#y’know when you stand up too fast and get a head rush? it’s like that but a bit milder

[mars-ipan]

i keep getting like these rushes of dizziness for a second

[furiousladyking]

It's a Date - Part 2

Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: This is probably going to be slow going, but I think I like it so far?

Summary: Jake Seresin is feeling defeated. His youngest sister, Brooke is getting married in 3 weeks, and he has yet to find a date. While he loves his family, he can't say he enjoys getting those comments from his mother about when he is going to find a "nice girl" and settle down. In comes Y/N "Casper" L/N, a prime target to get rid of the one on Jake's back.

Warning: probably incorrect military information, not really proof-read.

__________________________________________________________

“You said you would give me whatever I wanted if I agreed to come with you,” you started, pointing toward a coffee shop kiosk to your left. They had just made it through security screening. Being in the Navy had its perks, including the fast lane through the always dreaded process. 

“Casp, you want to spend your compensation on a coffee?” It was early, too early if you ask Y/N. Hangman begged to differ, he wanted to check their bags and head toward their gate as quickly as possible so they wouldn’t be rushed. It was a little hypocritical, but that wasn’t something you were going to bring up at this hour. 

“Oh, Honey,” you begin, with a playful grin on your face. “You’ll be giving me whatever I want all weekend.” Hangman snorts at your comment, causing you to pull a face at his insinuation. Quickly brushing it off and rolling your eyes, you plant your feet where they stand and cross your arms. It was Hangman’s turn to roll his eyes.

“In that case, Sweetheart, how about you go over and get us something while I check our bags.” He adjusts the bags on his shoulder. “What do you have in this thing anyway? An F-18 manual?” His tone indicates joking, but his face is set in an almost glare.

“Just my love for you, baby,” you grin, reaching out your hand towards his cheek, getting ready to squeeze. He swats your hand away before shaking his head. While walking away, toward the check-in desk, he most definitely did not smile at your giggle. 

“Here,” you mumble as Hangman walks up to you after checking your bags. In your hand is a coffee cup, which he quickly accepts. You both grab the handle of your carry-ons and start walking in the direction of your gate. Lifting the cup to his mouth, Hangman admits to himself that coffee is definitely appreciated, it doesn't matter if it is the way he likes it.

“You remembered.” He looks to his side; head cocking slightly after the first sip. You look back, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“What?”

“Casper, you remembered the way I like my coffee,” He starts. You simply shrug and go to sip your drink once more. Hangman continues, “Y’know, someone might get the wrong idea and think you like me because you remembered this.” The sing-songy tune at the end of his sentence makes you snort. 

“Don’t get a big head, Bagman, it’s just a coffee. A black coffee,” you say as you shake your head softly.

“If we’re going to pass as a couple, you can’t be calling me that this weekend.” Your walk turns into more of a stroll as people rush past you. 

“But what if you’re being ridiculous,” You counter, your eyebrows raised.

“I have never, in my life, been ridiculous.” You cackle. Hangman does what he can to suppress the grin on his face, blaming it on the fact that your laugh was hilarious. “I think we should think about what we are going to call each other so it sounds natural when the time comes.” At that moment, someone who was in a particularly large rush passed you, clipping Hangman’s shoulder. His coffee splashes on his hand and wrist, causing him to hiss in surprise. “Asshat,” He grumbles under his breath. Hearing a gasp beside him, he notices the look on your face. “No - not that!”

“Fine, but you can’t veto my next one. I’m calling you baby and there is nothing you can do about it,” you say, shrugging mostly to yourself. “It just flows, so it’ll make pretending easier.”

“And you can be Honey,” He states. Looking at you, he sees the shake of your head. “Princess?” Giggles follow. “Sweetheart?” you pause for a moment, causing those behind you to grumble as they pass. 

“It’s not the worst choice.” You begin to walk once more, not looking back to see if the man you are with has followed. “So, Hangman, how long have we been dating?”

“It needs to be at least six months - that’s when I told my sisters that I would have a date for the wedding.”

“And they are just hearing about me now after over half a year because...?” Hangman’s shoulders move up and down.

“Being in the navy, and a pilot at that, we wanted to make sure things worked on a personal level before getting others involved,” He says. 

“If I had use of both of my hands, I might actually applaud you. It’s like you have thought about this or something.”

As the plane touches down on the tarmac, you feel yourself getting more and more anxious about the whole plan. You knew you were friends, and possibly could even categorize yourselves as good friends at this point, but would anyone buy that you were in love? 

You look to the seat beside you, and Hangman’s pleasant disposition washes away a bit of the worry. You can tell how excited he is to see his family. Like most of the dagger crew, he visited home as often as he could and would invite his family to see him, but being away was something Hangman never really got used to. He missed coming home to the smell of a hot, home-cooked meal wafting through the house. He missed teasing his sisters, then inevitably threatening someone who spoke or acted against them. 

You decide to pull him out of his focused state when those in front of them start to stand up and get ready to disembark from the plane. You place your hand on his forearm and find yourself smiling when he jumps slightly. 

“Your hands are freezing,” He spoke with his eyebrows knit together, words filled with pretend malice. “A little Texan air will do you some good, hopefully, return you to being a warm-blooded creature,” he said, with his face screwed up. You pretend to scoff, but a smirk was clawing its way onto your face, with nothing you could do about it.

Jake takes it upon himself to lift both of their carry-ons from the overhead compartment, seemingly slipping into the boyfriend role easily. Before walking down the aisle to disembark, he takes your hand in his and squeezes it as if he can feel your anxiety. You guess it was probably radiating off you considering how much you felt building up in your chest. 

Walking through the hallways of the airport, you are impressed. You knew Austin was big, but in all honesty, you were expecting something a little more… country. Through the walls of windows, you notice the large crowd of people at the bottom of the escalator. Most of them looked so excited to be here, likely reuniting with some of their favourite people. You watch as various groups embrace passengers from the plane and feel a pang in your chest. Is it wrong to trick Jake’s family like this? Surely there was another-

“That’s them there”, Jake interjects, jolting you from your possibly spiral-inducing thoughts. Though he is pointing toward the crowd, you can’t help but look at his face first. He looks like a kid on Christmas who just opened a present containing a puppy. You follow his hand and try to filter through the crowd. You had seen pictures of his mom and his sisters from an old photograph in his locker but adding an extra 20 years really changed people. 

Jake’s point turns into a wave, and suddenly you see them. His mother has the same smile, and his sisters have the same bright blonde hair that Jake adorned. 

The both of you walk up to Jake’s family and you are immediately enveloped in a hug by his mother. Your mouth opens into an “o” shape, a little taken aback by the prompt physical affection. You hear a snicker from beside you.

“I hope Jake told you we are a family of huggers,” his sister jokes, taking Jake into a hug herself. 

“Oh, hush, Emily,” Jake’s mother chides before partially releasing you. She holds onto the tops of your arms and smiles. “It is so nice to meet you, dear.” 

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Seresin. Thank you so much for having me.” She still hasn’t let you go of your arms, seemingly trying to take you all in. You flush red, looking away for a second, worried she will be able to see the lie on your face. 

“Dear, call me Alice, Mrs. Seresin is far too formal for such an important person in Jake’s life.” Her hands brush down your arms, to stop to hold your hands for a quick moment. Almost abruptly, she releases your hold to turn toward her son. “And you, I swear it’s been years since I have seen my favourite son,” she teases. He chuckles.

“It’s been maybe five months, Ma.” He doesn’t touch on the favourite son bit. Sure, he was her only son, but it didn’t stop her from telling him he could still be her favourite. Her hug with Jake is much shorter than the one she shared with you, something Jake couldn’t help but notice.

“Okay then, let’s get this show on the road. Your nieces were practically bouncing on the couch in anticipation of meeting Y/N.” 

_________________________________________________________

@keyrani @djs8891

[2knightt]

「 be our guest! 」

IN WHICH—dallas winston is the beast while readers the beauty!♡ ໋֢👒✧

🍵ヾFT. DALLAS WINSTON࿐ྀུ ♡

⌗ 👒 notes !𖥔༌ ᰷ ﹅i am NAWT making him an actual beast. he’s just shaggy guys☺️.

“well, maybe dallas winston got ‘em. sounds right up his alley, y/n.”

cherry shrugs, saying everything in a nonchalant voice. she crossed her arms, blinking as she waits for a response instead of this over-exaggerated look on your face.

you never got why she hung around you. she was able to fit into any crowd, she wasn’t called weird or different, and she wasn’t just liked for her beauty.

you had the right side of your top lip raised, your eyebrows were furrowed and you—ever so slightly—squinted.

you were about to respond with some snappy remark before you felt a hand grip your shoulder, snaking their arm around your waist.

“‘m terribly sorry to hear about your father, y/n. but—going after him would be a fools game.”

you couldn’t stand bob! he goes after every girl in the village, then gets his sights set on you for not liking him like how the brainwashed girls do!

first he calls your dad crazy to his face, then he makes you feel dumb for reading books beyond his comprehension, and now he’s mocking your father for chasing his dreams!

you scoff, pushing yourself away to get as far away from him as possible. bob gets this weird look of hurt on his face, a mixture of shock, hurt, and amusement.

“you pig! what makes you think—in any universe—you can even think that he won’t come back?!”

you shout, waving your arm around. you walk, as quickly as you can to stand beside cherry. she had her chest puffed out, her face contorted into a look of anger.

randy now stood behind him, trying to seem tuff now. he never was one that struck you as tuff anyhow. bob got a fake sympathetic look.

“c’mon, hun. you know that’s not what i meant. all you need is me with you.”

he smirked, pointing to his chest with his hands. randy mumbles a fast ‘yeah,’ trying to fit into the conversation somehow.

you opened your mouth to call him some not-so nice words before huffing off, turning on your heel. you started marching your way towards your house.

cherry was right behind you, complaining about bob. saying he was no good, that he’s just the same as before. those complaints fell to deaf ears, though.

you were too busy thinking on how you were gonna help your father. how scared he must be, how you were gonna save him from anything and everything.

you tossed on the closet thing you can find to be a jacket, wrapping the strings loosely around your neck.

cherry was leaning onto the door frame, calling bob a, ‘no good two timing looney.’ whatever that means. she turns her head, seeing this jacket wrapped around your shoulders as you flick your hood up.

“no way you’re actually going, y/n.”

you scrunch your face, confused on what she meant. sure, you understood her words but why didn’t she think you weren’t gonna go?

“you got an issue with that?”

you ask, blinking. you had furrowed your eyebrows, eyes shifting around. you sigh, not wanting to hear an answer. she was jus’ gonna bring up dallas winston. dallas winston was all you heard when someone talked to you about your father.

‘dallas winston’s gonna gut ‘em.’ ‘dallas winston’s never gonna let your dad go, y’know.’

you huff, walking out the door past cherry. she quickly places a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying her best to give a reassuring smile.

“don’t die. i need someone to, uh, talk too.”

you smile, nodding your head. you seen that she was visibly worried, her eyebrows upturned. she lost the rosy hue to her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes was a little more shiny, her lips were shaking ever so slightly.

you grasped her hand in yours, holding it like she was gonna break at any moment. you mumble a fast, ‘it’s alright,’ before rushing your way towards the barn.

your fathers horse stood there, looking worried herself. you gently pet the nape of her neck, unhitching her. you sigh, tightening your lips.

“please, just take me to him.”

you mumble quietly, hoping that celine would understand you. you hopped onto the saddle, gripping the reins. you thwack the leather, telling the horse to get going.

she rode and rode, leading you to once a beautiful, bright, with blooming flowers turn into a dark, frightening, gloomy forest.

you felt your breath hitch as you fled deeper into the woods, hearing owls hoot, the twigs under celine snapping.

you reach this huge gate, the metal rusting. you look up, your eyes trailing up the cracks in the cement border. the dead trees growing up the walls, the roots sticking out of the ground. the black iron gate looking heavier than anything you’ve ever seen.

you jump off the horse, figuring it’s worth a shot to at least try to open the gate. you push it open, the bottom of the gate dragging the dirt along with it. your eyes shift around, locking onto your fathers hat. you gasp, looking forwards, seeing the door to the huge castle.

it had towers upon towers, the door looking just as huge as the gate, if not bigger. you inhaled, trying to find courage to rush through the door. you grip your fathers hat, finding an odd comfort in a way.

“oh, you just had to invite him!”

ponyboy groans, throwing his head back. he walks towards two-bit, pointing at him as he furthers with his complaining.

“sit in dally’s chair, of course! take a look at this vase! stay, stay, i insist!”

ponyboy mocks him, copying two-bits movements in an over exaggerated way. he quickly rolls his eyes, kissing his teeth as he crosses his arms.

“well, excuse me for trying to be orderly!”

two-bit replys, sarcasm laced in his voice as he snarls. he huffs, turning his head away from ponyboy. he opened his mouth, ready to say something snide back before hearing the door creak open.

“hello? is anyone here? hello?”

you yell out into the empty halls, rushing up the stairs. the bright red carpet helping you stay balanced as you were calling for your dad in this castle. god, how scared was he?

“dare! there’s a girl in the castle!”

johnny whisper-shouts, stumbling his way towards darry who was washing the dishes. darry quickly glances towards johnny, sighing as he scrubs the plate faster.

“now, johnny, let’s not start makin’ up these elaborate stories.”

“honest, darry! i saw ‘er!”

darry sighs, frustrated. he tossed johnny a wet rag, shaking his head.

“enough with that nonsense. start helpin’ me with the dishes, johnny.”

sodapop comes skidding into the kitchen, almost missing the room entirely. he trips onto the checkered tile, rushing to get up. soda shoots up beside darry, his elbows propping him up as he leans onto the counter.

“i saw a girl in the castle, darry! a girl!”

johnny throws the dish rag into the sink, staring at darry with an, ‘are you kidding me?’ look.

“told you.”

two-bit cracks a grin, seeing ponyboy get more furious the more he toys with him.

“you irresponsible, wax for ears, sassy littl-“

“papa?”

ponyboy gets cut off, hearing your voice echo through the walls of the castle. two-bit and ponyboy rush towards the door, peaking out from the side to see you cautiously step down the hall.

“did you see that? a girl, pony!”

“i know it’s a girl.”

two-bit grins, practically skipping around.

“she’s the girl we’ve been searchin’ for! she’s the one that’s gonna help dally!”

“wai-wait!”

ponyboy shouts, chasing after two-bit who’s currently following you carefully.

you stumble past a door, looking forward before hearing it creak behind you. you rush inside the room, looking left and right.

“hello?”

unknown to you, two-bit and ponyboy had just entered the same room. sure, the two of them knew you’d hear but two-bit was hoping you’d go in.

two-bit drags ponyboy into the closet, hiding inside it. two-bit cracks the doors open slightly, seeing you walk up the stairs.

“dad?”

“y/n?”

you hear your dad groan from this door, a small part at the bottom having bars. you rush towards the wooden door, grabbing a torch on your way there. you crouch down, holding your dads hand gently. it was so much colder than you remember.

“wh-what are you doing here? how did you find me?”

“i need to get you out of here.”

“no! you can’t! get out, far away as possible!”

you felt a hand grip your shoulder tightly before tossing you up, causing you to stumble back slightly. in the process, you dropped the torch. it was pitch black, you were unable to see three feet ahead of you.

“wha—who are you?!”

you shout to this dark figure, the moonlight being the only thing shining through the towers window. he fled to a darker part of the chamber, as if trying to hide from you.

“who are you?”

he snarled, looking down at you like you were just some…bug. you were unable to see anything but the scowl on his face.

