#yes technically this is still on brand because he's wet

[cutestkilla]

The stranger is a black man with glasses, I can tell that much. That, and he’s awfully cheerful for a man entering a hot zone potentially seething with deadly infectious particles; he’s smiling widely at us as he pours bleach over his head.

New art for my @carry-on-big-bang collab with @aristocratic-otter on her fabulous epidemiology AU: The Rat and the River! It's time for chapter 5: ENTER SHEP. I read this line and had no choice but to illustrate Shep joyfully pouring bleach over himself.

[bonny-kookoo]

Taehyung: Old Classics 🔞

Taehyung and you had found each other on pure chance- and while you don't notice the love blossoming between you two, blaming it on your overly romantic perception of things, he very much noticed long ago- and has prepared his confession for you.

Tags/Warnings: romance, angst, friends to lovers, Taehyung is in love and yes that's a warning, Kim Yeontan is there too, smut, size kink, protected sex, pls there's no shame in using lube, Tae has above average qualities underneath his pants but wbk, handjob (f. Receiving), oral (m & f receiving)

Want more of this? You can request drabbles, send in character asks, or simply comment underneath to let me know you've enjoyed this!

This is a longer Oneshot. 4.1k words.

You laugh as Taehyung opens the door for you, letting you inside his private apartment first before he walks in after to close the door behind him. You had met up outside technically to go and sit around a little, maybe walk along hangang, but then it had started to basically pour dogs and cats, forcing you back inside. But because Taehyung didn't want to put you in any harms way by someone realizing who he was and starting to take pictures of the two of you- already agitated by the most recent dating rumors some people had made up again- so he had basically decided to finally take you to his home. And maybe, just maybe, he had hoped for an opportunity like this anyways.

Yeontan knew you- and loved you a lot, although Taehyung likes to argue that the little dog could never hold as much love for you as he did. "Come on, I'll show you the bathroom so you can get into some dry clothes." He says, and you want to argue- but the gentle hand on your back snaps you almost into a trance, unable to go against his words as he leads you where he promised he would. Everything was much larger in his apartment, much more refined and expensive, and it felt like you were out of place with your no-brand clothes and drenched socks. But for Taehyung, he felt another wave of nervousness- something of an entirely different nature, as he shows you some of his fresh laundry, and tells you to simply take your pick in what you wanted to wear once you were changing.

You were finally here- and he would finally tell you what's been on his mind for months now.

"I know, its exciting isn't it Tan?" He mumbles towards the dog on the floor happily yapping around, probably unaware of the inner fight Taehyung had with himself. Maybe he shouldn't tell you? He wanted to keep you at his side for as long as possible- but if he told you, and you didn't feel the same, wouldn't that break you two apart? He's never really heard of any friendships being the same after a love confession had been dropped on one another. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, he could get over it and continue like nothing happened with you, if things went south.

Putting on some music to somehow calm himself a little, he walks into his bedroom to change out of the wet clothes he was still wearing. Did you even like the way he dressed? Only now, as he pulls out some random items that would make him feel as comfortable as possible, does he realize that he's never asked you about that. Maybe you found it odd, or weird- oh god what if you found Him weird? But then again, you've never seemed to be uncomfortable with him around you, or close to you, so he just hoped that he had done the right thing by letting himself fall for you.

He remembers meeting you in france- you were on a small vacation, while he had a concert there that night. He wanted to explore the museums by himself for once, trying his hardest not to cause any attention to himself- and then he had lost his wallet, somewhere around the painting of snakes of which the name he can't remember. He remembers the summer dress you wore that day, and the honest smile you had on your lips as you gave him back his wallet- before you simply continued to stroll around yourself.

He had made eye contact here and there, before it ended in actively searching for your form in the huge building, trying to figure out what paintings and sculptures caught your interest the most. 'Are you stalking me, Mr.Kim?' you had asked him in korean, and he had known that you had caught him in more than just the simple fact of following you around the museum.

And ever since then, you both met up regularly- and Taehyung began falling for you more and more.

"Oh, there you are!" You say, before backing out the room as you notice his lack of shirt. He chuckles a bit to himself at the fact that you had oh so cutely held your own clothes in front of your face before ducking out the room again- everything you did was so endearing to him, it was disgusting almost. "A-Are you done? I'm so sorry!" You chuckle, as he slips his shirt over his head, before walking out.

"No need to be sorry. Do you want to wash it here?" He asks casually, trying his hardest not to seem as nervous as he was. You looked absolutely beautiful in his clothes- baggy and way too oversized on you. It made him feel weirdly protective over you, as if he had somewhat already claimed you as his.

But he was still far from calling you his.

If his bandmates knew about you, they'd be a chaotic mix of teasing comments and worrisome advises. But Taehyung knew how dangerous this was- how complicated this could, and very much would become down the line if you accepted his feelings. He was aware of that- and it was one of the main reasons why he wouldn't be surprised if you turned him down because of that very reason. He was a person of public interest, nothing he did would never be like fresh meat to the vultures of magazines out there. They would very much tear you apart as well in the process, uncaring of you as a human being- and you were smart enough to be aware of this.

Maybe he shouldn't do this.

But you're so pretty as you play with Yeontan on the floor, uncaring of anything he might be thinking as you jump around the yapping animal, equally as excited- before you notice him staring. The shade of red on your cheeks was something he wanted to keep in his mind forever, as you cough to mask your shyness, before he walks up to you, randomly taking your hand in his before he playfully sways you to the music currently playing. It's way less intimitading to you than it should feel- but then again, Taehyung had that talent of making things so easy and simple for you. It was a little unfair, really.

And so you let yourself be swept away by him, leaning into his chest as he smiles to himself. His other hand not holding your hand softly places itself onto your back, warm and gentle as he simply takes what he can have in that moment. He dreams, just for a second, that you're his, that you shared this home, that you loved him. For a moment, he leans down a bit, smiling as he spots your closed eyes- seeing you so comfortable in his embrace makes him feel an odd sense of pride somehow.

But all moments have to pass- and when the song ends, he simply chuckles, unknowingly sets your heart on fire at the sound before he parts from you, letting you roam around the living area a bit.

"Oh?" You ask, as you walk towards one of his windows, where a candle is sat, a lid on it to protect it, it seems. Since he's not protesting against it, you pick it up, opening the lid to notice that it's scented- very gently, a nice and comfortable smell that makes you wonder if he ever lights it at all. It has been lit it seems- but it's barely burned, so he probably only tried it out.

"We can light it while I search for a movie to watch?" He asks, and you nod, before you realize that he wants to watch a movie with you.

In his bedroom.

And while you trust him with your entire being that he doesn't have any ulterior motive about it- hell, his thoughts are probably completely innocent as always, but you didn't trust yourself in that situation with him. He's a handsome man, he's nice, understanding, the perfect amount of a little odd, and chivalrous. How could you Not think of him as a potential love interest?

But until now, you've never let your thoughts stray anywhere further than a little daydreaming. You couldn't commit to a full-blown crush on him, no way was there a possibility that he wanted anything more than friendship from you. He's said it before as well- not directly, but when the recent scandal had come out about him and someone potentially dating, he'd seemed so annoyed about relationships, that you had started to just assume he didn't want to have anything serious for now- at least as long as he was an idol. "You coming?" He asks, ripping you out of your thoughts. "Or wait- are you uncomfortable, you know, with me in my bedroom?" He wonders, and you're about to protest. "I promise I won't try anything." He says with a chuckle, walking into the room without looking back, and somehow, the way he said it, so lighthearted and easily stung.

As you walk into the room, its cozy. The candle is already lit on his bedside table, while he looks something up on his laptop, before he pats the mattress next to him. You lay down there, unsure at first what to say. "Is it okay if I stay over like that?" You ask him. "Like- you don't have to keep me over if I'm intruding. I'm sure I can get a cab or something-" You say, clearly nervous, as Taehyung stops what he's doing- obviously having caught onto your emotional chaos.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asks- he doesn't need to know if you are, because he can clearly see it already. Had he overstepped a boundary somehow without noticing?

"No, no you're not-" You start, before you sit up, looking at your bare feet on his sheets. "It's my fault, sorry." You say.

"What's wrong?" He asks, having closed his laptop before he placed the device on the ground next to his bed, before he sits up as well, careful to give you a little space to breathe.

"I.." You start, before you realize you can't back out now. "I really tried, I promise you that. It's not your fault, so uhm.. please don't blame yourself." You mumble, as Taehyung seems to not quite catch on. "But I don't think we can be friends anymore." You say.

"Why?" He breathes out, scared of the answer you might give. But also, a little hopeful. Could it be?

"I'm sorry." You say putting your face into your hands out of frustration. "Especially NOW, after you've already been through that whole scandal, fuck.." You talk into your hands. "I think.. no." You start, before it finally leaves your lips. "I have a crush on you and I don't know if I can get over it." you say, and wait for a moment. But when he doesnt react, you excuse yourself again, moving so that your feet dangle off the side of his bed. But before you can leave, his larger hand had already caught your wrist, holding you in place.

"You're really unfair." He says, before he moves to sit behind you, pulling you into his chest. "I wanted to say it first."

"Wait-" You start, eyes wide as you look to the side, Taehyungs face and especially lips dangerously close to yours.

"I was actually wondering how to tell you." He says, his arms wrapping around you a bit tighter before he looks down to your lips with a smile. "I was scared that I might be the one spilling my feelings first, not you." He says, and you laugh in disbelief to yourself, making him chuckle against the side of your head as well. "I can't believe you feel the same." He smiles, and you have to agree as well.

Turning around in his lap, you put your legs over his, getting comfortable, before you finally look up at him. His hands move from your sides to your face, gently holding it, before he leans forwards, placing his first kiss onto your lips- before he leans in again, and again, smiling as you lean in as well, your hands now reaching out as well to hold onto his shirt. "I really mean it." He says between his antics. "Just in case-" He starts, seemingly unable to stop himself from kissing you. "-you think I only wanted to get you into my bed." He says, letting himself fall backwards onto the mattress with you ontop of him, making you laugh.

"I honestly wouldn't have minded if that was the case either." You say, and he opens his eyes, before he moves around with you, turning you both over so he was leaning over you.

"I'd never." He says, with full seriousness in his tone. "But I'd also be lying if I said I never imagined it.." He says, and you blush- but decide to go along.

"Imagined what?" You say, and he smirks, eyes suddenly holding a glimmer in them you haven't seen before. They're not innocent anymore, not by a long shot, as his hand travels over your body, down until his fingers find the hem of his shirt you're wearing, teasingly wandering underneath to feel your soft skin the fabric was hiding.

"Me, and you.." He says, eyes watching his hand underneath the white fabric of his shirt. "Me inside you.." He continues, eyes suddenly looking up at yours as if to check if you were still comfortable.

"That's all?" You say, feeling his hand carefully place itself over your bare breast, confident, but always ready to retreat if it went too far for you. Even though you knew that Taehyung could never hurt you.

"Hm, no.." He says, voice low and deep as his other hand moves underneath the shirt as well, your back lifting up the mattress as if to give him a silent ok to remove the garment from you- something he happily does, eyes drinking in the sight of your bare skin underneath the warm glow of the candle close by. "Imagined myself, between those pretty legs.." He explains to you, as he leans down, lips ghosting over your now exposed skin, teasing, as you begin to become unable to stay still. "Imagined you squirming around like that too." He chuckles, helping you out of your underwear as well as his hand places itself onto your exposed center, fingers easily finding their way even though he's not looking where they go.

You feel a bit weird, and he notices that instantly too- but before he can talk, you answer his unasked question already. "I- no one's.. done that.." You say, and he hums a reply, placing a kiss onto your lips.

"Nothing ever, or just that?" He wonders, and you squirm around a bit as a second finger enters you, digits playing around as you feel weirdly sensitive.

"Uhm.." You start. "I've had.. sex before but-" You explain, hips moving without your control. "Nothing else." You say.

"So you've never been eaten out?" He asks, and you shake your head. "No foreplay like that?" He wonders, and you shake your head again.

"I've uh- given head before though-" You say, and he shakes his head at that, watching you become more aroused with every second that passes.

"You're so sweet, love." He chuckles. "It's upsetting me to think about other men not cherishing you the way you should be." He says, and you whine a bit at that, unsure what to really do or say, as his hand leaves you, before moving around his bed, giving you a second to breathe. He blows out the candle on his bedside table, rummages around inside his drawer, before he finds what he was looking for.

You've sat up at this point, watching him undress as he smiles at you, streetlights outside his window the only source of light somewhat outlining his physique as he leans over you again, only now finally noticing the simple size difference between you two, now that you were both bare of any clothes. You look to the side as a rather cold object touches your shoulder, and he places it a bit further away, while you realize what it was. "Just to be a little extra careful." He chuckles as he notices you glancing at the bottle of lube, while he opens the condom and begins to place it onto his length. "Don't wanna hurt you."

"But I'm wet enough, it always hurts a little at first-" You say, and suddenly, Taehyung grows serious.

"Not with me." He almost seems to promise. " He says, before taking the bottle and opening the cap of it. "You can't imagine how upset I am at all those stupid fucks that got to touch you and-" He stops himself with a shake of his head, before he deems you prepared enough, finally lining himself up with your entrance. "Talk to me, alright?" He asks, and you nod, before he lets his head enter you, slowly, already feeling your warmth around him clench in need. He checks on you with a glance, and only continues when he see's no signs of you being uncomfortable.

If anything, you're growing a bit impatient.

He gasps out as he's finally inside fully, letting his forehead rest onto your collarbone, lips ghosting over your skin while he chuckles. "I can't believe you're taking me that well." He says. "So good." He praises, and you lift your legs, pulling him a bit closer as you clench around him. "Impatient aren't we." He says in amusement, biting down on your skin and making you laugh a bit at his antics.

"Move!" You say with a whine, making him finally start to follow your order, at first slowly trying to find a pace you're both comfortable with. But its no use- whatever romantic thought Taehyung had in mind was thrown out the window with the first breathless sound you made, head buried into his sheets as he held onto your delicate hips with eager hands. He can't help it- it's almost painful to try and hold himself back when he has you right in his hands, with your glowing body on his bed, moaning his name like it was the prettiest tune on earth.

He knows he'd fallen deep.

And so he can't keep his eyes off of your body, watching you shiver in pleasure as you come undone, growing sensitive as he pulls out of you, not wanting to push you any further just for his own enjoyment.

And then you move forward, pulling the condom off of his length before looking up at him, checking if you were okay- meeting his dark eyes, staring down at you as if you were a dream he can't quite believe was real. He lets his head fall back as he grows unashamed of his own noises, with the way your lips wrap around him- hands caressing whatever you can't fit. "Baby-" He chokes out, unsure how to tell you before it suddenly happens- his seed spilling down your throat, making you swallow around the head of his cock, his hands fisting the sheets, body unsure if he was too sensitive or not satisfied enough yet.

But he's spent after you finally part from him, laying on your stomach next to his form now sprawled out on his back on his bed- eyes closed, gentle smile on his lips, while his chest rises and falls with every breath. You run a hand through his hair, making him emit something akin to a purring sound, as he turns his head, brows furrowing when you lean away from his lips. "No- kiss me." He whines, and you chuckle.

"I probably still have your cum on my tongue." You argue, and he opens his eyes at that, leaning over and pulling your head down to him at that.

"Don't care." He says, before he kisses you filthily- open mouthed and tongue moving over yours, visibly uncaring of what you thought was something no guy could ever like. "I'll always want to kiss you." He says, before he moves down between your legs, making you blush even in the darkness of the room. "Even here." He chuckles, and you're ready to protest-

but your moans deceive you quickly, shutting you up successfully.

There's nothing for you to compare it to, unable to find a memory close to it, as you can't help but let yourself be led by his touch and tongue, sensation entirely new to you as Taehyung between your legs enjoys the way you struggle to keep composure. He watches in awe how your back arches here and there, remembers specific patterns that make you emit a certain sound, entirely focused on you.

You can't help but wonder if he gets anything out of this at all.

But oh, if you knew how he enjoyed the power he had over you in that moment, hands keeping your hips in place every time they try and lift away from him.

As if you'd ever try and get away from him in the first place.

---

The next morning, there's only Yeontan greeting him on his bed- and for a good minute or two he's convinced that yesterday didn't happen at all.

But then he spots the bottle of lube and the empty wrapper of the condom he'd used last night, and he's reminded of everything that happened yet again. But why weren't you there? Did you overthink everything yet again, did you realize you didn't want to be with him after all? Did he do something wrong and didn't notice?

A bit sleepily he finds some pants, throwing on a shirt from the floor, before he walks into the living area of his apartment, hoping to spot you like in all those movies and romantic novels. But you're not there either, and he sighs as he runs a hand through his hair in disappointment. Maybe he really had hoped for too much in the end- but then he notices the note on the table, something that hadn't been there yesterday. 'Out grabbing some breakfast- be back soon :)'

He smiles to himself as he reads it- and as if on cue, his doorbell rings, alarming Yeontan who barks at whoever dare try to intrude his home. Looking at the camera installed, he begins to grin as he notices you wearing his zip-hoodie; something you probably found hanging close to the entrance. He opens the door, looking down at your form standing there sheepishly. "Did I wake you?" You ask, as he lets you in, humming an agreeing answer. "Oh sorry- I went out and wanted to grab something to eat for us but on my way back I realized I didn't know the code to your-" You start, but get cut off by his form trapping you against his kitchen counter, arms on either side of your body as his hands brace him against the cool stonetop.

"I woke up because you weren't there, not because you came back." He says simply, and you can only muster a small surprised 'oh' as an answer, making him chuckle before he kisses your lips. "Don't scare me like that again." He says, pushing his jacket off your shoulders, before he lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulder and making you laugh.

"What are you doing!" You shriek in wonder, as he simply smacks your butt playfully.

"I'm still tired." He says simply, letting you down to help you back into bed and under the warm covers.

"And that's my problem?" You ask, yawning next to him before he pulls you to his chest.

"Now it is." He says. "All my problems are yours; and all of yours are mine, after all." He says.

And you simply nod, closing your eyes while listening to his heartbeat.

[bugsyfics]

Could’ve Just Asked

Yami Sukehiro x Reader

Fandom: BC

Summary: After touching one of Captain Yami’s most prized possessions, Y/N finds herself on thin ice.

Warnings: Smut/notsfw, spanking, masturbation, very slight praise and domination

Word Count: 1.3k

————•————•————•————•————•————•————•————

Captain Yami was out with the other members of the Black Bulls upon request of the Wizard King. Today you weren’t needed, because you visited him a couple days prior about the new mission. While you could’ve gone anyway, this was a good time to catch up on some well needed cleaning. You dusted, moved someone’s random pair of shorts, and threw away an oddly immense amount of trash. You got to the split corridor and took a little detour down the men’s living quarters. You’ve only been down there a couple times, but curiosity was getting the best of you.

There was no denying that you enjoyed looking at your captain and often wondered how he would feel on top of you, but because of the dynamic you two shared it made it almost impossible to express how you felt. Since you’d joined the Black Bulls, it’s always felt deeply inappropriate how hot this man made you with only a couple words or a pat on the back. It was even worse when you two would train alone, away from the others. Maybe your little flirts weren’t enough for him to catch on or possibly he was simply ignoring your advances.

As you passed Yami’s bedroom it took everything in you not to look at his door. You walked a little further, but quickly turned on your heel to walk back towards his room.

“Hm, I don’t know if I… no…” You contemplated intruding while your hand remained on the doorknob.

“Fine.” You opened the door.

It was… normal? A small pile of clothes and an unmade bed but nothing out of the ordinary. You did notice though, a shimmer from across the room. After quickly shutting the door, you made your way to the glimmering object to find a brand new katana placed against his nightstand. You knew it was a bad idea, but you really wanted to see the beauty of this finely crafted sword. You pulled it out slightly admiring the polished finish — possibly too long to not notice Yami entering his room.

“Get out or I’ll kill you!”

“Ahh! I’m so sorry! I’ll leave, j-just let me explain!” You sputtered hoping he wouldn’t kick your ass.

“I was cleaning a-and I wandered down the hallway a-and I saw your room. Then I-I saw—”

“Shut the hell up!”

“I’m sorry capitan,” you apologized.

Why did you have to keep doing stupid shit like this? No only did you invade his privacy but you also touched his brand new katana— Yami’s katana. Shit, you put your position in the squad in jeopardy and ruined the chances of him ever being interested in you. What would the other squad members thi—

“Hello? I asked you to hand it over,” Yami pointed to the sword with his eyebrow raised.

“You’re being creepy…” he continued and eyed you.

Yami grabbed your arm and released the katana from your grip. He laid the sword flat on his palms and pulled it out completely, inspecting it.

“Well, I guess you didn’t mess it up too bad. You know, acting like a dumbass and all,” Yami spoke and shook his head.

You opened your mouth to protest but remained quiet instead.

“You came in here just to look at a sword? Gonna steal it or somethin’?”

“No, I was just snooping. It was rude of me,” you muttered.

“Stop apologizing. Don’t care, just don’t do it again,” Yami grumbled.

He closed the katana back down into its scabbard and sighed.

“Ok, get out,” he spoke suddenly and walked you to the door.

After you walked out, Yami leaned against the doorframe.

“You know Y/N, you don’t have to sneak around. If you wanted to visit and talk you could’ve just asked,” Yami laughed and closed the door.

Did he say visit? What did that even mean? Well, you were just glad you made it out alive. Your palms were sweaty and after that encounter you needed a cold shower.

The next day...

After breakfast, all the squad members sat in the main room chatting. You assumed no one knew about what happened the day before, but you sat by yourself just in case. Well, not entirely by yourself since Zora was across from you snoozing, as always.

“Be quiet and sit down,” Yami clapped his hands together, “I’m sending a couple of you on a mission.”

“Julius needs to speak to Asta, Finral, and Charmy again. So, go do that or whatever,” Yami announced nonchalantly and sat back down to read the paper.

Everyone else traveled to the Noble Realm to shop or went outside to train. You quietly sat and drank your coffee hoping no one would notice that you were missing.

You heard a gruff voice from above you, “Y/N, come here.”

Yami?! What does he want? He stood over you and motioned you to follow.

“Yes, captain.”

You both ended up outside his room.

“What are we—”

“We have free-time. I thought you wanted to talk,” Yami shrugged.

“Sur— I mean, yeah we can,” you smiled awkwardly.

Yami sat down on his bed and stared at you, blowing out a puff of smoke from his cigarette. You stood against his desk, in the corner of the room, assuming it wouldn’t be appropriate to sit on his bed with him. The uncomfortable silence made you flustered and you slightly pinched your leg to right yourself.

“Are we gonna stare at each other all day?” Yami surmised.

“I don’t really have anything to talk about necessarily,” you spoke.

“Mhm, ok well we can leave—”

“Wait! I-I mean um… hold on. Tell me about your katana, please captain,” you blurted.

“You wanna hear about my katana? Nothing else you want to talk about?” Yami asked.

“Yeah… Well, no. I’m just interested in learning about it. It looks like it’s made with good craftsmanship.”

Yami stood suddenly, pulling his katana from the holster on his waist and motioned you over. He sat back down on his bed and waited for you to join. You awkwardly sat beside him and you couldn’t help your cheeks from turning bright red from the closeness.

“Put your hands out,” Yami instructed, “The blade is sharp so don’t do anything stupid.”

The sword laid balanced across both of your palms.

“The handle is called tsuka,” Yami began and stroked the top, “...and the blade is called sori.”

He took two fingers and slowly ran them across the surface of the blade.

“The only authentic ones are from back home, but since I haven’t gone back, I get them imported.”

“Wow, it’s a really beautiful sword,” you admired softly.

“Mhm, it’s quite… personal to me,” Yami cleared his throat and grabbed the katana from your hands.

He glanced over at your face with an unreadable expression and shifted away.

“I think that’s enough talking for today. I’m gonna take a nap,” Yami rushed and stood from the bed.

“Can I come back tomorrow?” You asked quietly and walked to the door.

