discovered by the actual Guardian of Aaru Village

Despite that little mishap, Candace is sweet to you and presents to you the same rules she gives all guests of Aaru. She also appreciates you helping with the children

So she doesn't disagree when you label yourselves as a sort of duo protecting everyone in different ways

Candace seldom has time to rest or enjoy any sort of personal time, so you try to be her invisible company in the day and you pester her to take breaks

You'd threaten to keep her contained in vines to make her take a break but you know she is infinitely stronger than your own abilities

How else can she fight monsters for hours at a time without tiring?

Still if you're at that level of desperate to make her rest, Candace promises to take more breaks along the day and rely more on her fellow guards

[diremoone]

princess gone… pirate?

a brief jump back onto the jjk bandwagon lol. i couldn’t get this blurby idea out of my head. but wow this turned out longer than i expected??

Imagine the famed Pirates! Gojo and Geto getting the shock of their lives one day when the princess they were hired to kidnap for another kingdom ends up a stowaway on their ship.

They’re immediately confused just as much as they are sympathetic to your plight once you admit your situation to them and how you got onto their ship.

But the last thing they expected was to hear that you were the one that put up the bounty on your own head.

Yeah, that would send anyone for a loop.

So you end up working for them, even after you give them the lump sum of money promised to them. You spend half a week in the kitchens and the other half on the deck cleaning, getting to know the way of the life of pirates fairly quickly. You even have their help fitting into clothes and word usage more suited to the lifestyle (the latter from Maki herself) of a pirate so no one recognizes you right off the bat.

You assimilate so well over the next few months that you’re far too busy to notice that the captains of the ship have taken a liking to you—a very deep liking, in fact. No longer are there just sparks between them, but they’re there for you as well.

And slowly, they begin to integrate themselves into your busy schedule (a schedule that gradually becomes less busy because no one can tell you off because you’re with their captains). They learn your favorite drink, favorite food, that you really aren’t a fan of any type of beverage that might get you drunk or gets anyone else drunk.

Every town they visit for stocking up on supplies, Suguru always brings you back a couple new books to read to cure boredom over the long trips and days at sea. He makes sure to keep a list of the ones he buys so he doesn’t accident them twice, or just in case you want to read the same book again but can’t remember the name.

Satoru always brings you new food to try when he’s sure that no one will recognize who you are, allowing you to experience things beyond what the cold castle walls gave you. He brings you to meet some of his friends and family that remain on the islands or other countries so they can get to know his future wife you better.

And in turn, you get to know them better. You know that Satoru has a sweet tooth for the ages, that Suguru likes to braid the hair of his adoptive girls and is very good at it, that the two have been together ever since they were teenagers and have been inseparable since.

Which is why you’ve thrown aside any possibilities with being romantically involved with either of them.

Unfortunately, it’s that little crevice of doubt that allows trouble to step in and strike, by the hands of none other that Naoya Zen’in himself: an infamous pirate that conquered an entire kingdom within a day and made himself the new ruler, plundering everything and making slaves of everyone as far as the country’s border reached.

That little seed of doubt is what allowed Naoya to capture you while gathering new supplies, taking you away from the two men that had sworn off war with other pirates—men that had sworn off war because it was what they knew best.

And while you knew that the two would come for you, as did Naoya, neither of you knew the utter carnage that would follow from your kidnapper’s mistake.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Clayton beresford x Female hockey player headcanons? Please and thank you!

CLAYTON BERESFORD X F!HOCKEY PLAYER HEADCANONS ⛸️

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort. THIS IS AWFULLY SHORT FOR SOMEONE LIKE ME

Author's note: I was never really interested in hockey so it was new to make. Although I hope I got everything, and if I made a mistake, please accept my dearest apologies. Also I got A LOT Clayton requests and wow..you guys are the best

Clayton Beresford who spotted you at the hockey game;

Clayton never imagined he'd find himself at a hockey game, let alone a women’s hockey match. His close friend had practically dragged him along, insisting he come to support his girlfriend, who played for the local team. Clayton agreed, more out of loyalty to his friend than any real interest in the sport.

The game was intense, fast-paced, and full of energy—much more exciting than Clayton had expected. But it wasn’t the speed of the players or the roar of the crowd that caught his attention; it was you. First, he caught a glimpse of your eyes.. somehow..and he felt something he for the long time had not felt at all. A fluttering feeling escaped through his body, unlocking the almost forgotten cell to butterflies that made him feel nervous with a deep hint of excitement

Gosh, he was there before and it didn't end well. He promised himself to stay away from women...yet he couldn't help this. He felt powerless to the feeling. His jaw tightened

He was a damn CEO, Clayton Beresford..yet he couldn't control his feelings..

"Nice game, huh?" His friend broke him out of his thoughts with a gathering pack of his cigarettes to the woman's disgust at their left

"Sir, you can not smoke in here" she said as the man hold back an eye roll

Clayton Beresford who the same night was introduced to you by his friend;

After the game, Clayton couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. As fate would have it, his friend introduced him to the team after the game. When it was your turn to shake his hand, Clayton was momentarily lost for words. Up close, you were even more impressive—strong, yet approachable, with a warmth in your eyes that contrasted with the fierce competitor he’d seen on the ice.

“You played an incredible game,” he finally managed to say, surprised by how genuinely he meant it. Although he made sure to tear his gaze away from you and quickly scann all the girls from your team, so it would look like he's talking about them all

“Thank you” you replied with a smile, feeling a weird fluttering in your chest

Gosh, you were there before..he's just a random man that happened to just squeeze your hand a bit too long and have this extremely handsome fa-- no, you promised yourself to never look at another man after things with Luca..you can't just fall for any other guy that just wanted to congratulate your team..you're better than that, y/n

Clayton Beresford who over the next few weeks, found excuses to attend more games. Each time, he stayed a little longer after the match, hoping for a chance to talk to you. And each time, you found yourself looking forward to seeing him again. There was something about him—his quiet confidence, his genuine interest in you as a person, not just as an athlete—that drew you in. Your conversations started simple, about the game or mutual friends, but soon they became more personal. Clayton was different from the usual crowd you attracted—more thoughtful, more introspective. He wasn’t intimidated by your success or your passion for hockey. Instead, he admired it, and that admiration slowly turned into something deeper.

Clayton Beresford who invited you to dinner (aka date) after months of relationship (just because he wasn't sure to trust you after an experience with Sam)

Clayton Beresford who after months of dating asked you to move to his penthouse

Clayton Beresford who was your number one, biggest fan. Always tried to appear at your every game and if he couldn't, which was very rare, he watched it on his computer during his work

Clayton Beresford who learned to love hockey, not just because of you, but because he saw how much it meant to you. And you, in turn, found yourself drawn into his world, supporting his endeavors with the same passion he showed for your career.

Clayton Beresford whose gentle, nurturing nature was the perfect counterbalance to your fiery determination on ice. He admired your determination and strength, while you appreciated his thoughtfulness and stability.

Clayton Beresford who had with you a special game-day ritual. Before every match, Clayton (sometimes..but often) made love to you in hotel room..just a quick stress reveal session;

Clay's lips devour yours, hungrily returning the passionate kiss as he presses you against the wall, his hands wandering your body possessively "you're gonna play good for me, right baby?"

"mhm--wanna make you proud"

Clay's lips trail down your throat, leaving a trail of fiery kisses, when he murmurs against your skin "I will be, I promise... just give me everything you've got...but I'm already the proudest I could be" his tone breathless

You grabbed his curls, pulling on them slightly as he thrusted into your tight entrance in and out

He groaned so sinfully after deepened kiss, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts deeper, hitting that sweet spot "you'll make me so proud, baby. my perfect little athlete..."

His words did not help with overtaking feeling you felt that made you almost surrender to it to the point your eyes closed

his hips snapping against yours with a fierce intensity "open your eyes, baby... I want to see those pretty eyes when you come undone for me..."

"its--its hard--"

He smirks against your lips, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he reaches around and grabs your ass, pulling you closer to him "i know..but look at me, baby... I need to see those pretty eyes"

he lets out a low groan as he feels you give in to him, his hips never stopped moving as he continues driving into you "yes, baby-fuck, just like that...ya can feel how close you're making me feel, hm?"

just as you were about to speak, clay covers your mouth with his hand, his thumb pressing against your plump, almost swollen lower lip "shhh, baby...save it for when I tell you to scream."

Clayton Beresford who, after particularly tough games, takes charge of your recovery at home. He’ll run a hot bath, prepare a meal, and make sure you get a massage to ease your muscles.

Clayton Beresford who is your emotional anchor when things get intense or when the pressure gets too much

Clayton Beresford who often works out with you (mostly in the mornings). Whether it’s hitting the gym or going for runs. Although not always he wants to, his more of a guy who could sleep all day and waking up around 6am only to exercise is..not really pleasing for him

Clayton Beresford who has accepted this part of your life where you love the cold and winter sports. For him it wasn't so shocking (although he prefers more warm weather). But still, you two often go on winter getaways to ski resorts, where you spend time skiing, snowboarding, and enjoying cozy evenings by the fireplace.

Clayton Beresford who's there for you during recovery (when you're injured and etc). He's really helping you to stay positive during this time and ensuring you have everything you need

Clayton Beresford who often took you out for small (or bigger) dates in your both free schedule

Clayton Beresford who absolutely loved to tease you about most of the things

Clayton Beresford who often searched comfort in your presence

Clayton Beresford who once surprised you with custom-made hockey gear. He collaborated with a designer to create equipment that was not only high-quality but also personalized with little details that meant something to both of you—like your initials intertwined with his, or a small symbol representing your relationship engraved on the inside.

Clayton Beresford who has a special tradition for celebrating your victories. After every big win, he takes you to your favorite spot in the city—whether it’s a cozy café, a scenic overlook, or a hidden gem of a restaurant—where you can relax and bask in the glow of your success together. And if your team lose, he tries to keep you positive, not overthink it much and focus on what's important.

Clayton Beresford who is a soft dom (obviously) however he loves watching you ride him. Struggling sometimes to accommodate his thick member in your tight core

Clayton Beresford who you visit on random days at his workplace out of boredom

Clayton Beresford who proudly wears the jersey with your number during games

Clayton Beresford who often got irritated at paparazzi that usually follow you two when you're in public, as people that just want to spend time with each other outside the shared walls

Clayton Beresford who saw you create a memory box filled with mementos from relationship with him—ticket stubs from your first game, photos, small gifts you’ve given each other, and even a few of those pre-game pep talk notes.