“let my father go! he’s sick, he could die! please, i-l’ll do anything!”

the man turns on his heel, looking away from you. he huffs quietly, getting annoyed by the second.

“there’s nothing you can do. he’s my prisoner—what aren’t you gettin’ lady?”

he kisses his teeth, walking past you. when he stomped away. he looked down at you once more. you looked closer at him, seeing slight fangs when he snarls.

“there must be some way….there must be some way.”

you ramble to yourself, your eyes darting around the floor. you notice cracks that are leading towards the door keeping you away from your father.

“wait!”

you shout without thinking, extending a hand out. dallas stops walking, looking over his shoulder. he had an eyebrow raised, looking down at you with curiosity.

“take me instead.”

you sigh, gripping the hem of your little cape. your just now noticing your hoodie fell, a cold breeze hitting the back of your neck.

dallas blinks in shock, turning around. his lips were slightly parted as his eyes trail from you to the ground. his eyebrows were furrowed, confusion painted on his face.

“you would…take his place?”

“no! you don’t know what you’re doing, please!”

your father shouts, his voice shaking. you sigh, trying to recollect your thoughts. why did you say that? why are you getting nervous? why are you acting like you wouldn’t take his place over and over again?

“if i did, would you let him go?”

dallas takes a step forwards, crossing his arms. he looks you up and down, licking the inside of his cheek. he clenches his jaw before nodding his head slowly.

“yea. only if you stay forever.”

you sigh, your mind running at a million miles per second. you bite the skin off your lip, trying to make out how this guy looks.

“come into the light.”

you demand, squinting your eyes. you try to seem as tough as possible, tilting your head. sure, you weren’t the most intimidating—but you can try.

you hear an audible sigh and you’re willing to bet he rolled his eyes. he took a step forward, not trying to hide his angry expression.

the first thing you see being a scowl. he had rugged black hair, thick eyebrows, and dark brown eyes that felt has if he was staring past you whilst looking directly at you. he had noticeable fangs when he licks his teeth, raising his chin.

he had a stubble, his side burns quite shaggy. he was unkept, looking as if he hadn’t had a good haircut in months, years even if you wanna push it.

you gulp, as cartoony as that sounds. he intimidated you by just standing there. his eyes didn’t shine under the moonlight, his expression showed something you couldn’t read.

you bump into the wooden door, your father gently touching your shoulder. you find it comforting, but it wasn’t enough for you to change your mind.

“y/n, please. i cannot let you do this!”

you walk forward, your head hung low. you look up at him as you stand infront of him, standing up straight.

“you have my word.”

“deal.”

he growls, stomping towards the chamber your father was in. he opens the door, creaking loudly as it echos. you hide your face in your palms, trying to calm yourself.

your father rushes towards you, holding your shoulders. he stutters before finally saying a coherent sentence.

“listen to me, y/n! i’ve lived my life, i’m old!”

he gets cut off when dallas drags him away, not bothering to look at you or the ground in shame. he just looks forward, not an emotion present on his face.

your dad shouts out for you as he gets pulled away, extending out his arms. you shout another, ‘wait,’ but it falls to deaf ears.

“no, please! spare my daughter, i’m begging!”

“she’s not somethin’ you should be worryin’ about, man.”

dally mumbles, a sly grin on his face as he shoves your father into this carriage. the thing got up on four legs and started moving, ignoring the shouts of protest. dallas ignores him like he had before, the complaining getting easier to block out.

you watched as the man that can go head to toe with the devil threw your father into a carriage, throwing your face in your palms. a whine escaped your throat, a sound that can only be described as agony.

dallas was about to climb up the stairs once more before hearing a small, ‘psst!’

“dally!”

two-bit shouted from the closet, taking a step out from it. ponyboy wasn’t that far behind, a worried look on his face.

“what?”

dallas snarled, his voice filled with anger. two-bits eyes widened, eyes darting around before nervously chuckling.

“we-well, since the girl’s stayin’ for longer…how ‘bout we give ‘er a nicer room?”

dally raised his lip, angered at the question. before two-bit could add onto his sentence, dallas was already halfway up the stairs.

you sat in the dungeon, keeping your word. you were scared to not keep your word. dallas cautiously entered the room, hearing your cries. he almost felt a drop of pity for you.

the fear you felt trickled into anger as you turned on your heel, jaw clenched with your face scrunched.

“you didn’t even let me say goodbye! i’ll never see him again! …i didn’t get to say goodbye…”

a sob left your lips, palms back on your face. dallas’ lips were slightly parted, eyebrows twitching. he tightened his lips, crossing his arms before sighing.

“follow me to your room.”

[oceanbug]

when worlds collide

smau non!idol ningning x reader

16. loved.

•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•

“You think she’ll care if I eat her jello?”

“Yunjin, she’s laying down on a hospital bed.”

“So, no?”

Slowly opening your eyes, you feel a huge rush of pain. Where were you? How’d you get to a hospital?

“She’s awake! Oh, thank Jesus. Y/N, baby, are you okay?” It was the nurturing sound of your mother, Sakura—not a literal mother, but she’s a mother figure to you.

“I feel like shit. What happened?”

“You almost died, Y/N. You’ve never been so irresponsible with your allergies; didn’t you check the ingredients before ordering? Or see the giant peanut sign on the menu?”

“Ugh, Kurra, give her a break. Who could focus on any of that with Ning-bitch staring at us the whole time?” You could only guess that voice belonged to your partner in crime, Yunjin.

“Fine, I’ll give you a pass this time. But be more careful next time, okay?” You could only nod your head at Sakura. You were too busy thinking about your restaurant experience prior to almost dying. Waves of memories came crashing at you after Yunjin mentioned Ningning. All the chaos and arguments. Your fight with Ningning. Your fight with Jimin. And your total make-out session with Giselle It was just a peck, but you have to find at least one positive in your restaurant experience.

Wait, your fight with Jimin

“Where’s rina?” Your heart pounded at the thought of seeing her. You didn’t exactly get to explain yourself, and as much as you wanted to avoid her, you knew it was best to talk.

“She went back to the dorms, and Aeri and Minji went back with her. Y/N, I don’t exactly know what’s happening, but you gotta talk to her. She’s hurting.” Your heart went from a fast-paced beating to a sudden drop. Jimin’s always been tough; she almost never cried. The only time you saw her shed tears was when her pet fish, Naveis, died freshman year. So the fact that you, out of all people, someone who’s supposed to be her best friend, had hurt her made you feel horrible.

“Kurra, you mentioned Aeri and Minji, and Yunjin and you are here, so where’s Yujin?” You could only think of your best friend’s reaction to all of this. She’d always been against the thought of Jimin and you being together. She didn’t want you to get hurt. Yet here you were hurting Jimin instead.

“She went off with her princess and Yeonjun. Something feels a bit off about her though, y’know? Kurra and I have been trying to figure it out, but what did Ning mean when she brought up Yujin?” You pondered for a second. Trying to think back to the venomous words Ningning had spit at you.

‘Did you get your little friend Yujin to help you? You’re such a fucking freak for playing the long game. I bet you found it funny when I kissed Jimin at our graduation party, huh? Like it was all part of your plan?’

Huh, what did she mean by that?

“Let’s focus on that later, okay? Let’s just get you discharged and home.” Sakura was right. You had to get home, not just to get out of this hospital, but to speak to Jimin.

_________________________________________

Here you were, standing outside the door to your apartment. You didn’t know what to expect when walking in. Were you in for round two with Jimin? Is Minji going to ask another painfully awkward question? Are you going to spontaneously make out with Giselle? Hah, you wished.

Dang it, Y/N; no time for jokes. Brace yourself. 

You held your breath as Yunjin began to open the door.

“Honey’s, we’re home!” The sound of frantic running is heard. You immediately locked eyes with Jimin.

“Jimin I’m so-“

“What the fucks the matter with you?” You’re held in a tight embrace. To the point where you struggled to breathe. Or maybe it was from the previous allergy attack. Either way, you felt a wave of relief come rushing over you. Maybe Jimin wasn’t upset at you?

“Y/n, when you’re in trouble, you come to me. I don’t care if the issue is about me. I don’t care if the issue is me. That’s what makes us so special; we’re close.” Jimin let go of her embrace with you. You stared at her; she was slightly tearing up.

"Jimin…. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, I did; I was just scared. I thought if you rejected me, we wouldn’t be friends. I didn’t want to ruin our special bond. Our perfect trio. I never meant to hide it from you, really.” Everyone else in the room slowly tiptoed away to give you two some space. You knew they would be next door with their ears pressed against the wall, but you still appreciated their effort.

You took a deep breath and exhaled. You kept her gaze, staring straight at your friend.

“Jimin, I like you. I always have. Since freshman year, when we locked eyes, I knew you would be someone special to me. And I was right, you are.”

Holding your breath, you closed your eyes. You had waited for this moment for 7 years. 

“Y/n, I don’t feel the same way.”

There it is. You were rejected. Your heart sank, and your body deflated. Your longtime crush has just rejected you.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you in my life. I don’t care if it’s my best friend, classmate, or secret admirer. I need you in my life, Y/N. We’re-“

“Best friends.” You finished her sentence for her. You can’t help but let your tears fall. But they weren’t tears of sadness. You were happy. Happy that you didn’t have to live your life in fear of Jimin finding out about your crush, fear of rejection, or fear of breaking up your friend group. You were in love with Jimin, but you also loved Jimin. Not just as a crush, but as a best friend. She was always there for you when you needed her. You also couldn’t imagine a life without her.

Both of you were crying at this point and holding each other tight. You only broke out of your trance at the sounds of sniffles heard around the corner.

“You bunch of ease-droppers, get in here!”

Frantic running can be heard once again. Everyone joined in for a tight group hug.

“Man, I love you guys.”

Everyone laughed at Aeri’s words, since you barely knew her. But at this moment, it didn’t really matter. Everyone you cared about was in this room.

And you sure did love them all.

_________________________________________

At Wonyoung’s apartment.

“Hah, what a total shitshow!"

“Shouldn’t you be checking up on your girlfriend, Yeonjun?”

“Nah, she’s got her group of sharks by her side; if I step one foot near them, they’ll probably eat me alive.”

Yujin sighed. She glanced down at her phone to see a text from Sakura.

‘Y/n’s fine.’

Yujin’s sigh of annoyance turned into one of relief. Her best friend was okay.

“Aw, honey, I’m guessing you have good news. I told you Y/N would be fine; always trust me.”

Wonyoung giggled and pet Yujin’s head. She leaned into her table and took a bite of leftover cake.

“You know, they really ought to specify the design between the peanut-free option and the peanut-filled option. It would be a shame if someone got them mixed up.” Wonyoung sighed, staring at the cake in front of her.

“This cake would've tasted so much better with peanut oil; what a shame.”

•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•

masterlist ~ next

(Synopsis) Y/N had never been the type to take life for granted. You grew up with the mindset that if you wanted something, you had to work for it; So getting paired up with the university’s “Rich Bitch” Ning Yi Zhuo for your midterm was the last thing you wanted. Are you willing to step into the world of fame for an A+?

taglist (open): @azraism ; @kimsgayness ; @sewiouslyz ; @winieter ; @llluvbluy ; @i06kkura ; @everydayiloveyves ; @edamboon ; @rdfgfv

[sickficideas]

okay, recently this idea has been infecting my brain, idk where else to put it, here we are :D

y’know how Kenji’s ability requires him to be hungry? and how not eating for long periods of time can give you a head rush?

and y’know how fevers can do the same thing? yeah, I got ideas w/ those

him going in to work, assuming he feels sore because his gift gives him strength.

he feels warm, maybe because he’s out on field duty?

he feels tired, but like he said, it’s sunny out, must be related to the heat.

his stomach hurts, but meh, he’s just hungry. probably should’ve eaten dinner last night, but he was so tired, he just fell onto his bed when he got home.

he sits down at his desk and is wracked with chills, because it’s so hot out, they must have turned up the air conditioning.

he always feels dizzy getting up from his desk, so this time is no different. even if as the hours go on, the dizziness gets worse.

his coworkers keep looking at him funny, but he’s used to ignoring that by now (although, it’s a little odd coming from people he knows)

the final straw is when he stands up too fast, and instead of just closing his eyes to block out the dizziness, his knees shake and he’s forced to sit down, the second change in elevation only makes his head hurt. he feels like he’s gonna pass out, and he resists from putting his head between his knees, choosing instead to tense his shoulders. it’ll go away eventually, like it always does. he heads someone say his name distantly.

meanwhile, Kunikida had been watching all day. he and Atsushi had already said something multiple times, which resulted in either a polite denial, or no response at all. he sees the exact moment Kenji falls back into his seat, and gets up immediately, shouting his name. everyone turns to them, but he doesn’t care, he just walks over to set a hand on his shoulder.

aaaaand idk what to do so imma just leave it there 👍👍👍

anyway, thoughts on the kenji hc/idea?

this is a beautiful sequence of events and description on your part, please let me know if you ever write bsd sickfics !!!

This is so cute I really do love Kenji so much he's just baby...I can totally see this happening because he's very politely stubborn lol he has a Taurus soul...the nature of his ability would definitely make him dismiss a lot of uncomfortable symptoms in general...there's an Anthology chapter about him getting a cold/fever from overworking himself and the other ADA members feeling responsible for not looking after him so I like that angle too...!! They worry about him he's their emotional support dog for real they have to make sure he's taking care of himself too 🥺

I'm thinking about Beast Kenji too because really the closest person to Kenji in any iteration of BSD is Beast Akutagawa 😭😭 Their friendship means so much to me 😭😭😭😭 I love the idea of this happening to Kenji while they're working together, and Kenji is too out of it to walk so Akutagawa carries him back😭 he's concerned because he knows exactly what not eating for a long time is like and how that can cloud your judgement when you're already unwell so he tries to look out for him more closely from that point forward🥺🥺

[totallyradicalmucky]

Wheatley almost burns the house down: a shortfic

I played portal 1 & 2 recently after being pestered by a friend. cool games that I recommend actually. Made a fic at like 3am after these funny guys stayed in my head after I beat the second game in its entirety.

[Wheatley, antsy as always leaped at the sight of Chell walking into their shared apartment..or more accurately- Chell’s apartment that he lived in ..after Aperture. His optic rotated, just bursting at the seems to tell her something new.]

“OH- It’s you! So gu- no. I’ve been doing some research on *human dating* ..and-! It’s spectacular, so fun. And- You’ll never guess what I’ve got planned! It’s a suprise! C’mon, c’mon guess! ask me! ask me! ask m-

[this goes on more a while]

[Chell smiles a little, opening her mouth to respond]

“I’M GOING TO MAKE A DINNER! That’s it! But you won’t know what I’m making! Haha! It could be ANYTHING! Anything- bloody delicious that is! Mmhmm- Got you where I want you. Got you- there. Hehe. Um. So you….hmmm..Sit there while I do all~ the work!”

[Chell’s face drops in horror as she watches the Android rush off to the kitchen]

[She scrambled about for a moment, already hearing the clanking of pots and pans. The woman grabbed a fire extinguisher from underneath the bathroom sink, turning around to already see smoke coming from the kitchen.]

[Chell makes a dash to Wheatley, who was cooking something unidentifiable in a pot as the food was covered in smoke by now. She points the fire extinguisher at the pot quickly, only hesitating when she hears the android]

“Wait wait- wait! Hey! But you- you can’t be in here! Th-this’ll ruin the surprise! What are you even doing with the uhh..“

[The pot catches fire, causing the smoke detector to go off. The Android yelps in response to the noise, optic shrinking to a small size at the mess he’d made, only to be completely covered up by fire extinguisher foam.]