Yami pulled his cigarette from his lips and crushed the butt into the cigarette tray on top of his nightstand.

“Eh, I don’t know… I think today was enough,” he responded curtly.

“Did I do something wrong?” you began to pry.

Yami stood silent staring at you for a moment. He finally made his way over, and towered over your small frame.

“I hate it when you act innocent,” Yami growled lowly and tilted your chin upwards slowly, “You know exactly what you’re doing, princess.”

“Captain… What are you talking about?” you questioned, puzzled by his sudden change in mood.

“I haven’t caught on for a while, but I’m not stupid. You like when I tower over you like this… or when I command you to do what I want,” Yami taunted and rested his hands above your head.

“You snooped in my room because you couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” Yami chuckled and stared deeper into your nervous gaze.

“C-captain I-I,” you stuttered and clenched your thighs together to suppress the tingling from your core.

“There’s no need to confess, Y/N. I already know how you feel,” Yami said. “I guess I was a little oblivious. I thought you had a childish crush, but it seems like there’s something more.”

Yami scratched the back of his head and his eyes traveled down your body to your clenched thighs. With one hand still above you, the other traced down your side and gripped your thigh gently. He began to rub small circles on your skin with his thumb.

You bit your lip and glanced up at Yami’s dark gaze from under your lashes.

“D’ya like that princess?” he teased as his hand traveled further underneath your skirt.

“Yes captain,” you sighed.

You were soaking through your panties and you were nervous about what Yami would think. His low voice and his digits pressed on you made your skin burn.

Yami’s eyes grew a little when he reached your panties. He took his middle finger and ran it over your heat feeling how your wetness pooled under you.

“You want me to touch you some more?” Yami spoke into your neck.

You nodded eagerly, opening your legs wider for his massive hand.

“Mm…”

Yami rubbed faster over your clothed pussy. He pulled his hand away and leaned down to your ear.

“Get on the bed. Head down and ass up, now.” Yami ordered you.

He could tell you liked being dominated, but you also like being praised and he stepped into that role nicely.

You scurried over to his bed and did what you were told. A little part of you wanted to push him further.

You reached under your skirt and played with yourself, bucking into your hand. You pushed your ass out and turned your head to watch him.

Yami cooly walked to his nightstand, grabbed a cigarette and lit it while he watched you. That was definitely not the reaction you expected.

Smoke billowed out from his lips as he spoke, “That’s a nice show you’re putting on. Maybe you can get yourself off instead.”

“Wha- no, I was just—”

“Touch yourself,” Yami demanded.

He watched as you hesitated and moved your hand away. Yami roughly pulled your hand back under you, placing it on your core.

“Do it.”

You had no choice other than to play with yourself in front of him, but it was technically your fault. You gently rubbed over the fabric and grazed across your aching pussy. The constant friction of the panties across your clit made it difficult to stay steady on your knees. You moaned incoherently into the bedspread and began slowing your movements.

Yami grabbed a handful of your ass and smacked it harshly, “Faster. Keep going like a good girl.”

“Yam-Yami please. I c-can’t…” you panted.

“Do I have to tell you again, princess?” Yami threatened while pinching your ass.

“No, sir… but I just need you,” you pleaded and grinded into the air.

With a grunt, Yami pulled you to the edge of the bed with your ass propped. He tore your panties off of you and spread your pussy open to rub harsh circles on your swollen bud, making your toes curl.

“Mm fuck. That feels so, so good, captain!”

“Something tells me this is your favorite place to be touched,” Yami chuckled, quickening his movements.

You bucked harder, fucking yourself down onto Yami’s hand.

“Shit, it looks like your gonna come, princess.”

He pulled you back into his chest and continued his movements while you came undone. You felt yourself on the brink of tears as you slumped down into Yami’s arms. You heard him breathing hard behind you as his erection poked into your lower back.

“Damn princess, that was only the first round! Hah! I knew you weren’t that innocent,” Yami teased and wrapped his arms around your waist.

————•————•————•————•————•————•————•————

A/N: I hoped you like this Yami smut! Thanks for reading 💕

— bugs

[nomsugayoongi]

Off My Face. Part 3.

Pairings: Jungkook X OC female (nameless) Tags: Yet more fluff. Smuutttyyy smut. Please don't read if you're not at an age to actually legally carry out smut. She was aware of the fact that they'd been in the kitchen long enough to start raising suspicion from the others. As much as she didn't want to, she knew at some point she'd have to head back out with Jungkook to rejoin them. They were just stood, still in front of the fridge, his arms wrapped around her, she face nuzzling into his shoulder. She was just enjoying being so close to him. "They're gonna wonder what we're doing" she muttered. "I know. Do you want to tell them something?" He asked carefully.

She stepped out of the hug, immediately feeling colder without his body heat. She studied him. She didn't even know what it was she'd have to tell them. A couple of stolen kisses in a kitchen didn't exactly qualify as announcement material. "Do you?" Yes, answering a question with a question was kind of a dick move but she wanted to know how he felt about it before giving anything away. He looked thoughtful and shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants. "Not really. I wouldn't know what to tell. I think I need to figure that out with you before I talk to them." He said, still being very careful with his wording. He didn't want her to think he wasn't willing to tell them that something had happened between them but until he understood what exactly that meant, he didn't really want to start that conversation. She nodded feeling slightly relieved. "Yeah, me too. I mean...I don't even know what..." She broke off, indicating between the two of them then punctuating her point with a shrug. He smiled and nodded his agreement. "So...we say nothing while we figure out..." He replied, repeating her hand gesture. "Ok. Well...you go back out first. I'll...brew a pot of coffee or something and follow in a couple of minutes. " She suggested. He nodded. The mood between them had switched slightly and was a little awkward. Not because of what had happened but because neither of them particularly wanted to join the others. Jungkook felt strange. This thing with her was literally brand new. He'd had it for minutes and now he had to go back and pretend that everything that had just happened, hadn't. He felt weird about that. He wanted more time. He wanted to take her for a walk in the garden or up to his room or something. Somewhere they could talk properly and kiss more and just...be all over each other. Instead he had to go join his brothers and be right next to her...without acting like they'd just completely changed what they were. He frowned, kicking his foot against the floor. Patience wasn't his strong point. He couldn't even think of when he possibly could get her alone. That was the thing about living with his hyungs. You could guarentee that at least one of them was always around. "Ok, I'll go back now." He muttered. He shook his head, telling himself not to overthink. He headed for the kitchen door, ready to rejoin his group. "Wait wait wait" she hissed, throwing a coffee filter on the counter and running over to him. She pulled him away from kitchen door and kissed him again. "One more..." She breathed against his lips. He chuckled into her mouth, tangling his fingers into her hair and indulging her. "No...many more" he corrected. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, biting softly before releasing her. "...just not right now." He gave her his bunny smile, nose crinkling adorably as he ruffled his hair. "Don't be long" he said, swiftly exiting the kitchen. She waited a few minutes, brewing a coffee pot and putting cups on a tray to take out to the boys, not actually paying attention to a single thing she did. She felt like she was floating. Her stomach twisting giddily as she completed her task on autopilot. Jungkook....liked her. How was that even possible? He was beyond gorgeous and she'd just kissed him a bunch of times in the BTS house kitchen. She sighed, trying to get the dumb grin off her face. He was such a good kisser. She could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers, the brush of his tongue, the taste of him. She squeeked quietly, a small giggle erupting from her as she let herself have a moment to feel it. Pure happiness. Excitement. She couldn't wait for the next moment with him. She'd spent ages tormented by him, never imagining that the things she longed for would become reality. She sighed deeply, trying to regulate her breathing and pop the expanding bubble of giggles lodged in her chest. She had to pretend that nothing had happened. "Come on girl. Get a grip of yourself" she whispered, collecting the coffee and heading for the door. "Let's get it" she grinned, kicking it

open with her foot. The lounge was still in darkness. The quiet chatter of the boys punctuating parts of the film. "Anyone want coffee?" She asked, resting the tray on a table behind the sofa. There was a chorus of affirmatives, Suga practically throwing himself over the back of the sofa to get to the pot first. She chuckled, rolling her eyes. Namjoon smiled at her, giving her arm a quick squeeze. She glanced at Jungkook. He was back laid in the corner on the sofa, an arm casually slung behind his head. Dressed in a long sleeved black shirt and grey sweatpants yet looking like he could have been on the cover of a magazine. Damn he was gorgeous. She smirked, her eyes gorging on him. He seemed to be watching the film but she noticed the smile playing round his lips starting to grow. He flicked his eyes over to her. His tongue came out to wet his lips, dragging his bottom lip back where he caught it between his teeth for a split second before releasing, his face becoming completely neutral once again. Her smile grew as her stomach somersaulted. He was such a shit. She wanted to go over there, straddle his hips and bite that lip herself. There was so much she could do with him on the sofa pinned beneith her. She shook the thoughts away, feeling a flush creep up into her face. She wandered back over to her spot, falling down onto the sofa next to him as the boys returned to their places. She was painfully aware of Jungkook right beside her. She kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye only to find him looking back at her. Once everyone had settled back into watching, he twisted round onto his side, leaning in so his lips were right next to her ear. "I want to kiss your neck" he whispered. His breath on her ear in combination with his words made her shiver. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. She could feel his nose burying into her hair just behind her ear. "You smell so good" he murmured. She desperately wanted to turned her head, to catch his lips. Instead she gripped his thigh, squeezing slightly. He sat back again just in time for Namjoon to turn and look at them both. "Another film?" He questioned. She didn't even realise the first had ended. "Ummm...." The guys contemplated whether to watching something else. "I think I'm gonna go for a quick walk in the garden. It's stuffy in here." She hummed. "Anyone coming?" Namjoon eyed Jungkook expectantly. "Fine, I'll go by myself." She chuckled, getting up from the sofa and heading out. "Jungkook, go with her. It's dark out." Namjoon smiled. "But the garden is fenced. It's safe." He replied, pulling himself into a sitting position. Of course he wanted to go with her but he didn't want to look too obvious. Namjoon continued to stare at him. "Fine, I'll go." He relented, standing up and following her out. She slid open the patio doors, breathing deeply as she stepped out into the cool night. It was actually really nice. Not too cold but dark and silent. She turned to slide the door closed behind her and smiled when she was Jungkook walking towards her with a grin. He stepped out, closing the door behind him. "Namjoon told me to come with you" he explained. He started walking down the patio steps and onto the grass, hands in his pockets, walking slowly. " Head down to the benches" he muttered. She walked slowly beside him. Once they were out of earshot of the house he turned to her. "I did want to come with you. I just didn't want to seem like I was trying to be alone with you." He explained. She chuckled and shook her head. "It's ok. I know. I just had to get out for a minute." She replied. He led her down the garden until the darkness swallowed them, then turned her to face him, his arms snaking round her shoulders as he pulled her close. She studied him in the moonlight. "This is hard. How do I sit right next to you and pretend everything's normal?" She asked with a smile. He shrugged, kissing her sweetly. "No. Idea. Too. Hard." He responded, each word separated by a kiss. "Jungkook, what is this?" She asked. "Is this a tonight only kind of thing or..." She

broke off and sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was be all serious and heavy but she had to know. Jungkook let go of her, lacing his fingers in hers and beginning the slow walk again. "Do you just want tonight?" He asked. She was already shaking her head before he finished speaking. "Absolutely not. But...I'd get it. You're busy a lot and not telling the guys is going to be hard and I don't even know what you want. I just don't wanna assume...." He hummed with understanding. "That is true. I am busy a lot. But...I don't want one night. I like you. So much. And I don't know if we will work out together but...I would like to find out. I want to try. See what happens. I'm not technically allowed to have a girlfriend. Not publicly anyway. But...I wanna be with you. Not just tonight." He said softly. She melted, glancing at him adoringly. "That what I want too." She whispered. He smiled, squeezing her hand. " So...we see where this takes us? Like...dating...kind of. But..secretly." he proposed. She grinned and nodded. "Getting time alone is going to be difficult." He sighed. " A lot of sneaking." She nodded again, aware of the fact that they were going to get much less time than they wanted. "Just means we'll have to make the most of the time we do have." She responded. "I want to try." He nodded his agreement. "Me too." Once they'd rejoined the group, she sat contentedly next to Jungkook for another movie. At some point he'd pulled a blanket over their legs and was holding her hand beneith it. As the night wore on, she felt less guarded and let herself snuggle into him as the tiredness hit. She'd realised pretty quickly that nobody expected anything different between the two of them so they weren't paying any attention. They were always laying on each other or falling asleep together. It was normal so it didn't raise any eyebrows. She didn't actually want to go to bed. She was far too comfy where she was. But unfortunately that choice was taken away from her. "Guys, we should call it. We have practise tomorrow" Namjoon sighed, pulling himself up sleepily and kicking Jins foot to wake him up. Everyone murmured their agreement, either jumping up straight away or groaning unhappily at the thought of having to move. She untangled herself from Jungkook, standing up to hug the guys and say goodnight. As they were herded towards the steps and everything was switched off, she looked for Jungkook. He was at the back of the bunch, rubbing his eyes and yawning. There was a pang of disappointment at not being able to say goodnight to him properly but she disregarded it. There would be other nights. That was the most important thing. A collective "Goodnight" was shouted from everyone and the tell tale shuffling and banging of the guys settling into their rooms followed. She reached her room, stripping off her jeans and Jungkooks hoodie before falling into bed, his hoodie thrown next to her pillow to snuggle into. Her bed was freezing. She missed his warmth already. She folded his hoodie under her head, burying her nose into it and inhaling deeply. His scent still clung to it and she smiled happily, thinking about the events of the evening. She was almost drifting off to sleep when a vibrating sound caught her attention. She frowned for a second before releasing it was her phone. She swiped it off her beside table quickly, already grinning before she even looked at it. Sure enough, a message from Jungkook flashed on her screen. "Sleeping?" It read. She tapped out her quick response. "Nope. Can't. Too cold. 😋" She grinned, sitting up, watching the dots bounce on her screen as he typed back. "Come say goodnight?" She chuckled quietly, throwing her covers off her legs. She pulled on a pair of short shorts and a vest top and tied her hair up into a messy bun then crept out of her room. The house was already silent. As she tiptoed past doors she could hear the faint sound of snoring from some of them. She could see faint light spilling out from under Jungkooks door. As she reached it, she carefully pushed the handle, trying to

make as little noise as possible. She crept into his room with a smile. He was laid in bed, the lamp beside his bed illuminating him in a soft glow, he grinned, his phone still in his hand. She waved then turned to close the door behind her. "Hi" he whispered. "Hey you" she replied quietly, turning to face him. He threw back the covers beside him and held his hand out to her. She noticed he'd also changed into shorts and a short sleeved t-shirt. She tiptoed over to his bed, climbing in beside him. "You look cute" he muttered, nuzzling against her neck as he threw the covers over her legs. He curled his fingers round a strand of hair that had escaped from her messy bun. "I like this" She smiled bashfully and shrugged. "I can't sleep with my hair down. I wake up with it wrapped around my face." She explained. He chuckled quietly and nodded, tucking the strand behind her ear. "Your legs are cold" he whispered with a grin. Again she nodded, "I told you I was too cold to sleep. My room is freezing." He rubbed her calf with his foot. "Electric blanket" he said earnestly. "I'll bear that in mind" she giggled. "Let's warm you up" he muttered, pushing back on her shoulder gently so that she'd lay down. She scooted her butt down the bed and laid back against his pillows, he proposed himself on his side next to her, one hand curling round to rest on her hip. She gazed at him, smiling slightly as she felt his fingers create a gap between her shorts and vest so that he could touch her, his fingertips swirling over the bare skin just above her hip. His fingers were warm and his touch was light and slow. She hummed quietly, her eyes closing. She could feel the ache behind her eyes from the pull of sleep but the pull of him was stronger. She felt the tickle of his hair brushing her face then the soft press of his lips against hers. She ran her fingers through his hair, sighing against his mouth. He kissed her slowly, sweetly. When his mouth opened, his tongue brushed hers softly. The combination of it all was pulling her in. She felt like she was sinking through the bed. Her whole body felt gorgeously heavy. The soft tickle of his roaming fingers and the way he kissed her like he had all the time in the world. It was heavenly. His mouth was minty from brushing his teeth and it made her tongue tingle pleasantly. He broke away from her mouth, delicate kisses trailing across her cheek to her earlobe when he sucked lightly. His breath was hot in her ear and she moaned softly, tilting her head to the side to give him room. "Your skin is so soft. I want to kiss all of it." He breathed, teeth catching her lobe and nibbling gently. She swallowed hard, every tiny bite of his teeth on her ear shooting straight to her stomach which churned with desire. His lips skimmed down her neck, parting to suck at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Her toes curled. Another heavy roll of her stomach. If he wasn't careful he was gonna have to transport her back to her room in a bucket. She felt like a puddle. A useless puddle. She turned her head, fingers still playing in his hair, her nose joining to smell the top of his head. God he smelled good. His fingers pushed under her vest top, gripping her hip and pulling her slightly toward him. He hooked one leg over hers, sinking his teeth into her neck making her gasp and push against him. He groaned, the pressure of her hips against his making him bite down again, a little harder. He rolled backward, pulling her with him until she was on her side too. All thought of the guys sleeping in the next rooms was completely gone. Lost in each other, he rolled his hips slowly, grinding against her through two pairs of shorts and underwear. She whined softly, hands gripping in his hair and pulling a little. He stopped the assault on her neck, kissing back up to her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers greedily. Another roll of his hips, another breathless gasp from her. Her hand pushed under his t-shirt, travelling up his back to his shoulders and back down. She could feel every muscle tense under her hands every

time he moved. He hand slid round under his shirt, trialing down his chest, fingers bumping over his abs. He had the most perfect body in the world. Lithe, muscular, capable. His whole form yelled strength. Her head was swimming. His kiss was hungry but his hips rolled tantalisingly slowly. The most delicious contradiction. She pulled away from his kiss, burying her head into his shoulder, hands gripping his back tightly. "Fuck...Jungkook..." she breathed. He moaned in response, his name falling out of her mouth like a sacred word mixed with a plea. It had never sounded better. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to hear it cried, panted, screamed. How many ways could he make her twist his name into a different word. He rolled her onto her back, nudging her legs apart with his knee before straddling her hips, his hands deftly battled with the drawstring on her shorts, undoing and pushing them down while not breaking the kiss. His fingers danced over her underwear. The heat radiating from between her thighs made his stomach clench painfully. "I need to feel you" he grunted against her lips, fingers slipping under her panties. His pointer and middle finger slid easily through her folds, he teased her opening, groaning at how hot and wet she was, then sliding up, locating her clit, circling slowly before slipping back down, another brush over her hole. He smirked against her lips as she inhaled a deep, shuddery breath. "You really do like me" he whispered. She nodded dumbly, eyes closed but fluttering. He continued to tease, alternating between rubbing her clit and teasing her hole. He watched a faint red tinge creep up her face, her breathing shudder, becoming slower and deeper,her lips swell and flood a dark pink colour, her long, dark eyelashes fluttering rapidly. He pressed his lips to her ear, "Look at me!" he whispered huskily. Her eyes opened heavily and it took a second for her to focus on him. He looked fucking glorious. His long purple hair tousled, lips parted, flawless skin, eyes dark brown around the outside and melting into a bright amber colour. A smile tugged at his perfect, pouty lips. He watched her eyes fly round his face, drinking in his features. His smile grew, watching her carefully as he pushed his pointer and middle finger inside her, curling up to press against the sensative inner walls. She groaned heavily, a pleasured frown creasing her brow as her breath left her, her hips rising under his touch. His fingers twisted and scissored, stretching and probing, withdrawing before sliding back in easily. He added his thumb, circling and gently stroking her clit as he worked his fingers, out, in, curl, scissor, twist, stroke. Dexterity was not the word. He'd not even taken off her panties yet he could somehow get everywhere. Restricted or not. He watched her face, occasionally placing kisses on her increasingly sweaty forehead or her neck or a cheeky nibble on her earlobe. But mostly he just wanted to watch her climb. The expressions on her face as he took her higher and higher. Her moans, starting soft, were growing in volume, coming thicker and faster. Deep, gutteral cries from her diaphragm. "Shhhh Jagi. We're not alone." He reminded. She bit her lip but it was pointless. She couldn't stop. She was completely at the mercy of him and his magic hands. How he knew exactly how to touch her was a total mystery but she'd never felt so good. He somehow knew how to keep her climbing. She could be absolutely sure that she was about to explode, then he'd move a finger slightly or change pace or do something else to keep her building. Her back arched and she tried to stifle a moan but failed miserably. He laughed, pulling the pillow over with his other hand. "Bite Jagi. Bite" he instructed. She stuffed the corner of the pillow into her mouth, groaning deeply into it. He rolled his eyes with a smirk. Her moans were somewhat muffled but not enough. He had planned to keep this up as long as she could take it but apparently he had a screamer on his hands. Literally. " Too loud baby. You'll wake the hyungs" he

told her. "Fuck the hyungs" she growled back. He laughed loud, shaking his head. "They can't know yet. You need to come baby." She wrenched the pillow out of her mouth, glaring at him. "IM TRYING, YOU LITTLE SHIT" she spat. He laughed harder. Apparently she was vicious when she was being pleasured. He pulled his hand out of her panties, smirking at the death glare she was shooting him. "Relax Jagi. I got this" he smiled, snaking down her body. She audibly gulped as he pushed her knees apart, glancing up at her with far too beautiful eyes as he pulled her underwear aside and ran his tongue along her slit. Her head plopped back down as she rammed the pillow back into her mouth. He groaned, the taste of her exploding on his tongue. "Fuck" he grunted, yanking her underwear down. He gripped her thighs, spreading her, delivering another long, slow lick from hole to clit. He groaned again, trying to keep in his head that his purpose was to get her to come. Not to spend as long as he possible could, torturing her with his mouth, even if that's exaclty what he wanted to do. He sucked her clit softly between his lips, flicking his tongue rapidly. He felt her thighs clench. She was close. He could tell. He shuffled, supporting himself on one elbow, pushing three fingers into her. The delicious stretch was all she needed. He felt her walls clench hard around his fingers. He heard her gasp then silence. There was a moment as her orgasm took hold, making her motionless as it unleashed then ripped through her. He felt the wild pulsing of her pussy muscles around his fingers, satisfied, he slowed to a stop, lifting his mouth from her clit with an obnoxious pop. He smirked, sitting cross legged between her splayed legs, observing the devastation in front of him smugly. The pillow was still pulled over her face, her hands still gripping his sheets for dear life, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggled for air. Satisfied that he'd done his job well, he shuffled back up to her, carefully pulling the pillow off her face and smoothing her mussed hair back. He smiled sweetly, nose crinkling at her defeated form. He pulled the cover over her body, winding himself around her, placing gentle, soothing kisses on her cheek. "Goodnight Jagi" he whispered, closing his eyes.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

😡🤬ANGER MANAGEMENT (PART 1)🤬😡

Prompt: Y/N has the life she’s always dreamed of: a good house, a nice car, a fat paycheck, her dream job and some loving friends. Her life feels like a fairytale...but just like every fairytale she’s not safe from the villain, the problem with that? He’s not only an incredibly hot Scotsman but also a fucking pain in the ass!

@drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut, clit stimulation, angst, dirty talking, cursing, name calling,(possible part 2?Idk)

Notes: I think it’s time for me to face my biggest fear: Drew McIntyre! 😂 all jokes aside, I’ve lost count of how many one shots I have written and soon after deleted about this handsome hunk. There are so many good stories of him out there that I’ve always felt like mine were actually horse shit compared to those so I’ve never had the courage to make this Scottish wet dream an official brand of my writing, but I’m looking forward to achieve new accomplishments on my writing in 2021, so here goes nothing folks! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Oh Thank God! Just the woman I wanted to see”

I turned around to meet Becky Lynch, one of the few dear close friends I’ve made while working for the WWE as a massage therapist.

“Hey Becks! What’s up?”

“Y/N I need your help, I was doing some training with the guys when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and now I feel like I wanna cry”

“Oh Becky, c’mon let’s go to my office”

Once we got there I mentioned for her to sit on the massage table.