Clayton Beresford who's really on making expensive vacation in only high-quality places

Clayton Beresford who bought you expensive gifts

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @fuckmyskywalker

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[faefictions]

Hospital Meet Cute

Eddie Munson x Reader

3.3k words

“What are you in for?”

They were the first words that had been spoken directly to you for what felt like hours. The bright white of the room and the smell of cleaner was overwhelming enough, but you were nursing a headache that was beginning to really worry you. In all honesty, you probably should have been rushed back to be examined the second you arrived to the hospital, but it had been well over an hour wait now with no end in sight. 

You looked to your right, where the boy who had spoken was sitting and looking at you. He looked almost as bad as you, a bloody nose that you assumed was broken, a split lip, and a black eye just beginning to darken. You were almost too exhausted to answer him at all, but what you could muster came out much more rude than you had intended. 

“Can’t be sure until they actually get me checked out,” you sighed, checking the time on the wall yet again. Only 15 seconds had passed since the last time you glanced, it was still nearing midnight, your bad day hadn’t yet ended. 

“How long have you been here?” 

You really looked at him this time. He was young, maybe around your age, give or take a couple years. His eyes were brown and his hair was long and curly, much longer than the men in your hometown. He was calm, calmer than you would have been if you looked like him. Hell, for all you knew, you did look like him, and you had been fighting off tears the entire drive here. But this guy was sitting there like he was a regular in the waiting room, and you sat there clueless to what town you were even in. 

“I’m not sure when I got here, but its been more than an hour at least. Maybe two now.” 

“They’re really off their game tonight,” he said, almost under his breath as he sat up to look behind the desk. You were staring to think maybe you were right about him being a regular here. 

“I think you misunderstood my question though,” he smiled at you as he sat back down, “I’m looking for the dirt, the juicy stuff. The how more than the why.”

His smile was charming, but his happy go lucky demeanor was going to get old fast. You had a feeling that ignoring him wouldn’t do much though, and you could use a break from staring at the clock. 

“Well it’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Hurts like a bitch though. Your nose doing ok?”

“Yeah, probably not broken. It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as last time I broke it, so we’re probably in the clear.” 

“Glad to hear it,” you chuckled. You had never seen someone in such a good mood with blood actively dripping down their face. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

“No, I usually respect the privacy of strangers that I met less than a minute ago.”

“I’m Eddie, now I’m not a stranger.”

“That’s not how that works,” you smiled incredulously. 

“Sure it is! And if you tell me your name, you won’t be a stranger to me. And it’s been more than a minute now, so I think that means we’re in the clear.” 

“You are ridiculous.” 

“I get that a lot, but I didn’t hear an introduction anywhere in that insult.” 

“I’m y/n.” 

He extended a hand, and you hesitated for a second before offering your opposite hand as a compromise. It took him a second to decipher why you raised the wrong hand, but when he look down to your left wrist, he could see the bruising. 

“So, you gonna ask now?”

“No,” you chuckled at his persistence. 

“Damn. Well I was just going to tell you not to worry your pretty little head about it anyway so I guess it all worked out.” 

“Wow. Are you always this charming?”

“You think I’m charming?” he smiled at you, and you half expected to find a missing tooth among his pearly whites, but his teeth seemed to remain one of the only parts of his body unscathed. 

“You’re a bit of an ass. That’s about it.”

“And you’re just a ray of sunshine.” 

“Well sorry for not being so chipper after…” you paused as you were about to reveal what your night had entailed, but shot a look at him before you could, “Damn, you almost got me.” 

“That was a close one,” he smiled mischievously. You couldn’t help but admit that you really liked this guy. He was nicer than the people in your hometown, and the way he dressed was a beacon for someone like you. 

You figured if you told him what had happened, it wouldn’t be as surprising to him as it would be to someone else. The kids in your town had been terrorizing you since kindergarten. The town freak since the ripe age of 5. Things had been getting progressively worse since your father died back in ’79. Now with no mother or father, you no longer had anything in common with the kids in your school. You thought the bullying would stop after high school, but you were wrong. You learned that leaving town altogether was your only hope. 

That is what you had been doing. Your car was packed to the brim with your belongings, and you were set on your way for a small town about an hour away. Far enough for a new beginning, but close enough to not terrify you. Halfway through the drive, you noticed the car behind you getting a little too close for comfort. The sun had just set, but you still recognized the car. It belonged to the boyfriend of a girl that had led the crusade against you in high school, the one person you were most thankful to get away from. You knew if he was driving behind you, she was in the passenger seat, and their friends were probably packed into the back. Whatever they had planned wasn’t going to be good and you were starting to get nervous. 

They started to tailgate you, and you did your best to keep your speed steady. If they rear ended you, that was their problem not yours. But your sentiment quickly changed when you realized that there was no one else on the road. If they forced you to stop, it would just be them against you, and you were worried that that was the plan all along. So you sped up. 

You rode for a couple miles with them on your ass, speeding almost 20 over the limit, hoping to come across some traffic and a well lit stop to get them to pass. But before you could reach your safe haven, they had pulled up beside you. The last thing you remembered was her smiling at you before running into the side of your car. 

They must have sped off, not even stopping to see if you were alive, because when you woke up you were alone on the road again. You could see the lights of a town maybe a mile up the road, and with your car now totaled, your only hope was to walk the rest of the way. 

You hadn’t told the ladies behind the desk about the severity of your situation. You just told them you got into a little accident. You were regretting that now, knowing that if you told them you were ran off the road and had to walk to the hospital after coming to in a totaled car, you probably would have been seen by now. 

“Do you want me to get you something cold for your arm? It looks like it’s staring to swell.”

You glanced down to your left arm again, and he was right. You still weren’t sure what was broken and what just ached. Your adrenaline was pumping during the walk here, but you didn’t feel an ounce of it anymore. 

“That would be lovely, but where are you going to get something cold in the waiting room.” 

“I know my way around,” he winked before getting up and leaving you for a moment. He returned a minute later with an ice cold can of soda.

“Come here often?” you chuckled as you took the can and rested against the tight skin on your wrist. 

“Yeah, actually. I’m on a first name basis with a majority of the staff at this point. Especially the ones who work the weekends.”

“What, are you more accident prone on a Saturday?”

“Oh, darlin, you really think I bruised myself up this good? Nah, not even I’m that talented.”

“You really want to tell me what happened, don’t you?” 

“Only so you’re trapped into telling me what happened to you. No offense, but you look like you’ve gone to Hell and back, and I would love for you to feed into my morbid curiosity.” 

“Then you can keep your secrets,” you smirked at him, and glanced back to the clock. Somehow, 10 minutes had passed. You had begun to convince yourself that you had entered purgatory before you starting speaking to Eddie. It felt like time was never going to progress, and you were going to be stuck waiting for medical attention for the rest of eternity. 

Eddie was about to speak up, but before he could open his smart ass mouth, the doors of the entrance slid open and he glanced behind him to see whose shoes were squeaking as they made their way to you. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. The smirk was wiped off your face when you turned to see a tall man in a police uniform approaching the two of you. 

“Hopper, to what do I owe the pleasure,” Eddie tried to joke. To you, he was clearly nervous, but you thought he hid it well. 

“I’m not here for you this time Munson. But better safe than sorry, you should stick around for a quick word after this,” The officer spoke gruffly, coming off like a disappointed father, “Are you y/n l/n?” 

Your heart dropped. You had never been good with authority figures. Whether it be teacher, principles, security guards, or cops. You were always on the butt end of a bad situation, and you learned from a young age that not even finding an adult could save you. No one was ever on your side. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you replied, barely above a whisper and unable to look back up at him. 

“Thank god,” you heard him grumble under his breath, “Are you aware that your car is on fire a mile up the road?”

“Oh, it just wouldn’t start when I left it.” 

Eddie was soaking up the conversation, looking between you and Hopper like it was a tennis match. It was the entertainment he had been hoping for to distract him from the third time he had been in a fight this month. This time he truly did have himself to blame, after saying something he really shouldn’t have to a man much bigger than him after a show at the Hideout. But as he began to piece the puzzle together, he was growing more concerned for you. 

“You mind telling me what happened to your car? Or how you got here?,” Hopper’s head quickly swiveled to Eddie, “Did you drive her?” 

Eddie just shook his head and glanced at you. He could see your eyes staring to water now, and something in him hated the sight. He reached out and grabbed your good hand, hoping to offer some kind of support or comfort, whichever you needed more. 

“I walked.” 

“And you were in the car when it flipped?”

Your head shot up, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“It flipped?” 

To the best of your recollection, you just swerved off the side of the road. Honestly, you weren’t thinking straight, because there was no reason for you passing out and totaling your car if you had simply swerved. 

“It did. There wasn’t anyone else in the car right?”

“No… Just everything I own.” you scoffed as the weight of the situation really sunk in. This brought a whole new meaning to your “new beginning” idea. There was no fresher start than one with nothing from your past. 

“How long have you been here?” 

You were too stuck in your own thoughts to process that another question had been asked, so Hopper looked to Eddie in hopes of an answer. 

“She was here when I got here an hour and a half ago, but she said she doesn’t know how long she’s been here.” 

“I’m going to go see if I can get someone to give her a once over. Keep her company.” 

Eddie nodded and turned his attention back to you. You were obviously zoned out, and Eddie didn’t blame you, but he needed to reel you back in. 

“So much for keeping your secrets,” he whispered, feigning maliciousness, as if he had personally asked Hopper to come down and tell him. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at him, even as your tears began to tip over your lower lids. 

“I think you have to tell me what happened to you now, if I recall the rules correctly.” 

“Oh, I just got beat up at a bar. Nothing near as exciting as what’s going on over here,” he chuckled as he gestured vaguely towards you. 

It wasn’t until now that you realized that his hand was holding yours, but you were glad to receive the kind attention. It wasn’t something you were used to. 

“So what were you running from?” he asked, the warmth and humor suddenly absent from his voice. 

“What do you mean?”

“You had all your belongings packed into the back of your car, and I am 90% sure you aren’t from around here. So I can naturally assume you were running from something. Honestly I have a feeling I know the answer, but you know, never judge a book by its cover.” 