[The fire alarm beeping stops after a few minutes, Chell waving the smoke away and taking the pot off the stove. All the while Wheatley is given a towel to wipe the foam from his optic. Looking embarrassed from his now stained shirt..despite his lack of facial features.]

“Y’know you uh..you know you really uh..didn’t have to do that because uhh. I had it under control and, well it was all part of the suprise I had for you! Yup, all part of my master..my master-surprise plan. Yup. Bloody genius I am…Um, what are..what’re y’ doing?”

[The Android’s head tilts, getting sidetracked from his own rambling as he watched Chell rifle through the cabinets of their kitchen. He walks a bit closer, ever the nosy core]

“Soo..gonna let me in on what you’re doing there? Lookin for something? Maybe? Possibly? What would this…mm -what’re you looking for? C’mon….let your ol’ pal Wheatley look! Can I see? Can I? Can I-Can I Caaaan i? C’mon! Lemme see!”

*The bot gets even closer, resting his “head” atop the woman as he drums his hands on her back to try and get her attention while she’s kneeled, looking in the cabinet. Squinting in, to try and see where she’s looking, to no avail. He hums, a bit pouty.]

[Chell exhaled a laugh, smiling even more as she triumphantly held up a cool book in the air. Already feeling Wheatley’s attention leaving her to stand up and grab the cook book, the woman chortles as she stands up to watch him.]

[The bot, a bit dumbfounded by the obvious answer to his mistake. Puts a hand on his hip. Turning around, choosing not to face Chell as she smiles at him so smartly..he still holds the cook book in the air. Waving it with each punctuation in his speech.]

“Ah. Now this- this would’ve been very..ah. Very useful. Yknow, should’ve-uh, could’ve thought of that myself. But uh..y’know -clever girl thinking of that so fast. Clever girl…smart too!…I ever say that? Very smart. S. M. A. R. T.”

[He flips through the pages in the cook book rather quickly, glancing at Chell. Then back at the book, squinting at it.]

“So. Uh, do you have any..preferences?”

[Chell snorted. Making the android deflate a little, so she walked over to him, pointing out few favorites before honing in on a somewhat decent one to make (together..of course). Already being able to tell that Wheatley was completely lost on the instructions. She smiled, very much so ready for the long night ahead of them both...and her dinner.]

[kyber-crystal]

rendezvous at midnight || jake “hangman” seresin

summary: you’ve always been good at handling any obstacle thrown your way. but when the clock starts ticking and you find yourself next to hangman, things change. could the new year bring with it a newfound love? maybe...

words: ~1.8k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, minor rivals-to-lovers trope but that’s it. this is mostly pretty fluffy!

a/n: so i had to repost this bc it flopped so hard...idk what’s happening to my fics lmao. i deeply apologize, this was really rushed and poorly written

It was only a matter of seconds before you choked to death.

You weren’t actually dying, but that was what it felt like. After growing accustomed to being in uniform most of the time, the switch to fine silk felt strange. Goosebumps rose up on your skin as you sat down at the bar and adjusted the strap of your form-fitting dress. 

As pretty and pearlescent as it was, it did little to keep you warm amidst the crowded area. 

You had practiced walking in heels in the morning until your ankles turned bright red. If you could ensure that you wouldn’t fall in front of everyone, you’d take all necessary steps to get there.

“How’s my favorite girl doing?” Penny offered you a warm smile and a sparkling glass of liquor. “Are you holding up okay?”

“Tired,” you explained. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

“Too busy thinking about him?”

“Come on, it’s not like that,” you groaned as you finished off your drink. “You know it’s not like that.”

“I know it is like that,” she quipped. 

“We compete. We don’t fall in love,” you said. “That’s what we do. We’re not going any farther than snarky insults.”

“Go find him. There’s half an hour ‘til the clock strikes 12,” It almost sounded like she was hinting at something. “Then you start fresh. Begin again. No rivalry. And if you’re lucky, you can steal a kiss or two.”

“Penny!” 

“What? I’m only giving you suggestions. Now shoo. I’m not letting you get drunk again and force poor Bob and Mav to drag you home.”

“Fine,” you exhaled as you set your glass down and got up. “I’ll catch you later…unless you’re too busy with one certain captain…”

Penny rolled her eyes and waved you off, trying not to smile. 

You found him standing alone in the corner, nursing a glass of tequila and looking quite content. Seeing his slim, toned figure under the dim bar lights tugged at your heartstrings. The man truly was a sight for sore eyes, save the rivalry…and ego…and overcompetitive nature.

“Tired already?” you asked. Hangman looked up, and the corners of his mouth turned up a bit. “It’s a lot, isn’t it.”

“Sure is,” he chuckled. “You look…incredible, darling.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, suddenly feeling nervous in front of him. “You do, too.”

“Hard to believe it’s almost January. It feels like we got here yesterday.”

“I don’t believe in time. This isn’t real,” you shook your head and laughed. “Things go by way too fast for me to process anything. I’m in denial of the fact that none of us knew each other five years ago.”

“Coyote and Payback weren’t best friends. Let that sink in,” Hangman added on. “Neither were Bob and Phoenix.”

“There’s no way…”

“Part of me misses how we used to be, though. Before the academy.”

“Jake, we fought all the time through college,” you reminded him. “Why would you want to go back to it?”

“Well…the year’s almost over. Might as well turn over a new leaf,” he held a hand out to you. “What do you say?”

“Okay.” You smiled, and shook his hand. “I like the sound of that.”

“It’s like they’re sucked into their own bubble. Lost in their own little world,” Payback observed the two of you laughing together. “Y’know, the tiny city in the Lorax? Like that, but make it naval aviators. It’s cute.”

“It would be cuter if they would just kiss already,” Fanboy groaned. “How long has it been? Four years?”

“‘Cause Seresin’s dumb ass thinks that insulting Y/N all the time is the ultimate way to win her over. None of his thousand attempts have come across to her clear enough yet,” Coyote backed up. “But we gotta give ‘em time. That’s all we can do right now.”

“I guess so…”

“Jake. If you keep chugging your tequila like that, you’ll regret it,” you warned. “Starting the new year with a hangover isn’t the way to go.”

“You said my first name.”

“Did you even hear what I said after that?”

“You’ve never said my first name before,” Hangman observed. “But now you did. It’s nice. I like the change.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to get annoyed, not when he was looking at you the way he currently was. Eyes once filled with hardness and frustration now softened at the sight of you.

“Hold still.” Your brows furrowed in concentration as you reached up to fix his tie. “Your tie’s all crooked.”

Your fingers accidentally brushed against his skin, and electricity shot through your body. You stood there, frozen for a moment, before bringing them down—and his eyes stayed on you the whole time.

“There,” you stated, dusting your hands off. It was a miracle that you could utter even a word without your voice trembling. “Good as new.”

“Thanks.”

The awkward silence that fell over you afterward was rather heavy. You didn’t know how long it lasted for, standing there, avoiding intense eye contact while trying not to melt into the floor.

A series of loud voices snapped you out of your awkward moment. Everyone had gathered around the bar, watching the TV and counting out loud. Thirty seconds left…so you let Hangman take your hand and lead you closer to the scene. 

You didn’t say anything, even when he kept his grip on your hand and looked up at the screen. You found that you liked the company and didn’t want him to let go of you.

15, 14, 13, 12

11, 10, 9, 8

Hangman turned towards you once again. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

“Okay.” The word was out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. 

7, 6

5, 4

His hand slid up to your cheek. The air in the room grew impossibly thicker, and you face felt hotter.

3, 2, 1...and like a flash of lightning, his lips are on yours and you melt into his touch. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin and you hold onto his shoulders to keep your balance. Both of you are most likely a bit tipsy but that does little to slow down the butterflies in your stomach. He’s everywhere and you’re on fire and you should stop yourselves at this point but you don’t. You can’t, because you don’t want to. How could you have imagined that his lips would feel so perfect; so delicately warm and soft against yours; that with one small gesture, he could break down the walls you tried so hard to build up around your heart. He was here, but he was everywhere, too. 

When you finally break apart, you’re dazed and confused. You’re too out of it to notice Bob and Coyote exchanging wads of cash, or that it’s already several minutes past twelve. Your head is spinning, and your knees feel weak. 

It’s a miracle that you make it home that night without passing out.

It was only a kiss, you tell yourself. That’s all it was supposed to be. But it still manages to creep its way into your dreams, into your sleep, and sinks into your skin—you can’t escape it. What had only lasted for a few minutes was taking up your entire day and sucking all the energy from your body. You wanted to crawl into a deep hole and stay there forever—at least in the darkness, nobody could visualize your embarrassment. And your reddening face. And the way you clung to him like there was no tomorrow.

“The queen has finally emerged from her beauty sleep.” Maverick looked amused as you lifted your head off your desk and blinked. “Welcome back.”

“Sorry, Mav,” you mumbled as you rubbed your eyes. 

He gave you a look that seemed to say he understood what was going on. “It’s okay. Now back to what I was saying…”

It was like you were dragging your feet through rivers of mud. You could still feel him. His lips ghosting over yours, hands leaving the imprint of his tantalizing touch on your waist. You couldn’t get the feeling out of your head…but how could you? This was Hangman, and Hangman was a difficult person to forget—he was everything and you hated to love it.

After the day’s lesson finished, you were out of there and in the dining hall as fast as possible. 

“You look like you saw your morals fly right out the window,” Fanboy noted as he set his tray down and sat next to you. 

“Because they did,” you muttered. “New year, new me? More like new year, and old habits die hard.”

“I wouldn’t call your feelings for Seresin an old habit. They’ve always been there. It came to you naturally.”

“Shut up before I throw this juicebox at you.”

“You should do something, you know. You kissed.”

“And we had both been drinking before. He only initiated it because of the liquor confidence boost.”

“So? That doesn’t change how he was looking at you before. He was standing over there waiting for you to come to him,” Fanboy argued. “Give the man a chance. You ran away too fast last night.”

“Fine. But you owe me dinner tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

Can we talk?

You typed out a quick Meet by the docks before grabbing your purse and heading out the door. He was already there when you arrived.

“Hey…” you began.

“Hey.”

You stood there in silence as he started to speak. “So, about last night. I wasn’t drunk, at least, not enough to forget what I said or did. I hope you weren’t? I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you.”

“I wasn’t.” 

“Okay, good.”

“Yeah.”

“Great.”

Right then, you became all too aware of the way he was gazing at you—alcohol or not, the look in Hangman’s eyes was the exact same as the one last night…and you felt your pulse start racing. Had he always stared at you that way but you were too oblivious to notice? 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” your voice came out so quiet that he almost missed what you said. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t know how else to look at you.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. It was only a kiss. Nothing more. 

“You didn’t do it out of pity, right?”

“I couldn’t do that to you or myself. I didn’t do it on accident, Y/N. It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Oh.”

You took three steps toward him, enough to be mere inches away from his face. His arms wrapped around you on instinct and you let him pull you close. Then when he tilted his head down to kiss you again, you let him, and the butterflies remained. 

He was here, and he was everywhere, too.

tags, including those who may be interested: @queenbbarnes​ @walkonthewiidside​ @sarcastic-sourwolf​ @totomoshi​ @sebastianstangirl01​ @altheadarling​ @hay-9105​ @purelyfiction​ @93joons​ @yeehawnana​ @lunamoonbby​ @hazelgirl355​ @multifandom-fangirl4​ @paintballkid711​ @lyn-lc​ @azari-anna​ @thelifeofthelifeofme​ @spawn0fsatan​ @milestomaverick​ @newlibrary​ @ellabellabus07​ @criminalyetminimal​ @whatlovegattado​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​ @hufflepuffprincesse​ @ice-mans-world​ @burnedbrisket​ @fangirlinc​ @marveljunkie45​ @knowledgefulbutterfly​ @levis-butterfingers​ @organabanks​ @coastingline​ @skylynch03​ @chaoticassidy​ @hbstre​ @mercury-mae​ @light-the-moon​ @winteryoungie​ @aie1840​ @thisismypointofview​ @minivture​ @teacactusworld​ @icemansgirl1999​​ @cherry-waved​ @vane28282​ @worldsoldestpizzaslice

[dobiemart]

meant to be

pairing, peter ballard, henry creel, or 001 x reader

summary, after wandering out of your room when peter instructed you to wait, you see a side of him that you'd never expect.

or

peter's doll never strays too far from his grasp.

word count, 1.1k

byr, first actual fic or smth like that ahrhagaha

also kinda mad at myself cause the reader barely gets a personality other than saying peters name but ILL DELIVER NEXT TIME I SWEAR

(p.s. if you see a spelling or grammar mistake no tf you didnt.)

warnings, angst(?), pet names, pretty detailed gore, mentions of death, mentions of peters abuse, my goofy ahh writing, peter being too fine for anybody to handle.

you sprinted as fast as you could through the everlasting labs hallway, eventually reaching a storage room and slamming the door shut and fumbling for the lock. peter, being thin but still surely in shape, wasn’t far behind.

“all is forgiven, darling. c’mon. y’know i dont hold grudges for long.” peter taunted while slamming into the door a second after it was closed, barely winded from the chase. as you shuffled against the wooden barricade of the monochromatic room, you blankly remembered how you ended up in this situation.

earlier in the day, he’d asked for you to wait for him in your room. not giving a specific reason. you’d thought he simply wanted to spend time with you during a break he had on a shift. after a while of shifting on your well made bed, you decided to go look for him. it never usually took this long for him to return, so you’d started to worry something had happened with dr. brenner or some of the children in the rainbow room.

as you quickly shuffled out of the room, the sound of the door clicking back into place reverberating on the walls. slowly starting your stroll through the emptiness of the colorless corridors, you realized it was somehow quieter than it usually was. no usual “chit-chatting” went on during shifts other than greetings to other orderlies. none of them were in sight either, bringing your suspension levels to an all time high. picking up your pace, you rushed to the only brightly colored room in the facility and froze immediately in your tracks. the smell of metal slapped your sinuses damn near silly as your gaze finally took in the scene.

the subjected children were splayed across the room, their blood draped in blotches on the walls. the bodies themselves having crimson gapes where their eyes would be. the usual slightly joyful energy of the room turned dark and stuffy. the fear of ending up like the young test subjects clouded your mind. your eyes had flicked from child to child, corner to corner, eventually reaching the cause of this brutal massacre.

there peter stood, bone chillingly calm as he slowly sauntered towards your favorite facilitated child, his back ever so slightly flexing against the white of his crisply ironed uniform. 011 was always a sweet girl. she’d stand near you anytime you’d visit the rainbow room, draw things that would remind her of your usual calm, collected attitude, and sometimes tried to communicate if she could get away with it without the flashing red lights of the camera burning into the back of her head. she looked just as terrified of the man in front of her as you did. the genuine fear in her eyes made your heart fully drop to the pit of your stomach.

peter had interacted with 011 a select amount of times before, as papa didn’t appreciate anybody speaking to his “prized child” if they weren’t himself. always having his soft smile splayed across his rosy lips, fitting in just right with his golden retriever face. they seemingly had some bond to each other in a way nobody else understood. you never questioned why peter would bring up her abilities in random late night conversations, or why he’d favor her over the other children, thinking he’d just taken fondness to the young girl.

she slowly backed away as he hunted towards her, having an obvious advantage with his longer legs. ultimately she’d backed up too far, hitting the two-way mirror. his lengthy monologue he’d been reciting to the girl was muffled in your ears as you mumbled out a “...peter?” so quiet you couldn't even hear yourself say it.

registering your silky, heartwarming voice, his head slowly loomed over over to you, yet his body stayed still. the angle his neck was cranked at looked insanely uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to notice. “i asked you to wait.” he scolded, too calmly in contrast of the situation. his usual honey coated voice was stolen and replaced by a monotone sounding tone.