“So tell me exactly what you were doing”

“I was doing some regular weightlifting, then all of a sudden I felt this sharp pain stretch from my elbow to my shoulder”

“Ok, did you warmed up before hand?”

“Yes”

“Did you added the weights in progressively or were you in some sort of competition against Sheamus, Cesaro and McIntyre as to whom could perform a proper weightlifting faster?” I crooked my eyebrow

“Y/N! You know I would never do that” She tried to hide her shame for being caught

“Becky, I know you! I know how competitive you are and how competitive you GET when you train with Sheamus, Cesaro and the Scottish prick.”

“They started ok?! They said I was no match for them, so I had to make them swallow word by word” She said slightly angry

“Calm down” I chuckled “And I presume you won?”

“Of course I won! As if they stood a chance” She scoffed

I touched her shoulder and palmed the back of her upper arm til I reached her elbow

“And your prize for that my darling is” I looked into her eyes “Six muscular knots, probably some small damage to your elbow nerves resulting in a little trip to the physical therapists and shit ton of pain, congratulations! Are you happy now?”

“Oh no!” She whined “Y/N, please don’t send me to the physical therapists, they will eat my ass off and they’re gonna tell Hunter about this. Please Y/N, please tell me you can fix it?” She stared at me with begging eyes

“Becks” I sighed “I can undo the muscular knots but I ain’t no fairy godmother! If you have some sort of nerve damage that’s up to the physical therapists...there’s nothing I can do about that honey”

“Please Y/N give me some of the red magical relief juice you gave to Kofi” She pleads

“Red magical relief juice?” I asked confused

“Yes, Kofi said he had this horrible pain from an injury and you gave him this red magical relief juice that helped him better than any medicine! Please give that to me too!”

I laughed before answering

“Oh Kofi, Kofi... it’s not an juice, it’s a liquid... a toner. A home made medicine I learned with my grandma. Technically I’m not even allowed to use that, but I know it works, better than these crap versions of Vick’s Vapor Rub” I tossed a little small green package in the trash can.

“Can you give that to me?” She asked with her eyes full of hope

“Fine” I said and she smiles widely

“But, you have to promise me that you will stop with these stupid and senseless competitions! They could permanently damage your nerves you know?!”

“Ok I promise”

I took a small plastic bottle from the cabinet and filled up with some small amount of the toner and placed the bottle inside a small paper bag. I also gave her a little bit of my grandma’s famous ointment in a tiny tin can.

“Alright, so here’s what you’re gonna do: once you get to your hotel room, you’ll take a hot shower and before you put your clothes on, you’re gonna rub the toner from your neck to your elbow all over your shoulder and back upper arm” She nods and I proceed “Then right after you’re going to take a small amount of this ointment” I show her the little tin can “And rub it all over your shoulder, back upper arm and elbow. Right afterwards you get dress with a long sleeve shirt and go to bed. Remember that you cannot leave your skin exposed to the cold air of air conditioning, because if you do it will make your pain and damage way worse! Do you hear me?”

“Yes Ma’am”

“If in three to four days you still feel any sort of pain you’re gonna have to go to the physical therapists”

“Ok”

“Becky I’m serious”

“Okay Y/N I got it” She smiles softly

“Good, now please, don’t tell anyone about this” I shook the little bag “And tell Kofi to keep his mouth shut. I know he means well but I could get fired for this”

“My lips are sealed” She pressed her lips in a thin line

“Thank you” I chuckled “Now, go on and take 20 drops of this” I give her some Ibuprofen “And come back in 20 minutes”

“Why?” She asks confused

“Because we still have to undo those knots and it’s not gonna be the fun kind of pain my dear”

“Argh” She groans

One week later

I was finishing tidying up the massage table from the session I just had with Bayley when someone knocked on my office door

“Come on in”

“Hey Y/N” Seth Rollins said in a voice full of pain as he tried to walk towards me

“Seth are you ok? Jesus, you look like somebody just kicked your balls so hard that they went up to your throat! What happened?” I tried to hold back my laugh

“A long story involving Cesaro and Drew. Moral of the story is my back is fucked up, do you think you can help me?”

“Can you lay down here?” I patted the table

“I guess so” He made his way to it excruciatingly slow as I helped him to lay down

“Where’s the pain worst?”

“My lower back” I touched and he gasped in pain

“Do you think you could give me some of that red magical relief juice?” He whispered so only I could hear it.

Of course I wasn’t surprised about him knowing of the “magical relief juice” since he and Becky were together I figured she told him.

“Did Becky told you?”

“Only today, once she saw I was in a tremendous pain...When she was using it I pressed her to tell me who gave it to her but she didn’t wanted to say, she said it was her fairy godmother”

I couldn’t help but smile at Becky’s inside joke and loyalty. I truly love that girl.

“Sure thing Rollins, just please don’t-“

“I won’t tell anyone Y/N don’t worry! Your witchy recipe is safe with me” He chuckled “Ouch fuck, that hurts” He groaned

“Did you bring any jacket on with you?” I laugh

“Yeah Becky told me to”

“Ok, let’s get start it”

Forty minutes and a relaxed thankful Seth Rollins later. I was finishing washing my hands while Seth pulled the zipper of his jacked up. I could feel his eyes on me

“What is it Rollins?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“If the question is if I am a 450 year old witch then my answer is, you will never know” I whisper as I turn to face him with a smirk

He laughs before saying “Well I’m sure you are sweetheart” He winks playfully “But that’s not the question though unfortunately”

“What is it then?”

He looked at me with a sense of caution before asking

“Why do you hate Drew so much?”

“McIntyre? The Scottish prick? The shitty bearded version of Gastón from Beauty and The Beast?” I ask in disbelief

My hatred for Drew McIntyre goes way back to 5 years ago. To make a long story short he has being a pain in my ass every since I started working here. It all resumes to the bad flirting and endless fights. We’ve always fought at least 3 times a week for as long as I can remember. It’s like a weekly ritual for us, and our fights are always petty and ridiculous such as who will get in the elevator first or who will rent the last SUV car.

“Yeah...” He answers slightly embarrassed

“Well that’s simple, he’s an asshole! A smug fucker who thinks he’s the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth and that every woman alive must fall for him in all fours”

“Is there anything else beyond that?” He asks

“No! Of course not!” I lied. As if I could tell him about my deep sexual desire for the Scotsman

“Are you sure? I mean, you must agree with me that he is very beautiful” Seth answers

“I’m not saying he’s not. I have eyes, so trust me, I know he’s hot as fuck and a very handsome man but that doesn’t mean that every woman on this company wants him!” I scoffed

“Does the ‘every woman’ equals Y/N?”

“Why are you asking me this?” I asked aggressively

“Look, there’s no need for you to get all defensive ok? I’m your friend and I’m just asking this as a friend. I’m not coming for you by any means” He says with a soothing voice

“Sorry, it was just my automatic response”

“It’s okay sweetie”

“But Seth...why this question now?”

“Let’s just say that I may or may not have heard some backstage talk and I would like to know this from your own mouth instead of other people’s”

“Backstage talk? About what?” I ask angrily

His eyes widened “You know what? Let’s forget I ever men-“

“No no no Rollins you’ve started this now you will finish it!” Now I was really angry

“Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut” He murmured

“But you didn’t! So spit it out”

“Ok...I’ve heard one of the girls say that the reason why you hate Drew so much is because you kinda have a hidden want for him to fuck you but since he’s ‘not interested’ you get pissed off” He whispered

“I WHAT??? WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?”

“Y/N please keep your voice down! Somebody is gonna hear you”

“I COULD GIVE TWO FUCKS IF SOMEBODY CAN HEAR ME! Who’ve said that Seth?” I was boiling with rage

“Sweetie, I’m not gonna tell you who’ve said it because I know you will-“

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and whispered

“If you don’t tell me who’ve said that right now Rollins I swear to God on God in heaven that I will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

He gulped

“Now who’ve said that?”

“Carmella” He whispered and I smiled letting go of his collar “Y/N please don’t do anything stupid!” He said as I removed my coat

��Don’t forget to rub the toner on your back once you’re out of the shower” I patted his shoulder and made my way to the door

“Y/N where are you going? Y/N please whatever you’re thinking about doing it, just don’t ok? She’s not worth it! Y/N PLEASE!”

But his screams were now faint as I make my way down the hallway to find the blond gossiper girl.

I finally find Carmella “talking”, to Sheamus in one of the hallways.

“Oi Y/N, how’s life treating ya lass?” Sheamus smiles widely at me, making his usual greeting. At any other day it would’ve made my afternoon happier to find that amazing Irish man, but not today! I was so furious that I ignored him and went directly to Carmella

“Would you mind telling me why the fuck are you not only minding my business but also spreading rumors about me and McIntyre?”

From where I stood I saw Sheamus visibly gulp

“Hey Y/N, what do ya say about we go to tha catering grab some coffee huh?” He said urgently pleading

“So? I’m waiting for an answer” I said to her fully ignoring what he just said

“Well Y/N, from woman to woman, I think we both can agree that it’s no rumor. It’s quite visible, to not say pathetic, the way you can’t deal with rejection my dear” She batted her lashes

“And what exactly are you implying?”

“The obvious Y/N! That you want Drew in between your legs but he doesn’t! I mean, let’s face it, he’s too much of a man for you anyways! It’s not like you can handle him, because we know you can’t” She measured me from head to toe making me feel very conscious about the difference between her slim toned body and my thick one full of curves.

I know that most of the men’s in this company usually date or even have one night stands with women who were body equivalent to their own - slender and beautifully toned - , but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t saw my own curvy beauty. Hell, I even got some dinner invitations from some of the guys! Cesaro, Baron Corbin, Finn Bálor and even Seth Rollins (before he got with Becky) were some of them.

“I bet that I received more dinner invitations in a week than you in a year” I scoffed

“But not from the man you want the most right darling?” She evilly grins and I see red! Pure rage in it’s rawest form took ahold of me and I jumped towards her neck but a pair of strong arms stopped me from attacking her.

“Wow, easy now lass” He said

HIM! The cause of all this gossiping with my name, I couldn’t get even more angry even if I tried.

“Let me go McIntyre!” I roar

“Uh, enjoy it while it lasts Y/N, it’s as far as you’ll ever get anyways” Carmella chuckles

I tried to wiggle out of his arms “What the fuck did you just said bitch? I’ll feed you your own teeth you fuck-“

I couldn’t finish my sentence thanks to Drew, who lifted me off from the floor and tossed me on his shoulder, taking me to back my office.

“What are you doing? Let me go! I’m gonna punch her stupid rat’s face!”

“No you won’t”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m preventing your ass from getting fired!” He answers

I tried to release myself from him, but who was I fooling? The man is a brick wall, I couldn’t let myself go not even if I tried hard!

Once we got into my office he locked the door, placing himself in front of it and released me.

“Don’t you never, EVER, dare to manhandle me like that again! Do you hear me?” I stare at him with my eyes full of rage

“You know Y/N, all that anger is not good for you...you could have a heart attack” He chuckled

I was so mad, that tears of anger rolled down my cheeks as I cut the small distance between us and begin to punch his torso, arms or whatever I could reach

“I HATE YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON WHY I AM NOW A FUCKING BACKSTAGE GOSSIP SUBJECT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU’RE SO FULL OF YOURSELF AREN’T YOU HUH? SHITTY ASS GASTÓN!”

I was starting to loose my strength due to my ferocious attack, and I would be damned if I let him see that...

When suddenly everything changed, the air in the room thickened and I saw myself now pressed against the door with my hands forcefully pinned on top of my head.

“Aww, that was sweet princess” He smirks confidently

“What are you doing Drew? Let me go” I murmured

“Oh it’s Drew now huh? Why the sudden change love? What happened with ‘Scottish prick, asshole and Gastón’?” He cackled “What’s wrong princess? Not feeling so confident and in charge anymore are we?” He pouts

“You’re hurting me” I lied

“Nu uh, we both know that, that’s a lie. I know you Y/N, every inch of you so don’t you lie to me now! That’s not what pretty little girls like you do” He reprimanded me

I felt confused and slightly turned on by his whole dominant character. But still I felt the urge to fight back.

“And what do you know about me McIntyre? NOTHING! So don’t YOU dare to pretend that you do! You know nothing about who I am or my needs, so quit the act”

He laughed before saying “And that’s where you’re wrong princess” He towered over me, securing my wrists with one of his hands while the other grabbed my cheeks making my lips pout(like one would with a child) and tilted my head up to meet his blue gaze.

“You see Y/N, we’ve known each other for what? 5 years? I’ve done a lot of observing in those years... I became quite good at reading you” He leaned forward..his beard,lips and mustache brushing against my own lips

“So I know for a fact that what triggered you into fighting Carmella wasn’t what she said...But the fact that what she said is true” He searched my eyes for confirmation and when he found it he smirks in appreciation

A murmured ‘Fuck you’ came out of my lips the best way I could since he had this vicious grip on my cheeks.

“Oh Y/N, Y/N... what am I going to do with you princess?” He asks amused as he release my cheeks “I must say though... I agree with almost everything Carmella said” He vaguely added

Pure humiliation filled me, the thought of him knowing that deep down I had a thing for him which wasn’t reciprocal at all made my stomach turn. I felt the tears of humiliation start to rise to my eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see that he had broken me. Instead I reached for the safety of the one thing I knew I could do: fight!

“You let me go right now you fucker or I swear you will regret it!” I said as threatening as I could

“Oh my, won’t you look at that? Kitty has claws huh?” He chuckled lightly

I took advantage of his distraction and yanked my arms as fast as I could out of his grip. The action caught him by surprise, giving me the upper hand to turn around to unlock the door so I could leave. But his surprise didn’t last long as for he saw what I was about to do and pressed me against the door once more, instead now my back was the one facing him so he pressed his semi hard bulge up against my ass with my hands and face now pressed on the wooden door.

“Where do you think you are going princess? We’re not done talking just yet” He whispers in my ear, making my whole body shiver.

“As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me” His lips were glued to my ear “I almost, I said almost, agree with everything that she said..except for one thing”

“If you’re gonna say that-“

“Maybe I’ll have to buy you a ball gag, since you don’t seem to ever know when to shut up...or maybe I should choke you instead,what do you say?”

I gulped loudly

“Or even better, I should fuck your mouth..bury my cock so deep on your throat that you will have no other option but drool all over yourself” He pressed his bulge harder against my ass “, that will make you shut up! I can already imagine how gorgeous you will look with my cock shoved down your throat” He moaned “Would you like that princess? Would you like for me to show you where’s your place? Where you really belong?” He grinds his erection on my ass and the feeling makes me moan softly

“Drew...” I pleaded

“The only thing I don’t agree with Carmella” He continues his previous statement ignoring my plea “Is that I’m too much of a man for you. To be honest I think you’re the only woman in this company who can actually handle me! The only one who will love and beg to be fucked faster and rougher..” His hands let go of my wrists and roam down to cup my breasts roughly, pulling me even closer to his body

“The only one who is the perfect fit for me...who will let me use every single hole as I please” He bites my ear making me gasp for more air.

“Won’t you Y/N? Do you want me to use you like the good little whore that you are?”

My head was buzzing with excitement, I could feel the now very wet pool of desire in between my legs. To think that all of my darkest fantasies with this man were about to come true made me moan a faint ‘Yes’ to him

He grunts at my positive response while one of his big hands unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans so his hand could sink down the fabric to find my very wet core.

“Hmmm I’ve been waiting 5 years for this lass...Fuck, you already feel amazing on my hand I can’t wait to feel this pretty little pussy around my cock” He growls

“Fuck Drew, please” I whisper

“It’s Sir to you, my good little pet” He smirked “Now tell me, do you think I should fuck you right here, right now so that everyone in this company can hear me make you my fuck toy or should we head back to the hotel? What do you say pet?” He asks as his fingers firmly circles my clit making my legs shake

“W- Whatever pleases you Sir” I stuttered

“I see you’re a quick learner huh?” He chuckles amused “I say, let’s show this roster who is the only woman who can properly handle me” He says as he removed his fingers from my core and licked them clean while staring at me. I softly moan to that scene and he smiles deviously before whispering

“Strip now pet and show what a beautiful fuck toy you are for Sir”

To be continued...

Please let me know if you would like to see a part 2 🥺?

[snackhobi]

prompt: “Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

thank you to my darling @yeojaa​ for sending this in and thank you to my darling @hobi-gif​ for beta reading it for me, you are both such lovely stars in the night sky of my life xoxo

pairing: seokjin x reader / word count: 1.9k / genre: fluff (sfw/general) / warnings: none!

--

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a hot roommate, must want to jump his bones.

Like. C’mon. Kim Seokjin is nothing if not easy on the eyes. It’s not enough that he has the body proportions of a god—broad shoulders, lovely thighs, everything in its place and perfectly in line with his height and his poise—he has a beautiful face, too. Those lips. That jaw. Those eyes. You don’t want to wax lyrical but it really is like God decided to take his time making Kim Seokjin and everyone else (like you) was just left with the dregs; the stuff that wasn’t good enough for Jin and was thrown aside.

The worst thing, though. The worst thing. The absolute worst thing about Kim Seokjin is that he is A Nice Person. 

You’d barely known each other, only a month into your cohabitation when he’d come across you crying into a tub of ice cream in the kitchen, sobbing over the guy who’d finally grown bored of stringing you along with promises of eventually becoming your actual boyfriend and had just cut you off altogether after one final lay. You were utterly heartbroken and entirely mortified when you noticed Jin standing in the kitchen doorway as you clumsily tried to dig your spoon into the still-hard vanilla, but he’d just slid down onto the floor next to you with a spoon in one hand as the other came to rest on your shoulder. He’d listened to you snivel and sniffle, quietly eating the weirdly chemical-flavoured chocolate ice cream in the own-brand Neapolitan tub you favoured—your least favourite and the one you always left till last.

Once a guy’s seen you crying your eyes out on the kitchen floor in old pyjamas, and you’ve seen him eat five pots of super hot instant noodles on the trot and chase the whole thing down with an entire box of doughnuts, you sort of get to know each other as people—both things are revealing in different ways—and it’s hard for that to not lead to friendship.

You could have dealt with Jin if he was just hot. But he’s hot and nice and funny, utterly ridiculous; he doesn’t take himself seriously while also knowing how to rein himself in when necessary to not overwhelm people and basically you’ve been crushing on him in a major, major way for a while now.

And like. Seokjin is single, so technically you have a chance. But you also have absolutely no chance at all, because? Hello? Kim Seokjin? You? You? Kim Seokjin? He’s so far out of your league he may as well be in another galaxy. And he’s also probably the best roommate you’ve ever had (cleans up after himself, doesn’t microwave fish and stink up the place, likes the same TV shows as you so there are no arguments over the remote), so you’re not about to throw a wrench into the mix by doing something stupid like confessing that you like him.

“Right, I should be back around ten,” says Seokjin. He’s all dressed up for a noraebang night with his friends—well, not dressed up really, they’re just gonna get drunk while wailing songs at the top of their lungs in a small room so it’s not like he has to go all out, but Seokjin makes everything look good. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Seokjin is nice and hot and funny and friendly. Honestly, he’s just a dreamboat of a roommate and a man, with great friends too. Normally you would have leaped at the chance to spend a night out with Seokjin and the other guys, but you’d spilled your drink on Yoongi last time and were still convinced that he was plotting your imminent demise. Even if Seokjin insists otherwise, you want to give Yoongi a wide berth for a little while longer in the hopes he’ll suddenly suffer a bout of amnesia and forget that you spilled a very boozy and sticky Oreo and Baileys cocktail(/glorified milkshake) on him and ruined his shoes.

“I’m good,” you say. “But make sure you don’t have any fun without me and you have to let everyone know that it’s because I’m not there.”

Jin laughs, a wet squeegee of a sound, and it goes straight to your heart. “I’ll pass on the message,” he promises, blowing you a tiny kiss as he goes. 

(Ugh, he’s so cute. You hate him.) (No, you don’t.)

You seem to be setting a trend for yourself in the drink-spilling department, though. During an ad break you decide to get yourself a drink, and even though it’s just a Boys Over Flowers rerun that you’ve seen multiple times, you rush as you pour yourself a glass of orange juice—you don’t want to take too long and miss anything. Suffice to say you Fuck Up and end up with a shirt and trousers covered in juice and pulp and you miss a bunch of the episode as you clean it up, huffing dramatically to yourself the whole time, before scarpering towards your bedroom for some new clothes. 

At least, that’s the plan. You pass by Seokjin’s open door and pause, taking in the sight of a few discarded bits of clothing on his bed and across the back of his chair, things he’d clearly decided weren’t worth wearing out tonight. The one that’s caught your eye is the vibrant pink shirt strewn over his duvet, one of your favourites, one you haven’t seen him wear in a while. It’s one of your favourites because he just looks so cosy in it—Jin ends up with a lot of oversized clothes so they can fit over his shoulders, but he practically swims in material when he wears this shirt, flapping the sleeves at you and then laughing at his own antics. He could wear it as a dress if he wanted to, probably.

… so could you, if you wanted to, probably.

… but you shouldn’t. Like, that’s weird. Jin is your roommate and even if he’s made it clear that he has an open door policy, going in through said open door to get a bit of his clothing is weird. Definitely creepy.

But… you’ve already kicked off your dirtied outfit and you’re just in your underwear so you can’t be blamed for being worried if you’re going to get cold, right? You’re just grabbing the closest bit of clothing, aren’t you?

… You’ll take it off before he gets back and put it in the laundry with everything else; he won’t notice. You’ll just take this awful awful secret to the grave and never tell anyone about your invasive actions.

Oh, man, the shirt smells so good. You share the same laundry detergent but Jin had clearly tried this on before discarding it, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air as you end up swamped in the shirt (/shirt dress), and you don’t regret this. Well, you do, but also you don’t. It’s like being wrapped up in Jin’s arms. Jin’s not shy about giving you hugs but there’s something altogether different about wearing someone’s clothes.

You end up curled up on the sofa as you watch more Boys Over Flowers, knees to your chest and revelling in how cosy and small Jin’s massive shirt makes you feel. You have to hitch the material up so that your hands peep out the ends of the sleeves. Sweater paws are cute on everyone, even yourself, and you giggle as you fumble for the remote so that you can check how many more episodes there are before it turns to something else. You can indulge yourself for a bit. As a treat.

“Unbelievable, I can’t believe Minji did that,” you mutter, so caught up in the drama of it all (as if you haven’t seen this episode four times) that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, nor do you hear the footsteps that are heading towards you—what you do hear, however, is the sudden sound of Seokjin’s voice, freezing like a rabbit caught in headlights when you do.

“I forgot my wallet,” he says. “I—”

And that’s how he catches you, wide-eyed as you stare back at him, wishing that you could bury yourself between the sofa pillows so that he can’t see you. His keys are still in his hand and his mouth is open around an unfinished word as he takes the sight of you in, scrunched up against the armrest in some ridiculous attempt to shrink yourself small enough that he would have missed you.

He stares. You stare. You both stare. And then—

“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

“No!” A high-pitched shrill of an obvious lie. “No, uh, nope. Nuh-uh. Haha, oh, Jin, always such a jokester, you.”

You want the sofa to suddenly develop sentience and swallow you whole, just so you can be out of this situation. So you wouldn’t have to watch as a smile starts to spread over Jin’s face, the way there’s a little glint in his eyes, the way he opens his mouth and says—

“You know, you didn’t have to turn down noraebang just so you could wear my clothes. You just had to ask, I would have said yes.” He doesn’t seem creeped out, just amused, which is—well, it’s better, but, what? He’s laughing at you? You don’t know if that’s worse, somehow, actually.

“I didn’t! I spilled orange juice on my shirt and then I saw this shirt and you weren’t home—”

“Aha, so you admit it, it’s not your shirt,” Jin proclaims. He looks smug.

“Oh my God, I am full of regret,” you groan. “My life is a disaster. Can we pretend this never happened? I will pay you literal money. Please.”