“Maybe I want to hear your guess.”

“Town freak?”

“Excuse me?”

“Outcast? Pariah, reject, untouchable? I can go on for hours. I’m afraid I have an unfair advantage with all the synonyms.” 

“And why’s that?”

“I’ve been called them all, sweetheart. You are speaking with the resident Freak of Hawkins, Indiana,” he pretended to bow from his seat. 

“Guess it really does take one to know one, huh,” you offered a half hearted smile. 

“So what was it? Weird music? Everyone hate your dad? One person just decide to make it their lives mission to make everyone hate you?”

“If I knew what it was, I would have changed it years ago. I think it’s just genetic though. But your guesses aren’t bad.” 

You adored that Eddie could make you laugh even after something as terrible as this night. You almost didn’t want to get called back anymore, knowing that your time with him would likely come to an end, and you may never see him again. 

When Hopper returned to let you know that your wait was almost over, you were almost disappointed. 

“Y/n, I need to talk to you really quick though. Is that alright?” he asked, and he seemed much more gentle than he had when he arrived. You hated the pity, but it was much better than how you were used to being treated by the police. So you gave him a nod. 

“Eddie, can you give us a minute?”

“It’s ok if he stays,” you cut in quickly, subconsciously squeezing Eddie’s hand harder. 

“Ok, that’s fine with me,” Hopper gave you a smile before he pulled a chair closer to sit directly across from you. He pulled out a small notepad and a pen and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“Y/n, I need to know what you remember from before your car flipped. If you remember anything at all.” 

“Why?” 

“There are… There are some marks on the drivers side of the car that suggest you were hit. I just want to put the pieces together before we start a man hunt, just in case I’m wrong in thinking someone ran you off the road.” 

“It’s ok, there’s no need to look for them. I don’t want to press charges or anything.” 

Your heart began to pick up thinking about the retaliation you might receive from bringing legal charges agains them. You were trying to get away, the last thing you needed was a case to tie you to them. 

Hopper’s head quirked in curiosity, and he squinted his eyes at you before asking, “Y/n, do you know who did this?” 

“Well, yeah, but like I said, it’s…It’s fine.” 

“Can we have a second Hop?” Eddie asked gently, and Hopper nodded before crossing the room to allow you two to speak. 

“The people you were running from, are they the ones that did this?” 

“Eddie, you don’t get it.” 

“No, I do, remember? I need you to take a deep breath, ok?” 

It took you a second to realize how hard you were squeezing his hand and how quickly your heart was beating. So you took his advice and took a few deep breaths before you looked for him to continue.

“I can tell you’re scared. But, y/n, this isn’t school yard bullying. They could have killed you. And it doesn’t sound like they stopped to see if you were alive. They deserve to be locked up for that, you know that right?” 

“But they won’t.”

“Cops don’t like you back home?”

You just shook your head.

“Well look, you met Hopper over there,” he gestured over his shoulder and waiting for you to nod before continuing, “Well he’s different. I promise. He will make sure those bastards burn for what they did. He doesn’t care if their daddy is mayor, he will make sure they do the time the deserve ok?” 

“How do you know it was more than one person?” 

“Those kind of people always travel in packs.” 

“If I tell him who it was…” you paused to organize your thoughts into a coherent sentence as your mind raced, “How do you know they won’t just find me and try again?” 

Eddie gently reached up grab your cheeks and got closer to your face, “I swear they won’t lay another finger on you. And if you decide to stick around Hawkins, I can assure you no one else will either.” 

“You offering to be my body guard?” 

“Maybe,” he chuckled. He could tell you were calming down already. 

“By the looks of you, I don’t think you’re cut out for that line of work.”

“Shush,” he laughed, “So what do you say, can I call Hop back over?” 

You nodded, and a minute later, Hopper was out the door and ready to bring justice to the people who had been making your existence unbearable for your whole life. It wasn’t much longer before a nurse rushed out and apologized for the long wait to both of you and called you both back. Your heart dropped when you realized you may not see Eddie again, and he could sense your reluctance to let his hand go. 

“Don’t worry, I already memorized your full name like the good freak I am, and I will be back to visit you later.” 

“Promise?” 

“Of course. The best thing about the hospital here in the lovely town of Hawkins, Indiana, is that our visiting hours are 24/7. I can come annoy you for as long as I want,” he smirked at you, “I just need to run home and grab my copy of Lord of the Rings after they check out my nose. I think you’ll really like it.” 

“With this headache, I don’t think I’m going to like reading anything.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I wasn’t going to let you lay a finger on it. I like doing the voices.” 

You both laughed, and continued to hold hands until it was absolutely necessary for you to part ways. 

“See you soon,” Eddie smiled down at you before following a different nurse to a room down the hall. 

“See you soon.”

@embrace-themagic​ @fanficparker​  @heartbeats-wildly​ @saturn-aka-six​ @calum-hoodwinked-me​ @peterplanet​ @mischiefmanaged49​ @nicotine-sunshine820​ @itsjusttor​ @emistrash​ @thenoddingbunny-blog​ @sovereignparker​ @raajali3​@eddielives1986​ @eddieswifu​ @chickpeadumpsterfire​ @fluffybunnyu​

[skzdarlings]

07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.

-

It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground.  With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe. 

After some arguing, you face each other.  You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom. 

You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily.  With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed. 

You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.

There is a minute of silence.   Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent.   It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.    

“My life is a joke,” you say. 

“Yeah,” Seungmin says.  “Your life is a joke.  Ow!”

He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers.  You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare. 

“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks. 

You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.   

“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.     

“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm.  It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove.  “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”

“Funny.”

“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”

“I know that.”

“And you’re the other cow.”

“I got it, Seungmin.”

“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”   

This fucking guy.  

Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met.  A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group.   You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way.  You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy.  Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle.   You clashed from your first introduction. 

You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point. 

Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin.  This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours. 

You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered.  You have already spent three days at each other’s throats.  Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again. 

You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket.  With Seungmin, it was on sight. 

Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom.  The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin.   You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating. 

Then Minho returned.  He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you.   You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail.  There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you.   The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho. 

Minho dangled the keys in your face.  

“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”

You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys.  That kitty has claws, mean ones.  Not even you mess with Lee Minho. 

Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed.  You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt.  All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep. 

You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.

“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”

He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better. 

“What do you mean?” he asks.  “Wait, you’re a freak, right?  Is it something kinky?”

He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow.  You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.

“Wait, really?” he asks.  “What the hell.  Why?  What is it?”

“You sound curious.” 

You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve.  You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply.  The tips of his ears are faintly red. 

“Oh, you are curious,” you say.

“Gross, no way.”  He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion.  “Keep it to yourself.  Pervert.”

“Proudly.”

“Wow.”

You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor.  But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation. 

“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks.  “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”

“It’s a hard packer.  You know, a strap-on for wearing out?  A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?”  You list everything with the same pleasant smile.  “Big one too.” 

His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed. 

“Right now?” he says.  His eyes drift down to your jeans.  “You wore… you wore it out?”

“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it. 

“You’re lying,” he says.  He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs.  It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him.  He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly.   “Whoa, wait, seriously?” 

“Dude!”  You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy.  “What the hell, man.  You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”

“Why not? It’s not real.”

“It is in a way!  I can still feel it!”

“You can?”  He pokes it.    

“Yes.” You swat him away.   “Depending on position.”     

“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head.  “Wow.  You have a high opinion of yourself.  Thought you were gonna get lucky?” 

“I did very well for myself, thanks.”

He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own. 

“Not that well,” he says.  “Or you wouldn’t be here.” 

“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say. 

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says.  “I should have known.”  He sighs as if disappointed in you. 

You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.  

Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.

“I have an idea,” you say. 

“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”

“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.” 

“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”

“Why do I even bother?”  You sigh.  “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”

“Fine.”  He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you.  “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”

You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard. 

“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?”  you ask.   

“Yes,” he replies, warily.  “Why?”

“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”

“What!”  He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.

“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.

“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”

“Two things,” you say.  “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension.  And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.” 

“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection.  “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us.  There’s no way he’d believe it.”

“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?” 

You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest.  It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath.   His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he says.  “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”

“I mean, you can try that too,” you say. 

“Shut up.”  He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around.  “Just get down.”

“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back.  You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance.  “You get down. I’m on top.”

“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright.  “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”    

“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”

“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.” 

“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.” 

You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts.  Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket.   Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff. 

“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back.  You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm. 

“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back. 

“I’m not doing anything.  Ahh, stop that!”

He tires to lick you.  Tongue out, he dives at your head.  He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back. 

“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.

“Immature?” you ask, aghast.  “You were trying to lick me!”

“That was different.”

“How?”  

“Because you suck,” he says. 

He manages to get his glasses back.  He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face. 

You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other.  Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips.  Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands.  He strains for one pitiful push.  His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall. 

You lift an eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.

“I can hear your ugly face.”

“That’s a you problem.”

He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again.  All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy.  Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.  

Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily.  He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.  

Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants.  You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric.  When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.

It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too.  He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you. 

“What the hell was that?” he asks. 

You let go of his hips immediately. 

“Nothing,” you say.

He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again.   You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you. 

“Can you feel that?” he asks.  He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas. 

“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first.   “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly.  This… is… one of them.” 

“Wow,” he says.  He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins.  “So… you can feel when I do this?”  He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours. 

“Ohmyff—”  You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you.  “Dude.” 

“Just checking,” he says.  He grabs the headboard and pushes again.  The thud is a soft one. 

You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up.  You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back.   His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.  

His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard.  His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours.  He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses.  Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room.  He swallows.

You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly. 

“Moan or yell or something.  Whatever you normally do in bed.”

“I’m normally quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly.  “Since that mouth never stops.”  

“Why don’t you moan?” 

“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.”  To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion.  The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps. 

He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you.  That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it.  It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder.  You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove.   His eyes go to your arm. 

“Well?” you say.  

He looks at you.  It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath. 

Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat.   You are certain only you can hear it.   He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.

It is, in a word, hot.  Hot as fucking hell.  Oh god.  You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin.  Absolutely not. 

He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it.   He cants his hips and falls back again.  He moans one more time.