“peter.. i- what are you- what’s even..-“ you couldn’t form a stable sentence due to the shock of the situation and the heavy trembling in your voice. you’d never been scared of the friendly orderly you called your boyfriend. he was a lovely man. never aggressive towards the children if it wasn’t time for punishment. he took joy in being around them, taking care of them, and treating them as regular instead of test dummies as much as he could without being punished by papa. even then, he came back to you with a soft, pained smile on his face and open arms.

“you know what happens when we disobey the labs’ rules, darling.” he cut into your shakey sentence, now facing you. those blue eyes that held so much love and adoration were now in resemblance to a spider's dark orbs. dark, mysterious, and completely unreadable. never had they been like that before, and quite frankly, that was the scariest factor of them all.

before any rational response to what he’d said reached your mind, your fight or flight made a decision for you. not wasting a second, you fled, bursting out of the room and running at full speed down the corridor.

you sprinted as fast as he could through the everlasting labs hallway, eventually reaching a storage room and slamming the door shut and fumbling for the lock. peter, being thin but still surely in shape, wasn’t far behind.

“all is forgiven, darling. c’mon. y’know i dont hold grudges for long.” peter taunted while slamming into the door a second after it was closed, barely winded from the chase. as you shuffled against the wooden barricade of the monochromatic room, you folded into yourself, gripping your knees to your chest tightly.

“you know, i’d never hurt you, y/n. those bastards deserved it. keeping us all trapped in here for decades like animals, it’s over now, love. just open the door f’me.” he said with his slight smile. “it’s all okay now, we can finally escape. just you and me as it was meant to be. open the door and we can get out of here.”

his grin was still growing at the thought of leaving this reached prison. he was ready to wisp you away into the real world and show you what the world offered. he only wanted the best for you. for himself. for both of you. and now that 011 granted his powerful abilities to roam free yet again, he’d do exactly that.

AAAAARGAHSVKF THIS TOOK ME A LIL BIT TOO LONG FOR MY LIKING BUT THATS FINE IG

lmk if i should actually start posting my shitty ass mf blurbs i make when im tired or want a stranger things man to plow my shit for 70 minutes in 17 thousand different positions okay GOODNIGHT PALDBEKBD

-cora :)

© dobiemart 2022

[izuzaca]

Rainy First Kisses

summary: after the date Sal takes you on ends in rain, you both find a way to end it properly

warnings: none but could be a little close to suggestive?

word count: 1k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The street lights barely shed any light on the neighborhood as the rain falling down brought a cold and heavy fog across the city. Strong winds picked up and swept smoothly over every yard, picking up stray leaves and knocking aimlessly into bodies trying to seek shelter from the weather. Including you and Sal.

Earlier that day when you both decided to go out, the rain had not yet started and the wind was tame, but the clouds quickly coming in alerted you that it would be here soon. A little rain wasn’t going to ruin the day Sal planned. But a little rain from inside the coffee shop you sat at turned into pouring rain that drenched you as soon as you stepped foot out the door.

Sal turned to you before getting ready to bolt through the rain, “My house or yours?”

You glanced at him, thinking for a moment. “Hmm, I think yours. It’s closer. You ready?” You asked and held out your hand for him to grab so as to not lose each other. He just nodded and intertwined his fingers with yours as you both ran to his house a few blocks away. Reaching his house, Sal hurriedly looked for his key on his keychain, but looked up at you realizing it wasn’t there.

“I totally forgot Todd borrowed my key and he won’t be home for another hour,” Sal mentally slapped himself for forgetting as you both stood out in the heavy rain barely sheltered under the porch. But instead of seeing the negative, you came up with an idea. “Ok, let’s go through the back and if that’s not unlocked, then we’ll just stay in the shed until he gets back,” You said, grabbing his hand again and rushing to the back patio.

Trying the back door handle was no luck as it stayed locked in place. “Shit! This is locked, too. Shed it is, then,” You said as Sal immediately went to the button lock to type in the passcode. Once he got the door open, you both hurried inside, careful not to get water on any paper or equipment laying around. The shed shook slightly from how fast the wind was moving and the rain was loud on the roof of the building, but being in there with Sal made the situation way better.

After finally being able to calm down, you leaned against the table to catch your breath after running so far as Sal leaned on the wall opposite of you.

“Y’know, when I asked you on a date, I really should have checked the weather beforehand.” He was messing with his hair while talking, trying to fix it after getting drenched, but it was only making it worse. You snorted at his attempt to fix his blue mess, but opted to help him instead, reaching your arms out beckoning him to get closer. He walked a few feet until you were only a few inches apart.

You smiled at him as your fingers ran through his hair and settled on his shoulders. “Well, I thought it was nice. Who doesn’t like running full speed in the rain, getting locked out of their house, and standing in a shed until their roommate comes back?” You sarcastically questioned light heartedly as he also laughed with you. Silence broke out between you, but not an uncomfortable one. More of a silence that you felt safe in as you both looked at each other and thought of nothing except the other person’s presence.

Somewhere between the close proximity and longing stares, Sal’s hands found their way to your waist as yours found comfort resting behind his head. The position felt right as he slowly leaned farther into you. His hands shook slightly from their position on your waist from the nerves of being so close and your head was spinning from how he was touching you.

His body stayed close but his head moved back a little as he spoke, “You can take it off.” His voice was barely above a whisper, not wanting to disrupt the atmosphere in the room. You sucked in a breath, only to shakily let it out as your fingers found the straps to his prosthetic and slowly undid the bottom one. As you reached for the top one, you paused to look for any signs he was uncomfortable or changed his mind, which there were none and gave you consent to continue.

There was nothing new to see when taking off his mask as you commonly saw him without it on, but the idea of being so close after removing it, made your heart beat heavy in your ears. Pulling down the rest of the prosthetic, you set it down next to you on the desk and looked into his eyes and he immediately returned to his close position a few inches from your face.

Instinctively, your hands came back to hold onto the sides of his face as he leaned against your touch, making a soft noise as your thumb smoothed over the surface of his cheeks.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice slightly deeper and laced with want. “Are you going to kiss me or are you just going to look at me like that?”

That gave you the push you needed to close the distance between you two. As soon as your lips met his, the hands holding onto you gripped harder as his body pushed forward even more as the desk prodded into your skin. Your hands slipped from his face to the back of his neck and head to pull him in deeper for the most contact possible.

When you started to run out of air, you broke the kiss to catch your breath while looking at him doing the same. The grip on your waist did not let up but he raised his hand to place on your face as he smirked.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that.” He breathlessly stated before pulling you in again for another kiss.

[skinnyducky]

unexpected visits // v.h.

I got this idea from a movie (She's Out of My League). This scene in particular was one that nearly made me piss my pants and I knew I had to write something similar to it. I just really wanted to do something so kooky and funny and I felt this definitely fits that. I categorized this as fluff but idk. N E ways, here it is. Hope y'all enjoy it!

link to part 2

Word Count: 1420, slightly edited

WARNING: sexual themes, heavy make out session, language (once again...I think), mention of alcohol, and a very flustered vinnie

---------

You threw your head back in laughter as Vinnie had cracked another joke. You two had just left your date at BOA Steakhouse and due to the night being so great, you decided to invite Vin back to your apartment to hang out. Granted, you had no intentions of giving him the goods, at least not yet. You didn’t want to rush into that with this relationship. With so many of your previous relationships, you’d give it up and then they’d leave. You didn’t want that with Vinnie. Hell, you at least wanted him to meet your parents before any of that.

“You are a mess,” you giggled, stopping in front of your apartment door.

“Eh, I try to not to be.” He replied, making a funny face.

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your keys. You fumbled a bit before finding the key to your apartment. As you opened the door, you immediately dropped your bag and headed straight for the kitchen.

“You want anything to drink? A soda or water?” You asked, opening your fridge. “I think I may even have a White Claw or two.”

“Just a water’s fine.”

You nodded and grabbed two waters. You watched from behind the kitchen island as he glanced around your apartment, admiring the décor.

“This is a really nice place.” He gasped. “It’s even nicer than-…”

He stopped mid-sentence, staring at the horse of a dog that stood right before him. He gulped and backed away as the male Doberman began to growl at him.

“What the hell is that?” Vinnie asked, holding his hand out in defense.

Giggling, you walked out from behind the counter. “That’s Mac. I’m watching him for a while until my family gets back from Puerto Rico.”

“Oh wow,” Vinnie replied, “he’s got some teeth on him.”

“Yeah, you should sit down. He hates when people stand up; makes him antsy.”

Vinnie wasted no time taking a seat on your sofa. Mac took note of this and laid down. Taking your place on the sofa next to Vinnie, you passed him his water before taking a drink of yours. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, not knowing what to do or talk about. That was until you grew tired of the quietness and decided to make a move. You leaned in close to him and grabbed his chin to make him face you. The two of you stared deep into each other’s eyes, slowly moving in closer until your lips brushed against each other, but before you could get any closer, you pulled back.

“Wait…wait,” you breathed. “I’m really want to, but I don’t wanna move too fast, y’know?”

“No, no…I get it, I totally do.”

“Believe me, I want to so bad, but…I just don’t want you to leave.”

He furrowed his brows. “Wha-…Why would I leave, Y/n?”

“Because everyone else does. Every time I meet someone nice, I get pretty generous and give it up within the first couple of days and then never hear from them again. I just don’t want that with you.” You explained, cradling yourself.

Vinnie sighed, wrapping an arm around you. He gave you a comforting smile and pulled you into his side.

“Y/n, I like you so much, I didn’t even think it was possible to like someone so much. So, regardless of whether or not we do anything, I have no plans on dipping anytime soon. Heck, I tend to be pretty generous too.”

You smirked to yourself. Never once has someone made you feel so secure, so warm inside. You knew Vinnie was definitely the one, and you also knew that you wanted him here and now. Without a thought about, you straddled him—much to his surprise. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before attaching your lips to his. As expected, the kiss was better than you ever could’ve imagined. All you could focus on was how amazing his lips felt against yours. It was like they were sculpted for each other. Not to mention, his were so soft, it made you nearly faint at the slightest touch.

His hands gripped your waist tightly, causing you to whimper in pleasure. Your lips then found their way to his cheek, to his jawline, and then ended at the base of his neck. He groaned and moaned, wrapping his muscular arms around your frame. You continued to nip at his neck, all while steadily grinding in his lap.

“Oh my god,” he breathed against your ear. You mentally smiled at this and kept up with what you were doing.

Poor Vinnie felt helpless against you. Never had been with someone who could make him feel the way he felt with you. It was as if he was merely nothing but putty in your hands. And he like it.

He swallowed a large lump in his throat, feeling himself nearing the edge as you proceeded to roll your hips. He couldn’t help it, he knew the longer you worked your magic, the sooner he would burst.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Though, as he practically creamed his drawers, the doorbell rang. You immediately stopped what you were doing and hopped off of Vinnie. To his dismay, he glanced down at the crotch of his jeans to find a small dark spot. With a groan, he tried rubbing his hand against it, hoping the spot would go away.

You were completely oblivious to what was going on with the boy. You had adjusted yourself and then ran to open the door, revealing none other than your grinning parents.

“Mom, dad!?” You squealed as they pulled you into a hug.

Vinnie nearly lost his shit as he heard those names leave your mouth. What the hell could your parents be doing here, especially at this hour of night. “This can’t get any worse,” he thought to himself.

“I thought you guys weren’t coming back until tomorrow?” You said as you led your parents into your living room.

“Well, we were but your father’s job called, and we had to leave earlier than expected.” Your mom spoke. Her eyes went around the room before landing on Vinnie, who now sat cross-legged on your coach. “Y/n, who’s your little friend?” she smiled.

“Oh, this is Vinnie!” You laughed.

Your dad stepped up beside you sticking his hand out at Vinnie. “Y/f/n Y/l/n,” your dad greeted, obviously trying to intimidate Vinnie.

Instead of getting up to shake his hand, Vinnie remained seated with his arm out. The distance between the two wasn’t small enough for him to reach, and knowing your dad, he wasn’t about to move. Once Vinnie figured this out, he retracted his arm and shook his head.

“U-uh, nope. I’m not really a, uh, a handshaker. You know, germaphobe and all of that.” said Vinnie. “I’m sure you guys are uh…tired and worn out from your flight. You should, um, take a seat and…stuff.”

You and your family stared at the boy in confusion for a minute. After a few seconds of awkward silence, your mom took a seat at the end of the couch.

“Germaphobe.” Your dad huffed to himself, sitting next to Vinnie.

You contained your embarrassment—not only for Vinnie, but for yourself—and sat down in the armchair. Vinnie began at attempting to make small talk, hoping that he could still win your parents over, but that was cut short when Mac found his way over to Vinnie. The large dog began sniffing at the stain as if he was smelling a homecooked meal.

“Oh no, Mac.” Vinnie whined.

You and your family watched in bewilderment as the dog proceed to growl during his sniff session.

“Mac.” Your dad said, snapping at him to get his attention.

Trying to push Mac away didn’t help either in Vinnie’s case; Mac was too determined to get to the bottom of what he was smelling. So, doing the only thing he could do, Vinnie stood up onto your couch and stepped over your parents. Reaching the end, he hopped off and turned to look at the frowning couple.

“I, uh…thank you for having me. This has been really great.” He said, turning to look at you. “Goodnight.”

And with that, the boy rushed out of your apartment, nearly tripping over himself along the way. You could do nothing but look at your parents with a worried grin.

“That’s, uh…that’s Vinnie for you.” You chuckled.

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way. 

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.

“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.

““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”

“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”

“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”

There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.

“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”

“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”

“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”

“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”

Right.

Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.

You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.

There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.

“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,” Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!

“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”

That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.

“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”

“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”

Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.

“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”

Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.

2.

Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--

What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.

“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”

You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.

“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”

“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”

Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.

“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”

“Innovative—” (Gojo says).

“Erratic—” (Nanami says).

“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”

“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”

(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).

“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.

“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”

You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.

“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”

Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.

“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).

“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.

3.

Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he’s used to getting.

“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”

You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.

You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.

Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.

Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.

“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”

“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”

Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.

“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”

Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.

You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.

You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.

You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--

“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--

“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”

“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.

“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”

Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you’ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”

Nanami’s lips tilt.

“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--

You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--

He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.

“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”

You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.  

“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”

He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’s behind you.

“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.

The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--

How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.

There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;

“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.

He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.

“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.

“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.

“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your  body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.

“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.

His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.

He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.

“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.

He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.

He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.

“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”

“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.

“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”

“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.

Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.

You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.

The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth  as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.

Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--

He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.

Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.

He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.

“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”

You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.

You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.

“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?

(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)

“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.

“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”

He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.

“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.

He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.

“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”

A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.

You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.

You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.

You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.

“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.

“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”

The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).

His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.

“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.

The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.

His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--

“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”

You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--

You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.

He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.

Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.

Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.

“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.

“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--

Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.

He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?

He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;

“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”

(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).

“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”

He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.

He draws back a little breathlessly.

“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”

“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.

When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely for Nanami’s son.