At this, Jin’s eyes turn soft. “Do you really want that?”

“I—wuh? Do I really want us both to pretend you didn’t walk in on me wearing your shirt like some weird stalker or something? Absolutely. Yes. Let’s do that.”

“I wasn’t joking about letting you wear my clothes,” he says. There’s a note to his voice, something a little doughy, yielding and warm for you, and—you know what your gut is screaming at you, but— “I always thought you’d look cute in them, and I was right.”

You splutter. Jin thought you’d look cute—he’s been thinking about you wearing his clothes—the sort of thing that, you know, couples do. But this is Kim Seokjin you’re talking about. There’s no way he’s attracted to you in the way you’re attracted to him.

… but he is looking at you in a way that’s soft and tender, the same look you give him when you think he isn’t looking.

“Jin,” you say, slow. “Are you…”

“The most handsome man alive? Yes, I am.”

You make a face at his interruption and he laughs at your expression before going quiet, eyes so big and lovely and warm as he smiles at you, and you continue to speak. “Are you saying you want to, y’know. See me wearing more of your clothes? Or, uh... Less clothes in general?”

You can feel the blood rising in your cheeks as you say this, and you can see the red that starts to tinge the top of Jin’s ears, exquisite and wonderful. “I’m saying that I’m happy to give you what’s mine, including my clothes,” he says. “And my time. And love.”

You end up pulling the excess material of the shirt over your head as you turn into some sort of bright pink turtle, overwhelmed and in disbelief but so happy.

Judging from Jin’s laughter and the warmth of his hands reaching for yours in their too-long sleeves, he is, too.

[wizkiddx]

honeymoon morning

Honestly I apologise in advance bcos this is pure sickening, god awful fluff. It’s shit bit fluffy af and warmed my cold heart of stone a little ahah. Kinda imagined that its actress!reader too, but doesn’t acc have to be (oh and for the purposes of the story also married Haz off to the readers best mate). On a real, really didn’t excute the idea the way I wanted but hey-ho. T x 

Summary: the morning after the wedding and there are some beans to be spilt in between all the happiness

The best morning of her life. Y/n knew it would be just that. I mean, it already was - she woke up in the arms of the man she loved, that she could now call her husband forever and ever. Tom looked glorious; still asleep as he lay on his back, slightly tilted toward her side and his arm outstretched as if he was waiting for her to come back to bed and join him. Even unconscious, Y/n still wanted to please him in everyday possible so she did just as he wanted. Tiptoeing from the doorway on their ensuite, she pulled the cord of the white silk robe slightly tighter round her stomach. Before she lay down next to her husband, she smiled gently and pulled her still wet hair to one side, smelling like apples of the hotels free sample shampoos. As if rehearsed, as soon as she settled on the white pillows, ontop of Tom’s outstretched arm, he rolled almost ontop of her, throwing his other arm over her side and squeezed. Y/n couldn’t repress that little giggle his actions illicited, making the brunette around her groan and mumble something incoherent meanwhile pressing his head further into her hair. 

Which made him pull back and slowly blink awake with a scowl. Her hair was still wet. 

“Hi husband” She grinned, loving the way his scowl at being awoken morphed into this shit eating smile. 

“My beautiful wife huh?” Tom tucked a clump of damp hair behind her ear before letting his palm rest on her glowing cheek and just staring into her seemingly ever changing eyes. No matter how many times he looked into them, Tom always managed to see something different and exciting in them. Something else to fall deeply and helplessly in love with. 

“Yesterday was…”

“Everything.” Tom finished off for her, before pressing his lips to hers as she shifted to lean over him. 

“Uh-huh. But now it’s today. Which means… you gotta get up!” She eventually got to the point, sitting up and therefore avoiding his second attempt to meet lips, once again making him pout. 

“Is it too much to ask to just spend a day in bed with my wife?” His wife. Boy did that sound like music to her ears.

“Yes because everyone is waiting downstairs for us at breakfast!”

“They can wait there till tomorrow for all I care.” Indignantly, Tom closed his eyes pretending to go back to sleep.

“And… because I got you a marriage present.” That got his attention. Eyes flying open, as he pushed himself up so he was sitting against the headboard of the big four poster bed, Tom looked quizzically at his wife. His wife. 

Giggling at his oh-so-predictable reaction, Y/n leaned off the bed to pickup the small gift wrapped box on the floor.

“Y/n you really shouldn’t have I didn’t know we were doing this-“

“Oh shut up and open it would you?”

“Unless this is a toy for… you know, then you really should have.” Even half asleep, Tom still had something on his mind.

“Tom! Just open it before you ruin the moment anymore.” She wasn’t really mad. She was smirking and jokingly rolling her eyes at his idiocy. He was her idiot though. With a confused look, Tom followed her instructions, carefully unwrapping the silvery gift paper to reveal a navy blue velvet box. He looked up momentarily to question Y/n, who just gestured for him to open it. Going at a painfully slow speed, he lifted it up to reveal an old and tattered watch. It had a cracked glass front yet Tom could still see the ‘Rolex’ logo branded onto the face of it. 

Not going to lie - he was confused. Y/n knew he already had multiple nice watches he wore regularly. All of those were in better nick than this. 

“I umm-“

“It’s an old Rolex. I thought you could do it up like your dad did for you.” She whispered, with this massive smile just because she knew Tom still didn’t understand.

“Oh I er… I mean I could I’m not sure-“ Tom stammered, she seemed so proud of herself, yet he couldn’t really understand why and didn’t want to disappoint her. To be fair him being a bit slow wasn’t an uncommon thing, Tom would hold hid hands up and admit he wasn’t the smartest. Whereas and completely unknown to most people, Y/n was really really clever, I mean she was nearly going to be a doctor. That was one of the things Tom absolutely loved too, the way she would be able to make leaps and figure things out the average person would just stare at confused. So fair to say, she was used to explaining things to him. 

“You know your Dad gave it to his first born on their eighteenth, your eighteenth birthday. And I thought you could do with all the 18 years because I dont fancy you as a professional watch-fixer.” Tom was still absolute clueless, waiting for more of an explanation. 

“18 years?” The number seeming a bit random but oddly specific to Tom.

“Well you know… 18 years from now when your son or daughter turns into an adult. When they aren’t our little baby anymore.” She whispered, taking his hands in her and pressing it against her ever so slightly bloated stomach. 

And then finally it clicked. His eyes grew impossibly wide, pressing lightly on her silk-clad stomach as he sat forwards.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Tommy we are going to be parents!” She smiled whilst nodding, totally enamoured by the look of sheer joy on his face. 

“This isn’t a joke right?”

“No I swear to you. 12 weeks yesterday.”

“You’re serious? We’re going to be parents?” Y/n just nodded in response this time, before instantaneously Tom’s lips were on hers, pouring all the passion and love and excitement that he could on her. After a few moments they pulled away, yet keeping their faces impossibly close.

“I love you”

“I love you and… well I love them too.” Y/n was so in love with the man in front of him. He just was going to be the best Dad in the world and there was no-one she would rather start this journey with. In complete honesty, yesterday the first thing she’d wanted to do when she saw Tom standing at the altar was tell him. It had been impossible, the last weeks of keeping ‘shtum’. But she’d only found out when she noticed she was 3 weeks late on her period, by which point Tom was away filming. They’d agreed that so they both had a quality honeymoon, to finish any backlog of work before the wedding, so it was a 8 week holiday with just the two of them. It had also made the reunion that much better, having been apart for almost 2 months before the wedding. 

“You want to see them? I had the scan really early yesterday morning?” It was an unnecessary question, as soon as Y/n even mentioned it Tom bolted up like an excited puppy. With a knowing laugh, Y/n then slipped her hand under the pillow to produce the little white card and offering it to him. Tom took the card, while with his other hand pulling her flush with his chest so she was sitting half on his lap. Slowly Tom lifted the front of the card, to reveal the black ultrasound print. For all he knew that could be an ultrasound of elephant dung; but the fact that he had it on good authority it was his wife and baby, Tom swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful. Knowing he was more than hopeless at this, Y/n took him through slightly different blobs on the picture, demonstrating the head, an arm, a foot. 

“Why didn’t you tell me though? You had to do this by yourself?”

“By the time I found out myself you were already in new york and… well its not something to say over the phone is it?”

“Y/n as perfect as this is, you could’ve sent me a text for all I care. I wouldn’t have let you do this on your own! Have you been sick or-“

“Not technically on my own… don’t be mad but Y/f/n was there when I took the test, she was the one who said I should.”

“I should’ve guessed that to be fair” Tom rolled his eyes playfully, of course Y/f/n knew they were basically joint at the hip. She probably sensed it with her best friend powers.

“And yeh mornings aren’t very fun but thats supposed to ease now we’re over the first trimester.”

“I-fuck I don’t know what to say… I just love you.”

“And that is all I’ve ever wanted.” She whispered against his lips before they connected once again. It was just so full of gentle, care and love for each other. The moment was just perfect… until her phone rang. 

Y/n pulled away, receiving an almost whine from her husband, reaching to answer her phone. 

“Hey… yeh yeh I know we are on our way, just had some news to spill… I think he’s happy yeh-“ she giggled, as she watched Tom gently pull back the sides of her robe to reveal her belly. At only 12 weeks, she was barely showing at all but now Tom looked he didn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed last night. “-… I’m not sure let me check hang on” Y/n spoke into the receiver again, Tom already knew the moment it rang it would only be Y/f/n. Only she would have the audacity to interrupt the couple the morning after their wedding. 

“Tom so… I kind of made arrangements just incase, because this is a pretty good time just because everyones here. But I figured you might want to keep it a secret for a bit when its just us that know?” He looked toward the window, apparently deep in thought, before turning back to her. 

“I’m spoiler king right? Might be safest to tell them before I explode.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeh course, you know I can’t keep a secret, one look at Haz and he’ll know something is up”

“Actually he might already know too-“

“WHAT”

[musewrangler]

In honor of OT Week here’s a little one shot I wrote a while back. My favorite film is The Empire Strikes Back.

This story is entitled— Piett’s Promotion

(In my work, the Lady is sentient and Veers didn’t die on Hoth)

He lost track of how many hours he had spent on the bridge, ruthlessly clamping down on his emotions. He had hated the man, it was true. And had suffered at his hands. But he had not ever wished that death upon him. He could still hear Ozzel’s wet chokes and see his bulging eyes, mere feet from himself. That last, desperate gurgle as he turned toward Piett-- as though the Captain could do anything against the Force. The thud of his body---it sounded like someone had dropped a bag of meat on the deck.

Lord Vader on the holoscreen, dispassionately squeezing the life from the man and calmly informing Piett what he wanted done with the fleet.

You are in command now, Admiral Piett.

So he went through the motions of being in command. Of taking reports. Checking duty rosters. Speaking to the morgue about the disposal of Ozzel’s body. Force . Writing to his family, because someone should.

Then---the asteroid field. His Lady, his fleet now, going to their destruction. And he had tried.

Three years he had worked with Vader and he had watched the obsession for finding Skywalker grow. Say what you would about Vader, and people did, he had seemed to genuinely care about Death Squadron, about the men and ships that served him faithfully. And he was being ordered to take that Squadron to their deaths, throw all that away, to find that damn ship.

So he had tried. He knew his life was forfeit. He went to Vader. His bridge crew clearly believed he would not return from that meeting. Veers had commed him as he walked to Vader’s quarters and begged him not to go. But he had to. For the sake of the men. For the sake of his Lady. And was told it was not an excuse. Vader was willing for the Lady, the pride of the fleet, his flagship, to be horrifically damaged, if not destroyed, in this obsessive quest.

The only moment in his entire career that Piett appreciated hearing from the Emperor happened just in time.

They had moved out of the asteroid field and Piett had an entirely new burden as damage reports flooded his datapad and alarms blared around the Lady’s bridge. So he did what he had to---he ordered repairs, he checked casualty reports, at one point, he personally had his hands in some of the Lady’s wiring, repairing damage to her bridge deflector shield.

And then…..

Avenger reported they had her.

Piett had served with Needa at one point. They weren’t quite friends, they hadn’t had time for that, but he liked the man and thought he was a good officer. And a good man.

So good that he felt he needed to shield his men from Vader’s unpredictable wrath. And for the second time in 48 hours, Piett had to stand by as another larynx was crushed and this time, Vader mocked his prey.

Apology accepted Captain Needa.

And all of Piett’s emotions must be silenced. Because he had his own men to think of. If he was to die, some other poor bastard would be Admiral. He would rather kill himself trying to save them than have Vader crush his throat.

At some point, and he genuinely couldn’t say when in the eternity he experienced, Captain Kelly had walked up to his side, carefully removed the datapad he found he’d been clenching in his hands, and quietly murmured, “Admiral, I have the bridge. Please sir, go and rest.”

Piett had stared at him a beat and then realized that he was being given a reprieve.

“You have the bridge, Captain,” he’d said in automatic tones that must have been his and then he was turning to walk as straight and confident as he could toward the blast doors.

First hurdle cleared, he made it to the turbolift where he allowed himself to lean against the wall for support.

There had been a time when he thought that Vader actually gave a damn about his men. That he was building something which Piett was proud to be part of. But this consuming obsession…..

His deck. He felt as though he was watching someone else as his boots moved slowly toward the Admiral’s quarters---his quarters.

Someone other than himself (perhaps Captain Kelly) had ordered his things transported here, and Ozzel’s removed. He could still smell the chemicals that the cleaning crew had used, to prepare it for their new admiral. He wondered if the smell would have faded by the time the next admiral was installed here. For he had no illusions. His death was coming swiftly in this mad chase for Skywalker.

One of his miniature trees was tipped over. In automatic response, he carefully righted it, scooping the dirt back in with his fingers. They were trembling.

Force. He needed a drink. He didn’t care if he was commed---he was going to die anyway, might as well add some liquid courage to face it.

He stumbled to the cabinet and found his liquor collection neatly put away. He found the strongest one he had--something from Dathomir--- and a glass, and poured it full, cursing the shaking in his hands as it spilled on the floor.

He stumbled to his sofa and sat, taking a long fiery drink, and then set the glass on the table, and managed to remove his hat and gloves. He unfastened the top of his duty jacket and found himself gazing at his very gleaming brand new Admiral bars.

Kriff it. He’d hated Ozzel but this had not been the way he wanted a promotion. Six hundred men had died today as a direct result of travelling through an asteroid field.

Dear family, I’m so sorry to write to you to inform you of the death of your son/father/brother. They were pulverized by a completely unnecessary asteroid trip because our commander has lost his kriffing mind over a Rebel pilot.

Piett took another long drink and poured another. As he made a good start on it, the lights of his quarters dipped into indigo.

He laugh/sobbed. “Yes lady, I am sad. That word…….doesn’t begin to cover what I’m feeling I’m afraid.”

Icey blue light--her color for fear. “Yes, literally afraid. I’m likely going to be dead soon….” He put the glass down again and buried his face in his hands.

The Lady. What would happen if he died next? Would Vader take care of her? Today’s actions didn’t seem to indicate that he would. Piett had to find a way to survive. Someone had to try and stand between Vader’s madness and this ship and crew.

The icey blue was flashing at him as he lifted his face and he realized that she was frightened at his words.

“I’m sorry….I’m sorry, Lady, I will do my best not to be. Lord Vader is….can you sense that he is not….right?”

Her regular lights flashed. <Yes>

He finished his glass and his head swam.

“Lady, if…..if…..I can’t, then you must take care of this crew. Do not let Lord Vader hurt you, do you understand?”

And that was dangerously close to treason, even in his rather intoxicated ears.

She flashed her lights and gave him indigo again.

“I’m sorry, Lady, but you need to be prepared, if I……” he reached for the bottle again, and suddenly strong hands were taking it from him, and he followed the hands with his eyes up to the deeply compassionate gaze of the General.

“Enough, Firmus.” He set the bottle somewhere out of sight and came around the sofa to kneel in front of Piett and begin undoing his duty jacket.

The Admiral’s swimming brain was struggling now, between the alcohol and the exhaustion of terror.

“Max. You’re in sickbay.” He raised a finger to point at him. “You will be in soooooo much trouble with Henley.”

“I discovered today, much to my shock,” Veers began, helping Piett shrug out of the jacket and reaching for his boots next, “that underneath multiple layers of baked on cynicism and appalling condescension, the Doctor might possibly have a heart. When he heard you were on a path to throw yourself between Vader and this crew, he let me go early. And your Lady got my attention a short while ago by blinding me with that white light she’s chosen for you.”

The General had finished wrestling off his boots and Piett noted the still pink and healing lines on his face from his injuries on Hoth.

“Now,” said Veers firmly. “I would say congratulations, but this is not the time and I’m so kriffing sorry that it happened this way, Firmus.”

“He was right next to me,” Piett whispered, and found himself irrationally angry that his hands were still shaking. “I need one more drink, Max, I’ve got to keep it together….”

“You do need one more drink, Admiral, but not alcohol.” The General rose and procured a glass of water which he came back and handed carefully to his friend. “That’s an order, drink it all. I found out how long you were on the bridge, and you are no doubt dehydrated. Drinking that much….” he looked back at the bottle, “damn when you go for it, you really do, don’t you? Dathomirian vodka? Yes, more water it is.”

Piett did not like the feeling of crumbling, but it was happening and he couldn’t make it stop. He tried anyway. “Techina---telechni---kriff, technically , I outrank you now, General Veers.”

He saw Max pause and glance at him with an eyebrow raised. “Well. Even plastered, trust you to know your military protocols by heart. That is true, Admiral .”

Piett flinched at the title. Veers relented, getting more water silently and snagging the duvet from the bed in the other room.

Don’t be comforting Max. I can’t. I will break utterly and I don’t think I have time for that.

Another glass of water was shoved into his hands and then his duvet was draped around his shoulders. Veers seated himself close to his friend.

“I know you pretty well now Firmus, would you agree?”

Piett just nodded, drinking the water, letting it slide down a throat that was feeling tighter by the moment.

Like Ozzel’s, like Needa’s.

“So I hope you can trust me enough to believe what I’m going to say.” Veers paused, considering. “A great deal of bantha poodo has occurred in the last several days. Hoth was a success in some ways. But I lost three walkers.”

“I’m sorry, Max I should have….”

“You should have nothing, Firmus. You haven’t had a single second to breathe until now and I know it. My point is, that our commander is…..not what we had hoped. But we both have men under our command and I know that you care about that. If what I overheard you telling the Lady is any indication…..you don’t expect to make it much longer.”

Piett shuddered involuntarily and in a rare move (he must look pathetic) Veers got an arm around him.

“I’m here to tell you, that you must . Keep your head down, follow orders, do your best as you always do, and hope that Lord Vader remembers that you are one of his most competent and loyal officers.”

And he would like to find some shreds of hope in that, he would, but….

“Did you…..” he cleared his throat and gave another attempt. “Did you hear about Needa?”

A pause. Veers sighed. “Yes. Kriff it. Were you there for that too?”

And the throat that was now unbearably tight wouldn’t work for him to make any words, and Piett leaned forward to hide his face in his hands as his shoulders shook.

Veers’ arm tightened around him.

“Get it out here, Firmus, it won’t help to try and bury that. I’ll be here as long as you need.”

You are in command now, Admiral Piett.

[whalesfallmoved]

soft descent

Wedding vows for the dead. Neither of you ever had a chance. 

chargestep. rated m. twisted memories and revenge and nightmares of all kinds and ricardo ortega, starring as sidestep’s poorly repressed self-doubt, in a manner of speaking. 

or, sidestep sees nothing clearly, and her head has never been a pleasant place to be.

warnings: implications of suicide, slight body horror, violence, injury. hurt, without comfort, because of course. 

ao3 link.

——

“Oof, that’s going to leave a mark.”

You’re standing next to the window in the dark the sun blistering overhead and the glass shattered underfoot. He’s looking down. You’re looking at him. It’s always been like that. When you look down you’ll see— no. You’re not going to look down. You’re going to look at him.

“It didn’t feel great.”

He smiles and it’s broken, one hand on the windowsill, one hand on his gut where Catastrofiend’s goodbye kiss drips slowly, wetly, a splash of violence against the cobalt blue skinsuit, Ranger-proud. You want to say you should get that looked at but it wouldn’t do any good, he’s already gotten blood all over the carpet. 

Soft laugh and when he licks his lips you can see a hint of red, waiting to get coughed up, waiting to get expelled, the body killing itself to save itself—you remember the way it stuck between your fingers, the delirium—beg, the monster-thing demanded, and he laughed then too.

You look down at your hands. The way they curl up, clinging to air.

Are you bleeding? You must be. 

“Yeah, I know all about that.” 

“No,” you shake your head and your spine pops, “you don’t.”

“What, are we comparing jumps now?” 

“Are we?” wouldn’t that be something. He never talked about this before, why start now? Trying to get you to forgive him? You won’t.

“It was a longer drop.”

“And there were people there to help you.”

“Depends on your definition of help.” Head jerk to the side, beckoning you to look, look down, look at them, look at you. “Technically, they helped you too.”

Bite down, taste blood and bile. Have you started choking yet down there? You remember the way it sluiced up your throat, the way you could feel the crack and splinter of your ribcage. His brows furrow a little and maybe he feels bad. You hope so. You hope it’s twisting him up inside. 

“Wish they’d helped me to the morgue.”

Exhale, ragged and wet and torn. 

“Yeah, those contracts are a bitch, huh? Nothing like a blood debt.”

“What, you want me to feel bad for you?” You taunt, vision hazy bones aching— pulse in your ribs, they must have picked you up by now, isn’t that nice. He’s still looking down, waiting for something to happen. “Poor Ricardo. The US government branded on his ass till the day he dies. Join the fucking club.”

“Hey—” he hisses, flashing his eyes to you finally, “you could pretend to sympathize.”

“I’m so sorry you have posters and trading cards and get invited to award ceremonies and—”

“Oh, I knew I have trading cards, but how did you know I have trading cards,” a wink, sly, charming and wrong, like a bone splitting the skin. “Collecting them, aren’t you?”

“You wish.”

You want to throw up. His neck is bruised. 

He sighs, knocks his fist against the window. You both flinch. “They’re gonna keep you going till you’ve got nothing left to give, you know.”

And this time it’s your turn to laugh, bitter and cruel and serrated. You want to twist the knife in his gut you want to rake your nails down his skin, it’s the least- it’s the least you can do, god you are so angry you shake, but you’ve always been good at staying still. Hold your breath, don’t scream, fuck that hurts, and now he’s looking at you full on. “I’m already out. No thanks to you.”

Maybe he sees the way your hands are starting to twitch. The smile softens and you want to kiss-bite-punch it bruise blue to match his stupid fucking suit. 

“Are you?”

Are.

You?

I am.

Am I?

A snake in your throat curling up ready to snap bite. Your lips twist, scene hazy at the edges, and when you get your hands around his neck (oh those are the bruises, they look like your hands) you’ll both be sorry—“fuck off.”

Magic words.

Ortega shrugs, pushes the window open like it doesn’t matter, like it didn’t matter, like he can just do that; he always had to make it about himself, can’t even leave you your death, can’t even leave you your place at the window. 

You want to shove him away from it.

You want to shove him through it. 

“If you insist.”

Close your eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

—

Dr. Mortum does not smile, not until Angel flashes her a wicked grin and a bag of cash and a promise of more where that came from if— if— if—

She flips through the schematics, eyes brightening—the loose design, the necessities, the ideas—oh, you are going to do such great things together. 

“It can be done, I assure you.”

“Excellent. My employer wants nothing but the best.”

— 

The sound of waves takes the edge off the thump of a corpse hitting the ground, but you aren’t ready for it—you aren’t ready for the scent of rotting meat, rancid and cloying under the Los Diablos sun.

You open your eyes and when you look down, a dead girl is mangled, half gone. You think— she almost looks like your target. 

Huh.

“That’s a bad idea, you know.”

Voice soft prying you know it and you groan, twist, turn, the sand uneven and blood-splattered. 