Ah, you think.  Fuck. 

You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion. 

You clear your throat.  Seungmin is still staring at you.  You stare back, then your gaze drifts.  The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up.  You gulp. 

“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation.  His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.

He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them.  He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you. 

“So are you,” he says.

“Mine’s not real,” you say.  

“Ohh, so now it’s not real?”  He rolls his eyes.  “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.” 

“You know what I mean, smartass.”  

“If anything yours is more real,” he says.  “Your dick is more deliberate than mine.  I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.” 

That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue.  You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried. 

“So,” is all you say, at a loss. 

He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright.  You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans.  You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously.  He even snarls. 

Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer.  He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button.  He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down. 

You let go of his hand, surprised.  He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants. 

He balks at it. 

“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you. 

Fuck.  It is literally right by his face.  It looks obscene.  Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin. 

“Yes,” you answer in a low voice.  “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”

“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline.  He even cackles a little.  “Action,” he repeats.  “Not ‘making love?’”  His tone is drole. 

“Not really the making love type,” you say. 

“Wow,” he says.  His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face.  He pushes his glasses up his nose.  He glances up at you with that evil smile.   “Same,” he says. 

Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it. 

For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it.  Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal. 

“Jesus fucking—” you start.

He pops off your dick with a wet sound.   He licks his lips. 

“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully.  “Tastes funny.   Could you feel that?”

“Kinda,” you squeak.  “In a way.”

“Got it.” 

Is this even turning him on?  His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm.   He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it. 

“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit.  He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you. 

It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops.  He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.

“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth. 

Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs.  You stare at him.

“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural.  “Yes.” 

He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself. 

“That wasn’t so hard,” he says.  “I thought it would be more complicated.  I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?” 

Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop. 

“Uh, yeah,” you say.  “Yeah.”  What the fuck else are you supposed to say? 

He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand. 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it.  He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself. 

“Oh,” he says.  He looks at his fingertips.  “I see.” 

Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth. 

“Right,” you say.  “Got it.” 

You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband.  You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest. 

“Slippers first,” he says.  

He is just being difficult.  You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper.  You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot.  He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart.   You shake your head but remove that one too.  Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest.  His glasses slip a little again.  His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them. 

“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form. 

“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband. 

You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open. 

“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick.   “No way.  No way.” 

Kim Seungmin.  Blazer-and-tie good boy.  Pristine socialite.   Arrogant snob.   High society darling.   Spoiled brat.  Good boy.  Good boy.   Good boy. 

He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick. 

He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him. 

“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb.   It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake. 

“S-surprised?” he asks. 

“Honestly, yeah,” you admit. 

He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you.  That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down. 

His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected.  He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down.  You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him. 

“Louder,” you say.  “Remember?”

“Oh, right.”  He drops his hand.  “Your stupid plan.  Okay.  Continue.”  He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows. 

He is so annoying.  He really does have a pretty dick, though.  Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him.  He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully. 

You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you.  He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.  

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching.  It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage. 

Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips.  You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss.  It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours.  He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity.  The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too. 

You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth. 

Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder.  He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.  

You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence.  Eventually he lifts his head and exhales.  He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins. 

“I won,” he says.

“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.

“Yes you can, and I just did.  Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Oh my god.” 

Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual.  You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks.  It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed.  You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor. 

You look over Seungmin who was watching too.  When you make eye contact, you both start laughing.  It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one.  Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own.  He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.

Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open.  It smashes into the wall, startling both of you. 

Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room.  He slams the door shut behind him. 

You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys. 

“Told you,” you say. 

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face.  It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind. 

Your wrist is still cuffed.  He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard.   You tug on it then look at him. 

“Kim Seungmin,” you say. 

“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “I’m winning.”

You decide not to argue for once.   It goes without saying you both won this round. 

[dira333]

Sleepwalker - Tensei Iida x Reader

Words: 10k (sorry, my hand slipped)

It’s warm, dark and there’s a faint smell of grapefruit and Mint, a combination that should not work as well as it does.

You groan, close your eyes again, and bury yourself in the blankets once more, not yet ready to start the day. What a weird dream you’ve ha-

There’s an arm. There’s an arm next to your arm!

Your heart stops and picks up with twice the speed as you slowly, carefully, pat around to feel what’s attached to said arm

A shoulder, naked. There’s a neck and a chest, muscular and sturdy. 

When your fingertips find what feels like a mouth you hear a grunt. The light flickers on and you blink, staring in silent shock at what is most likely the most attractive guy you’ve seen in weeks, if not longer.

His dark hair is sleep-mussed and his blue eyes squint back at you with an equal mix of confusion and shock.

“Who are you?” He asks just as you realize that you did not, in fact, go drinking last night. Which means-

“You’re a creep!” You bellow, jumping out of bed. You put a tank top and matching panties on last night and you’re glad you did because this way you’re at least wearing a little bit more than he is. 

“Wait, I’m not-”

“Did you do something to me?” You look down at yourself to check, but you don’t feel weird, just exhausted. He’s stuttering out something but you’re too busy freaking out.

“I should call the- the police, I- who are you anyway and-” your eyes flicker to the alarm clock next to his bed. Shit. You’re going to be late for work.

“If this happens again I’ll kill you in your sleep!” You threaten, focus on the pattern of your own bedding, and teleport away, using your Quirk. It’s not legal, but you’re in no way going to wait for a cab at this creep’s place.

This time you half expect it, which sounds weirder than it is. 

But as you wake up and smell that telltale aroma of grapefruit and Mint, you know exactly where you are.

You turn slowly to check the time. It’s around midnight.

You went to bed fully clothed, phone in your back pocket. The stranger seems to have had the same idea, the fabric of his shirt soft against your fingertips

He wakes up as you slip out of bed, waving your phone to start the flashlight app. So much for snooping around to get intel on him.

“Who are you?” He asks, which is totally the wrong question if you’re a creep who kidnaps people.

“I should ask you the same thing. And you should answer first since this is your place.”

“My name’s Iida. Iida Tensei, to be exact.” He rubs his face. “And I didn’t take you here. I went to bed like normal and woke up with you beside me.”

“Oh. Well, I mean. It hasn’t happened in a while, but it could-”

“Your Quirk?” He asks, making sense of your stuttering before you can. “It’s teleporting, right? Does it malfunction sometimes?”

“Well, it used to, as a kid.” You explain, shame flooding you, “I can only teleport to places I know because I have to see them in my mind. But I don’t know you, right?”

“Maybe I saved you?” He offers. You scrunch up your nose.

“I am- I was a hero. Ingenium? Maybe you heard of him?”

“Oh,” you nod slowly before shaking your head, “well, I’ve heard of heroes, because who hasn’t, but not of Ingenium, sorry. Never had to be saved either.”

“Sorry.”

You laugh, short and abrupt, but in all honesty. “Why? I don’t think getting saved is such a nice thing, right? It means you were in danger before.”

“Oh, but it’s an experience for sure. I mean… When I was a kid, I was-” He stops and you’re not sure why you do it, maybe it’s the softness of his features or the sound of his voice, but you urge him to speak.

“I got lost, once, as a kid. I still remember how helpless I felt and how a hero saved me, and took me back to my parents. I haven’t seen him around since, but I still remember his name. Gran Torino. I knew before… that I was going to be a hero, but that cemented it as something I really wanted to be.”

“Wow,” you breathe, a little awkward in the face of something like that. “I just became a mechanic because my Dad’s one too.”

He laughs, but he doesn’t invite you to speak and you realize that you’ve overstayed your welcome anyway. Not that there was ever any welcome to begin with. You stumbled in here on your own, bothering this nice, attractive man.

“I’m… I’m going to get going now,” you stutter, “and I promise it won’t happen again.”

He doesn’t move to get up. Maybe he only put on a shirt but not shorts?

You try not to think about it when you teleport away.

Nothing happens for over a week, long enough that you begin to think of it as an outlier, brought upon you by the return of your period.

Now that that’s over you only have to get checked out for future disasters.

But then you open your eyes to darkness and the smell of Grapefruit and Mint and you know, without a doubt, that you’re back.

“Iida-kun?” You ask, voice soft with shame.

You reach out your hand and touch his face, surprised to find a slight stubble. But it gets his attention and only a second later you blink against the light. 

It’s gone just a second later and as a blanket is thrown over your head you remember that you went to sleep wearing nothing tonight. In your defense, the AC was broken.

“I’m so so sorry,” you point out, voice shaking, “I don’t know… I thought it was my period.”

“It’s okay,” he huffs. You wonder if he’s blushing. 

“I’m leaving, okay,” you tell him, embarrassment flooding you. “Sorry.”

Half an hour later you find yourself pressed into his side once again, though this time better dressed. He’s not, however. 

You teleport away once again, this time without waking him.

But as you open your eyes to the morning sun filtering in through the half-open blinds, there’s an arm slung over your shoulders and a warm, naked chest pressed to your back.

You’re back. Again.

It’s Sunday and you don’t have to be gone right away, so that’s your excuse for letting your eyes wander through the room. 

His bedroom is clean and organized, with books and sports equipment in every corner.

And there are pictures, tons of them.

Right next to the alarm clock is a picture of a little boy. He looks just like Iida-kun and with a pang, you realize it must be his son. What lies on the other side of his bedroom door? How many children does he have?

This bed is barely wide enough to house two people, so you don’t think he’s married, but-

A pained groan interrupts your thoughts. 

Before you can react, though, Iida pulls you closer, his arms now crossed over your stomach.

He’s mumbling something, his voice laced with pain.

“No, don’t, please-” he begs, “help, someone- Help!”

That’s when you feel it, the telltale signs of your Quirk activating. But you’re not teleporting anywhere, not that you could after doing it so much this night already. And you’re not the one who activated it.

For a second you’re floating, disappearing slowly into thin air. That’s not unusual, it happens mostly when the space you want to go is already occupied or too far away.

But when you materialize again, you’re back where you started, right in Iida’s arms.

That’s when it hits you.

You didn’t teleport to him. He teleported you.

But how? And how are you going to explain that to him?

If Iida is weirded out by the fact that you’re a) back in his arms again and b) not making any move to get away from him, he’s not showing it.

Instead he wipes a hand over his face and plants himself back into the pillows.

“I think I need a coffee,” he tells you after a minute.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say no to that either.”