[yourmidnightlover]

no need to rush

summary - you and spencer are in a relationship and when you overhear morgan teasing spencer about something private, you decide to help spencer out a bit.

warnings - virgin!spencer, fem!reader, kinda soft dom!reader, fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie. *let me know if i missed anything*

wc - 3,052

masterlist

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

you knew spencer was a bit touch averse. it only made sense with his germaphobic tendancies. the only thing is, you thought he had worked past those with you. so naturally, when he stops abruptly during a heated make out session, you got a little... insecure? worried? you weren’t quite sure just yet.

but you would find out.

you and spencer had been in a relationship nearing 5 months. everyone on the team found out about your dating each other entirely on accident, a story for another time. 

when you walked into the bau late with spencer, derek had that smug, suggestive look on his face. you just rolled your eyes and went directly to your desk.

in reality what had happened was you both stayed up late, him explaining to you the concept of time in fluidity and a few different theories. you had both slept through each of your alarms, so when you woke up to your fourth one you had set, you immediately woke spencer up from his sleeping position on your stomach. 

luckily it was only a paperwork day, so you could probably catch up on sleep anytime after you left.

on your lunch break, you were going to see if spencer wanted to go get some thai with you. finally unfocusing from your case files, you turned your eyes to your boyfriend at his desk, apparently talking with morgan about something. 

he looked frustrated, and embarrassed. at first you didn’t understand what about, but you figured it was probably what morgan had said when you both came in late. 

finally getting up to go save your boyfriend, you slowly walked up to his desk. you didn’t try to hear what was being said. you kind of just did. 

“morgan, stop!” spencer exclaimed, neither of them noticing your arrival. you stopped far enough away to hear the rest of what they were saying.

“reid, look, it’s no big deal if you’re a virgin,” derek said. “i’m sure y/n would understand,” he said, trying to hide his laugh.

“it’s embarrassing. i’m a 25 year old virgin,” he huffed. “god! have you seen her? she’s gorgeous. imagine what she’d say when she finds out. what if she just doesn’t want me anymore? what if she wants someone who knows what they’re doing?” he ranted out, obviously worried about your reaction.

were you surprised? a little bit, yea. he’s gorgeous. there’s no question about that. how could someone look at him and not want to be with him?

but what really surprised you was that he was worried that you’d leave him if you found out. 

you loved him, and he knew that. 

you had been friends for a while before you finally admitted your feelings for him after the lila archer incident. he was shocked, saying he never thought you’d feel the same, saying that if he’d known he would have never kissed her back and that he really wanted you. then he got you. he never wanted to lose you.

and while he knew that you loved him, a part of him, the insecure part, was worried that you’d realize how amazing you are and leave him. 

he’d seen a few of your past boyfriends, and there was no doubt in his mind that they were more attractive than him. they were more muscular tough guys. 

but he didn’t know what total assholes they were. he didn’t know how much more attractive kindness made someone. not to mention the fact that he could carry on a conversation longer than all of them combined. 

“reid, she loves you. don’t forget that,” morgan added before you started walking up, acting like you hadn’t heard anything. 

“you’re right i love you,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his torso, standing on your tip-toes to place a kiss on his cheek. “what’re you guys talking about?” 

“i’m sure pretty boy’ll fill you in on it later. right, reid?” morgan insisted, his eyebrows raising like a father getting onto his son.

“uhm... right. yea,” spencer nodded, lips formed into a line as he placed his arms around you, turning around to face you as morgan walked away. “i love you too, y/n” he placed a kiss to your hairline. 

“i know you do,” you smiled, giving his torso a little squeeze. “lunch?” 

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

a couple weeks later when you had gotten a couple days off, you were both laying on your couch watching doctor who. you had told him how you’d never seen it, so he insisted he guide you through the seasons. 

you never brought up what you had heard, wanting him to open up to you about it first. you didn’t want to corner him about anything and make him feel insecure or trapped. so, you waited. you didn’t push. 

as you were cuddled together, spencer moved his hand to cup your cheek, turning your face towards his. you smiled at his sweet action, him returning the same, love-struck face. he leaned in, placing a gentle peck on your lips, the smile on your face growing. 

you kissed him back, bringing one arm around his neck as the other held his bicep firmly. the kiss slowly became more passionate, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip softly, asking politely for an entrance that you gladly gave. you slowly sat back up with one another, not breaking the kiss. once you were sitting up, spencer pulled you onto his lap quickly, not missing a beat. 

“mm, wait,” spencer breathed. “i-i um...” he trailed off.

“sweetie, what is it?” you asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck gently, trying to encourage him. “you can tell me anything, y’know. i love you,” you said, giving him a kind smile.

“it’s just that... i’ve never...” he took a deep breath. “i’m a-a virgin, y/n.”

“okay,” you smile grew even wider at the final reveal. 

“okay? th-that’s it?” he asked in confusion. 

“it’s just... nothing could ever change how i feel about you. and you being a virgin?” you scoffed. “spencer that’s okay. it’s nothing that i’d be worried about, or stop loving you over. i don’t care if you’ve never had sex with someone. hell, i don’t think i’d care if you’ve had sex with tons of people. because i love you.”

“so you don’t think i’m... weird for being a virgin?” he wondered.

“spence, you’re weird as it is. but that’s exactly why i love you. i love your little quirks. you being a virgin is just another quirk,” you chuckled. “and if you don’t want to have sex with me, that’s totally okay. i didn’t get into a relationship with you to have sex with you. i mean, it’d be a nice perk, but you certainly don’t have to or are obligated to.”

“i-i don’t not want to,” he rushed out, rubbing his thumbs along your waist. “have s-sex, i mean. i want to. i um... i wa-want to with you.”

“are you sure, spencer? i want your first time to be special. you know how i lost mine, i just don’t want you to regret it,” he did know how you lost your virginity.

essentially, your prick of a boyfriend in high school was making out with you, and it got really heated. were you absolutely ready to lose your virginity? no. did you necessarily want to lose it to this guy? not really. he was just there, and everyone else was losing there’s so you figured you might as well. so you did it. in a car. in the parking lot. after the last football game he played in. he was already sweaty, and finished after 75 seconds.

you didn’t want spencer to regret it like you did.

“it will be special. it’s you; how could it not be special?” he replied softly. 

“you’re such a little charmer, spencer,” you said, bringing your lips to meet his once again, this time he was much more eager.

you gently tugged on the hair you were playing with, a low groan coming from his mouth into yours, something igniting within you from that sound. you slowly ground your hips against his, a little whimper coming from his mouth, creating a smile on yours. 

“can-can we do it... like right now?” spencer asked eagerly, his hips stuttering into yours.

“shh, we’ll get there,” you mumbled against his jawline, your lips trailing towards his neck as you nipped gently at his skin, licking it afterwards to soothe it. you felt his breathing pick up as your lips connected to the flesh behind his ear. you gently ran your teeth along his earlobe, a groan coming from spencer as he exhaled. “you like that?” 

“mmhmm,” he nodded, his hands finding your hips and grinding them against his in an attempt to find more friction. 

“patient, bubs. be patient,” you said as you sat up off his lap, extending your hand to him. “bedroom?” he nodded eagerly, taking your hand in his as he trailed behind you into your room. 

you both sat down on the bed and resumed kissing each other. you didn’t want to go too fast with him, you wanted him to be relaxed and enjoy this. he started trailing kisses down your neck, paying special attention to your reactions to everything he did.

“do you,” you breathed. “do you want to take off my clothes? or do you want me to?” you asked him quietly.

“ca-can i do it?” he asked against your neck.

“of course, baby. whatever you want,” you confirmed as he backed away from your neck. 

he brought his hands up to your face, cupping it gently before pressing a firm kiss to your lips.

“i love you,” spencer smiled.

“i love you too,” you said as he connected your lips again, his hands moving towards the hem of your shirt.

he slowly slid his hands underneath the fabric, moving towards the peaks of your breasts and cupping them stiffly. you moaned into his mouth softly, pressing your foreheads together. 

“that’s good, spence,” you whispered to him, giving him the confidence to lift the shirt up and over your head. 

he leaned back to observe you like this, vulnerable and ready. ready for him. wanting him. you wanted him.

you wanted him even though you knew everything there is to know about him. you knew the bad, the ugly, the scary, the worrying, everything. and you still want him. you want him regardless. and that’s all he’s ever wanted.

“ca-can i?” he looked at your chest in waiting.

“you can do whatever you’d like,” you encouraged.

he connected his lips to one of your breasts, the other in his hand being massaged. he played with the nipple, flicking his tongue over it quickly and occasionally nipping at it before pressing a firm kiss and switching to the other side.

you moved to lay down on the bed as he began kissing further down your body. past your chest, naval, and right above the waistband of your shorts. he looked up at you to make eye contact, only to find that you never took your eyes off of him in the first place. 

“go ahead, bubs. do what feels right, okay?” he nodded at you, now pulling your shorts and underwear down and off your body, throwing them in the corner of the room.

“i want, can i...?” he didn’t really know how to ask, he felt awkward asking anything in this situation.

“yes, spencer. you have full reign over my body tonight,” you confirmed. 

he nodded at your response, his body moving up towards yours as his hand remained on your hip. he pressed a kiss to your lips as you felt his fingers spreading your pussy lips apart, his fingers wandering through your folds. you gasped into his mouth, your hips grinding into his hand as your hands held onto his shoulders and hair.

his middle finger ran over your clit gently, switching between going back and forth and in circles. he moved his middle finger down to find your entrance, slowly easing the one finger in, relishing in the way your pussy clenched around him. thrusting his finger in and out a couple times, he pressed gentle kisses along your jawline. 

“k-keep going, spencer,” you moaned into his ear. 

he took the encouragement and pushed another finger into you, curling them in just the right spot to make you squirm. he used his other hand to hold your body down so you wouldn’t squirm away from him. 

“spence, fuck,” you whispered, feeling the tight coil in your stomach tighten. “you’re such a good boy for me.”

you heard him whimper into your neck at the praise, his ministrations picking up slightly.

he pressed his hand into your pussy, his palm hitting your clit perfectly with the way he was thrusting his fingers into your body. your hold on his shoulder tightened, surely leaving marks where your nails were, as you gently tugged on his hair. 

“yes, yes! oh my god,” you exclaimed. 

and just like that, the coil was wound so tight it snapped, releasing a flood of pleasure throughout your entire body. 

“spencer! shit!” you gripped his arm as his hand was working you through your orgasm, helping you come down. “fuck. are you sure you’ve never done that before?” 

“i’m a quick study,” he smirked before you smashed your lips against his eagerly. 

“god, i want you inside me,” you pleaded against his lips. 

“are you sure?” he asked, pulling back to look you in the eyes. 

“only if you’re ready, spence,” you replied, your hands running through his hair. 

“i’m ready. i’m more than ready, y/n,” he confirmed. 

“alright. but first, can i do something?” you asked mischievously.  

“what do you wanna do?” he wondered, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“just... if i do something you don’t like tell me to stop, okay?” he nodded. “i need words, bubs.”

“okay, i’ll tell you.”

“great,” you said, trailing your lips down his neck as he helped you shrug off his t-shirt. 

you ran your nails gently down his chest, observing the red streaks your nails left behind. you kissed all the way down his torso and stomach until you got right above his waistband, you ran your fingers underneath them. he lifted his hips so you could pull them down swiftly. 

once they were down, you trailed your finger along a prominent vein in his member, adoring the way it twitched against his stomach. you got onto your knees, grabbing his dick and licking that same vein slowly. his hips bucked up at the sensation, you pressed them down with a little giggle. 

you ran your tongue along the top of his member, licking the precum off cleanly. you took as much of him in as you could, using your hands for the rest of what you couldn’t fit into your mouth - which was more than you expected.

“fuck, y/n,” he moaned at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around him. “th-that fe- oh! that feels s-so good.”

you continued to bob your head up and down, you went as far down as you could, your nose hitting his stomach once you got all the way down, the sound of you gagging filled the room.

“fuck! you’ve gotta stop, y/n, please!” he exclaimed. you quickly got up off of him making your way back up to his face before he planted his lips on yours. 

“are you okay?” you asked worried.

“yea, i uhm, i-i was about to uh, to cum,” he informed you with an awkward laugh.

“ohh, okay,” you huffed out a laugh. “so, how do you want to do this?”

“ca-can you be on top? like uhm,” he pressed his lips together for a moment in thought, “can you ri-ride me?”

“of course, bubs,” you kissed the corner of his mouth. “here, just lay back.”

you crawled on top of him, straddling his hips as you lined his hard dick up with your center. you made eye contact with him as his hands dug into your waist and hips.

“ready?”

“yes, please ju-just do something,” he begged.

you slowly sank down on his member, feeling yourself stretch to fit his cock as you gazed wondrously at his awe-struck face. once you were all the way down, you made sure to take a second to adjust to his length.

“oh my god, y/n,” he whispered quietly, his hands grasping at your hips as his jolted upward into your body. “please, please, please move.”

“patient, bubs. okay?” you placed your hands on his lower stomach to help lift yourself off his hips so you could slowly ease yourself back down. “fuck, spence.”

your hips rose slowly, slamming back down once just his tip was inside of you. once you found a steady pace for the both of you, you kept to it.

“it fe-feels so... good,” he groaned out, grabbing at your breasts as you moved your hands further up his chest.

“you like it?” you asked with a sly grin on your face. “do you like how my pussy feels on your big dick, spencer?”

“uh-uh huh,” he nodded, trying to maintain eye contact. “so we-wet and war-warm. so tighhht,” he mumbled out.

“that’s what you do to me. it’s all for you,” you said as you held his arms that were still up to your breasts. “fuck, spence it feels so good.”

“i-i think i’m gonna cum, y/n. please, oh my god, please!” he begged.

“mmm go ahead, bubs. cum inside of me. i want you to fill me up spencer,” you moaned, leaning down to his ear and biting his lobe gently.

“ahh fuck!” you felt the white spurts of cum shooting inside of you, covering your walls completely.

you continued to ride out his orgasm, wanting to get every last drop out. when you felt he was all done, you gently lifted yourself off of him, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist.

“spence, bubs, i need to go clean us up. okay?” you asked sweetly, running your hands through his hair.

“you didn’t... y’know,” he mumbled against your body.

“spencer i don’t always need to get off during sex to have a good time. besides, that happened earlier,” you kissed his hairline softly.

“but i want it to happen again,” he whined, placing a sloppy kiss to your collarbone.

“there’s no need to rush. we have all night, bubs.”

[hotwings0203]

fighter Bakugo is so mean!!…..write more of him plz 🤲 (ALSO I LOVE UR STORIES SO MUCHH❤️)

OOOUUUU TYSMMM I’m glad you’re enjoying him hehe

Alright let’s see here…

Tw:noncon, implied death, assault, gaslighting

He forces you to come to every one of his matches, after he has his way with you.

It doesn’t matter how brutal the fight is, it didn’t matter if you’re flinching every time his fists make contact with the poor schmuck’s face, knowing damn well that any day it could be yours. It doesn’t matter if he’s shaking off pieces of broken teeth from his hair while you’re clutching your stomach and puffing your cheeks, and it sure as hell doesn’t matter when others clamor around you asking if you were okay, if you needed a doctor.

None of that mattered, because in the end all those scenarios ended the same way: with one of his feet planted on the unconscious body below him, a fist in the air and a mean smile straight at you.

You weren’t allowed to excuse yourself to the restroom or close your eyes when the men around him scream and need at him to either stop the match or to keep going Bakugo, knock the bastard out.

And when he won the match-which was every time-he would make a beeline straight towards your cowering, backing-away form and yank you by your wrist into the office to let out his excess adrenaline.