He’s got that loose hold, hip jutted on a rock arms crossed, too casual for the teething gore surrounding them. Suit torn and eaten at, blood drip-drip-dripping down his arm where the skin is all gone, you keep waiting for them to crawl through the sand and eat you both alive. Maybe you won’t save him this time. 

“Which one?” You ask, and when you look down you’re in the old suit, fitted like an infected wound. You yank at the collar, touch your cheek, your face— you’d covered your face here, hadn’t you? Yes. 

He smiles. Shakes his head. 

He hadn’t let them touch you, even when you collapsed, even when they wanted to help. 

Not that it matters. None of it matters anymore.

“So you do care about my opinion?” 

“No,” you murmur, choking down a gag—dead meat, food for the nanovores, food for the flies, “but that’s never stopped you before.”

“True,” he winks, running through the motions; what you remember, what you want to forget. Oh god you want to forget. You want to peel back this body and dig into the marrow and pull, pull, pull until the memories unravel in streams of violent orange. 

He pushes off the rock, kicks his long legs out and walks too easily for a man that almost got eaten alive five minutes ago. “Walk with me?” He asks the way you don’t ask, you order, and throws his wounded arm over your shoulder, locking you hip to hip, no way out. 

You sink under the weight, slotted to his side like a mismatched puzzle piece. Nothing about you fits, disjointed, dislocated. You’ve been shaped wrong for a long time now. They didn’t put all the parts back right. A doll unstitched and gutted for parts, but they didn’t— did they recycle you? Just medical waste and scars.

“You take me to the nicest places,” you say because it’s the only thing you can say when the sky looks like God wrapped his big meaty fist around it so tightly till it swelled and pinkened. 

Black clouds on the skyline. Here they come. Don’t they know how strong you are now? How many webs you can weave? You crack your knuckles and almost smile.

Then you see: Tía Elena crosses herself in the background. She shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe. Why haven’t they evacuated all the civilians?

“Well, you never let me take you anywhere else,” he huffs, ignoring his mother as they walk on by, and that’s not— that’s not right? 

It— no. You don’t want to be here. You can’t do that to him, not even now. 

— 

Fuck that’s good you’re invincible. The reckoning day is coming and when it does you’ll watch out for this one, you’ll remember her, how it felt to sit in her skin and move under it, but she can’t stop you. None of them can stop you now.

You smile and it’s sharp and cruel and silver. You almost almost almost want him to show up but the victory wouldn’t be quite as sweet, and you don’t really want to take a lightning bolt to the chest. Even if it wouldn’t slow you down, it’d still fucking hurt. 

But it doesn’t matter. When you drive your foot into the golden boy’s chest you can feel his ribs crack a little bit and that’s even better. You’ll be riding the high of that for weeks after this. He’s a kicked puppy and you want— you want to kick him again, but there’s no time for that, no time for anything. 

You wonder if Steel recognizes the grin right before you drop her like a body bag.

—

Gasp—jump spin dodge—near miss, fuck—Ortega laughed at the start but he’s not laughing anymore, smoke on the air, electricity crackling over his skin. 

Fire off at its head one two, one miss, one hit. Head jerks, twists.

The thing-beast groans— don’t look at me i’m not here don’t look— “yOu...” guttural ugly it sees you, it sees you.

Run run run don’t touch me— “Noa!” He shouts and you stop drop and roll just in time for a blade to swing down, headsman’s axe, grazing the suit but not quite touching. Space where your body was empty, and it howls rage-snap.

“Mother— fucker!”

This. This you remember.

You remember the way its mind shucked the skin off your bones, all slick-blood drip drip drip. Gory, wrong, wound over wire, dirty fingernails scraping on the myelin, eating eating down down down— you remember: if you let it in it’ll kill you, cut your throat on its twisty edge thoughts as quick as a knife in hand. 

You remember the images in your head— its plans, its ideas, the ways it was going to ply and split him down the middle like a rotten fruit. You couldn’t look at him for weeks. Almost. He was almost.

Almost.

Blink and the scene changes, and backup’s arrived, and you’re holding onto him, your mind pressed up against ITS just enough to make you both disappear. You threw up again and again afterward, but you still couldn’t forget, oil-slick. 

not here we’re not here don’tlookatus

Then: you covered the wound with your own hands. 

Now: you tilt your head to the side, pet his hair. It still doesn’t hurt as bad as the final impact, hitting the ground, or what came next. Suck it up. 

“I told you,” he slurs, eyes half-mast, must be hazy from the blood loss. The human body can only take so much, even with the cutting edge mods. “I know all about that.”

“You don’t know anything. You don’t know anything at all.”

Hand over wound, you push down and he groans. You might as well save him again. You still haven’t had that showdown, and you’re gunning for a win. A dozen to one then, but you’ve gotten better, faster, smarter, your body catching up with your thoughts, and he doesn’t think at all. Doesn’t even matter if he did, you wouldn’t be able to hear it. 

“C’mon, Noa,” that’s not your name, that’s the name he gave you—your name is a mouthful, he’d grinned and you’d rolled your eyes and flushed, but now it sticks like a stove burn—numbers and names and Noa, Noa, no one else has ever gotten close enough to name you— fuck you. “Throw me a bone here.”

“No.”

“Fine.” he gasps, chokes, but the words still spill loose, “but you can’t hate me for what you didn’t tell me.” He says, sounding so fucking reasonable while he’s bleeding out on your lap, and now you definitely have to save him, now you definitely have to make sure he lives, just so you can level him for that alone. Just wait, a feeling builds up in your chest, his day is coming and it’s coming fast.

“Don’t tell me what I can’t hate you for.” You want to snarl, a fighting dog, a dog fit for the ring, but it comes out weak, threadbare, and you hate the way your hands shake, the way your throat hardens up and each word is estranged from your mouth.

“At least give me a chance to prove you wrong.”

“Why?” Is that your voice? Small and weak, a child learning to make a fist, thumb tucked in. But you were never a child. You were never small.

“You know me,” he punches out a laugh and it breaks like a sob, “I love a challenge.”

“This isn’t a challenge, Ricardo. There’s just nothing left.”

—

He.

“November?”

He is.

“I thought you were dead—”

Older. Different. That feels wrong, wrong. He should be the same he can’t have changed that much. Fuck that moustache is ridiculous. He looks so heavy with grief, or is that just you, reflected back? A labyrinth of static. 

It’s all blurry and too much, not enough, but maybe— for a moment— for a moment everything shatters, fingers under a suture, and maybe— it’s just a flash of his eyes, real and in front of you and not blurred by a late night show or security footage fight you only watched to make sure he still leads with his left sucker punch with his right and maybe— 

“Are you still a telepath?”

You say yes and feel like a fool and you tell him a dash of the truth and you feel like a wound and you can’t hate me for what you didn’t tell me.

Your hands are shaking. You make a fist. 

He wants— he wants something.

A raw crack down your spine and you smile and it feels wrong. Maybe it looks wrong. He won’t stop watching you like you’ll disappear if he blinks more than once, if he looks away, and maybe you will. Maybe you’re just ash and graveyard dirt held together with sutures and wire. 

You want to crawl through the floor to someplace small and dark and cold where no one will ever find you again.

You tell him just enough, just enough to keep on hating him. 

It’ll be easier that way.

—

Rewind.

“That’s a bad idea, you know.” He cackles as you thrust out a punch—miss—and dodge his return, feet sliding on the mat. You can’t believe you let him talk you into this, a friendly spar on Ranger soil.

“Which one?” Thrust dodge lock your ankle around his own, slipping up letting you get close like that, rookie mistake— twist of your hip— throw! and the satisfying slap of skin on the mat, his skin, his body hitting the ground, but he holds hard and pulls you down with him (if you go i go) and you land— oof! breathless and grinning and on top, finally, finally.

Fingers lock and you shift, thighs on either side, pin him down, his emitters humming biting pinching but you got him, and you aren’t letting go. A shiver skip-dances down your spine, static-charged.

“I win,” you growl, a winner’s grin biting into your cheeks, free and loose (where’s your mask?)

He squeezes your hand, sends a low-grade jolt up your palms sharp, just to see what you’ll do, jellyfish stings, and you squeeze back harder, lean down till you can feel his breath hot on your lips. You never got this close before, he’s so solid beneath you.

Ricardo, grinning back, a halo of black curls fanned out, sticking to his brow all slick with sweat, “what is that, a dozen to one?”

“Shut up,” he can’t take this from you, not yet, “don’t be a sore loser.”

“Actually, I’m enjoying myself quite a bit right now. I should let you win more often.”

“Fuck you,” but it tears out a laugh far too sweet for your mouth. You feel segmented and gentle, like a scorpion smashed on a rock left out to rot in the sun. Maybe he’ll take you home, run his fingers through your matted hair and not mind the stingers or the venom. You weren’t made for a laughter light like this, and if there was ever a time you could be it’s long gone now, but you still want him to touch you, a want like a scar healed wrong.

“Buy me dinner first— ah!” You let go just to crack your palm against the top of his head, anything to wipe that smug edge off, and— “okay, fine, I’ll buy dinner,” but this time when your hand comes down he catches it, brings it to his lips, soft on your palm— oh god, oh god it hurts. 

“And then what?” You dare, you gasp, you’ve never been that bold—couldn’t afford boldness, always a coward at heart and that’s how he always won, but for a moment you let your fingers curl along his cheekbone. His eyes slide closed, kissing still—dart of tongue, tracing the line of your palm. How long is my life? How many children will I have? What do the cracks in the skin say? Maybe his mouth can divine something human in the shape of your hand, even if the lines there aren’t really yours, just a thing they gave you to play pretend.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, still not giving you his gaze, a pained crush to his brow, “you did ask me to take you somewhere nice.”

“Did I?”

“Don’t you remember?” 

“Liar. I never asked you to do anything.”

He smiles right on your skin, like a knife sliding under your gut—girl/deer, splayed out on the slaughterhouse floor of his kindness. The world hazes at the edges, curling up set aflame. 

Somewhere nice. Too bad it can’t last. 

Finally. Finally he looks at you. Sees you. How long has it been since someone hasn’t stared through?

“No, you didn’t. I wish you would have.”

—

Choking hard gasp and the phone screams or maybe you do. Your teeth throb.

The room is heavy dark save for the corners of curtained sunlight peeking through, the air scented thickly of cheap candles and candy wrappers. The sheets are sweat-slick and you can smell your own skin, the rawness of sleep on it. Musky. Unsterilized. 

The fabric sticks and itches. Fingers under the hem, you toss the sweater aside, hear it thump damply against a wall.

Breathe. Hand to chest and yes, that’s your heart, rocking in your rib cage, slowing down. You breathe with in—ten—tion. 

One. 

Two. 

Three.

Okay, you’re okay. You can do this. You can still do this.

—

“I don’t want to do this here.”

He holds out a plate of food, tilts his head to the side, the corners of his mouth twitching up. Pushes the plate into your hands, and you take it—just hold out something to someone and nine times out of ten they’ll take it without thinking, asking only after they’ve agreed to carry the burden.  

Silly you, you never had a choice. 

His apartment is soft and safe around the edges, and your heart gets sticky in your chest. You think maybe those are your books on his shelf, the ones you lost after—

“What’s wrong with here?” He shrugs, brushing past toward the table, beckoning you to follow with a grin and a nudge.

“I like it here.” You answer honestly, for once, and he beams, a light bright enough to burn.

“I know.”

“So why are you ruining it?”

“Ruining it?” Hurt. Smile gone.

“Take me somewhere else. Anywhere else.” Somewhere cruel and sharp as a scalpel to the throat. Psychopather or Overlord or the dilapidated construction ruin you jumped out of at the second story and broke your wrist because you made a deal— you agreed to a dare— race you to the bottom down the stairs— if you lose you have to answer my questions— and god, you didn’t want to answer anything, anything at all, and he’d screamed your name, cursed you out, told you don’t be an idiot what if you broke your neck and flinched when you snapped I was just following your lead. 

“I can’t,” he shakes his head and you have to sit down, set the plate on the table before you drop it, wouldn’t want to break the fine china. Did his mother give him this? You think so; he’d taken such care, stacking each plate freshly hand washed before putting them away.

“Liar.”

“Not this time,” a loaded smile, a loaded gun, his fork twirls around on his plate. Shadow of a wrist and a vague gesture to the seams of the scenery. “This is all you. Your shape. What you made. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Then I’m not staying.”

Shrug again. Why won’t he do anything else? A looped tape, a slight glitch. Something’s wrong.

You’re wrong, maybe.

“Not even for dinner?”

You stand up. Pace. There are plans— things to be done— finishing touches— you can’t stay here. You can’t. 

“What do you want, Noa?” He asks, so softly, so gently, it would be kinder if he killed you there, but you know he won’t; it’ll take a lot more than bad table manners to push him to that, but maybe you can do it. Maybe you can get him a little ruthless, even more desperate. You’ve seen it before, in flashes, coiling green under his skin. Won’t it be funny if he breaks before you do? No blood on your hands, not yet. What a record. Fitting, almost. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Are you hungry?”

“Why?”

“Hard to work on an empty stomach,” he shrugs again, fuck, stop doing that. Bare feet silent on the carpet and you find yourself back at the table, back in the chair, sitting across from him and there’s nowhere to go—

Blink.

Sterile antiseptic white walls and doctors— in your apartment— your neighbor? Yes, that’s your neighbor he accused you of staring once, the fuck are you lookin’ at? And you weren’t staring, at least not like that, but it took a soft nudge of don’t look at me for him to go all the same. Strange. You didn’t think a doctor would live here. It’s a bad side of town, but it’s good for sidestepping. 

You think: I am going to wake up now.

Wait. No. You say this out loud. It comes through with the wet ache of drowning. 

No. Wait. Your words roll back down your throat—you didn’t say it. You didn’t say anything at all. You never have. 

All the words roll in but they’re not yours you’re fit to burst. 

It must be nice being able to speak. 

Not here.

Maybe that’s what it is to be human. 

Get real, you think because you stick your fingers in a few skulls and cut your teeth on some gray matter while someone thinks about love you know what being human is? 

I could. I could know.

They gave you a tongue and mouth and lips but you can’t kiss and you can’t make words, you can only patch together the syntax, call it real, call it human—but when you speak it’s always going to be with someone else’s voice, strangled out.

The walls are whiter now and the lights slice your skin like a hot knife through butter. It isn’t a cliff but a door you’ve already walked through and the ocean inside the warehouse inside the apartment is now a table with handcuffs. His table. Her table. You jerk your wrists and the metal clanks hard and fuck no not here not here please take me back i’m sorry i want to go back—

(he’s coming to get you)

(he wouldn’t leave you here)

(no time for the dramatics ricardo just get the door let’s blow this popsicle stand)

She smiles at you from across that metal table (wait) and tells you that you are never going to die (stop) because to die you have to be alive (i am i am i?) and you should know better by now we are going to do such great things together (please)

aren’t we, 

aren’t we, 

aren’t we.

aren’t i?

wake up now- i want to— please. 

—

You’re alone in the dark, the armor fits perfectly, and that’s all that matters.

(when you become a casualty revoked from the grave get ready a revenant coming back to eat them alive oh oh oh just you wait) 

You think you’ll keep the name.

(sidestep and charge reunited again you can see the headlines now and fuck you can’t wait to see the look on his face you were always a pair maybe he’ll stop you wouldn’t that be something)

You don’t sleep.

— 

He doesn’t stop you. 

—

“Noa?”

“Yes?”

“You are... fine, right?”

 “What are you talking about?”

“You’d tell me if something was wrong?”

“Of course I would.”

—

Your dreams are filmy, cracked wombs of (not not not) memories and gummy tissue. Press on it too hard and it moves back just the same but with a muscle deep ache. At least you know it’s a dream this time, and when you go up the stairs and find him there, you don’t hiss or spit or curse. You’ve done enough of that. He’ll carry the scars to prove it.

He’s looking out the window. He’s looking at you.

No, he’s looking at you. You flinch and you don’t know why.

“Really? Even here?”

“What?”

“Take the mask off at least. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen your pretty face.”

You reach up and your fingers find hard armor, not supple skinsuit. When you look back his face is different, older, not the poster-ready Marshal but aged, aching, and you ache with it, bone-deep. 

You’re so tired. You wonder if he is too.

The helmet comes off. Drops with a thump. 

You go to the window. After all, there’s nowhere else left, and he asked so nicely.

“What do we do now?” You ask, so softly. Still can’t look outside. Still don’t want to see what he sees. Better to watch him watch you. Now that you’re on the other side of things, you prefer it when you’re the one doing the bleeding—what a thing.

“I don’t know,” a laugh a sob or something in between, he crosses his arms and turns away, turns toward you. “Did you ever figure out what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You blink and he’s himself again, younger, more angular, a grin fit for the big screen on his handsome, handsome face. It’s easier to talk to him like this, the way you remember, the way it should be. Time didn’t move while you were gone, and you’re the only one still snapped in half.

A pause. Are you smiling now? It must be a sad little thing though, because his eyes soften up and a frown mars his forehead.

“I want to watch you grow old.” 

“What, so you can keep on teasing me? That never stopped you before.”

“Shut up, I’m not done yet.” you whisper, stepping forward, stepping up to the cliff’s edge.

“I want to watch you grow old,” reaching for his hand, and he lets you have them both, cradled so carefully—and your gloves are black and armored and insulated, but not the most protected part of your body. Could he kill you with a surge? Maybe. “And I want to watch you die in a bed. Your bed.”

“A little morbid,” he murmurs but you’ve got to keep going, you’ve got to get it out, because once it’s out you’ll never have to look at it again. “But I guess that tracks.”

Turn over his hands, you thumb at his emitters. Hint of a spark, and you laugh and now it’s sob, now it’s a wound. You won’t look at him. “I want to watch the arthritis take your hands and I want to take you away from this fucking city and we’ll both be so bored out of our minds, we’ll start inventing problems just to fix them.”

“Careful, Noa,” hands turn over, running up your armored wrists, grasping at your forearms. “That almost sounds like a happy ending.”

Wedding vows for the dead. Neither of you ever had a chance. You don’t have one now.

“And we can’t have that.”

You look up. The sun’s on his face now, turning his eyes a shade of deep whiskey, and that’s how you want to remember him; alive under the sun, smile lines just forming, his nose a bit crooked from getting punched one too many times. You’ll be on the ground in a moment.

“No,” he agrees, grasping at your elbows now, pulling you close, and you cling to his in turn. “We can’t.” Flash and grin, and there he is, just like you remember. Challenging, challenger. No chance, and neither of you know when to quit. “Want to up the stakes a bit?” 

“Always.”

You let go first. Of course. You turn to the window. You open it. 

“Whoever falls fastest wins.”

“And what do I get when I win?” When, not if.

“A quick and painless death.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. “That’s a hell of a thing. How do I know you won’t cheat?”

“You don’t,” he winks, steps back, head tilt toward the window. Mirrored. You’ve got one hand on the windowsill and one hand curled around your gut, where he sunk that barb between the plates before you cracked his skull on the ground before all of Los Diablos. “You never do. Isn’t that part of the fun?”

You take your place at the window, you set your shoulders, look down. What’s he been looking at all this time? 

Long way down, and you wait to see her; you, in soft skinsuit, teal and black and bloody and broken, but she isn’t there.

Just an ambulance, an end repeating itself.

“Person who falls the fastest, huh?”

“And hits the ground hardest.”

You climb up, clench your jaw. 

It always ends like this. 

“You’re on.”

[levihantrash]

new chapter update!

Summary:

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1: Free Bread

Chapter 2: New Friends

Like routine, Levi found himself waiting for a certain professor to show up. When Erwin called out to him, he couldn’t help but search behind the tall, imposing figure.

“I haven’t seen Hange this morning either,” Erwin said. Levi found himself irritated by Erwin’s discernment and by his own discrete uneasiness.

“Good morning, Erwin,” Levi greeted, nonetheless.

Hange was late, which Levi figured wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

The morning passed without a single sign of Hange.

“Sorry, are you Mr. Levi?” A nervous-looking person approached him, holding on to a well-wrapped steamed bun. A twinge of hope stirred in Levi.

“Levi will do,” he said.

“Dr. Hange said I should pass you this,” the bread-holder blurted out.

Levi’s gaze softened. “Where’s Hange?”

“Oh! She’s rushing a deadline and insisted that I pass you this bread.”

The inexplicable rush of relief made Levi dizzy as he grasped the bread limply. “Huh. Sorry that you have to be an errand boy today.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Moblit, their teaching assistant! Dr. Hange helps me out with my master’s thesis because they’re my advisor. This is just my way of saying thanks. Dr. Hange also treats me to meals, gives me detailed comments for my work… though they might go overboard when it comes to giving speeches about the importance of world-building and honing your craft, it’s inspiring how dedicated they are in what they do.”

Moblit took a deep breath, making up for lost air in between the lengthy, whole-hearted sentences.

“Is that so…” Levi said, suddenly contemplative. “Do you want some tea?”

“Are you getting it from the staff pantry?”

“No, that stuff’s stale as shit. I have better tea, wait here.”

Levi recalled Erwin asking him in front of everyone in the staffroom if he wanted the staffroom snacks. Hange followed up, speaking at a volume that was clear enough for most of the staff to overhear, orchestrating a deliberate conversation with Erwin.

“Since there are no hard rules as to who the snacks and drinks are catered for, and technically, Levi is a staff member, he should have access to the snacks!”

None of the professors objected. It was probably because open prejudice would be socially unacceptable, Levi thought.

Begrudgingly, he accepted Erwin’s offer, and in full view of everyone, took a candy bar.

Hange gasped. “Just one?” Levi glared at them.

“Aren’t the snacks for your little sister?” Hange asked. He nodded, sensing the collective spike in sympathy for him in the staffroom.

After the whole stage, the trio huddled conspicuously in a corner outside the staffroom.

Hange whispered to Levi, “You could have played along better!”

“Erwin’s tired of your skit,” Levi said, overwhelmed and annoyed at the turn of events.

“No he’s not!” Hange said sternly, before gulping down half a bottle of water.

Erwin, standing in between them, told Hange to keep it down.

“Thanks, you two.” Levi found himself staring at the floor, embarrassed that his two friends had to construe him as a pitiful character for him to get a few snacks, even though he had been informed of the plan prior.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” Hange said, their lips compressed into a hard, grim line. “It’s ridiculous that you can’t even get snacks and refreshments as part of the staff.”

“I’m used to it.”

“If anyone’s giving you a hard time, you have us,” Hange said, still put off.

They squared their shoulders impressively. “Right Erwin?”

“You can rely on us, Levi,” Erwin surmised, equally sombre.

Growing more ruffled by their declarations, Levi hissed, “I don’t need two bodyguards.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Hange joked. “Some people have told me about the deathly aura you emit that I must have missed…”

Fixing their attention at a vague distance, Hange’s playful jibes dwindled into an idle pondering, “I wonder if you found some joy in our companionship at least.”

They’re talking about joy and friendship again… Levi thought.

He found himself back in the present, handing a cup of black tea to Moblit, guiding him towards a bench.

Moblit squeaked out, “Thank you!”

“How did you find me?” Levi asked, betraying none of his real curiosity.

“Hange gave me a description…” Moblit began, not making eye contact with Levi.

“Did they? What’s the description?” Knowing Hange’s brand of humour, Levi braced himself.

Moblit shuffled in his seat, terribly reluctant. “They said to look out for a cold, black-haired man with an undercut, wearing an apron, gloves and brandishing a mop while scolding people to not step on wet floors.” Levi made a mental note to strangle Hange.

Moblit quickly supplemented, “You’re not actually cold though!”

“How would you know that?”

“Um… you’re offering me tea?”

Levi clicked his tongue. “That’s a low bar for human decency. You should have higher standards.”

“You’re right, Mr. Levi… I mean Levi.”

Levi noted Moblit’s jittery manner when he briefly checked his phone for a message and let out a small groan.

“Hey, you look worried sick. You didn’t receive a death threat, did you?”

Moblit laughed weakly, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, you see, I’m one of the editors for the bi-annual literary magazine and we’ve been looking for illustrators…”

“I take it that you haven’t been successful?”