“Would it be terribly rude to ask you to make it?” He lifts his head again to squint at you. “Or help me out of bed?”

“Help you out of bed? What are you, eighty?”

He smiles shyly. “No, I’m paraplegic.”

Blood rushes to your face as you realize what that means.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t know.” A hand rests warmly on your forearm. “But the choice is yours.”

You huff for a second, trying to reel in the shame before getting out of bed and walking around it. There’s the wheelchair you should have noticed earlier. 

“What do you do if you need to pee?” You ask as he leans heavily onto you before swinging himself into the chair.

“Hold it in,” he tells you with an embarrassed smile. “But I’m working on getting into it myself.”

Your nerves bubble in your throat as you approach the door only to release in a soft sigh when no little kid is waiting on the other side.

“Your… uh… son doesn’t live here?” You ask as you follow him into the kitchen, too aware of your messy bedhead and your sleepwear-clad form.

“My son?” Iida turns to squint at you. “I don’t have a son.”

“The picture on your nightstand. I noticed it.”

“Oh,” he laughs softly, “that’s my little brother. We’re fifteen years apart, but I should really get a new picture in there. But he looked so cute back then. Not that he’s not looking cute now, I-”

“I get it,” you nod, “I still have a picture of my cousin in my wallet from when she lost half of her teeth.”

“Quirk coming in?” He asks and you snort. “Yes, actually.”

“How am I calling you here?” Tensei asks. He offered you his first name over that first cup of coffee, called his mother to let her know he wouldn’t need help this morning while you fried eggs for breakfast.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “that never happened to me before.”

“But you knew it was possible?”

“Actually,” you breathe loudly through your nose, “I only realized that it had to be that because I was in the middle of teleporting this morning when I was already here only to land back where I was. It’s like reloading a page, you know? You just get back to where you were.”

“But we don’t know each other,” Tensei points out, “or do we? What school did you go to?”

You name it, all of them. Nothing seems to ring a bell. 

“When you…” you hesitate but he urges you to go on, “When you reloaded me, so to say, you were… you were calling for help.”

Tensei pales, his lips stretching into a straight line.

“You don’t have to tell me what that was about,” you add on quickly, “I just thought… maybe us teleporter Quirks are like a helpline? And I was just the closest one?”

“You think so?” He asks, voice strained.

You shrug. “What other possibility is there?”

But there is one. One you don’t even want to think about.

What if the Universe with its laughable humor, decided you were right for each other? 

No, that would be too crazy.

-

Just because you know why it happens doesn’t mean, however, that you know how to stop it. And as you start waking up in his bed more often than not, it seems only logical to go with it.

“Morning,” you mumble, knowing where you are without having to open your eyes. The telltale aroma of Grapefruit and Mint gives it away.

“Morning,” Tensei yawns, unmoving.

You can feel yourself slipping back into sleep, the warmth of him, the softness of the bed pulling you back in. Five more minutes won’t hurt.

“What did we say?” You ask groggily, face planted against Tensei’s chest. “You gotta wear a shirt to bed.”

“Sorry,” he rumbles but doesn’t move. “What time is it?”

“Too early.” You close your eyes again. He doesn’t move either.

“Shit, I’m late for work.” Your jump out of bed is thwarted by the blanket around your legs and you fall unceremoniously onto your face.

“I’ve got a spare toothbrush if you want it,” Tensei offers.

“I have no clothes.”

“Bring them next time,” he smiles, grabbing the hand you’re offering and pulling you up.

He blushes seconds later when he realizes how that sounded.

“I mean, only if you want.”

“Sure,” you agree easily because he really is good-looking, “if you make the coffee in the morning?”

“Brother, I wanted to check in before schoo-” 

You make the mistake of shooting up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

The guy in the door looks like Tensei’s Doppelganger, mouth wide open as he takes you in.

You wrap your arms around your torso, realizing a little late that your skimpy tank top might be a bit too revealing for a- how old is Tensei’s little brother again?

“Tenya,” Tensei starts blubbering that second, “You’re… I didn’t expect you this early- I’m…”

“This is my cue to leave,” you mutter, but stop when Tensei’s arm presses you back into the pillows.

“Stay,” he breathes out, eyes flickering over your face before he turns back.

“Sit,” he asks his brother, “we can explain.”

In all honesty, you don’t really know why you stay. 

It’s not like Tensei could do anything about you leaving, really. He has no idea where you live, doesn’t even have your number saved or something like that. And he still has no idea how to activate your Quirk on command…

But you stay, blanket pulled up to your chin to spare the youngest Iida’s innocence.

He’s fun to watch, little Tenya, taller than you without trying, yet turning smaller and smaller in his older brother’s presence.

It’s not hard to guess that Tensei’s his hero.

Tensei’s voice is calm and collected as he explains. You don’t even try to help him sort through this mess, instead letting your eyes wander over his features. He’s not wearing a shirt and his back, turned to you, is covered in scars, like a spider web of history. 

Your hand itches to smooth across it, letting the warmth of his skin seep into your fingertips. 

He’s got a few Moles too, sprinkled across his milky white shoulder blades like freckles over sun kissed cheeks. 

“Are you even listening?” Tensei turns his head and you blink a few times to focus.

“Sure,” you lie effortlessly, not missing how his lips quirk into a smile. 

His eyes are warm as they move over your face and you have to force yourself not to hide away. You’ve never seen a face this attractive turn so soft before, at least not when looking at you.

“I’m… I’m leaving then,” Tenya adds, voice a little strained. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Sure,” you nod, just as Tensei asks him not to rush. 

It’s weird. You want to leave and you want to stay longer, want to keep this bubble around the two of you, yet go out and scream from the rooftops that this man might feel things for you.

Work calls, though, and even though you stay as long as you can - helping him out of bed and into the shower, making coffee while he gets ready, thinking about kissing him while he sits on the other side of the table, talking about his plans for the day - you have to leave eventually. 

You hug him awkwardly, trying not to sink into his hold even though you want nothing more.

“See you next time,” you say with a wink, expecting to be back in the evening.

But Tensei does not call for you.

-

One week passes without finding yourself in his bed.

You have no means to contact him other than teleporting into his apartment and you don’t dare to do just that. What if he’s having guests over? 

What if- and the thought is making you nauseous - you end up teleporting into his bedroom only to find him making out with someone else?

Wait. The thought of someone else implies that he made out with you too. He didn’t and it’s not like you can blame him for that, right? 

Looking down at your hands, the skin oil-stained and chapped, you can’t help but feel unworthy of him. Former Heroes do not mingle with basic mechanics. 

You go out drinking the second week, trying to drown your sorrows in cheap beer and awful music.

“What about him?” Rumi, your best friend points toward a guy in the corner, red wings folded behind his back. He’s attractive, but there’s also something unsettling about him, the way he seems to be watching everyone without a care in the world.

“No,” you shake your head. You don’t feel like erasing the memory of Tensei’s touch - as platonic as it had been - from your skin by being with someone else. And even if you did, you wouldn’t pick someone who’s definitely way above your league.

“Oh, come on.” She takes a shot and winks. “I’m going to talk to him if you don’t.”

“Suit yourself,” you say when you notice someone else. 

His hair is jet black, reflecting the bright lights overhead that flicker over his heavily scarred skin. His eyes, a bright turquoise, move over the people with cold carelessness. Something drops in your stomach when his gaze crosses yours.

You grab Rumi’s arm. “We need to leave,” you tell her, and there must be something in your voice that cuts through her haze, because she nods, following you toward the door.

Shivers are running up and down your back as you wait for a Cab, chatting up a few girls who are waiting by the door, convincing them to join you and your friend.

“Oh shit,” Rumi says, moving to get out of the car, “I forgot my jacket inside.”

“I’m getting it,” you tell her, pushing her back, “I’ll see you there, okay?” 

She hesitates, but you’re already out of the car, closing the door with a click.

Inside, the mood has shifted, though not many seem to have noticed, too far gone already in their haste to get drunk. 

Sweat’s running down your back as you move through the crowd, looking for the flimsy black jacket. 

You smell it just as you reach it. Fire. Something’s burning. 

It’s hard to tell from back here and even getting up on a barstool barely helps. That is, until you turn, spotting the guy with the turquoise eyes behind the bar. His hands are filled with flames and his eyes burn the same.

He notices you at the same time, lips curling into a cruel smirk. Not far from him is the fire alarm and you lunge forward to pull it. Something collides with your shoulder, pain curling around it.

You scream just as the alarm goes off, cutting the music like one does a ribbon. The sprinklers go off immediately, but you’re already halfway gone, panic setting off your Quirk.

You have half a mind to think “Somewhere safe” before the room disappears before your eyes.

Grapefruit and Mint.

It cuts through your panic like sunlight through a rain cloud.

“Tensei?” You rasp, trying to make sense of it. “Tensei?!”

The light comes on and you find yourself sitting on the bedroom floor, hair damp, jacket clutched in your hands.

“Are you okay?” He asks, before sucking in a breath. “What happened to your shoulder?”

“I think- I think I just got attacked.”

“Let me see. Can you get up? What happened?”

You dissolve into tears under his gentle care.

Tensei thinks you should talk to the police.

You think everything else would be a better idea. 

“I’m not supposed to use my quirk,” you tell him, again and again, as he pours you a cup of chamomile tea in the morning. “What if they fine me? What if- what if they take it away?”

“They’re not going to take away your Quirk just because it activated by itself. You might get a slap on the hand for using it too much if they knew, but you’re not hurting anyone with it, are you?”

“Can you check the news?” You change the topic, unease swirling in your stomach. “See if there’s something about the bar?”

He dutifully picks up his phone, giving you a second to take him in.

His sight eases your mind. He looks just like he did two weeks ago like he always looks in the morning. Soft and warm and reassuring, like all you need to do is climb into his lap and forget the world.

You want to ask if he missed you, but you don’t dare to.

“Nothing,” he says, putting his phone down. “Would you- would you feel better if I accompanied you to the police?”

“How would we explain that we know each other?”

He blushes. “We could… we could say that we’re… friends?”

The unease in your stomach is getting harder to ignore. Or maybe you’re hungover as well.

“Why didn’t you call for me… uh, the last few weeks? Are you getting over your nightmares?”