Your cries could be heard from the entire basement.

On one particular day however, you stop your compliance. It’s when you catch a glimpse of Katsuki’s opponent for the next day.

He’s a young man, no more older than you were.

He’s a meek guy, his smile is oh-so reminiscent of the man you used to like before Bakugo put him in the morgue.

You can’t have a repeat of last time. He doesn’t stand a chance.

“What’s got you all quiet today,” he gruffly asks you as he wraps a hand with tape.

You bite your lip and look at your feet. What’s the best way to go about this?

“You, um…y’know that guy that you’re supposed to fight today?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He raises an eyebrow in warning.

But you continue nonetheless. It’s not like your destiny was flock to change, hed still fuck you up regardless of what you do.

“He just seemed kind of…young.” You stammer and avoid eye contact.

It’s hard not to flinch when he stops wrapping his hand and walks over towards you. He crouches to your sitting position on the bed and lowers his head to look at your gaze on the ground.

“‘That remind you of someone?”

Crap. He’s not as stupid as you hoped for.

This time, you do look up at him, eyebrows scrunched together in a pleading way, and he laughs in your face at your pathetic state.

“Lemme guess, you don’t want me to fight him?”

You nod your head.

“Well, what do I get out of it in return?”

Your eyes widen as you comprehend what he’s saying. Was there actually a chance he’d listen to you?

“Hello? Answer me dumbass.”

Oh, right.

“Um, what-what would you like?” Fingers cross behind your back as you pray to anyone listening that he won’t ask for anything derogatory.

It’s almost laughable that you don’t know him well enough by now.

Bakugo walks around the bed and settles himself against the headboard, legs spread and arms crossed over behind his head. He smirks at you and nudges you with his toe.

“Dance for me.”

“D-dance? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he sits up and leans towards you, his smile all teeth and cutthroat undertones, “I want you to shake your ass on my dick and give me a lap dance.”

Fire rushes to your face at his crude choice of words. You open your mouth to argue but stop when his unwrapped hand flexes, bones popping in place as he inspects it casually.

He doesn’t need to say anymore to get his point across. But if you had any doubts as to who was the one who wanted a chance in the first place, he reminds you with a curt “You can always say no. I’ll let you walk out this door and you can just watch me beat the living daylights out of him,” he shrugs and says it so easily, so casually that you’d think he was informing you of the weather.

You swallow hard and shakily rise to your feet.

Katsuki already locked the door, so you don’t need to worry about anyone coming in. You look at him and take a deep breath.

“How do I, like, y’know.”

He stares at you for a moment and bursts out howling , the bellowing sound echoing across the small room and making your head ring.

You look at him warily as he lessens his laughter, and tries to address you.

“I knew it. You really are a brain-dead, numb cunt,” he says as he wipes his eyes from tears. “Just fucking- I don’t know, sway your hips back and forth and put it in reverse on me I guess. Arent whores supposed to be good at these things?” He leans back down comfortably and leers at you while you grimace and then back around, ass facing him.

You’ve only messed around on your own time in your room before, shaking it to slow R&B songs or fast pop ones. How do you go about this with no music?

But within a minute you gather yourself and toss your dignity away. You start imagining a beat in your head and do exactly as he instructed, swaying your sides left and right while moving your shoulders with whatever rhythm you deemed easy.

He stifles a snicker behind you, and you dig your nails into your palm. It was obvious he was trying to be completely silent just to amplify the awkwardness and humiliation tenfold, but dammit if this is what he wants then might as well get it over with.

You begin leaning forward and sticking your rear out more towards him, simultaneously rubbing your hands up and down your sides and flicking your hair with ease in his line of sight. You roll your head and roll your ass in a circle, praying it wasn’t too jerky.

Katsuki wasn’t laughing anymore.

Your confidence starts to grow again as you hear him softly inhale when you crawl backwards slowly onto the bed. You drop your hips low and arch your back, rolling your spine and lifting your ass back up into the air, shaking it in his face as best as you could.

You stay like that, letting it bounce slowly and then faster while you hear his breathing lick up. The sheets around you pull slightly towards him, and from the corner of your eye you can see his fists balling tbe covers, shaking slightly.

Looks like this was having more of an effect on him than you thought.

Just to sell it home, you lower your pelvis back and against his crotch as you begin grinding on him.

His shirts are silky and thin, and as you drag your mound up and down his imprint you can’t help but moan. The way your puffy clit catches on the elevations and ridges of his clothed dick, the feeling of his length swelling beneath your moist panties makes your head spin and all precautions are thrown out the window.

Your ass lightly claps together on his slightly thrusting hips as his breaths become pants. You feel his hands slide up your ass and onto your hips as he growls, “Teasing slut. And here you had me thinking you didn’t know what you were doing. Strip.”

Your body stills and you blanch. Your head clears a bit as his own body stops moving against yours, and you realize what position you’re about to be in.

Your head turns slightly to face him. “Kats-“

But he yanks your hair from the ends back until you’re scrambling for solid ground against his toned chest. Your fingers grab your torn strands and try to yank them out of his unrelenting grip. Your eyes well with tears of pain as he gets more aggressive with your subtle hesitation.

“I said, strip, now.” He shakes your head for good measure and you yelp when you feel more hairs ripped out of your aching skull.

“Okay! Okay, I’ll strip.” You blubber, snapping your head forward when he finally lets go.

You look back at him tearfully, hunching over into yourself as his hands guide your shirt up over your stomach and begin massaging your tits.

You hurry to take your pants off before he can wound you any more in his childlike impatience, and he grunts in approval when you’re down to your panties and no bra.

“Bend over.”

This time, you don’t argue when you go on all fours and his rough hand shoves your upper back down until you’re in an arch that’s satisfactory enough for him. He lets his fingers dance over your spine and linger when they get lower down your back.

Your upper body shakes with anticipation as all goes silent, save for his soft inhales. You can feel his digits run over the crack of your ass and lift the top of your panty line up, your labia and clit being pulled up as well.

Katsuki smirks as you weakly moan beneath him, and he tugs harder upwards just to see your ass follow in pursuit. He rubs his knuckles over the damp spot over your clothed hole and pushes in ever so slightly, just enough to make you keen and whimper.

Then, he retreats his touch.

The air is still for a moment or two as the cold absence of his touch fades.

You have no idea what he’s doing or thinking. For the second time, you try to turn your head towards him.

“Wha-“

Crack.

You scream so loud you’re sure your eardrums pop, but your focus isn’t on your poor ears, no, it’s on the raging hot burn across your right asscheek as his reddened hand swivels in its socket in a warm-up stretch. You’re experiencing for the first time what the hands of a fighter can do.

“That’s what whiny bitches like you get. And don’t you dare turn back around, otherwise I’ll whip you within an inch of your life.”

Your body freezes at those terrifying words, and you’re caught off guard when the next slap hits the same cheek. You yowl in pain and grip the sheets tighter before you, knowing that writhing away would mean so much worse.

Years of cute and open wounds and cells revealing just to open again and regrow have caused his hands to hold a similar texture to hard leather. There is no mercy, there is no soft reprieve they hold on their grasps, and you take each lashing with the reminder that he deals these kinds of blows to less fortunate men, men who don’t get a hold-back from Katsuki Bakugo.

“The next time you-crack- bitch about who I’m fighting-crack, crack- I’ll make sure to fuck you in the ring and let everyone- crack- have a turn with you- fuck, stop fucking screaming!”

He covers your wailing mouth with one hand and grips your throat in the other, bringing your head back to his seething lips.

“You wanted this, didn’t you? What’s wrong, why’re you crying so fucking much baby? Didnt you want to spare one more spineless bastard?” He croons in your ear and strokes your cheek with one finger.

You shake in his chokehold, terrified and in pain. You squeeze the tears out from your eyes and try to steady your breathing. He shushes your sobs and cooes when you hiccup against his palm.

“Hmm, Y/N? Whaddaya say, you wanna spare one more dickless wonder? Or are you gonna chicken out and save yourself?”

He chuckles darkly when you shake your head. He doesn’t need you to speak to already know your answer.

“Alright then, whatever you want. But just letting you know, I have the next match with him, so I’ll have to make this fast.”

And as he fucks you to oblivion, and fucks over his promise, you laugh to yourself for ever trusting him.

Because Katsuki Bakugo is not a lover, but rather, a fighter.

[benditlikepress]

one good movie kiss

here for @sunforgrace 's thesis statement: give dean one good movie kiss and he WILL be alright

“Are you avoiding me?”

Dean’s hand stills in the air above his cup of coffee as the voice cuts through the kitchen.

Cas is standing in the middle of the room in an ill-fitting sweater and his hair is dishevelled as though he’s been tossing and turning. He looks so unremarkable, so human, it makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat at the reminder.

It’s been three days since Cas got back and it occurs to Dean when he speaks that it’s the first time they’ve been alone together. Awake, that is: Dean realised early on that difficult conversations couldn’t happen if you’re asleep. Thank god for Cas’ Empty-rescue hangover.

“No. I’m not avoiding you.”

“OK. Good. I was worried that after what happened things might be weird between us, but I suppose that’s unavoidable.” Cas pulls a face that’s a little self-deprecating.

I’m fighting the urge to run the hell away from you, Dean thinks. To stay the hell away from you before I do anything else to hurt you. Before you make a reckless decision to save me, again, or say something so brutal and true that my legs give out from under me and I’m left sitting alone on the floor wondering how the hell I’m supposed to do this on my own.

I’m fighting the urge to wrap you in my arms and never let go.

“I’m not avoiding you, Cas. I just.. I’m trying to figure out the stuff I have to say to you.”

“I understand. I know everything that’s happened recently is a lot to contend with.”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement.” Dean coughs and stands up, tapping his hands against his legs for something to do. Cas is looking at him expectantly and Dean knows he deserves answers but how is he supposed to do that? How do you even begin to explain to someone that their mere presence in the room has your breath hitching? “But it’s not.. you. It’s not you I’m avoiding. It’s just. Y’know. The stuff you said before you..” He doesn’t say it. He can’t. Cas blinks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. That’s – god, that’s the last thing I want. I’m just.. trying to get my head around it.”

“I meant it.”

“I know you did. I know that. I just.. I believe you, and nobody’s ever really said that stuff to me and meant it before. So I don’t really know how to talk to you about it. But I.. so long as you know I appreciate it.” The words are too fast and Dean doesn’t know if that’s more or less embarrassing than the way he’s stumbling, pathetic half-words forcing their way out of his mouth.

“OK.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

And it’s that simple to him, apparently. He doesn’t ask Dean for anything else. It pisses Dean off, actually – he wants Cas to ask him. Maybe if he’s forced to confront it the words might come out a little easier.

“I mean, you know that I.” Dean stops again abruptly and jesus christ why is there a lump in his throat? “It means something. To me. It means a whole lot, actually. Maybe if it didn’t it’d be easier to talk about. There’s stuff that I wanna.. stuff I need for you to hear. That you deserve to hear, when I get my head out of my ass. Because I don’t feel like I deserve any of that crap you said to me, but you deserve to hear things back.”

It feels like a monumental admission but it’s clearly not the thing on Cas’ mind as he frowns.

“You think you don’t deserve that? You really believe that?”

“Honestly? I’ve never believed it. I don’t know why you give me the time of day half the time, man. And you don’t have to.. argue about it, or anything. I know you want to. It’s just how I see it.”

Cas thinks about that for a couple of seconds, eyes boring into Dean so deeply he half-wonders if he can’t still see his soul. He walks further into the room but doesn’t approach Dean – not really. Just takes a couple of steps between the distance.

“I won’t argue. Not now. But I hope I can make you understand that you deserve it. Happiness, peace.. love-” The word has Dean’s mind reeling, flashbacks and heat rushing “– I spent a long time believing I couldn’t accept them for myself. I thought too much had happened, or that I wasn’t built to be capable. You allowed me to think differently. I want you to do the same.” Cas looks down and taps his hand on the edge of the table as though he hasn’t got Dean’s heart in the palm of it. He looks up again and his expression is breath-takingly earnest. “Dean, the things I said barely touch the sides. I don’t know if I could ever put into words the impact you’ve had on me since we met. I just wanted you to understand. I needed you to understand how other people see you, even if you can’t see it for yourself.”

“Message received.” Dean responds like a fucking asshole but Cas smiles all the same, warm and knowing and in a way that fills Dean with the relief of being understood.

“I can give you space to think about things if that’s what you want. I know I’ve put you in a difficult position.”

“It’s not difficult. Probably not for anyone else except me.”

Dean smiles in derision and Cas returns it but it’s pity and sadness and love and Dean’s mouth closes. “It was difficult. I threw things at you that’d been on my mind for a long time and didn’t give you any time to process it.”

“I’ve had weeks. Weeks and weeks, and I still can’t.. I think until I saw you again I had no idea how to understand it. Looking you in the eye and thinking about it-” Dean closes his eyes and pushes away black ooze and secrets and everything else that threatens to flow over the things he wants to remember. Tears in Cas’ eyes and his smile so bright, brighter than Dean even thought him capable.

He’s looking at him now like he might break.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I know I’m not-”

“I know exactly what you are, Dean.” The words are clear and sincere and Dean wonders if there’s anyone else in the universe capable of arresting him so simply. “I’ll leave you to it.” Cas eventually nods at Dean’s breakfast and smiles, dipping his head as he starts to leave.

“We’ll talk. We will.”

“I know we will.” He smiles a little as he turns to walk away and suddenly Dean’s heart is in his mouth at the sight of the back of his head.

Say something. Say something.

“Cas.” Dean calls too quickly, too desperately, and when he turns to look at him with naked expectation all of the wind is knocked right back out of his sails. “I… fuck, Cas. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He smiles with complete and utter sincerity, and god he has to stop doing that. Stop accepting Dean’s bullshit as though it’s nothing. Shout, argue, anything.

He’s leaving. He’s still leaving, he’s turning away and suddenly Dean’s legs are propelling him through the kitchen of their own accord.

Dean grabs his arm and yanks him around, the force of it making Cas briefly stumble a little before he straightens his feet and looks at Dean with a wide-eyed confusion that makes Dean’s heart hammer in his chest.

Dean brings his hands up to cup Cas’ face around his ears on his neck and jaw, in a way he has before and convinced himself wasn’t ever possible when they weren’t battling life or death. Cas’ stubble is a little longer than usual and he strokes the line of it with his thumb, watching as Cas’ mouth falls open just a touch in the echoing silence.

Dean takes his time, registering every mini-movement of expression in Cas’ face as he understands what’s happening. His hand comes up to Dean’s wrist but doesn’t push it away, rather grips it for dear life as though he’s afraid it’s going to disappear. When Cas’ eyes travel down his face Dean takes it as invitation and closes the gap between them, pressing his lips lightly but surely against Cas’.

At first Cas’ are stunned frozen against his and Dean starts to panic that he’s made some kind of earth-shattering error in judgement before the hand on his wrist relaxes and he feels a pressure against his mouth. Cas’ lips are a little chapped, like always, and Dean feels his eyelashes flutter.

He opens his eyes reluctantly as he pulls away, not sure what he’s expecting to see (rejection? Lucifer? nothing at all?) and almost slams them shut again when he finds Cas peering at him with such utter arresting devotion he thinks his knees might buckle.

Dean’s hands drop to his sides of their own accord, suddenly absolutely terrified, but Cas doesn’t move away in return. In fact, he brings his hand to Dean’s cheek and Dean’s sure he must look like a fish opening and closing his mouth in stunned silence before suddenly Cas moves in to kiss him again, other hand coming up to grab his face and hold him in place as his lips are ferocious and impassioned against his own.