“Yes… I just received someone’s rejection. It’s okay, we’ll find one,” Moblit said, although his panicked lip-biting ran contradictory to his optimistic statement. Levi’s hands twitched again. He folded them promptly into his apron pockets.

Upon finishing the tea, Moblit stood up and gave a tiny, polite bow. “It was nice meeting you Levi. Thanks for listening and for the tea!”

“Good luck,” Levi said, in time before Moblit rushed off.

Bagging up the rubbish, Levi heaved the load on his shoulder easily, only to be startled by the appearance of Hange.

“Fuck! Can you stop jumping out of nowhere?” Though momentarily disconcerted, the tension built up from the day unwound instantaneously, leaving his body loose and feeble.

“Levi! Did you shit yourself?” Hange sang. They accidentally bumped into the gigantic rubbish bag, falling butt-first onto the ground, phone in hand.

“Be careful,” Levi said, in the same monotonous voice he used regardless of the situation. Unless the situation involved Hange leaping out of nowhere. He looped his free arm under their armpit to pull them back up. Hange, flushed from running, placed their phone in his hands with ill-contained excitement.

“Look at what I found!”

“Oi, what’s this—” Levi scanned the phone, his mouth running dry.

“I’m going to recruit this artist. For my comic.”

It was a sketch of a cat being patted by a person with messy, tied-up hair, their hands stroking its head.

“Don’t you think the person looks familiar? Isn’t the cat cute… remember how I told you I have one at home?” Hange released their brown hair from a voluminous ponytail, biting the rubber band in their mouth.

He swallowed. “I drew that.”

Hange’s mouth hung open. “You’re kidding!”

“Do I look like I make such shit jokes?”

“Personally, I find your shitty jokes very funny. This is exciting news! Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist when I was trying to find one for my comic?”

Levi found her question preposterous. “You could easily find a better one. I’m inexperienced.”

“I’m also an inexperienced writer. I barely wrote one book and a few articles!”

“You’re a professor. You have the title for a reason. I just draw for fun.”

Hange spared him a baffled look. “Please. You have no idea how many great writers never become professors. And how some professors never write great books. I thought you of all people would know that a title doesn’t mean anything.”

“I thought you of all people would know that titles hold their value here, even if we think they’re stupid and don’t mean shit.”

“I know that, Levi. I’m saying, drawing for fun doesn’t make you inexperienced or unworthy of being the artist for my comic. Besides, I chose you before I even knew it was you!” Hange said triumphantly.

Locking the phone screen, Levi reiterated, “I draw for fun.”

“Then this will be our fun project!”

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

“You won’t be broke.” Erwin slipped into their conversation as though he had always been there. It was uncanny.

“What do you mean?” Levi stared questioningly at Erwin.

“You’ll be paid for your work, Levi. Hange as well,” Erwin said simply.

“You’re paying us?” Hange and Levi asked, in unison. One, in disbelief, and the other, in delight.

“A publisher will be paying you. I’ve secured funding.”

Levi gritted his teeth. “A publisher wants to sponsor a comic that hasn’t even been written?”

“I told you, Levi,” Hange interrupted. “I’ve already submitted a draft!”

“Yes,” Erwin said.

Levi had so many questions. “How?”

“Because it’s a good story.”

“Did you bribe them? Threaten them?”

“It is a risk,” Erwin admitted.

“It’s a fucking gamble,” Levi emphasised. “Don’t know why you’re so invested in this comic.”

Hange had other worries. “Levi, did you think I wasn’t going to pay you?”

Levi hesitated. “I don’t know. Isn’t this just a fun side-project?”

Hange’s face came closer to his. With the enhanced proximity, Levi stopped breathing altogether. Their face was deadly solemn.

“Listen, Levi, creating art is hard work. Your hard work. Any artist deserves to be paid. It’s not because our relationship is transactional. It’s because it’s only right.”

Erwin added, “We’re not going to accept your art for free.”

Pushing Hange back firmly with his hands on their shoulders, Levi argued, “Plenty of people have access to my art online for free.”

“That’s your choice. We insist.” Hange grinned. “And we think we deserve to be paid too. Even I’m surprised that my project has early compensation.”

Part of Levi’s resolve ebbed away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me!”

“First, you have to tell me what your story is.” Levi gathered up the last of his self-respect. “And if we’re going to be working together, I’ll need your number.”

Erwin raised an innocent eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you need mine too?”

“Stop teasing him, Erwin,” Hange said, grabbing the rubbish bag from Levi, struggling to balance its weight over their shoulders.

Just as Levi felt a shred of gratitude, Hange remarked, “What if he doesn’t agree to do the comic together?”

Patience running thin, Levi stomped on both their feet in a fit of unrestraint that diverged from his unaffected demeanour.

Eyes twinkling, Hange couldn’t help but feel immense glee at the prospect of working with Levi. What was probably Levi’s withheld strength made them certain that he only wanted to dirty their shoes, not bruise their toes. Like Hange would care about the cleanliness of their battered sneakers.

In front of an ordinary apartment door, Hange dug into the depths of their bag to fish out a ring of keys. The size of the ring was unprecedentedly big; the choice of keychain most definitely random, a freebie handed out to new staff that blatantly displayed the university’s name.

Without that much bribery of tea, bread, and friendship, Levi found himself standing beside Hange as they busied themselves in finding the key to their apartment. Erwin had bailed due to having another Important Meeting with Important People, even during a weekend, but encouraged Hange and Levi to take time to discuss the comic.

Hange hadn’t expected Levi to agree so readily to kickstarting the project, and with the generous reception Levi gave (a curt nod and a follow-up question), they thought it’d be best if they invited him over to their apartment. Just so he wouldn’t mistake Hange as a mere business partner. Now that would be upsetting.

Hange pushed the ludicrous speculation out of their head. Levi was first and foremost, a good friend. His bored appearance revealed glimpses of surprise, satisfaction, moodiness, and suspicion. Hange held on to these pieces with the determination to collect them all. Surely, Levi must have figured them out by now. This endless, unabashed interest Hange had taken in him.

“Why are we meeting at your place? Do you need to take a huge shit? Does the toilet at home have a better flush?”

Although Levi had no qualms about visiting Hange’s apartment, he found it unnerving to have a work discussion in someone’s living quarters. It felt too intimate, too casual. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being sucked in further into Hange’s life. They asked so many questions, yet barely answered any about themselves.

Whether intentionally or not, Hange was someone shrouded in mystery to Levi. He couldn’t ask questions either—he wouldn’t—because he was unaccustomed to expressing himself in front of people. More than that, he could envision Hange’s sharp wit poking a clean hole through his muted facade. “You’re interested in my life, Levi?” Damn that four-eyes for being so perceptive. Or was he so easy to read?

“It’s more fun,” Hange said, eventually stuffing the correct key into the keyhole, a smooth click welcoming them. “Plus, I want to introduce you to my friends! Part of the reason why I took up the position at this university.”

“Friends?” Levi asked, slipping out of his shoes to step into the apartment.

“Hange!” A voice rang, and Hange was wrapped in a hug.

“Onyankopon! I saw you yesterday—”

“Three days ago, to be exact, since you always sleep over on the lovely desk at the university.” A smooth voice entered, coming from a woman standing comfortably against the wall.

As the tallest body let go of Hange, it allowed Levi to take in the congenial features of a man whose shoulders rivalled Erwin’s towering, well-built stature. While Erwin’s smile was measuredly cordial, Onyankopon’s was candidly sincere. Watching Hange and Onyankopon, Levi felt as though he were intruding into a family reunion that had invited the entire neighbourhood. Here, he was the guest who came for the free flow of food and drinks.

“I’ve missed you too Pieck!” The woman named Pieck ruffled Hange’s hair, offering them an embrace.

Hange pulled Levi by the elbow, pointing to the new people. “Meet my roommates and college friends, Onyankopon and Pieck!”

“Hi,” Levi said, uncertain as to what else he could affix his terse greeting with. Hange resolved that predicament for him, going into further details about their friends.

“Onyankopon is a researcher and engineer! I can’t tell you the technical specifics of what he does, though, I always get them wrong. Oh, and he’s religious, but he won’t try to convert you.” Onyankopon nodded, affirming Hange’s unflattering introduction.

“Pieck… Pieck is a gardener, florist, and avid gamer! That’s why she’s always bent over, whether it’s tending to her plants or her high score in front of the monitor.”

“It’s not why I need the crutches though,” Pieck said. Hange squeezed her shoulders in response.

“Seems like my friends are all nerdy. Maybe that’s why I like them?” A sheepish smile graced Hange’s lips.

Onyankopon gestured towards Hange, imitating their dramatic flourish. “And this is Hange Zoe, the nerdiest of them all. Obsessed with words. Recently obsessed with science fiction. They’re always reading or writing, and once they start on something, their butt doesn’t leave the chair.”

Levi’s eyes flitted around the apartment—it was relatively tidy, with a couple of framed photos and artworks. A blanket on the couch made it homely enough. His inspection didn’t miss Hange’s notice.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s neat,” he replied.

“That’s a compliment!” Hange took care to disclose this to their two friends.

“All your previous partners don’t take off their shoes, Hange. I hope he isn’t one of those.” Pieck said, using their crutch to relocate Hange’s haphazard shoes to a corner, flipping them the right side up. Levi liked her already.

“That’s gross,” Levi said apathetically, wiping away the horrifying image of dirt-smeared carpets and tiles creeping into his consciousness.

“He’s very clean, don’t worry,” Hange said easily. “Some might even say it’s his obsession.”

“I’m the cleaner at the university.” Onyankopon and Pieck turned towards Hange with patented disapproval.

“Levi, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I think we’ll make good friends,” Pieck said, bemused.

Hange beamed at Levi. “You’ll love Pieck! She’s really quiet most of the time, just like you. Not to mention she pretends that she hates me. Just like you.”

“Good to know,” Levi said, enjoying the banter a bit too much.

“Hange says she’s going to get you to draw me, as a titan,” Pieck said, evidently sceptical.

“What’s a titan?”

“The giant, naked people I told you about, Levi! They’re called titans!”

“Why are they called titans?”

Hange landed on the sofa with a plop, patting the seat beside them for Levi to sit. “In Greek mythology, titans are immortal giant gods who were banished to the underground.”

Levi, who had little knowledge of Greek mythology, made a mental note to search for references online.

“Therefore, the titans are kind of like vengeful giant gods from the underground who have come to earth to wreak havoc on what the gods have built, which is human civilisation, basically.”

“Basically, I am wonderful enough to be titan-material,” Pieck drawled, propping their crutch at the side of the couch, sliding onto the cushions.

“A special titan that walks on all fours! Um, that’s the plan for now,” Hange said brightly.

Onyankopon, who had been content with listening, clapped his hands together in sudden realisation. “Hange, now that you’re finally home, you can take a shower.”

“I should, right?” Hange scratched their head, feeling the slickness of unwashed neglect.

Levi crinkled his nose as Hange reluctantly made their way to the bathroom. “That’s disgusting.”

“And here you are, still.” Pieck’s amiable statement prickled at his skin like a light warning before impending exposure.

“Hange must really want to make a good impression if they’re showering now,” Onyankopon said, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” Onyankopon pushed a newly made cup of tea towards Levi, with the steady confidence that could only come from having known prior that it was the beverage that Levi would desire. “Make yourself at home.”

Levi said his thanks, to the hospitality of two people he scarcely knew, and to Hange, who likely told them about the tea.

Cold water blasted them in the face, as Hange became cognizant of the necessity of showering more regularly. It wasn’t like they thrived in the dirt. Hypothetically, showering wasn’t that troublesome. The shower kept forgetting itself until it was three days later and Hange stank with regret and mild self-loathing. Still, the shower felt good, giving them new clarity about the fact that they had invited Levi into their inner social circle. How would he fare? Would he be uncomfortable? Hange massaged shampoo into their hair, recalling their conversation with Pieck and Onyankopon.

After much elaboration on adapting to a new university, their visits to an amazing bakery, and the fostering of daily encounters with new friends, Pieck had caught on that every other sentence from Hange contained a sliver of Levi-sized anecdotes. The new university was so much bigger than the one Pieck, Onyankopon, and Hange had attended together; it stretched endlessly, and Hange estimated that Levi would have walked 393700.7874 steps to clean just the faculty building. The bakery near the university was fragrant, its selection marvellous, and choosing a new bread for Levi every day was a tremendously delightful task. Moreover, Hange had met so many unique characters since getting to know the people in their faculty, people like Levi whose abhorrence for social etiquette was admirable, and with whom she was eager to share their mornings and lunches. Together with Erwin, of course.

Pieck let out a tinkle of a laugh at Hange’s obliviousness. “Why are you friends with Levi?”

Thinking hard, Hange answered, “I don’t know if he thinks of us as friends.”

“Well, friendship status aside, how’s he like?”

“He’s kind. He doesn’t sound like it, but he’s kind.”

“That’s nice. How’s he kind?”

Confusion coloured Hange’s usual confidence. “Hmm. It’s gut-feeling, I guess.”

“That’s unlike you, to rely solely on instincts,” Onyankopon said, stroking his chin. Hange was a person with an abundance of rationale, a reason for everything, with justification for any ideas. Their reasoning this time fell flat.

Pieck prodded on. “You said that he doesn’t sound kind. Then what does he sound like?”

“Grumpy, sarcastic, serious. He looks like he’s annoyed with everyone. Most people find him scary, I suppose? It’s like he wants people to think he’s an asshole.”

Pieck perked up. “Oh, so you’ve become enamoured with broody, misunderstood people who’re rough around the edges?”

“Pieck, come on, I’m not writing my own romantic trope! I don’t know… he’s a good person. I can tell. He doesn’t say much though.”

“You’re a mind-reader now?”

Hange ignored her. “His art… it’s so evocative. Melancholic. Hopeful. Angry.”

“What was the artwork you last saw of his?”

“A cat,” Hange said immediately.

Onyankopon brought Hange back to reality. “What about him? What do you like about him? Not his art.”

Hange pursed their lips. “Do good people need to prove themselves to show that they’re good?”

“There could be reasons as to why you’re so adamant about his golden character,” Onyankopon said.

“He’s reliable. And his shit jokes aren’t so bad once you get used to it.” Hange surprised themselves with that comment—Levi’s relentless toilet humour was infecting their brain. The corrosive force of the word “shitty” had already moulded itself permanently into their vocabulary.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Hange bent their arms behind their head. “It’s hard to find people to truly get along with.”

Onyankopon and Pieck shared a knowing look.

With their eyes trained to the white ceiling plaster, Hange mumbled on, “it would be nice if he’d talk more openly about what he’s feeling. It’s all guesswork and I’m afraid I’m constantly reading him wrong.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice…” Onyankopon said gently.

“But I do talk about my feelings!”

“Monologuing in your room and reposting vague lines of poetry and sending us memes to cope with your avoidance is not the same as talking about your feelings,” Pieck said, spending the subsequently long moment of silence to snip off a yellowed leaf from the potted Monstera deliciosa next to the kitchen counter.

“Wow.” Hange, for once, had nothing to muster.

Onyankopon’s approach was less incisive than Pieck’s. “You know, I don’t think you need a reason to be friends with someone. If he’s making you happy, I think it’s a good sign.”

“Thanks, Onyankopon,” Hange said gratefully.

“But Pieck’s right about you being deliberately evasive with your own emotions. Introspection shouldn’t be so strenuous, right? Don’t you write about your characters’ internal turmoil often?”

“It’s different when you’re reflecting for yourself,” Hange contended.

“We’ll see how Levi’s like anyway, when we meet him,” Pieck said, grabbing the scissors, going towards another deadened leaf.

“Don’t bully him!”

Another snip. Another leaf fell. “Isn’t he supposed to be scary?”

Hange smiled wryly. “But you two are scarier.”

[lilacerull0]

Scrapbooks of flowers

the third photograph: scrapbook of lotuses

"Story to story Building to building Street to street We pass each other on the stairs" - The Stairs, INXS

Revelius Sparks looks pleasant enough. His smile that tries almost too hard not to be a smile, his hands in his pockets and his eyes occasionally offering her an unreadable look. His sweater, on the other hand, looks rather disturbing. Improper. Disheveled. Messy. There are tiny colourful stains all over it (paint?) and there's a little hole on his shoulder. A hole revealing a bright yellow shirt he has underneath. Audrey Claire finds it weirdly comforting unacceptable. Her coming here was also unacceptable. But then again, wasn't that the idea? Wasn't she supposed to be doing something drastically different? And Revelius Sparks is someone she normally wouldn't have crossed paths with. There were days when he would come to school with his longish hair sprinkled with glitter. There were days when he would attend classes in mismatched shoes. Sometimes, he would come wrapped in a giant, ridiculous, red scarf that looked like it came straight out of his grandma's closet. As opposed to that, there were days when he would look completely normal. Jeans, shirts, jackets, neatly crafted hair (suddenly cut short), no glitter in sight. She knows these things because everybody knew them. Everybody might not have particularly enjoyed Revelius Sparks (he seemed to be... too much of... everything, you know?), but everybody knew who he was. Although, apparently, life goes on after high school and people usually turn out to be much more than one dimensional paper dolls once given a chance (at least that's what she's heard and she's trying out new things). So, Audrey Claire stands up from her recently found seat at the coffee shop and softly taps the shoulder of the so called Revelius Sparks, who's the last one waiting in line to order something. Three times, three times barely grazing his improper, disheveled, messy, unacceptable sweater. One. Two. Three. - Hi, I'm Audrey Claire, we used to go to the same high school. It's utterly absurd, the statement, considering how they were the souvenirs of that very same high school weeks not decades ago. Revelius Sparks doesn't seem to acknowledge the absurdity. His eyes are glossy and his cheeks are lightly freckled, she notes. - Oh, hi, I'm so happy to see you. Another absurdity, she thinks. How could you be happy to see somebody that you never properly met? Were never properly introduced to? - Nice seeing you. She mutters and turns around, ready to leave (and avoid any further discomfort). She hears him say something in response, but she's already out of the foreign lands. Task: (technically) failed.

*** She tucks her hair behind her ear a lot. The right one. Or she's been told. She's never actually picked up on it herself. Her hand holding a pen, a paper in front of her. She's only doodling various dresses, dresses she would like to own, dresses she would like to create. She might have been a designer if things were different, but even then, she isn't sure if that would have been the right thing to do. She's supposed to go to law school in the fall and be a lawyer because that's what she was always supposed to do. You are most certainly coming up with assumptions now, something like: "her parents are forcing her into it" or another cliched idea like "she's doing it to honour her late late grandfather Walt who was a lawyer back in the day". Guess what? She isn't doing any of that. Her grandfather's name is not Walt either. It's only something she's always talked about, the only thing she could see herself doing. Fancy blazers, marvellous court rooms... It all seemed extremely Audrey-like. At least, that's who Audrey Claire was at school. She never picked up on it before, just like she never picked up on the hair thing, but Audrey doesn't know how to be Audrey without school. You must think she's mad. Well, she ought to be. Who in their right mind misses school assignments and studying for exams and writing three page essays? Yes, she's going to college to learn, but it's not the same, isn't it? It's more about her future and less about getting gold stars for the sake of her future. And now, when she earned her future, she doesn't have to earn any more gold stars. That's supposed to be a good thing. That is a good thing. The drawings are nice. Fairly simple, but quite nice. She picks them all up and throws them in the pink trash can beside her desk. It's not like anybody is coming to check them out. Audrey crosses her arms, let's herself fall even deeper into the chair and closes her eyes. Next thing she knows, she's dreaming of stars. *** "She's spinning and spinning and spinning. Her dress swirling around her, her feet barely touching the ground. The grass is so green and the sun is so bright and she is spinning. People have forgotten about the beauty of the natural world but she never did. She's coming from whenever, breathing in wherever, she's dreaming of a different age. She's spinning and spinning and spinning and whole, entire, wonderful worlds are spinning along with her." Audrey Claire doesn't know why and how she ended up here. The only thing she's aware of are the words that Revelius Sparks is sharing with her and the rest of the room. She's surprised that the town theatre is open this late in the night, but then again, she's never been to one. Not as a (theoretical) adult at least. Revelius Sparks is sitting on the very edge of the stage, his leg rhythmically swaying to a beat she presumes must be the one only he is able to hear. She can't quite figure out if he's singing, reciting or acting. It might be all three. Once he's finished with his little performance, he gets up, adjusts his funny colourful scarf and smiles. The few people that are in the room are clapping, but it's obvious that he's not smiling at them. It's not that he's smiling "at no one in particular" either. It's more like he's smiling at something that should be there but tragically isn't. Audrey doesn't get up from her seat. Not even when everyone else is gone. She can't move. All she can do is think about these people and how they all were in here together for one fleeting moment. All breathing the same air, all hearing the same words. And now they all went home. They all went home to hear different words and breath different air. They all went home a tad bit different. They all went home and she's still there. *** Audrey keeps visiting the theatre. Her appearances aren't scheduled. Her legs simply decide that the only correct option is to bring her there and she goes along with it and she comes and each time she discovers another way to listen. Another way to be.

Sometimes, she doesn't even pay attention to the meaning of the words spoken by whoever is on stage. It all sounds wonderfully interesting, and the chairs are so wonderfully comfortable and she's so wonderfully there. She isn't the one to explain it, but it feels quite important. Doing something without a clear purpose. Revelius isn't always present. But when he is, he talks? sings? recites? about endless fields full of flowers, souls too free to be kept away and voices too long forgotten not to be heard. Those are all his descriptions and she remembers them because she's good at remembering and she even writes some of them down. She doesn't try to understand them and never does she go through them once they are written. But something about notebooks filled with various little words makes her feel happy and content. Revelius refers to himself as a "wanderer of flowery youths and incadescent hearts". Audrey thinks his "stage name" has no right being that long and of course she finds it (almost) unbearably preposterous but it's also kind of funny and pronouncing it out loud, when she's all alone with nobody but herself to hear, brings her immense joy. It reminds her of all those poems she had to learn for school. She never properly meets Revelius. They never talk, she never looks for him and he never notices her (or anybody else for that matter) while he's fulfilling his duty as a wanderer. They never randomly run into each other. They never have a deep conversation that magically resolves all of their respective issues. They never watch the sunset, buy each other sweet unnecessary expensive things or kiss in the rain till they're both out of breath. They never fall in love. The truth is, Audrey doesn't feel the need to meet him. She's just really really glad that he's around. *** She's dressed in black, but her freshly discovered scarf is screaming in bright yellow. The sidewalk is wet and slippery. People are walking, shouting, running, talking and exchanging. Moving. Her sparkling red suitcase is following her and her brand new shoes are ruined. Her feet are completely soaked. Her hair is a bit messy. She can feel tangled strands of it all over her face. She wasn't expecting rain today. But then again, she didn't exactly plan on paying a visit to the train station, let alone catching an actual train. The city looks different once fall comes. The leaves are crunchy and dressed in various colours. The air is colder. Everyone's cheeks are flushed. Once fall comes, people turn into portable paintings. Audrey takes a few seconds to admire the unlikely art exhibit. Her hand moves to position the scarf around her neck. Too tightly wrapped and a bit crooked it was, she thinks. Exactly three minutes pass and she's in the train, glittery notebook in hand. She doesn't open it, but she recalls the coordinates of each and every word gracing its pages. "What a wonderful collection of incadescent hearts...", she mummers under her breath and the woman across from her shots her a confused look, but Audrey doesn't notice any of it. She's too busy experiencing creations much more pleasant. She lets her head rest against the window frame.

And when her gaze welcomes the glorious landscape on the other side of the glass, her eyes are full of gold coloured stars. "You are beautiful and sad" I said finally, not looking at him when I did. "Just like your eyes. You're like a song I heard when I was a little kid, but forgot I knew until I heard it again." - Maggie Stiefvater

[gumnut-logic]

Virgil Hugs

@tsarinatorment​ asked:

Hugs #33: ‘picking them up’ hugs with Virgil&Scott

Consequently, we have a sop fest of total fluff. There is so much fluff, there is fluff on the fluff. I ran out of time - it is now well past midnight on a work night, so this isn’t as long as I would have liked, but it is enough, I hope.