Tensei huffs out a tired laugh. “I’m taking sleeping pills. I’m not a fan of them, but they seem to be working. I thought… maybe you left before I woke up or something.”

“No, I thought…” You swallow nervously, looking down at the table before shrugging as if you don’t feel as much as you do. “Maybe you found someone else you could teleport into your bedroom.”

You realize how it sounds just as you say it, but it’s too late to take it back.

His hand moves to cover yours, a warm weight that seems to settle your nerves with the smallest touch. “I’m barely managing to figure out how I got you, I’m not switching things up.”

For a while, you two sit in silence, unmoving. 

Eventually though, Tensei speaks again.

“If you let me, I’d like to accompany you to the police, okay?” 

You’ve only been to the police once before when a car you had been working on turned out to be stolen. Everything, from explaining how you noticed to how you got that client in the first place, had been a terrible, terrible experience.

But walking in with Tensei is like stepping into a different world..

One officer, a mutant with a cat face, comes up to you almost immediately, shaking Tensei’s hand with a smile.

“What brings you here, man? Long time no see.”

“I’m- my friend here,” Tensei points to you, “got attacked in a bar yesterday. Nothing in the news suggests that you know about it, so we wanted to inform you right away.”

“An attack?” Green eyes flicker to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter just as Tensei disagrees. “First-degree burn on her shoulder. I did the best I could last night when she came by, but I’m no doctor.”

“I’ll call someone to check in on you. Come in, come in. Do you want coffee? Donuts?”

It clicks by the third person who walks in. They all assume that you’re not just Tensei’s friend, but his girlfriend.

It’s in the way they smile at you, unassuming, chuckling when you name your profession.

“Fits like a glove, doesn’t it?” They say, preening when the words light up a feverish blush on 

Tensei’s cheeks.

He holds your hand when a nurse examines your shoulder and you wish that this was real, that you’ll step out of this building and continue just like this. 

But living in his world for a day, where police officers joke around with you and doors open that you didn’t even know existed, just highlights how far apart your lives truly are.

As it turns out, you seem to have met Dabi, a villain who’s rather new to the scene. You can tell, just by the looks exchanged and awkward silences filling the room, that he’s someone you don’t want to mess with.

“It would probably be better if you didn’t go home for a while,” Detective Tsukauchi announces. “If this is a bar you frequent regularly, it wouldn’t be hard for him to figure out where you live.”

“My friend-” You start just as Tensei says “You can stay with me.”

You tense, just as Detective Tsukauchi smiles and nods.

“An excellent idea. We can escort you home if you need to pack some things first.”

“Oh, no-” You shake your head and wave your hands at the same time. “Getting escorted by the police to my place would just open the door to more trouble. If you could… like… give me a proper written excuse so that I can use my quirk, I can do that in one trip.”

“I’m afraid that I-”

“Tsukauchi, Sir-” Tensei lays it on thick with the charm, “I think in a situation like this you could make an exception, right? Don’t you have Officer Moroi on your team as well? You could still consider it an official escort if she did the teleporting.”

And so, half an hour later, it’s decided.

Officer Moroi’s Quirk is almost the same as yours, although she needs exact coordinates and is able to teleport other people - and stuff - as well.

Saying goodbye to Tensei is an awkward affair. Detective Tsukauchi is going to take him back to his apartment while you pack your things.

You move in for a hug, a handshake too formal for what everyone assumes you are. Tensei moves as well, but you misjudge his intention as wanting to hug you as well. His lips end up on yours for the briefest moment before you pull back, his face as red as-

“Oh,” you cough awkwardly, turning around. “Detective, I… I just remembered. There was another guy at the bar, with wings, he was looking-”

Tsukauchi doesn’t even blink. “No worries. We’re aware of him.”

“You-” Tensei’s hand curls around yours, pulling your attention back to him.

“Stay safe, okay?” He asks, face still flushed. “I’ll see you later.”

-

“I’ll take the Couch,” you offer in the evening, your things awkwardly merged with his. Your clothes stuffed into his drawers, your toothbrush sitting in the same cup. 

Tensei made dinner, told you stories from his past, and checked your injury, warm hands seemingly everywhere at once.

“Are you sure?” He asks, rolling through the living room. “There’s more than enough space in my bed and we’re kinda used to sharing it, don’t you think?”

“Well, yeah, but that was then-” You trail off, not really sure where you’re going with this.

His features stay relaxed as he nods, moving toward his bedroom.

“Do you want some help-”

“I got it,” he sends you a smile you can’t help but question. “I told you I’m getting better at it.”

So you’ve got nothing to do but slip under the covers and stare at the ceiling, trying to blend out the thrumming of pain in your shoulder.

You can hear him breathing, even from this far away, and it calms and upsets you at the same time.

He’s here. But he’s so far away.

Quietly, he calls your name. 

You consider ignoring it for a second, pushing him a little further away. For your safety or his, you’re not sure.

Still, your voice slips out anyway.

“Yes?”

“Are you scared?”

“Of what?” You ask, surprised.

“Being in a relationship.”

You swallow harshly. Has it been this obvious?

“I am, you know,” he admits, “and I was wondering… if you feel the same.”

You blink up at the ceiling, your mind racing ahead. Whatever you do now, it can make or break… whatever this is, between the two of you.

“You know,” you answer, slipping out of bed, “I have called myself a lot of things. I have been called a lot of things, too. But I don’t think I’ve ever believed that I was scared of something.”

You stop in the doorway to his room, your eyes getting used to the darkness. He’s facing you.

“So you’re not scared?” He asks, voice thick.

“Oh no, I’m scared shitless,” you admit, walking the short distance until your knees hit the bed frame, “but that has never stopped me from doing something. What about you? Doesn’t being a hero mean something similar?”

He’s warm as you slip under the covers, your whole body sucking up that familiar aroma of Grapefruit and Mint, your head almost falling into place against his shoulder.

“It’s a different kind of fear, I guess? You can train how to be a hero, from fighting Villains to rescue missions. You can’t train being in love.”

“Mhm, some people definitely try,” you joke, your hands unable to rest, moving across his chest until you can feel his heartbeat pick up beneath your fingertips.

“Tensei?” You ask, basking in his warmth. “Have you been in a relationship before?”

“No,” he admits, one hand a soft pressure on your lower back. “I dated around a little after school, but I was so busy building up the business, spending time with Tenya, I just…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. You think you’ve got all the time in the world and then you’re thirty, everyone else has already had kids and you wonder where you went wrong.”

“Would you-” He stops, but his heart races, you can feel it.

“Yeah?”

“Would you go on a date with me?”

“Usually,” you tease, because his voice quivered in a way that doesn’t fit his sturdy frame, “I don’t ‘sleep’ with guys before a first date. You kinda messed with my rules here.”

“Sorry,” he rasps, trying to play along.

“It’s fine,” you move a little, pressing your lips against his cheek. “You did wine and dine me today, after all.”

-

You could get used to this.

Tensei’s still asleep, mouth half-open, face mushed against the pillow. You can’t stop your curious hands from traveling, rubbing soft circles into his warm skin, following the spiderweb trails of his scars, pressing a teasing kiss to one of his moles.

He groans softly, hands twitching by his side.

“What time is it?”

“Time to relax,” you tease, pulling one of his arms around you. He snorts.

“I would, but I really have to pee.”

“Oh, what a shame,” you move to sit up, untangling him from the blanket. “But we can slip back into bed after if you want. Although I am craving breakfast.”

Tensei blinks up at you but doesn’t speak. You blame it on him not being a morning person and help him into the bathroom, before moving toward the kitchen, prepping a quick breakfast.

He’s already back in bed when you step into the bedroom. 

Sleeping with, or rather, next to Tensei, has taught you a few things about him so far. He runs hot, he likes to spoon, and he makes the softest little kitten snores when he’s sleeping on his back.

But living with him, just for a day or two, shows you so much more.

He pretends to be a morning person, but it takes a while for his brain to kick in. The smell of him, Grapefruit and Mint, comes partly from his Quirk, the engine jets in his arms being powered by Grapefruit juice, and partly from his absolute obsession with everything Mint scented. Bodywash, Shampoo, Deodorant, he even has Mint scented Candles sitting all over his apartment.

Tensei obviously works out a lot and hasn’t stopped after retiring from being a Pro Hero, the dumbbells in the corner showcasing not a single speck of dust, but he has no trouble lounging on the Couch with you, asking about the book you’re currently reading, or bothering you with the most insane questions about the show you offer to watch.

He’s a family man, too, and you suspect that there is only one reason you’re not absolutely plagued by visiting family members right now.

“Did you tell your parents not to show up?” You ask as you pull on your shoes. Tensei had asked to go out for a little stroll and since the weather was playing along, you had no choice but to agree.

“Uh, yeah, how did you know?”

“I’m a woman, I can tell.”

He sends you a look and you falter. “Okay, fine, there’s a Calendar by the door that has everyone’s name on it. Your parents would have come by today.”

“Oh that,” he nods, face clouding, “I’m trying to become more self-reliant. I know everyone’s just trying to help, but-”

“It’s stifling,” you finish his sentence and he nods, smiling a little.

“You get it?”

“Oh yeah, my Dad is the worst when it comes to this. It doesn’t help that we live in a district that has quite a high crime rate. I’m not dumb, but he’d like to see me somewhere safe.”

“As every parent would, probably. Where do you live?”

“Why, do you wanna know if you went on patrol there?”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t, I would have noticed you.”

There’s a teasing tone to it, letting you know that he’s flirting. He’s not bad at it and since you’ve been doing nothing but cuddling all day, you dare to lean down and kiss him.

-

If Rapunzel was a man, he would look like the guy following you.

He’s dressed as a civilian, his long, blonde hair tied into the prettiest messy bun you’ve ever seen. And the size of it…

Tensei recognized him yesterday at the park. Apparently the Police are really concerned with your safety, sending him over to keep an eye on you.

“He’s nice,” Tensei had declared. “You don’t have to worry about him. His Hero Name is Present Mic, you might know-”

“No,” you shook your head, “Never heard of him.”

“Any Hero that you do know?”

“Well, All Might, of course,” you smiled. “But my favorite Hero is Laundry Hero: Wash.”

Tensei laughs. “I could never have guessed that. Sounds like a story I would like to hear.”