And this, this is more like it, Dean’s barely able to think as Cas’ mouth opens and his tongue plays along the line of Dean’s own lips, his heart hammering in his chest as he hears a noise in Cas’ throat as he allows him entrance.

Cas kisses like he’s never going to get another chance: like Dean has granted him a once-in-a-lifetime wish that’s going to get taken away at any moment. He’s hungry and sharp and warm and Dean feels breathless as he lowers his hands from his face to his neck and then to his hip, pulling Dean sharply against him as Dean’s own hands cup his jaw and try desperately to gain a semblance of control.

There’s stubble scratching his face and he tries fleetingly to explain away the flushing burn on his skin as a by-product of it, but then there’s a hand riding up his shirt onto on the bare skin at the small of his back and it’s on fire.

Where the hell did Cas learn to kiss like this? His head is spinning before he can ponder the question and fingers on his back are steady and grounding even as Cas’ tongue and lips and breath have him practically able to feel the earth spinning beneath him.  

The kiss slows steadily and then all at once as Cas’ lips lighten against his, and he feels him exhale against his skin in a release that Dean himself is desperate for. He knows it’ll come, eventually: in every moment he allows himself to open like this, touch on his skin making him feel alive.

Cas pulls away and Dean feels a longing form deeply and harshly in his throat that barely stops him from yanking him straight back in again. He forces himself to open his eyes, wondering if Cas can see water pricking in the corners of them.

“Don’t give me space, Cas. I don’t want it.” He manages to say though his voice sounds foreign and weird to his own ears, like it’s formed by someone else. There’s that smile on Cas’ lips again and he feels a desperation to say something, anything, that’ll keep it frozen in time. “Just stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.” Cas’ own voice is quiet now and Dean’s fingers somehow find themselves reaching out towards Cas’ hand, pulling it a little.

“You wanna do something today?” He says, just for something to say. Anything to prolong the moment.

“OK.”

“Sweet.” Dean nods and tips his head away, running a hand through his hair to try to gain some composure as Cas smiles at him as though nothing’s happened.

Dean has to pinch himself to check that it has.

[kuroosweakness]

kiss kiss | sakusa kiyoomi <3 

this is the my favorite sakusa mini fic i’ve written yet :)) and my longest work! over 2000 words! 

“i don’t think i’ll ever understand the concept of kissing,” sakusa mumbles to komori as he leans down to tie his shoes. his shoes are already tied, but he needs to do something to hide his face for a couple of seconds. naturally, his curls fall to the sides of his face, just as he expected. 

komori quickly whirls around with a :) and a :0 face combined. “what was that??” he teases and crouches down to see his cousin’s hidden face. 

“i was just sayin’“ sakusa shrugs off. “it’s just people touching lips and sharing saliva. it’s disgusting. why people do it? i’ll never understand.” after dusting off his hands, sakusa gets up from the bench and stands up, having forgotten his tall height and head bumping right into a light. 

sakusa grimaces and rubs his head, trying his best to pretend it didn’t hurt at all. “stupid light,” he grumbles as he walks away. komori watches on, trying his best not to laugh while making a mental note to watch out for the low lights. 

~~~

“komori.” 

“hiya!” komori looks up at his cousin while continuing to stretch out his legs. 

“...have you ever kissed anyone?”

“...like, full on make-out?” komori quietly asks as he makes kissy hands to demonstrate. sakusa immediately frowns and crouches down. 

“stop making those weird gestures,” sakusa quietly scolds. “it’s embarrassing...” 

“what’s there to be embarrassed about?” komori softly chuckles while nervously scratching the back of his head. “why do you ask?” 

sakusa’s eyes divert away. “...just curious to know.” 

“well....” komori taps his chin in thought. “there’s this one friend i’ve kissed before. but it wasn’t anything too serious...”

sakusa looks at the ground below him, wondering if he should sit his whole butt down or keep crouching. he decides to keep asian-squating. “so how’d you initiate the kiss? like what did you do?” 

“...i think we’re supposed to be practicing receives right now,” komori sheepishly says while pointing at their teammates all practicing. the bump sounds and shoe creaks suddenly becomes audible to sakusa. 

“oh.” and with that, sakusa gets up and walks toward the pile of volleyballs. 

~~~

“remember the question i asked you last week?” sakusa breathes through his mask as he and komori jogs down the streets. he’s overly dressed for a jogger, especially in spring. everyone’s surprised he can move so freely in such a heavy jacket. 

“...what..... question?” komori asks, glancing at his cousin before looking back at the road in front of them. 

“you know what question.” 

“...i dont?” komori pants as he slows down his jogging pace. 

“the question....that....made you...do weird hand....gestures” 

“ohhhh the kissing question?” 

sakusa nods and moves to the side to avoid the kids walking toward them. 

“i’ve already told you....i’ve only kissed one person before. say, why’re you curious in my love life?” komori teasingly elbows sakusa as they come to a walking pace. 

sakusa annoyingly elbows him back. “is it so bad i want to know?” 

“it’s just not like you,” komori chuckles. at the sight of a bakery in front of them, his eyes immediately lightens up. “we should go there!!” 

sakusa’s eyes meet where komori’s pointing, then meets komori’s face, wondering if his cousin will share answers if he agrees. “okay. but back to my question about initiating the kiss.” 

“well, you’ll have to find someone you want to kiss first,” komori laughs. “and i don’t think you’ve found that person, judging from the way you always judge couples and bad breath.” 

“don’t be so quick to assume things,” sakusa grumbles under his mask. 

“anywaysss, you kinda have to know that the other person wants to kiss you too, ya’know?” 

“i don’t know,” sakusa dryly says, stating out the obvious. 

“yeah, tell me something i didn’t know,” komori replies and opens the bakery front door. waves of freshly baked bread fill their noses. komori dramatically inhales and exhales. sakusa lowers his mask. a little “ding” rings as the door opens and closes. 

“it’s so warm in here!” komori happily exclaims. “you sure you’re not gonna became toast yourself with that jacket on?” 

sakusa rolls his eyes. 

“back to the kissing topic,” komori starts. “consent is really important! you have to make sure they want to kiss you. and to know, just before kissing, you have to ask.” 

“lower your voice,” blushy-faced sakusa mumbles. “there’s people looking at us weirdly.” 

“not at me weirdly,” komori remarks. “just at you!” 

“i don’t know why i talk to you sometimes.” 

“i’ll pretend i didn’t hear that!” komori happily bounces over to the counter and tells the pretty cashier his order.  “kiyoomi, you want anything?” 

“no, not really.” 

“okay!” komori excitedly accepts his paper bag full of baked goods and eagerly munches into a chocolate croissant. “i was thinking that maybe we can stop and eat for a while” 

komori eating = less judgmental komori. who is he kidding, sakusa knows he himself is the most judgmental person he knows. “okay” 

as sakusa pulls out a seat facing away from the door, a little “ding” rings through the bakery. 

“oh look!” komori munches. “it’s y/n! hi y/n!”

sakusa’s stomach drops. his hands have never felt so clammy and cold before. maybe if he stays completely still, then you won’t notice him. 

“hi y/n!” komori calls again. 

“we’re going home. stop- stop stop stop we’re going home. i need to go home,” sakusa hastily mutters under his breath and gets up so fast, suddenly wishing his mask can cover his whole face. since you’re standing at the doorway, he waits until you walk inside to walk out. 

komori quickly gathers his stuff and says a quick apology to you. “sorry about him! well, we’ll catch ya later!” 

confused, yet unfazed, you give him a little smile and waves back. 

~~~

“so how was it?” 

“...not good,” sakusa’s face and curls fall into his hands. he groans and falls back on the his bed. “anyways, i need to study-” 

“no no no, i need to know!” komori insists. “most people’s first kiss isn’t that great so...you’re not the only one.” 

“how am i even supposed to see them again,” sakusa groans again and squirms around on the bedsheets. “it was so bad. so bad. so so bad. so so sooooo bad-” 

“do you have thoughts about kissing them again??” 

“yes,” he mumbles and swiftly grabs the nearest pillow and hugs it to his chest,  hiding his face in the process. “all the damn time.” 

“then it didn’t go as bad as i thought!” komori exclaims. 

~~~

“so you’re not gonna tell me how it went?” 

“why’re you so nosy???” sakusa scrunches up his nose. 

“you were the one who asked about my first kiss first,” komori defends, pulling back in playful offense. 

“like i said, it wasn’t good.” 

“how was it not good?” 

“the kissing tutorial videos didn’t work.” 

“....you watched kissing tutorials????!!” 

“komori motoya, if you don’t be quiet i swear-” 

“did they at least want to kiss you?” 

“...i don’t even know if we’re...together. this is so embarrassing. i was too impatient. i shouldn’t have. i rushed things. they didn’t even tell me they like me. what if they just went along with it and didn’t actually want-”

“i think you’re overthinking too much...” 

“can we just walk to school in silence?” 

“after you tell me first! i can give advice!” 

“i nearly missed their lips. and i froze up when we actually made contact. i was stiff. i couldn’t move. plus my mask shifted upward and completely interrupted us, which i’m kinda thankful for.”

komori stifles a laugh. “so...what’re you gonna do for your second one?” 

~~~

“i saw them with his stupid, ugly guy who if you put his teeth next to a beaver’s, no one would be able to tell the difference.” 

“....we all know you’re not the nicest person, but isn’t that a little mean..and a bit of an exaggeration?” komori chuckles and shifts his foot inside his volleyball shoes. 

“they have poor, poor taste in men.” 

“well...they did kiss you once...” 

“i don’t know anymore,” sakusa sighs. “i need to just focus on volleyball.” 

~~~

“i hate it here. absolutely hate. it. here.” with a grumble he tosses his clothes on his backpack and pads across the gym to get his water bottle. 

komori side-eyes his cousin. whether or not to ask what he’s talking about, even though he knows exactly what–no, who–he’s talking about. 

“is this volleyball related?” komori asks when sakusa walks back. 

... 

“you’ve never given up anything you’ve set your heart on,” komori kindly reminds him. “so why’re you giving up now?” 

“because all the things i’ve done, i was in completely control of” sakusa swings his backpack over his shoulder. “i can’t control other people’s feelings....nor do i want to.” 

“did something bad happen?” komori dashes to catch with his cousin, and the tea. 

“guess who i saw them with again? beaver guy.” 

“i heard they’re just classmates though,” komori gently reminds sakusa, hoping it’ll somewhat clear his senses. he jogs toward a mini puddle and jumps right into it. sakusa grimaces at the water splashes. 

“it doesn’t matter. i don’t care about them anymore. they can have beaver guy so they want. i’m one of the best volleyball players in the country, and i’m ...somewhat good looking, and i’m tall...their loss.” 

komori searches for more puddles. 

“is it because of my personality?” sakusa quietly says. when he sees his cousins jumping into more puddles, he rolls his eyes. “komori, i’m being serious here” 

“when are you not?” komori calls back. he jogs back to sakusa and says, “what makes you think it’s your personality?” 

“well....let’s not talk about it.” 

“...” komori glares at him. 

“well....they’re all smiles around other people and like :/ around me. and y’know, my cleanliness. not that i would change for anyone, but i’m just sayin’” 

“if they really liked you then, you wouldn’t want you to change. although, you can be nicer sometimes....just a little” komori cheekily says. 

“...you’re right,” sakusa sighs. 

~~~

“update: beaver guy’s no longer in their life. he tried to make a move on them and they didn’t like it so they cut him out of their life.” 

“wait whaaat? it’s been days since you last talked about y/n. what-” 

“can you not say their name so loud???” 

“so beaver guy pulled a move on them?” 

“yes. and they cut him off because he took advantage of their niceness.” 

“...” 

“so technically what happened to beaver guy also happened to me.” 

komori shakes his head. “y/n hasn’t cut you out of their life....they still talk to you sometimes! and even asked if you wanted to walk home, which you-” 

he points an accusing finger at sakusa. “which you said no to >:(” 

“don’t point, it’s rude.” sakusa looks away. 

“what’d you say no???” 

“i didn’t want to appear desperate.” 

~~~

“so...how long are you gonna stare at the ceiling? we’re supposed to be doing measurements right now.” 

“oh sorry,” sakusa slightly bows down and quietly adds, “i walked them home yesterday.” 

komori loudly gasps, which he apologizes for when everyone turns to look at him. “whaaat,” he whispers. “what happened?” 

“i walked them home and then walked myself home, that’s what happened.” 

“you’ve gotta be kidding me. give the details!”

“there’s nothing too important that happened. other than my confession.” 

._. “and you’re saying nothing important happened??” 

“turns out they like...me...too” sakusa stutters. his ears are bright red. “i feel like i’m gonna throw up.” sakusa’s hands presses against his stomach.

“the good kinda throw up?” 

“there’s no such thing as a ‘good throw up’“ sakusa barks back. 

~~~

“y/n looked really happy and cheerful today and so do you...which i thought i’d never see...” 

normally, sakusa would jab his cousin if he heard that, but today, he chooses to ignore it. 

“so what’s going on??” 

“nothing much. just some kissing,” sakusa says. his whole face is glowing. 

“remember when you said kissing was gross?” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” sakusa brushes off. “and you better not tell y/n i think they’re gross when i clearly don’t >:(” 

~~~ 

“hand-holding huhhhh?” 

“their hands were cold, that’s why.” 

“why am i so invested in your relationship,” komori softly chuckles to himself. “y’all are cute.” 

“it does feel nice to have someone to talk to about these things,” sakusa quietly says. komori pulls back in surprise. 

“well, i’ll always be here for ya! but don’t you dare try rubbing your relationship in my face.” 

“i’d never. i know what it’s like to be single.” 

“???? that’s the most non-sympathetic thing i’ve ever heard! obviously, everyone knows what it feels like to be single” komori rolls his eyes. 

~~~

“people are saying y/n’s dating me for my money.” 

“ignore them >:(” 

“people keep saying that y/n probably get no action and that i don’t even touch them.” 

“like i said, ignore those stupid people” 

“i wish it can be that easy,” sakusa sighs. 

~~~

“i’ve lost track of how many times i’ve kissed them.” 

komori jokingly pulls back in disgust. “no one keeps track, dummy.” 