Gonna add this one to the Hugs series I think :D

Many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ and @janetm74​ for the read throughs and support.

I hope you enjoy it :D

Send me a Touches Game Ask

-o-o-o-

Virgil hugs came in many flavours.

So, okay, Scott was the eldest and technically speaking, he was the least likely to need any hugs from his younger brother. In fact, Scott took pride in branding his own big brother hugs because, let’s face it, he was the eldest and nobody wanted to knock him off that throne. Virgil had been quite adamant about it on several occasions.

So only Scott could give the eldest brother hugs and they were very useful for distressed younger brothers, sad younger brothers and even on those occasions where the hug turned into something that could more be considered strangling younger brothers.

Scott wielded his hugs just like any other tool in his arsenal. Expertly and precisely. But it had long been declared that Virgil gave the best brother hugs and if he was honest, Scott was quite happy not to compete.

What exactly made Virgil hugs better than any other Tracy hugs had yet to be determined. The fact that Virgil was the biggest brother probably helped. Not the tallest. Scott and John were still discussing that title. No, his sheer mass enabled the biggest, warmest, softest, cosiest hugs of them all. Virgil was just buff and meaty.

Scott groaned. Meaty. That was a Gordonism, a subject that required a whole other essay to discuss. His fish brother had a way with words that sometimes curdled the stomach.

But hugs, yes, Virgil with his well worn ever so soft flannel and big meaty…Scott groaned again…arms gave the best hugs.

But, as stated previously, they came in many flavours.

The most common was the fond hug. An arm would snake around the victim brother and literally drag him into Virgil’s embrace. You could be standing alongside him, politely minding your own business and for some reason the engineer would just reach out and grab. Occasionally the arm wouldn’t make it all the way around and Virgil would clamp onto a body part and yank. Arms, chunks of uniform or clothing, a random ribcage. There was the time Virgil had actually pulled Gordon out of the pool by one leg. Possibly in revenge. But after Scott had suffered a cardiac arrest, Gordon had somehow ended up sprawled on top of Virgil on the grass. It had cumulated in laughter and a pile of noogie to Gordon’s hair, grins all round.

Yes, his brother had a hug zone around him and if you stepped into it at the wrong time, you were toast.

One of Scott’s favourites was the ones that defied gravity. Those big arms were strong and, on occasion, a little over enthusiastic. Ribcages creaked, hoarse voices begged to breathe, and feet left the ground.

Yes, even Scott had been tackle hugged and picked up off the ground and spun around. It had been after a particularly long deployment in the Airforce. He had been out of contact with his family for a long time. The day he finally got home, Virgil had barrelled into him in the farmhouse hallway, grabbing and lifting both him and his bags off the floor in an excited embrace that spun them around almost twice.

Scott had dropped his bags in surprise and squawked. His uniform bunched up against the ribbons on his chest and the world went around.

“Virg, my god!”

Dropped to his feet once more, he found himself wrapped in a brother who seemed much bigger than he had been when he left.

And he was clinging.

“Virgil?”

His brother cleared his throat, face buried in Scott’s jacket. “Missed you.”

Scott had returned the embrace wholeheartedly.

No words were possible after that as the two youngest realised their biggest brother was home and all hell broke loose as they and the rest of the family congregated.

But the genuine love in Virgil’s eyes as he stepped back to let the ratbags in on the party had stayed with Scott for a very long time.

Of course, there were other hugs that were much less joyous. Ones where everything was dark and hurting and Virgil would pick it up like he had radar or something. Could be linked to his legendary medic-sense. After all, mental health was exactly that. Just another form of health.

There was the time Alan vanished. Up and completely disappeared. This is a somewhat challenging thing to do on a rather singular rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Scott had been on the verge of calling John for a location, but a hand had landed on Scott’s tense shoulder and squeezed gently. They had been standing out on the balcony. Virgil gestured quietly and, looking up, Scott saw the tiny figure of his littlest brother curled up on the cliff just below the roundhouse.

There had followed a mad rush up the peak to make sure Alan was safe, find out what was wrong…because something was definitely wrong…and fix it.

Turned out some asshole online had been bullying Scott’s little brother, ruining the game contest he had been so excited about three days earlier.

Scott saw red and deployed John. The culprit had been found and eliminated.

Very eliminated.

John particularly hated online predators.

But after that conversation, Scott had turned around to find Alan curled up in Virgil’s arms sobbing.

Jammed up against the wall of the roundhouse, Virgil himself had wet eyes and was combing his fingers through Alan’s hair. As Scott sat down beside them on the floor, Virgil pulled Alan in a little tighter. The engineer buried his face in his little brother’s hair and closed his eyes.

In those moments it was like his brother was bleeding something of himself into the person he was hugging. His expression almost willing comfort into Alan.

Of course, Alan eventually dove in for a Scott hug as well, the thirteen-year-old dragging both of his brothers into a comforting pile that was able to push away the nasty experience and eventually bring back their confident little brother. But it was Virgil who performed the hugging first aid while Scott hunted down the person responsible – whether it be via John or other means.

It seemed to be their roles in the family.

And it wasn’t limited to family.

Out in the field it was more caring hands and reassuring touches and words, but it was Virgil’s way of comforting the injured. If he had time, he would talk with the rescuees. Warm and kind words asking gentle questions about their lives, distracting them from the bleeding, the screaming and the horror.

And ultimately holding those they couldn’t save, giving parts of himself to make those last minutes a little less terrifying.

It was after those rescues, those moments, when Scott would have to hunt Virgil down. Sometimes he would find him at the piano pounding emotion into the keys. Other times locked in his studio.

They had a running tally of how many times Virgil had had to replace the lock on that door. Scott rarely took ‘no’ for an answer when he knew a brother was in distress.

But the worst times often led Scott on a hunt across the Island to a remote beach, cliff or other lonely landform. Thunderbird Five’s scanners had been used several times. Times where Virgil was determined to be alone to suffer by himself.

Sure, Scott could respect that…if that was what Virgil needed.

It wasn’t.

Because the hug machine that was his brother needed hugs in return.

Sure, he had methods to refuel other ways, but honestly, these were the times Scott felt a direct transfer of energy was warranted.

Those were the days he would hunt his brother down, grab him and hold him until the trembling stopped. He would sit with Virgil staring out across the ocean either just being quietly beside him, or answering the raging questions of injustice.

Those were days he would drag him back to the couch and they would fall asleep together in front of a movie neither of them was watching. A hand or an arm continually in contact.

Those were the days where touch was needed to give back what was so freely offered at all other times.

Scott’s hugs may be tactical but they were no less full of love.

And love his brother, he did.

Ever so much.

-o-o-o-

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

😡🤬ANGER MANAGEMENT (PART 2)🤬😡

Prompt: Y/N has the life she’s always dreamed of: a good house, a nice car, a fat paycheck, her dream job and some loving friends. Her life feels like a fairytale...but just like every fairytale she’s not safe from the villain, the problem with that? He’s not only an incredibly hot Scotsman but also a fucking pain in the ass!

Word count: Long bitch, just long 😩

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut, dom x sub dynamic, public sex (work place environment), rough sex, oral sex(female and male receiving), masturbation(female and male receiving), dirty talk (because you can never have too much of that 😏), marking kink(biting/ female), branding kink (marking by ejaculation), breath play/ asphyxiation kink(choking/ female) and some good old trichophilia (hair kink/ pulling)

Notes: Forgive us father, for we are about to sin 🔥. I can’t thank you all enough for all of your positive feedbacks, they gave the strength I needed to commit this handsome Scottish sin.

I would like to thank from the bottom of my heart my fellow beloved beautiful souls: @new-zealand-chic, @nightlummer, @drew-is-boo, @tomandbuckyfan1, @akiko-tanaka, @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan and @beckyann6879 for not only taking some time off of your day to read it but to also leave nothing but kind words to this girl right here 💕😘 I know that technically only two of you asked to be tagged but I blame it on my excessive need to please people ok? Sorry 👉👈 Alright, and now I’m rambling...so y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

My mind was in a pure excitement haze, which made me think for second if I had heard him correctly.

“Drew...are you serious?” I asked hesitantly

He carefully approached me, placed his hands on the sides of my cheeks, making me look up to him

“Does it look like I’m joking to you Y/N?” He asked firmly

“It’s just..” I liked my lips “For a moment I thought that you were-“

“I’ve been wanting this every since I laid my eyes on you,lass” One of his hands leaned down, securing my wrist on his firm grip, pulling my hand towards his pelvic bone so I could grab a handful of his erection through the jeans.

“Do you feel this?”

I nodded

“This is the result of 5 painful years of foreplay princess” His hand cupped mine,making my grip become tighter “I’ve tried everything you can imagine to get rid of this fucking teenage boy boner I get every time I think of you... I’ve tried porn, endless sessions of jacking off and everywhere: hotel room; shower; locker room; arena bathroom; car even your office whenever you were not around! Fucking other women while I thought about you...you name it and I have tried, but nothing shakes off my cock’s need of you. Your pussy, your ass, your mouth, your hands...he wants all of you and JUST you”

I don’t know what lustful force took ahold of me but the only thing I could do while his words filled my ears was shove his jeans and underwear down so my hand could slide up and down his full length...skin to skin..

“Oh fuck yes” He growled as he moves his hips to meet my hand. Drew’s hands reach up my pants pulling it down. I hear a tearing sound as I look down to see that he had ripped my panties off leaving me as exposed to him as he is to me.

Soon after, one of his thick fingers slides through my folds lubing it up, before carefully entering me

“Oh lass, this is going to be heaven on earth... I’ve always imagined how tight you were, but fuck me, my finger can’t barely move! This is going to be fun” He makes a noise that was a mixture between a grunt and a laugh. “Let’s see how you can handle two fingers” He muttered to himself as he stops my action on his dick by taking me on his arms and sitting me on the massage table.

“I need all of this off” He says as he grabs my t-shirt and bra.

Once I’m at my full naked glory I lay down on the table and he stops to admire me

“You’re so perfect, do you know that?” As his hands caresses every inch of my exposed skin. “Your skin is so soft...so delicate” He leans down to place several feather light kisses all over my neck, breasts, belly and thighs making my arousal become more evident in between my legs.

“Drew” I whisper “As much as I love this, I really need you to fuck me senseless right now. We can do the softer things later tonight but right now I just need you in me” I panted

He confidently smirks before saying “So you haven’t even tasted my cock but you still want some more later huh?”

“Shut up you prick” I answer slightly annoyed at his teasing

“Oh c’mon now Y/N, if you want it so badly why don’t you ask for it nicely, love?”

“I don’t gotta ask you for shit McIntyre! Fuck you” I was feeling the anger starting to rise to the surface again

“Oh princess, I would keep that attitude down if I were you” He warned me

“Fuck off” I huffed

He lightly slaps my face, grab my cheeks and whispered

“We’ll have to work on that potty mouth of yours, princess... I guess I will have to keep your mouth full so you don’t have time to talk shit huh?”

He releases my cheeks “Kneel in all fours on the table” His voice has a ‘I wouldn’t test me if I were you’ tone to it, so I just did as he said.

Due to his incredible height, my face in this position, gets on the same level as his cock. He looks impressively intimidating when I look up to meet his gaze.

“Open your mouth” He says and I obey “Now, since you like to trash talk so much princess, let’s see if this clever pretty mouth can do some proper sucking as well”

I reached out to grab his length with one of my hands(to help me out since he’s so large) but he lightly slapped my hand before it could touch him.

“I said that I want your pretty lips around my cock. You don’t need your hand for that darling”

I decided to be up front about it and said “Drew, you’re too big, I can’t fit-“ A warning hair pull made me look up to meet Drew’s beautiful (now cold) blue gaze

“First of all, it’s Sir to you, don’t make me repeat myself again about that. And secondly, I thought you were the one who liked to talk back at me, so if those sweet lips of yours are good enough to disrespect me they’re also going to be good enough to make my cock feel good, even if you have to gag and drool all over it. Get it?”

The combination of Drew’s beauty, his enormous body and his dominating words made me speechless.

He pulled my hair harder to get my attention back to him and asked

“Do. You. Get. It. Y/N? Use your words”

“Yes...Sir”

He smiles approvingly of my response “So what are you waiting for princess?” He playfully smiled

His grip on my hair loosen, but he kept his hand on my head as a way to ensure me that he was in charge.

I debated with myself whether I should lick all of his length first or if I should just swallow him all in at once(at least til where I could reach it)..My decision was to leave the conventional and predictable first option behind, betting all of my cards in the latter one.

I sunk my mouth all the way down his cock making him gasp in surprise, feeling every inch of his length stretch my jaw. His animalistic growls made me feel confident so I decided to go up a notch and made him hit all the way back in my throat making my mouth produce extra saliva easing him down further more every time I bobbed my head. The deeper he got the sloppiest it would get, I had drool dripping from my chin to the massage table.

“Oh fuck me Y/N! You sure know how to give head baby” He said while staring down at me in awe “You’re so raw princess, is beautiful” He stokes my hair gently “Look at you, all messy around my cock, do you like that cock baby?”

A thick string of spit still connected my mouth to his cock as I release it to say “Yes, sir” I answered sheepishly as I return to my previous action of sucking him off.

That’s when I felt it..two of his thick calloused fingers in between my slick folds, finding my clit and massaging it.

I moaned around his cock, the vibration making his length throb inside of my mouth. I couldn’t handle anymore of the teasing.

“Sir, please” I gasp as I released him “Please I need...something inside” I look at him desperately “Please” I whisper

His fingers actions on my clit stopped and he looked down at me

“Did I told you to stop?”

I just shake my head ‘no’

“So why did you?” He raised his eyebrows

As soon as he finished the question I opened my mouth again for him to slide in it and he did it moaning , while he began to circle my clit again.

“Look at me” He said panting “You’re going to suck me til I cum and in the meantime we’ll see how hard can this pretty little pussy cum” He smirks “Then once I’m done claiming that smart ass mouth of yours I will clame this pussy as mine too” With that, his two digits entered me, stretching my walls, moving at a merciless pace. “Hmmmm, MY pussy feels so good, so wet around my fingers” He hummed in pleasure “This pussy is all mine isn’t it my little pet? It belongs only to me doesn’t it?”

I could only nod in response and could already tell he was close to cumming as he turned up the pace of his fingers and changed our position so he could reach my clit with the hand that was previously on my hair while the other one mercilessly fucked me.

The sudden chance of positions made his whole back curve on top of mine, making him go even roughly further down. As he brutally fucked me with his fingers, his hips start to bulk forward, fucking my mouth as well.

I could already feel my release was about to burst out at any minute now

“Go on lass, cum for me princess” His words along with all of his moves made me cum as hard as I’ve ever had! Soon after my mouth was filled with Drew’s thick seed that I happily swallowed.

“Let me see” He soothingly said as he places his now licked clean fingers underneath my chin, tilting my head up.

“Open your mouth, love”

He hummed in appreciation when he saw I had already swallowed all of his cum

“What a good well trained pet you are princess” He smiles fondly “You didn’t miss not even one drop. You’re so beautiful” He leans in to capture my lips in a famished kiss.

“I think is only fair now for you to give me the pleasure to really taste you princess. Would you like that love? Would you let me eat MY sweet pussy?” He asks as he stroked my cheek softly.

The simple thought of seeing that beautiful Scottish face in between my legs, made me turned on all over again.

“I would love that, sir”

I can see the satisfaction on his eyes as he says “Stand up on the table, love” as he smirks deviously

*What is he planning?* I thought as I stand up as he said

I didn’t even had to think too much about what that meant as for his thick arms slid in between my knees to lift me up, so I could straddle his face with my hips as I sit on his shoulders. The surprise action made my hands grip for dear life on his long black strands for balance. He gave me no time to adjust, he just simply began to perform the best pussy eating I’ve ever had in my whole life.

I was quite a big fan of oral sex(performing and receiving it), most guys they don’t really care about doing it properly, they just want to do it so you’ll give them head back. It would take a real man to eat a pussy properly and I was more than happy to say that Drew McIntyre was a fucking real man. He knew what he was doing and you could tell by his moans that he was enjoying it as well! Everything was perfect, the pace, the pressure, the tongue movements, the sucking and even the right amount of spit. I was sure by now that he had ruined me for any other man but him.

He grips my hips tightly to both help me keep balanced and keep my hips from moving away from his lips

“Oh my fucking...” I gasped as my eyes rolled to the back of my head

My grip on his hair tightened so I was full on pulling his hair HARD.

He grunts at my action, causing a sweet vibration against my clit making me moan a little too loud.

Drew moves his body away from the massage table going to the wall that was closer to his reach, supporting my back on it. The contact of the cold cement against my heated skin made me moan loudly once more, therefore he stopped his assault on me, to look up.

I don’t know if it was the vision of his dark beard glistening with my wetness, the smug smirk he had placed on his face or his incredibly lustful blue grayish eyes that were glued to my face..whatever it was made me squeal pitifully.

Drew cackled “I know I said that we should make this whole company hear us, but if you keep it that loud, I’m afraid we might get fired, love” He winked

“Sorry, I didn’t-“

“You don’t need to apologize princess, I love hearing your moans, it makes my dick rock hard. Just not here, even though I can’t say that the thought of somebody walking in on us doesn’t sound very tempting to me” He smiles as he kisses my thighs, trailing up, back to his previous place.

I made a mental note on keeping it down, but that went down the drain when that delicious Scotsman began his attack again. Noticing I was having a hard time keeping it shut, Drew roamed one hand up, covering my lips forcefully to muffle my noises. This thoughtful yet dominant act along with his incredible tongue ability to turn any woman into a pitiful moaning mess had me cumming once more, all over his face.

He licked me clean and lay me down on the table.

“Princess, are you still with me, love?”

I could feel my mind drift to a very familiar and quiet place

“Y/N, I’m talking to you baby” His voice is still soothing but a little more firm now

“Yes, sir” I murmured

“Open your eyes, darling”

My eyes opened to meet a blue grayish pair, starting at me with both amusement and affection

“You still gonna fuck me right?” I pleaded

He laughed saying “If you still want it of course, love”

“Can you fuck me from behind?” I whispered

“Is that how you want it princess?”

“Yes” I say sheepishly

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir”

“Okay. Then turn around baby”

I spread my legs further apart and knelt down on the table with my back turned to him and my core out at his disposal, placing all of my weight on my arms who were pressed down between my legs against the table.

“Look at you princess” He squeezes my ass cheeks “I’ve always loved your ass baby...so fucking thick” He slaps each cheek vigorously “I can’t wait to see it bounce on my cock” Another slap “You have no idea how many times I almost fought some idiot of this roster, because they couldn’t stop talking about this sweet ass if yours” He leans down and bites each cheek “But now it’s just mine, isn’t it love?”

“Yes, sir”

“Yes it is” He says in awe “And I’ll fuck this sexy as too, when the time is right” He slaps each cheek one last time

“Have you been with anyone lately Y/N?”

I look over my shoulder and hear a faint fuck leave his lips

“No sir, I haven’t” It was true

“Good. Me neither, the last time I had intercourse was three months ago and my tests are clean, I can show you if you want”

“There’s no need for that, sir. I trust you” Which I weirdly did, also if he had something he would be suspended by now.

He sincerely smiled before asking “Do you use contraceptives?”

“Depo injections, sir”

“That’s good love, because I want to fuck you raw, are you ok with that?” He asks as he strokes my hair.

Just the thought of feeling each and every vein of his cock had my pussy clenching.

“Yes, sir” I whined

“Would you let me cum inside of you?”

“Yes, sir. Please I-“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence since he pushed his length in slowly.

I was going to turn my head to face the wall, but he grabbed my hair, keeping my head in place and our gaze locked.

“Keep your eyes on me Y/N, I want to see your face as you take every inch of my cock, do you understand princess?”

“Y-yes, sir” I stuttered

“We’ll take this slow, I don’t want to hurt you. If at anytime you want to change the position you tell me ok?” He said and I just nodded

I already knew he was a generous size which now made me regret choosing this position for our first time. Damn you Y/N and your incapacity to think while horny!

Drew was moving at a very slow pace, being careful to give me some time to adjust every time he went further in.

It was a mixture between heaven and hell, and my mind started to overthink...fuck that’s not good!

“Don’t overthink princess” Drew said “I can feel you’re getting tighter because of that” He press his chest against my back and one of his hands roams around my waist so his fingers can play with my clit.

A muffled moan left my lips and I could feel my walls begin to loosen up from his stimulation on my bundle of nerves.

He kiss my lips passionately as he sinks the rest of his length in my core.

“Fuck you feel so good, sir”

He nibs my neck and shoulder

“I can already tell my cock will never, ever want other pussy but yours, princess” He whispered in my ear, giving me goosebumps all over my body.

“Sir, you can move if you want”

Drew started with a soft and sweet pace that grows into a very hard and rough one after 10 minutes. But I still need more...

“Sir, please, fuck me harder” I beg

“My sweet angel likes it rough huh?”

“I love it, sir”

He chuckled and turned his pace up, now mercilessly pounding me. A loud moan threatened to leave my lips so I covered my mouth with one of my hands in an attempt to muffle it but that wasn’t enough.

Soon after, I feel one of Drew’s big hands closing around my throat, pressuring the sides of my neck, making it hard for me to breath or speak but not enough to make me pass out.

The chocking made my walls clench around his cock, earning me a low growl from him.

The unstoppable pounding had my mouth hung open in an silent ‘O’ shape.

Drew let go of my neck and grabbed a fistful of my hair, tilting my head up to look into his eyes

“Tell me princess, has anyone ever fucked this pussy, this good?”

“No, sir” I panted

“Will you want any other man to fuck your pussy after today?”

“No, sir” I whine

He licks my ear lightly before whispering “That’s good baby, because now that you’ve got me addicted to this pussy, you’re stuck with me princess” He softly chuckled

This man has a devilish way with his words...“Sir, I’m gonna-“

“Cum baby, let me feel you milk my cock real nice princess”

My orgasm exploded making my vision blurry. Soon after I hear Drew cursing and feel his warm seed fill me up.

We are trying to regain the normal pace of our breaths when he says

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing Y/N but I also can��t do the friends with benefits arrangement”

“What do you mean then, Drew?” I faintly ask

“I mean that I want us to be together, you know, officially”

“Like...” I vaguely say

“Like a couple” He blushes lightly

“So, you want to do the whole boyfriend/ girlfriend thing?”

“If you want it, yeah. I would love to”

“Are you sure?” I ask, still insecure

“Y/N” he cupped my cheek and pecks my lips “I’ve been wanting this for 5 fucking years lass” He chuckled

I smile before saying “We should hurry up then, because we have a lot of time to compensate for, Gastón” I wink and he laughs while leaning in to kiss me again.

Who would’ve thought that my villain was in fact the perfect Scottish version of a Prince Charming...

Oh my Lord, I know this is long as fuck! Sorry I got carried away(can you blame me tho?!) Please let me know if it was worth the wait, if I fulfilled your expectations, that sort of stuff 😘

[tinyboxxtink]

“Return To Sender” *Part 5*

What what whaaaat? TWO chapters in one day?! Well, I had the day off and literally went nowhere, so I sat here and wrote. ALL day. Yup. So enjoy!

Also-- did anyone else catch the Pretty Woman rule? 😉

---

Tag List

@dumauier

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@wanniiieeee

@objection-argumentative

[Am I missing anyone?? Or does anyone wanna be added?]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6

Barba slammed you on the couch, wasting no time in getting to work. Your now ruined shirt was quickly coming off, the both of you grunting and moaning as he explored your body with his mouth.

Then his fingers found your thigh, and your mind went blank as they skated up, up, up. You shivered as he nipped your earlobe, your neck, his breath hot on your skin, you had to bite your lip to keep quiet.

One hand dipped to the small of your back, pulling your body flush against his as he nibbled on your ear. You surrendered a moan once his wandering hand found your underwear,  your fingers dug into his shoulders as he traced the dampened center seam. 