Your phone alarm pulls you out of the memory and you turn it off, blinking yourself a little more awake in anticipation of your stop.

Tensei doesn’t live that far away, but you still need to take three different trains to get to work, now that you can’t just teleport into your apartment and walk the short distance from there.

Goldilocks, err, Rapunzel, follows you out, whistling a tune. You don’t know how he does it, but he manages to fit in with the crowd of blue-collar workers.

 -

“So you got yourself a boyfriend?” Rumi, best friend and also best car-saleswoman you know, is eating her lunch across from you. “Without telling me?”

“It’s not like that,” you argue, well aware of the tall man dressed in jeans that must be Rapunzel’s replacement for the day. “It’s complicated, okay?”

“I know complicated, but that sounds like a whole ‘nother level,” she takes a sip of her diet soda and pins you down with a glare. “If you’re staying over at his place already it’s a big deal.”

“Yeah,” you fiddle with your utensils, “I know, he’s just… he’s so safe, you know?”

“Safe?” Rumi furrows her brows. “Explain.”

“Like, he’s so… funny. And warm. And caring. Last night we were fighting about who gets to cook Dinner, and- What?” You cut yourself off when you notice her wry smile.

“Oh, you’re so far gone, it’s hilarious.” She chuckles into her drink. “Bring him in some time, will you?”

“We’ll see,” you put your stuff away, “My dad would most definitely love him, for sure.”

Your phone rings at that moment and you pick up, heart hammering in your throat at the sight of Tensei’s name on the display.

“Yes?”

“Hey,” you can hear the smile in his voice. “How’s your lunch break? I’m in the store right now and wanted to ask what you want for Dinner tonight.”

“I thought I was going to make Pizza?”

He laughs softly. “Fine, you can make Pizza tonight. Do you want ice cream for dessert?”

“Oh, yes, please. Mint-Chocolate Chip, if possible.”

“Mhm, no, not possible, that box is already reserved for me.”

“Well, you gotta learn how to share one day.”

Rumi’s grinning like a madman when you finally put your phone away.

“What?” You ask, fighting against the warmth bubbling in your chest, the smile that’s threatening to overtake your face.

“Nothing,” she giggles, “nothing at all.”

-

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” You ask as Tensei finishes changing the bandage on your shoulder. 

He huffs with amusement, the sound cut off by the closing of the door.

“Tenya?” Tensei asks, a tone in his voice that can only be worried. You turn.

Tenya’s face is bruised, dark blue hair full of grime. 

“Nii-chan?” His eyes flicker over to you, face closing off the hurt and exhaustion he’d shown seconds before.

“I should leave-” you start, realizing half way that you have nowhere to go. Tensei’s hands are still warm on your shoulder and even though he’s pulling away, his hold on you stays, his eyes flickering between you and his brother.

If he has to decide between the two of you, you’d rather have him pick Tenya.

“Are you hungry?” You ask, getting up. “I’ll make you something to eat, give you boys some privacy.”

Tensei’s apartment is bigger than yours by a mile but not huge.

You can hear them talking, the tone of their voices heavy.

At one point you think you can hear one of them crying, the sound squeezing your heart like one does a lemon. Should you check on them? What if it’s Tensei crying?

The food getting ready decides for you. No one likes burnt Pizza.

“Coming in,” you announce your arrival softly, feeling relieved and a little guilty when you realize Tenya had been the one crying.

“Hey, big guy,” you place the dish in front of him, “hope you like this. If you want, I can disappear again, the choice is yours.”

“I’m fine,” he wipes his eyes on his sleeve, leaving a smear of dirt across his nose before he puts his glasses back on. “You can- You can stay. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s fine. Tensei was your brother first. And I’m warning you, if you let me stay, I’m going to ask you all sorts of questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Well, for starters, I definitely need to know your favorite flavor. Because your big brother here is obsessed with everything Mint flavored and I need to know if it runs in the family.”

“I do like Mint,” Tenya offers, cutting off a first slice of Pizza. 

You know very well that this is just a means of distraction, that talking about what’s bothering him would be a lot better, but still… you need to start somewhere, right?

Tensei’s hand squeezes yours under the table as Tenya rambles on about different flavors he cannot choose between.

“He asked if he could sleep over,” Tensei explains as soon as Tenya disappears into the bathroom. He sighs. “When I-” He stops, gestures to himself, the wheelchair. “When this happened, it hit him hard. I was in a coma for quite some time and he’s never been without me, really. We were always very close. I know that everything changed, but there’s something to him now… something that wasn’t there before. It’s like something turned dark inside him.”

“That does happen sometimes,” you agree. “When you realize too early on that life’s not fair. That people are more vulnerable than you thought they were.”

Tensei takes a shuddering breath and your hands rush to hold him, console him in any way you can.

“Do you want to share the bed with him?” You ask, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. You’re not usually this touchy with guys you’re interested in, but you usually don’t feel this safe around guys you’re interested in. You’re starting to act all weird and mushy around him and it’s a little unsettling sometimes.

Tensei laughs. “I don’t think we’d fit. But we could keep the door open.”

“I think it would be good for him if you could admit that you’re still having nightmares.” The words slip out before you’ve really thought about them, but you don’t want to take them back. “Not that you have to do it right away,” you ease the sting of them, “but it can help, sometimes, to know that the strongest people are also afraid of something.”

“Maybe,” he offers, and you leave it at that.

-

Toshi nudges your feet, walking by. You roll out from under the car to check what’s going on, surprised to see Tensei in all his glory.

He sits tall in his wheelchair and the shirt he’s wearing is one of your favorites, bringing out the blue in his eyes. 

“Hey,” you greet him, a little self-conscious about your dirty overalls. “What brings you here?”

“I had an appointment not far from here and thought I could check in on you. When’s your lunch break?”

You squint up at the clock in the corner. “Half an hour.”

“I can wait, if that’s okay with you. Is that alright? I can leave too, if you don’t want company.”

You don’t want company, but you want his company. 

“Stay, please,” you say, swallowing the weird feelings that are swirling in your chest. “You can share a cup of coffee with Rumi in the office, if you want. You know how to get there?”

He nods, smiling as he turns his wheelchair and rolls out of the garage.

You can feel all eyes on you, but you’ve never felt less like discussing your personal life with anyone, so you roll back under the car. There, at least, you can ponder why him showing up has made you this nervous.

Tensei knows you’re a mechanic. And he’s obviously not bothered by the fact that this isn’t some fancy-schmancy auto repairs shop. So if he doesn’t think bad of you, why do you do it?

Tensei’s laughing with Rumi and your Dad, of all people, when you walk into the office. You tried your best at cleaning up, but you still feel dirty in comparison to Tensei’s perfectly ironed clothes.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, leaning into your father’s hug. His overalls look worse than yours. 

“Rumi called and asked me to come check out one car. She suspects some foul-play.”

“Ah.” You shoot her a glare, but she smirks, playing innocent.

“And how lucky I came in right away,” Dad adds, “so I could get to know this guy. Did you know that your mother got saved by his father once? I remember it clearly, it was this awful purse-snatcher guy and Ingenium saved the day. He really was a fine lad, you got to tell him I said hi,” your father slaps a heavy hand onto Tensei’s shoulder. You flinch at the ink-stains he leaves in the fabric.

“I will. Father remembers all of his saves, so I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear from you. But I think we should get going, if we want to make use of our time,” Tensei turns to you. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Leave where?” You furrow your brows. 

“There’s a park nearby and I thought we could get a stroll in, what do you think?”

“Eh,” you falter for a second, but Rumi’s less than subtle head movements tell you to go along. “I guess why not?”

“Do you always have to be out in nature?” You ask twenty minutes later when you’ve found a place that’s to Tensei’s liking, a tall tree creating enough shadow for the two of you to sit under.

He blinks. “I guess… I guess I like it a lot, does it bother you?”

“Not that much,” you admit, “It’s just a little surprising, I think. How was your day so far?”

Tensei’s face turns serious, your heart thundering at the sight.

“You know,” he starts, fiddling with a napkin, “I’m supposed to undergo surgery in a week or so.”

“Oh? What kind?” Surely, it’s nothing big, you tell yourself.

Tensei sighs, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly.

“It’s experimentative surgery. I have a twenty percent chance to walk again.”

“And the other eighty?”

He chuckles, but it doesn’t sound amused. “I try not to think about it.”

“And you’re supposed to do it? Or is this just an option you’re thinking about?”

His eyes flicker over your face. “It’s an option. My mother doesn’t want me to take it. Tenya’s all for it, although I haven’t really disclosed the risks to him.”

“Tenya wants you to be the person he knows you as. You’re his hero. No one wants to see their heroes fall.”

Tensei sighs, shoulders slumping. It hurts to see him that way. Before you can stop yourself, you’ve climbed onto his lap, dirt be damned.

“Hey,” you say, cradling his face in your hands. “Talk to me?”

“I just want everything to be how it used to be,” he admits. “I want Tenya to be happy again.”

Behind your ribcage, a flame of hurt starts licking at your heart. You push it aside, focus on what he’s saying.

“He’s becoming a hero, right?” You ask, “Doesn’t that mean… He’ll have to face these things eventually, will he not?”

“Yeah, but- but not like this. Not on his own. I’d be by his side, fighting alongside him.” 

Tensei’s hands dig into your hips now. Your heart stutters with his next words, sensing something beneath them that your mind isn’t ready to process yet.

“If I could turn back time, I would. Even if it meant being a coward that day. I just-” He breaks off, resting his head on your shoulder. You let him cry it out, your food long forgotten.

-

Tensei’s smiling again by the time he leaves, though you can still see the sadness lingering in his eyes. 

Your mind is fogged up as you work and you need twice your usual time for even the most basic tasks.

Rumi’s sending you looks, but you’re not ready to talk about it yet.

It’s on your way to the train station that someone pulls you aside.

You recognize those red wings instantly.

“Yo!” The guy smiles, but it’s not friendly, “Have you heard anything from Dabi?”

You blink, trying to move away, but his grip on your arm is firm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, don’t play it like that.” He smirks. His eyes are a mesmerizing golden color, but they hold no warmth for you. “I know you had intel. What I don’t know is why you came back into the bar?”

“Intel?” You finally manage to rip your hand out of his grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I told Tsukauchi about you and he knows you were there. I’m going to let him know you’re not unimportant as he thinks you are.”