“i’d say about 43 times” 

~~~

and now sakusa kisses you like he’s a starved man who hasn’t eaten in days 😐 basically, engulfing you. long, passionate kisses that gets your heart pounding every time. 

and that’s it for now :)) tell me what you think! <3

[whisker-biscuit]

The Birds, The Bees, and The Bottles

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: T for mild language and discussions of underage drinking

Summary: Two teens are caught trying to sneak into a bar. Bob finally has a conversation he’s held off for far too long.

Because herbaphony is not the only thing that runs in the Zanotto family.

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

Bob’s phone rang at two in the morning. Judging by the jolly ringtone of Helmut singing Strawberry Fields Forever, it was his personal phone instead of his work one, and that was the real tip off to things being very, very wrong.

He woke up and groggily pulled out of his still-slumbering-husband’s arms to answer the little thing going off on his nightstand.

“H’lo?”

“Bob!” Truman’s voice came out far too loud for the time of night, and far too stressed. “Bob, I’m so sorry to wake you, but something happened with Lili. I need you to pick her up for me, please.”

The older man sat up, much more awake as worry and fear immediately rolled in his gut. Helmut finally began to stir beside him, sensing his partner’s agitation.

“Truman, what’s going on? Pick Lili up from where?”

“The city’s police precinct on Abbey Avenue. She – she called me, but I’m out of state and I wouldn’t get there for hours at least even if I left this instant. She’s not in danger!” He added hastily, hearing the concern before Bob could even voice it mentally. “She didn’t get hurt! She’s just…”

The way he tapered off, the way he hesitated, said more than words could.

“She just got herself into some trouble, and she needs someone to go get her.”

Helmut was sitting up now, and Bob felt the question cross their mental link.

 What happened?

 Truman needs me to pick Lili up from the police station.

“I’m up, I’m on my way right now,” He responded to his nephew verbally, heaving himself out of bed. His husband followed suit despite still looking extremely puzzled, bless him.

“Thank you so much, Bob. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The older man waved a dismissive hand even though Truman wasn’t there to see it. “Family is s’pposed to do that for each other anyway.”

“Did I hear that right? Our peppy petunia had a run-in with the law?” Helmut asked as soon as his partner hung up. He paused, and in a lower tone – “she didn’t kill anyone, did she?”

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” Bob said, pulling a coat on over his sleep shirt. “But something tells me we still have a few things to worry about. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Ohohoh, no, don’t even think about hoofin’ it without me. We both know I’m the better driver.”

“Neither of us are very good drivers, Helmut.”

“Exactly! That little bit makes all the difference!”

The herbophanist sighed, charmed despite himself and the situation. “Alright, alright. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

The police precinct was nearly dead at this time of night. While it would’ve felt eerie to anyone else, Bob was grateful for the lack of people, and not just because he was still an introvert of the highest degree.

Two teenagers awaited them in the lobby, sitting on a bench together. One was hunched over and burning a hole in the ground with his downcast eyes. The other sat straight up, defiant, holding a glaring contest with the officer standing over them. When Bob entered the room first and met his great-niece’s eyes, her self-assuredness wavered for a brief moment. She hid the slip-up behind a wall of indifference.

“Lili,” he said softly. Then, just as softly but with a gruff tinge of surprise; “Razputin.”

There was no accusation in his voice, but the former scowled harder and the latter looked like he wanted to employ his invisibility. Bob studied them both a moment before his husband appeared and broke the tension with his mere presence.

“We’re here to bust you out, kiddos!” He announced with spread arms, cheerfully ignoring the looks he received from every person in the room.

“Are you Truman Zanotto?” Asked the officer who finally broke his gaze away from Lili to give them a disapproving once-over.

“No, I’m uh, I’m Bob Zanotto, and this is Helmut,” came the awkward reply. “Truman called me to pick Lili up. She’s my great-niece.”

A few seconds of silence passed as the officer made no move to do anything with that information. Bob cleared his throat.

“We’re, uh, listed in her emergency contacts for school?”

“I see. If you can just fill out some paperwork first, we can release her into your custody.”

The herbophanist watched the way Raz seemed to sink further in his seat at the mention of family contacts. The Aquatos were also out of state right now too, if he remembered correctly. Perfect timing for two minors getting up to mischief.

Well, up until they were actually caught.

“And…Razputin, too?” He asked, catching the teen’s startled gaze and giving him the mental equivalent of a thumbs-up.

The officer raised a brow. “Is he related to you, too?”

“Well, uh –”

“Yep!” Helmut interrupted, strolling right up to Raz and giving him a merry clap on the back. The teen had a physique comparable to most adult Olympic athletes, but even he nearly toppled forward from the force of such a big man. “He’s my third cousin, twice removed. Big family. Very close. Holidays are an experience, lemme tell ya!”

“Fine,” the officer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, okay, I’ll make sure he gets cleared for release too. I’ll be right back.”

He stalked off, muttering something about it ‘being too damn early for this’, and the older couple turned to face Raz and Lili. Helmut steepled his fingers together to rest against his mustache.

“So! Now that Officer Spoil-Sport is gone, are we allowed to know what heinous crime has been committed in the night by my favorite pair of mischief-makers?”

The two glanced at each other. Raz was the one to break their silence.

“We, uh…got caught sneaking into a bar.”

Cold heat rushed through Bob’s core. Helmut blinked once, twice, then let out a boisterous chuckle.

“That’s it? Jesus! From the way you two were acting I thought you’d robbed the First National Bank.”

“…Helmut.” His husband murmured. The psi-king lost his mirth as he caught Bob’s eye.

“Ah…w-well, y’know, while I’m certainly glad we won’t hear about a righteous homicide in the news tomorrow, forgery ain’t exactly a humble hobby either.”

“It was just two IDs,” Lili muttered under her breath. “Not a big deal.”

The ice in her great-uncle’s heart turned frigid, but before he or Helmut could say anything to that, the officer was back. He shoved a handful of forms under Bob’s nose and the herbophanist fumbled to grab them before they all tumbled to the floor.

“Uh, uh, thank you.”

“Alright, we’re putting the pause on this conversation to make you free citizens again, but don’t think that means we’re done with it.” The Psi-King gave the teens the sternest look he could manage. “As soon as we get in the car, you two will have a lot of explaining to do.”

“O-Okay.”

“Uh-huh.”

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

No one spoke a word as they got in the car and started the drive back.

Raz seemed content to continue his efforts to blend in with the background of his seat, still not meeting anyone’s eyes, and Lili stared out the window with her chin in her hand, leaning against the car’s backdoor and letting the lights of the city bathe her in neon sickness.

Helmut, bless his soul, dutifully kept the radio going while he drove, changing the station to something more mellow whenever a song started getting a little too upbeat for the collective mood of the vehicle. Bob sat in the passenger side with his arms folded awkwardly. His brain was buzzing, dreading the inevitable conversation he needed to have with his great-niece and trying to figure out how he was going to go about it.

It surprised them all when Raz spoke over the music.

“It was my idea.”

The two adults glanced at each other, then through the rearview mirror at the fidgeting teen.

“Your idea to go looking for a drink? Or to sneak into a bar to do it?” Helmut asked, turning off the radio.

“Both.”

He still wasn’t meeting their eyes. Bob sighed through his nose.

“I don’t believe you.”

Razputin’s head finally snapped up to stare at him in shock for the fast call on his bluff. “I’m telling the truth!”

“I think you’re only telling part of it, kid.”

“No! I’m telling all of it.”

“Razpu-”

“Oh, come off it, Raz,” Lili snapped a little too loud, making the whole car jump. “Quit trying to take the fall for me. It was my idea to try the stupid fake ID thing, okay? Happy now?”

“Wh – uh, who said anything about being happy about it?” Helmut asked, legitimately confused.

“Look. Neither of us had anything to do tonight, and we were bored, so Raz suggested getting a drink somewhere, but Adam and Lizzie are out of town so we couldn’t ask them.” She crossed her arms and spoke without any inflection. “So, we went out but no one would let us do anything cause we’re minors. I thought that was stupid, because we’re agents same as any of you, so I came up with the sneaking-in part. We only got caught cause one of the bartenders recognized Raz from a show.”

There were a lot of loaded things to parse through from that explanation, but Bob’s mind stalled on one particular detail.

“Adam and Lizzie give you two alcohol?”

“Not…often,” Raz admitted. “Just once or twice, when we asked.”

“Do you mean like, a literal once or twice, or a…an estimated once or twice?”

“Did Dad put you up to this?” Lili shot back. “It was just a few times, like he said. What’s with the inquisition?”

“…Lili –”

 “Raz.”

“Okay!” Helmut proclaimed as he slapped his hand against the steering wheel in boisterous aggression. “Who wants some ice cream?”

Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Cause I’m really feeling some chocolate-vanilla swirl right now. Basic bitch style. Right? Who’s with me?”

Silence.

“Great! Look at that, open Dairy King right there, better take advantage of this opportunity before it slips through our fingers like the melting ice cream we’re all gonna have in about five minutes!”

The psi-king swung into the parking lot in a frenzy and herded the car crew inside before any of them could come out of their shock long enough to protest. It was only as Bob was staring up at fifteen flavors of oversaturated sugary goodness that he realized what had just happened.

He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief over his husband’s diversion. The tension that had been boiling over was cooled significantly by the sudden non-sequitur, and while the teens were rather half-hearted about picking out their sweet treats, there was no longer a risk of an explosion happening.

Metaphorically and literally.

Helmut caught his spouse’s eye with a meaningful look at Lili the moment all of them had their orders in hand, then slung his arm around Razputin’s shoulders and steered him away. “C’mon my lad! Nothing like the cool night air of three in the morning to keep your Hurricane ™ properly chilled!”

The poor boy had no choice but to let himself be pulled outside, leaving the two Zanottos standing awkwardly in the dingy restaurant. Bob gave a nervous scratch at his chin under his beard.

“How about we, uh, find a seat somewhere?”

Lili couldn’t fully cross her arms while holding ice cream, but she did a good job of making it work anyway. “Sure.”

They sat in a booth in the farthest corner from the front counter. Both great-niece and great-uncle stared at their respective sweet treats as if they could teleport them out of this situation. Bob glanced out the window and saw Helmut and Raz standing outside of the car. The former was on one knee with his hand on the teen’s shoulder, speaking earnestly but inaudibly, and the latter was scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the asphalt.

“Are you going to lecture me?” Lili finally cut through the silence.

Bob turned back to her. “No. Not really.”

“No?” She broke her gaze away from her ice cream just a little bit, eyeing him with surprise. “Then why did Helmut take Raz and leave us alone?”

She was so perceptive, so smart. And yet, still so young.

“Well, I… I still want to talk to you about what happened. I’m just not very, good, at this kind of thing.” He took his spoon and absentmindedly began drawing a flower in his soft-serve. “You already know what you did wasn’t a good idea, right? So I don’t think a lecture would help things any on that front.”

She didn’t respond. He continued.

“It’s less about the fake ID and more…the reasons you made the fake ID. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so, but I know what I’m doing, Uncle Bob. I’m not going to drink irresponsibly.”

The herbophanist shook his head. “But you’ll do irresponsible things to be able to drink in the first place.”

“That’s not –” Lili didn’t have a good rebuttal. She folded her arms and grumpily started eating her cherry chocolate delight. “Whatever. It’s two different things, anyway.”

Against his better judgement, Bob began picking at his own food as he thought about how best to bring the subject back up without making the teen defensive again. Spoons clicking against teeth was the only sound between them for a solid minute.

Finally, an epiphany.

“Did Truman ever…tell you anything, about your great-grandma?”

The girl paused with a bite halfway up to her mouth. She frowned, confused. “Grandma Tia? Not much. Just that she died when he was a baby.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she did.” He ran a tired hand over his face. The ache in his heart might have long-since healed into a scar, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when pressed. “She passed away when I was nineteen. The doctors told me it was liver failure.”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Lili’s mouth thinned and she put her spoon down, uncomfortable.

“When I…found out the reason behind her death, I was horrified by it. It didn’t make sense to me why she would willingly do something that hurt her so badly, especially when I was right there to love her and help her. It felt like a betrayal that she never got help or made herself stop. I was…disgusted by the mere thought of doing anything like that.”

Bob took a moment to breathe and wipe his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but better safe than sorry.

“It sounds pretty hypocritical when I say it now, doesn’t it?”

His great-niece only gave him a hesitant look.

“Anyway, uh, where was I…” He worried his lip. “Oh, right. I told myself that I’d never touch the stuff after that. I was angry at what she’d done, and I was determined not to have the same ‘weakness’, so to speak. As you know, it, uh, it didn’t last long. I was at a college party barely a year later when I was invited by some friends to drink with them. I didn’t make human friends very easily back then – actually, I still don’t – so I was a little desperate to keep them. It turned out to be pretty hard whiskey, so I got hammered.”

The man leaned back in his seat, staring at the patterns in the booth table.

“Back then, no one really knew how alcoholism could run in a family. Everyone thought it was a personal choice to keep drinking. It wasn’t even classified as an addiction yet. So I didn’t know how susceptible I was, or how careful I had to be. I’d spend months not having a single drink, thinking I was fine and could handle myself, and then I’d get plastered for a week at parties and bars and God knows what else, and it would take me even longer to get myself to stop again. It was like that even when I was with Ford and his gang. It wasn’t until I started dating Helmut that I started trying to change those habits. I’d never met anyone who loved me so unconditionally that I wanted to be a better person for them, until him. And it worked for a while.

“Well, barring our wedding, of course. I got shitfaced at the reception. It was embarrassing afterwards, but Helmut told me it made our cake-eating ceremony a hell of a great time.”

Lili snorted, and it was accompanied by a tiny upturn of her lips. Then it dropped as her expression became solemn. “And then…everything with Maligula happened, right?”

“Yeah. I think you know the rest of that story.”

“Uh-huh.”

Great-niece and great-uncle sat together for a while, just thinking about it all.

“I know I have to be more careful drinking than a lot of people, Uncle Bob,” Lili finally said at length. “My dad warned me about it when I was old enough to ask.”

“Truman is a good dad,” he murmured in response.

“The best dad.”

“Definitely the best dad.”

More silence.

“I didn’t mean to worry you and him,” she continued. “Or scare you. I know it was dumb to do what we did tonight.”

Bob looked at her, and she gave a conceding sigh.

“Okay, it was dumb to do a lot of what we’ve been doing with this stuff. That doesn’t mean I’m not being careful.”

“Kid, it’s not always just a matter of being careful. I thought I was being careful. I thought that for years and years, and when I finally realized I wasn’t, I convinced myself I could stop any time I wanted to, and kept up the same patterns anyway. That’s what I’m trying to get you to understand. I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. I’m just worried about you.”

Lili closed her eyes with a grimace. “I know. I’m sorry, Uncle Bob.”

“Hey, kiddo, look at me.” He waited until she did so. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not disappointed, either. That’s your dad’s job. I get it, is what I’m saying. It gives you a buzz, and it’s fun and exciting, and you just wanted to have a good time with your, uh…”

Bob leaned in a bit, and dropped his voice to a stage whisper.

“Is Raz still your boyfriend?”

“Wha –” her cheeks went red. “Yes, he is!”

“Alright, sorry, I’m just always out of the loop. No one ever tells me when these things change or not. Anyway,” he continued before she could get brighter than the cherries in her ice cream. “I’m just saying that you gotta be more than careful with this kind of thing. Everyone should be, really, but especially people like us. Plants aren’t the only thing that runs in the Zanotto family, unfortunately, so we just have to be aware of it and act accordingly.”

The teen turned this over in her mind. He could practically see the gears moving. When she looked at him again, it was with a slow, contemplative nod.

“No more late-night bar-hopping?” Her great-uncle asked.

“No more late-night bar-hopping.” She answered, sincere.

“Good.” He looked outside. Helmut and Raz were both lying on the front of the car, pointing out stars to each other. The sight made him smile. “Come on, we’ll work on that whole thing about Adam and Lizzie giving you alcohol another time, when it’s not three in the morning. For now, let’s rejoin our boys again and go get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.” Lili slid out of the booth and tentatively took her family member’s hand. His fingers squeezed hers in reassurance. “And...thanks, Uncle Bob.”

“Well, what can I say. Us weird Zanotto plant people hafta look out for each other, right?”

“Right.”

They walked out together, hand-in-hand.

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A/N: I knew from promotional material that we'd be going into the mind of someone struggling with alcoholism, but Bob's Bottles punched me hard in the gut. It's probably my favorite mind in the game, both because it's visually gorgeous and because it hit a little close to home with some of the themes, like generational alcoholism and how the addiction can make someone a shell of themselves.

I wrote half of this three weeks ago and then found myself really struggling to finish it because it brought up a lot of old feelings I thought I'd sorted through a long time ago.

Psychonauts, man.