You ready yourself to teleport, cursing the time it still takes - it’s not like you had much chance to practice - when he laughs. It transforms him, the cold, harsh lines bleeding from his face.

“Oh, so you really know nothing,” he says, voice easy as if he’s just talking about the weather. He waves at someone, who turns out be Rapunzel, hiding behind a nearby pillar.

“You were right, Mic, she really knows nothing.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, equally horrified and … You’re not sure how to name that other feeling, just that it leaves you feeling weak, like a terrible cold. 

“Ah, I’m glad.” Rapunzel- Present Mic, you remind yourself, grins at you, blonde mustache dancing above his lips. “Just taking care, you know. Can’t be careful enough these days.”

In less than a minute, both of them are gone and so is your train. 

All you want to do is teleport over to Tensei and let him make sense of this interaction. But using your Quirk out in the open is never advisable when you’re not a registered Hero, even in a place like this. 

So you find yourself a secluded space to wait for the next train - or teleport, depending on what’s shorter, your patience or the wait time - and sit down to think. 

Your mind’s still reeling from today’s revelation.

In about a week, Tensei will undergo experimentative surgery. He might be able to walk just fine after that, be who he used to be before it happened, whatever it is. 

You try to think of him, standing up. He’s going to be tall, for sure. Probably leaning in the doorway with that lazy smile he always wears when you get home.

But- if everything turns the way it was before, where will that leave you?

Because before, he didn’t have time for a relationship, nor did he want one. He was busy prepping his agency for when Tenya was ready to join him and there’s still a few years until that can happen. 

And even if he wanted to scale down his work hours, there’s a difference between dating an Ex-Hero and an active Hero. Not just in the risks he takes, but also in his public image.

Dating you, with your job and your origin, your ties to a part of Tokyo that’s less than stellar. You can’t help but think of yourself as a stain on his public imagine, much like the oil stains your father - and you - left on his outfit today.

Your train arrives, but you don’t get on. There’s still too much to think about.

-

“Where were you?” Tensei waits for you in the hallway, brows furrowed. “You didn’t pick up your phone.”

“Thinking,” you say, plant yourself in front of him without taking off your shoes. “We need to talk.”

“Do you want to sit down-”

“If you want things to be how they used to be,” you talk over him, needing to get this out, “I will no longer be here.”

Tensei stops, mouth half open.

“I’m not offering you a chance to turn back time. There might be people with a Quirk like that, but I don’t have it. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today and I… I don’t want to hold you back. I understand why you want to get back on your feet and I’d never be in the way of that, but I don’t think we could be together if you returned to being a hero.”

“Why not?” His voice is too soft for a man this sturdy. 

You turn your eyes toward the floor.

“Because you are you and I am me and we do not fit together.”

“I think we did pretty well,” Tensei argues and you pull your shoulders up to your ears.

“Yeah, because at the moment you’re broken. I do fit well with broken things, not with those who look new and shiny.” You can’t stop your hand from reaching out, touching the oil stain that’s still on his shoulder.

“I leave stains, Tensei. And you’re a Hero in a white suit.”

“So that’s it?” He asks after a moment of silence. “You’re just going to leave?”

“Staying would just prolong the hurt, wouldn’t it?” You wring your hands. “You don’t even need me anymore. You sleep fine.”

“It’s not about sleeping,” his fingertips dig into the armrests of his wheelchair. “It’s about the time in between. I want to be awake with you.”

“I know,” you swallow the pain, “but that doesn’t make everything alright, does it? I’ll… I’ll get my things, okay? Apparently, I can go back to my place.”

Tensei watches you quietly as you grab your stuff.

A few times you can tell that he’s preparing to say something, but he doesn’t.

“Goodbye,” you tell him, heart heavy, longing for nothing more but to crawl into his arms and stay there, the whole world be damned. “I hope everything turns out alright for you.”

-

Rumi thinks you’re stupid.

You think you’re stupid.

You’re not sure what your Dad thinks, because you haven’t yet told him about the whole affair.

But from the looks he’s sending you over a plate of what you fondly call “Dad’s hodgepodge”, you’ll find out pretty soon.

“So,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. “That guy in the wheelchair.”

“What about him?”

“He’s your mate?”

You fight the flinch, but your face must betray you. Your father chuckles.

“You know, you come right after your mother.”

“I know.”

“Mhm, do you?” He cocks his head to the side to squint at you. “Because I don’t think you do. Did you know that your mother accidentally conjured me up one day?”

You freeze, food halfway to your mouth.

“What?”

“Yeah,” he nods, a wistful smile on her face. “She was so done with dating, she sat down, thinking long and hard about what she wanted in a man, and then wished for it to appear, in one person, thank you very much. A few seconds later I sat in the middle of her room, plenty confused. Didn’t know my Quirk could be turned on me like that.”

You gape at him, mouth open. 

“That’s not what you told me! At all!”

“Well,” he takes another sip. “Didn’t want you to try and recreate it. You’ve always been a curious kid.”

“But-”

“Ah,” he shakes his head at you. “Don’t talk back to me. Your mother would be disappointed.”

“Mom would be disappointed if I didn’t talk back,” you snap and he grins, bright like you know him.

You drop your head in your hands. 

“So what if he teleported me to him?” You ask, face hidden. “That doesn’t mean we will automatically work out.”

“No,” your father agrees, “but I don’t think we raised you to be a quitter. Or to be ashamed of where you came from. You used it as a motivation, became something we could be proud of. But I’ve noticed, lately, that you’ve lost your goal out of sight. Didn’t you want to get out of this part of town? Open a garage in one of the nicer districts and take me with you?”

“So you’re saying I should milk him for what he’s worth?”

Your Dad laughs.

“No. But I think you should at least try to see if you can work things out before you decide it will fail. And before you ask, Rumi didn’t tell me a thing. You’re just bad at hiding stuff.”

“Am not.”

“Am too. Eat your food.”

-

Tensei messages you every day. It’s not much, just a few details of what’s going on, but he’s persistent, even though you don’t respond.

Today’s text has you freezing though.

“Talked to Tenya. He’s as torn about going through with the surgery as I am, now that he knows the risks. Hope you’re doing well.”

The letters are dancing in front of your eyes. 

Tensei’s just as scared of things as you are. But while you were the one to take the first step, slip into bed with him when you could have run away, he’s the one keeping the conversation going.

You pick up your phone and start to type.

But isn’t that cowardly as well, you wonder, staring down at the words. You should tell him in person.

His apartment, however, is empty. 

At first, there’s no hint as to where he could be, until you reach the Calendar in the kitchen, tomorrow marked. Tensei, thorough in everything he does, has written the name of the Clinic next to the appointment.

Not that it’s of any use to you now, when visitation hours are most certainly over.

You pace his living room for a good minute before you realize, a little late, that you don’t have to deal with those anyway. All you have to do is focus on his face, the familiar smell of Grapefruit and Mint and-

Tensei groans, loudly. You’ve landed on top of him.

“Shit, sorry,” you climb off of him as quickly as you can, expecting the telltale smell of Hospital disinfectant and the crinkling of cheap linen.

Instead, your legs land on a mountain of plushies instead of the floor and when he turns on the light, you come face to face with a lifesized poster of a Hero named Gran Torino, the name all but plastered above his head.

“What are you doing here?” Tensei asks, voice groggy, “Am I dreaming?”

“Are you not in the hospital?” You ask back, trying to see more of this strange room. There’s sports equipment in the corner and pictures on the wall. 

Wait, is that Tensei with his front teeth missing? 

“I’m at my parent's place,” he whispers, turning the light off. “What are you doing here? Did I- Did I summon you again?”

“No, I wanted-” The darkness doesn’t make it easier to speak, instead you’re so much more aware of his body and his smell and the warmth he exudes. “I wanted to be there, with you. For the surgery or whatever you decide to do. I didn’t want to send you just a message, though, so I turned to your apartment but there was only a note on the calendar-” Tensei pulls you into his arms without a word.

“Are you going to leave again?” He asks after a while, voice muffled by how his face is pressed into your shoulder.

“Only if you send me away,” you promise, your hands finding the scars on his back, the spiderweb familiar, though not yet burned into your memory. One day they will be, you think, hoping that it’s true.

“Not sending you away,” he says, pulling you down. “And about the surgery-”

“You can do whatever you feel like doing,” you promise, “And I’ll do my best to support you.”

He laughs softly. “Even if means having breakfast with my parents tomorrow? Accompanying me to a different surgeon for a second opinion? Sitting with Tenya and my parents while I’m undergoing surgery that could kill me? Or pushing my wheelchair around until you need your own in case I decide against surgery?”

“Out of all those options, breakfast with your parents sounds the most daunting,” you confess, “but if they don’t bite my head off for sneaking into your room in the middle of the night to turn their innocent son into a Rebel, I can be swayed.”

“What about the rest?”

“You’re not the only one scared of relationships,” you admit. “But I’m not willing to let that fear stop me. You might have to remind me, though, sometimes. I don’t have the best memory.”

“Deal,” he says and you don’t need light to know he’s smiling. You can feel it, the curve of his lips, pressed against your own.

- x -

“Tensei?” Tenya calls from the front door.

“Taking a nap,” you call back, “I’m in the kitchen.”

It surprises you yet again, how Tenya’s still not done growing. He’s blinking in that tired way that tells you that school has been hell, but he still moves to hug you before he descends onto the Couch. 

Your apartment is closer to his school than his parent's house and even if it wasn’t, you’re pretty sure he’d still show up at least once a week.

In a few months, right after graduation, Tenya will start working as Ingenium, the newest member of their family to properly carry the name as a Pro Hero.

Tensei is insanely proud and so are you.

You take one look back at Tenya’s sleeping form when you feel it, the telltale signs of your Quirk activating.

You have just enough time to drop the knife you’d been holding before you dematerialize, only to plop back into existence right next to your Husband.

Tensei’s smiling, eyes open.

“Hey there,” he greets you, pulling you close, smothering you in a cloud of Grapefruit and Mint. “Missed you.”

“I was just in the other room,” you pretend to be mad, but your hands are betraying your words, rubbing circles into his back. 

“Too far away,” he jokes. 

“One day you’ll get in trouble for misusing my Quirk,” you tell him, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“But not today,” Tensei quips back. He’s right.