His lips trailed lower, lower, until your neck tilted back to the ceiling and gravity ceased to exist beyond his arms. Then you were flat on her back, his fingers tearing through the fabric of your panties, and you would have been angry if his hands weren’t slowly sliding them off and tossing them to the floor, all while tugging the cups of your bra down—Until he paused, his breath ghosting over your nipples. 

“Now say it,” he growled into your ear.

“Say what?” You moved your neck up a bit, to meet his eyes.

“Say I’m better at this,” He smirked.

“You haven’t even started, counselor,” you snorted. “Sex with my gay boyfriend was more exciting than this,” You did your best to keep a straight face as his breathy laugh against your nipples caused you to shiver.

“Gay boyfriend? Ay dios..THAT’S the only time you’ve had sex?” He laughed more, now playfully twisting your nipples.

“Carino...you might want to brace yourself,” He grinned devilishly, ripping off your bra and tossing it over the couch. He engulfed one of your breasts in his mouth as he shoved two fingers into your opening, making sure it was nice and wet for him. It was, of course. Hell it probably had been wet the moment he picked you up. 

“I love it when you’re wet for me,” He growled again, unbuckling his belt, releasing his erection. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” His green eyes looked into yours with a devious stare.

“God could you be any more cocky…” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, you mean cocky like THIS?” He thrusted into you roughly, causing you to gasp very audibly. 

“Do we need the pillows again, sweetheart?” He whispered, causing you to flash with rage and ecstasy at the same time. 

“No I think I can keep it down, honey,” You tried your best to be flippant but his dick against your walls was making it very difficult.

“We’ll see about that,” He began thrusting harder and harder, until you had to finally concede and grabbed a pillow, screaming into it wildly. 

“Ah, see? Good girl,” He panted against your ear, now moving his mouth down your neck. The pain of his teeth and the pressure of his hips was giving you sensations you never thought possible. 

"God you are so tight, it's like you're brand new Cariño," he purred into your ear, thrusting harder and massaging your breasts. 

"Ah... Barba…" You muttered.

"Rafa baby, I think you've earned the right to call me by my first name. Especially if you're screaming it," He chuckled.

"R-Rafa…" 

"Yes, Cariño?" You could hear the lust in his voice. 

"I'm….gonna…" you couldn't form words, there was no blood left in your brain. It was everywhere else. 

"You gonna come for me, detective?" He whispered, to which you nodded a huge YES. 

"Me too, you're so beautifully tight, we're going to come together, yeah?" 

You bit your lip and nodded another vigorous yes, as you let go. Your hips vibrated erratically against his, and you felt him twitching wildly. He pulled out quickly and unloaded on your stomach with a satisfied moan.

After a moment of enjoying the warm glow inside you, you were painfully aware of the cold liquid all over your stomach. You let out a disgusted groan. 

"Seriously?!" You hissed, but he was lost in his own orgasm. 

"You love it," he chuckled, not opening his eyes. That gave you an evil idea. 

"Really? Do you love this?" You swiped your fingers across your stomach and moved them towards him. He opened his eyes right before your fingers were on his face, he grabbed your hand and twisted it back towards your own face. 

"Ah ah ah, naughty girl. Now swallow," He commanded you, forcing your fingers into your mouth. You swallowed reluctantly, then got up and began to put your clothes back on. 

"And how was that, sweetie? Better than a gay boyfriend?" 

"Well at least he never ruined my clothes!" You griped, turning around as you held your broken shirt. 

"And how exactly do you expect me to walk out of here, papi?" you asked rather sassy, and hearing you speak spanish got him weirdly excited. 

"Mmmm…. that is a problem," he walked towards you, running his hands up and down your exposed stomach. He then seemed to have an idea-- he walked over to a closet next to his desk and opened it to reveal jackets, dress shirts, and ties. 

He pulled out a white dress shirt and motioned for you to turn around. You obeyed, and he put it on you. You turned back around and he helped you button it up, fixing the collar and rolling the sleeves up. 

"Mucho mejor," he gave you a half smile. When he spoke spanish it drove you wild-- but there's no way you'd let him know that. 

"You don't think me walking out of here in your shirt isn't gonna raise red flags?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Just walk out of here quickly, and don't ruin my shirt," he smiled again, pulling you closer--- and closer? 

His lips ALMOST touched yours, before he realized what he was doing and IMMEDIATELY pushed you back. 

"Ahem," he cleared his throat loudly. 

"That will be all, Ms. Y/N" 

Was he kidding with this bullshit?

"... Unbelievable." You said under your breath. 

"Yeah, alright counselor," you scoffed with a bitter laugh and walked out the door. 

What a dick!!!

------

“UGH! The NERVE of that…” You slammed your front door, causing Hunter to pop his head out of his room. 

“...Where’s your shirt?” 

“Oh, he gave me one to wear. AFTER HE RUINED MINE,” You huffed, sniffing the shirt unconsciously. It smelled like him, that made you miss him, and that pissed you off even more.

“He ruined it? Oh god did he…?” Hunter made a grossed out face.

“Oh no, he did that all over my stomach,” you rolled his eyes.

“So it wasn’t good then,” he leaned against the living room doorway.

“Oh...it was AMAZING,” You huffed, throwing down your things.

“Then why are you so pissed off?”

“BECAUSE IT WAS AMAZING!!!!” You were now pacing the apartment angrily.

“Did I miss something--”

“And And And AND THEN,” You laughed sarcastically. “And then he ALMOST kissed me on the mouth,” You scoffed. “AND THEN HAD THE AUDACITY TO GET MAD AT ME!!!” 

“Wait wait wait back up….” Hunter put up a hand.

“You two have had your mouths in each other’s business, but not in each other’s mouths?” 

“No, he has this stupid ‘no kissing on the mouth’ rule,” you rolled your eyes.

“Wha...Like Pretty Woman?” His question made you stop in your tracks.

“What do you mean, like Pretty Woman?” Your eyes narrowed.

“You’ve never seen Pretty Woman?”

“You’ve known me my ENTIRE life, Hunter! When have I ever had time to watch rom coms?”

“You have a point,” he chuckled. 

“Okay so Pretty Woman: Julia Roberts is a hooker who falls in love with Richard Gere after he hires her for a week,” he explained, and your blood began to boil. 

“And she has a rule: No kissing on the mouth, because it’s--”

“Too intimate,” you finished for him, and it was his turn to look shocked. 

“Did he actually say those words to you, boo?” 

“YES,” You threw your hands up and started pacing the apartment again.

“So I’m a hooker,” You growled. “I’m his fucking HOOKER?”

“I mean, technically he’s the hook--” he started.

“This isn’t funny!” you interrupted him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry babe but-- there is a bright side,” 

“HOW is there a bright side?” You gave him an angry confused look.

“Well, you said he almost kissed you on the mouth, right?” 

“Yeah and then he FREAKED out about it and acted like I was the problem!”

“Well of COURSE he did, idiot. He’s falling for you and he doesn’t like it!!” He flicked your head.

“Oh please,” you rolled your eyes.

“LOOK,” he took you by your shoulders. “In the movie, when Julia Roberts starts falling in love with Richard Gere, they finally kiss on the mouth!”

“...I’m sorry, I can’t get past the ‘I’m a hooker’ thing,” you scoffed.

“Look you need to talk to him about this,” 

“And how do you expect me to do that, Hunter? You think he’s gonna call me back to his office NOW?” You threw up your hands.

“...He will if he wants his shirt back,” He smirked, gesturing to the shirt you still had on.

“And what am I supposed to say-- ‘Hey so I figured out your crazy rule is from a movie, and I think you’re falling in love with me’?” 

“I mean, not in those exact words,” 

“I can’t…” You started off towards your room.

“Where are you going?!”

“Somewhere NOT to think about this!” You called back, slamming your bedroom door.

“Jesus...it’s not like I came all over her stomach,” He rolled his eyes and went back to his room. 

---

You ripped off the shirt and tossed it across your room, falling back onto your bed and putting your hands over your face. Your eyes were stinging again, and this time you felt why. Hot, big tears were dripping down your face for the first time since-- you really couldn’t remember when. You REALLY didn’t do emotions.

But that bastard got under your skin. 

He made you cry.

HE MADE YOU CRY.

And he was gonna pay for it.

[agapaic]

[19 days] sin city

this drabble is a gift to one of my dearest and biggest supporters, @geoviki​, who requested a bonus ‘second kiss’ continuation scene between he tian and guan shan in the ‘sweet tooth’ universe (a crazy rich asians-inspired fic), and i sincerely hope you enjoy it, viki! all my love, xxx

Guan Shan hasn’t set foot in God’s house since he was a kid. His mother goes every weekend when she doesn’t have a double shift, but he can’t bring himself to go with her. Too busy, too cynical. He knows he can’t struggle with his faith when he’s lost it; he doesn’t know if he ever found it. He knows without a doubt that he sins.

As it is, he isn’t burnt in the service, isn’t poisoned by the communion. He thinks that if anyone were to be dealt retribution then he wouldn’t be first in line. Singapore’s elite have bigger, dustier skeletons in their closets than Guan Shan, half-disintegrated with age.

He tells himself this through the readings and prayers and hymns he’s forgotten the words to, glances routinely through the stained-glass windows for a glimpse of an outside reality he can’t see. He can hear it: the rush of mid-morning traffic beyond the grassy verges of the church, neatly protected from the central business district by iron fencing and a half-acre of flower beds and rain trees.

Beneath the lip of the pew, where copies of the testaments, old and new, have been neatly placed and the firm, embroidered hassocks hang off metal hooks, He Tian squeezes Guan Shan’s hand.

‘Nearly done,’ he murmurs, while Father Joshua delivers his sermon on godliness in children and parental obedience.

Guan Shan's gaze slides to his. It’s one of the only things He Tian’s said the whole service.

‘You believe all this?’ he asks, whispering.

‘They do,’ He Tian replies, his lips barely moving.

Fans move lazily above them from the high steepled ceiling, their chains rattling over the din of the priest’s solemn tone. They don’t offer much: the inside of the church is still sticky with heat, and members of the congregation attempt to cool themselves with the service pamphlets or paperback copies of the Bible with broken spines and annotations in the margins.

From the seat in front of them, Guan Shan watches a bead of sweat slide down a woman’s neck, dampness collecting at the high laced collar of her Chanel dress. She has her own bamboo fan, painted with pretty avian sketches.

Guan Shan pulls his gaze away. ‘Which godly child are you?’ he asks He Tian quietly. ‘Absolom or Samuel?’

He Tian tries to hide a grin. ‘Destroyer of kingdoms or a monk?’ he questions, angling his head as if looking behind him. His breath is cool at Guan Shan’s ear. Guan Shan lets him lean close, breathing in sandalwood and khus oil. ‘Are those my only choices?’

Guan Shan sets his eyes forward. ‘Nothin’ else seems to be acceptable.’

‘Yes—they’re a stern lot.’

‘They should put their money where their mouth is.’

He Tian snorts quietly. He releases Guan Shan’s hand, and Guan Shan says nothing when his hand moves instead to rest innocently atop Guan Shan’s thigh.

‘He Tian…’ he starts to warn.

He Tian keeps his expression plain. ‘I told you if you came I’d make it worth your while.’

‘That’s not—’ Guan Shan bats his hand away. The gesture elicits a harsh smacking sound, and a few heads turn. Guan Shan presses his lips into a hard line. When eventually their attention shifts away again, Guan Shan hisses, ‘I’m not doin’ that.’

‘I thought you didn’t care much for His wrath,’ He Tian says, pointing discreetly upwards.

‘That’s got nothin’ to do with…’ Guan Shan breaks off. He Tian’s eyes are glittering. He’s joking with him. Guan Shan clenches his jaw. Murmuring, he says: ‘You shouldn’t mess with people like that.’

‘But you make it so much fun,’ He Tian whispers.

Guan Shan glares at him. He endures the rest of the sermon in stoic silence. Absolom, he thinks. He Tian, the destroyer of kingdoms—and young men’s hearts.

///

They linger outside after the sermon. The air is thick and charged with the aftermath of a morning thunderstorm, the ground wet with rain and the smell of petrichor. Guan Shan breathes in deeply, stepping back while He Tian greets strangers and allows middle-aged women to offer both cheeks for him to kiss, their husbands noticeably absent. They run their eyes over Guan Shan and the suit he’s going to make He Tian return by the end of the day, and He Tian politely evades their desire for introductions.

He knows everyone, Guan Shan realises, but it doesn’t surprise him. He’s seen the He family work a crowd at a party or a charity function. The lingering congregation of a Sunday mass is only another opportunity to schmooze and gossip.

‘Just another five minutes,’ He Tian murmurs at Guan Shan’s ear. ‘My father will have my hide if I don’t show my face for a decent length of time.’

‘How long’s that? By his standards?’

‘He’d have me go to brunch with someone’s mother and their daughter if he had his way.’

Guan Shan fingernails bite into his palms. The thought of He Tian being palmed off to some socialite’s offspring makes him bitter with jealousy. He’s seen He Tian only a few times since the charity function at the She estate, communicated with him mostly in veiled text messages and late night calls.

It’s been weeks since they’d shared the feeling of each other’s lips in a quiet room at the She mansion, weeks since they’d shared kueh with their legs dangling over the edge of a jetty across from Sentosa island. Most nights, Guan Shan still tastes both on his lips.

He’s got little stake to claim over the young heir of the He fortune, but he can’t help himself. He goes where He Tian asks him to, wears the suits He Tian buys him. Fuck, he’s started smoking his brand of cigarettes, too. And if He Tian wants to take him to church one Sunday morning so he has better company than a band of middle-aged women wanting him for themselves more than their daughters… Who is Guan Shan to say no after the first three times?

‘What are you thinking?’

Guan Shan blinks. Another church-goer has come and gone, and they’re alone. He Tian is watching him closely.

‘I want a cigarette,’ Guan Shan says. Technically, it’s not a lie.

He Tian snorts. ‘In the courtyard of our Lady of the Veil? Blasphemy, Mo Guan Shan.’

Guan Shan shrugs. He remembers their exchange at the threshold of the church, where two children no more than ten stood with a coin bowl held out, covered in pool-table green cloth and more cash than Guan Shan earns from a month’s tips.

‘I’m not a Catholic,’ he’d told He Tian, feeling strangely compelled to tell him with an even stranger degree of anxiety about the fact, as if it were a make-or-break moment for something they had that could neither be made nor broken.

He Tian had snorted then, too. ‘Don’t worry,’ he’d said, stepping through the doors, palming the children a few bills to line their pockets. ‘Neither am I.’

Now, Guan Shan watches as He Tian reaches into the lining of his suit jacket and pulls out a carton of cigarettes from the pocket. It’s too warm to stand outside in their Sunday best for long, and He Tian tugs Guan Shan over beneath the shade of an Indian-almond tree, its boughs offering some cool relief to a small section of the church courtyard.

Guan Shan watches He Tian light a cigarette between his lips, the flame close to his fingers. It catches; there’s a cherry red glow. Smoke blooms between them, and then He Tian plucks the cigarette from his lips and holds it out as if it’s a newly picked flower.

‘Here,’ he says. A moment passes, where Guan Shan doesn’t take it. ‘I thought you wanted it.’

‘I do, I just—’ Guan Shan can feel his cheeks starting to redden. He swallows. His throat has gone dry. He can hear the voices of men and women standing before the church. He knows some of them are watching, wondering, eager to know who his family is and where he’s come from and how he has captured He Tian’s attention with such painful, singular attentiveness.

‘You’re not—’ He Tian breaks off with a laugh. ‘You’re not worried that I’ve touched it, are you?’

Guan Shan looks away, and He Tian’s eyes widen.

‘Oh,’ he says. His smile grows wider. ‘Mo Guan Shan,’ he croons. ‘I didn’t know you were such a puritan. How proud He’d be.’

‘Shut up,’ Guan Shan mutters.

He Tian’s stance shifts, intrigued. ‘If I’d known it took an indirect kiss to make you blush, Man Upstairs be damned, I’d have put my mouth elsewhere a long time ago.’

‘Shut up.’

He Tian’s laughter is deep as he takes a drag of his cigarette. Some of the women are frowning at him. The hot breeze carries the smoke in their direction, and they waft it away with their fans and paper service pamphlets, rouged mouths pursing tightly. He smiles at them, all affable apologies, and they can’t begrudge him long.

‘They want you to fuck them,’ Guan Shan mutters.

He Tian’s eyes flick to his, and his smile grows indulgent. ‘I know,’ he says.

‘You’re not gonna do anythin’ about it?’

‘Like what?’

Guan Shan grits his teeth. ‘Like—tell them to fuck off?’

He Tian snorts. ‘They’re old friends of the family. And you forget they haven’t made me an offer, sweetheart.’

‘And if they did?’

He Tian considers him carefully. His playfulness begins to fade. ‘You’re jealous,’ he says. ‘Of them?’

‘They’d divorce their investment husbands if they knew they had a chance with you.’

He Tian taps cigarette ash to the ground. He looks away, squinting at the skyline, considering something, before taking a step forward.

‘Firstly,’ says He Tian, his voice low, ‘if they had a chance with me they’d know it. Secondly, there’d be no divorce or marriage to a man twenty years their junior because their reputations wouldn’t survive the scandal. And thirdly: what the fuck would I want with them when I have the prospect of a whole indirect kiss with you?’

Guan Shan glares at him. ‘Gimme that,’ he says, snatching the cigarette from He Tian’s fingers before putting it to his lips. He nearly chokes on the inhale, eyes watering, and smoke seeps from the corners of his mouth before he can control it the way he wants it to. There’s nothing attractive about it, but he catches He Tian watching him with an indulgent smile.

‘It’s been five minutes,’ He Tian says, taking a glance at his watch. ‘We can go now. I promised to buy you brunch. You’re still happy with Orchard Road?’

‘I’m not finished,’ Guan Shan says.

He Tian’s brows lift. ‘You can’t smoke and walk?’

‘I didn’t mean that.’

He Tian tilts his head. ‘Oh?’

‘I meant—it’s not really fair, is it? It’s always—always you kissin’ me, and shit.’

‘Always?’

‘Yeah, with the—distractin’ the guards at She Li’s house and with—’ He makes a vague gesture. ‘—the cigarette and—’

‘Guan Shan—’

‘—it’s only fair that I get to prove my own fuckin’ point too—’

‘Mo Guan Shan—’

‘So will you just shut up and let me kiss you?’

He Tian stares at him.

Then he swallows.

‘If you really want to,’ he starts, ‘I suppose I’m in no position to—mmphh!’

It isn’t tender or soft, and Guan Shan is vaguely aware of the cigarette burning to ash between his fingers. He lets it fall, hopes he’s ground it out beneath his foot properly and remembers to pick it up after or risk a fine, but first: this. His fingers tightly locked in the dark strands of He Tian’s hair; He Tian’s lips bruising against his own, the sharp gasps of the women loitering by the church doors.

It’s exactly as he remembers from last time. A crushing pressure, the sense of being caught unawares. No finesse. Guan Shan knows it could be slower, that they could take their time, a pilgrimage of vulnerability and one body learning another, but something possessive in him has taken over—this is a crusade.

He Tian’s answering kiss twists into a grin against Guan Shan’s mouth. Guan Shan swallows He Tian’s amusement down, finds the feel of He Tian’s smile against his lips unfairly alluring. He does his best to try and rid He Tian of it, crowding close until He Tian’s back hits the trunk of the almond tree and He Tian is groaning beneath the pressure of his lips. He tastes the acrid smoke of their shared cigarette and He Tian’s breath mints, feels the humid beat of the mid-morning sun—and He Tian’s hand pressing gently at his chest.

He pulls away, staggering and breathing hard. With satisfaction, he notes that He Tian is, too.

‘I think we’re even now,’ says He Tian, a slight rasp to his voice. His eyes are bright and he runs his thumbnail over his lower lip, which has gone swollen and red. ‘You’ve suitably convinced your audience.’

Guan Shan looks away. ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’

‘Oh?’ He Tian asks, amused. ‘That wasn’t you staking your claim?’

Guan Shan hesitates. Part of him can’t bear to look behind him. ‘Are you gonna be excommunicated?’

He Tian chuckles. ‘I’m sure I can find my way back in. Father Joshua is particularly fond of He Cheng’s hideously curvaceous Bugatti.’

‘Guess that’s somethin’,’ Guan Shan mutters.

In answer, He Tian sweeps a hand through the loose strands of Guan Shan’s red hair that have slipped down across his forehead. The touch is fond and familiar and makes Guan Shan swallow hard.

‘You know,’ says He Tian. ‘You can do that any time you want. Not just to prove a point.’

‘You haven’t,’ says Guan Shan, an accusation.

‘I didn’t want to scare you off. I realise last time I was a bit—’

‘Forceful?’

‘Abrupt,’ He Tian corrects delicately. ‘But still—I don’t want you to think you’re any less mine.’

Guan Shan looks at him. ‘Thought you couldn’t have anythin’ you wanted.’

‘Ah…’ He Tian drops his hand, leans back on the heels of his Louis Vitto’s. Almost boyishly, he says, ‘I thought it was a done deal. You and me.’

Guan Shan neither confirms or denies. Instead he asks, ‘Who’d you trade with to get that impression?’

He Tian nods his head upwards. ‘Did it work? I sold my soul for it. ’

‘And they still let you in?’

He Tian’s look is sinful. ‘They let the worst of us through.’

Guan Shan rolls his eyes. He wets his lips. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘I think you’re on a decent road to redemption.’

‘Is that your way of saying it was a worthwhile bargain?’ Tell me it worked.

‘Is that your way of askin’ if I’m yours?’ Guan Shan asks. All these riddles and metaphors—sometimes he has to bring them back to the ground, make sure they’re on the same page.

‘I—Yes.’

Guan Shan nods, then jerks his chin in a challenge. ‘Make me believe it and I might be.’

He Tian’s eyes flicker towards the church just for a moment, but then he smirks, reaffirming their closeness with one step. ‘Mo Guan Shan,’ he murmurs, angling his head down, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

[crybabyjam]

ship: todochako 

rating: g

length: 3k

summary: Todoroki picks up hitch-hiker!Uraraka.

c/w parental death (past), joking about murder

deleted from twitter, written for a former friend

---

The sun beats down heavy as Ochako tightens the straps of her backpack. In it was three changes of clothes, some stale bread, her dead phone.

It was only mid-morning but already she was sweating her absolute ass off.

She runs her fingers through her choppy hair, uneven on one edge because she hadn't had a mirror when she'd taken a rusty pair of scissors to them. Now she wishes she'd just shaved it all off, if only to save herself from a sweaty, overheated neck now.

Her parents had loved it when she'd had long hair.

Ochako remembers how her mom would wash the long strands for her every weekend, even when Ochako huffed and puffed and said she could do it herself.

Her mom always took the time to wash it gently, and condition with something sweet smelling— "Because a sweet girl like you deserves sweet hair, too."

And how her dad would braid it every time she visited, even when Ochako would have to undo it the next day. He would take his strong, worker's hands and lift each length of hair carefully so that he didn't tug on her tender scalp.

Now that they were gone, Ochako didn't see the point in keeping her hair long. It just slowed her down. It just made her /sad/.

She sighs, and steps out of the way when a car plows through a puddle right beside her.

Her legs get soaked, but it isn't anything worse than the day prior, when a truck had soaked her from head to toe.

Ochako just sighs and brushes the muddy water droplets from her already dirty legs.

It's a good thing she was out of socks, or else she'd have to start worrying about her shoes molding at this point.

She's just begun kicking her shoe off, to finish the rest of the trek up to the next city barefoot, when a car pulls up to a stop beside her.

"Are you alright?" A low voice asks, to her left. Ochako startles and twists on her heel.

She almost ignores it, because cars like that didn't stop for hitch-hikers like her.

But the car follows her a few more feet as she slows to a stop.

When she looks over her shoulder, confused, the man in the car tilts his head at her and nods.

"Are you alright?" He repeats. "I saw you get wet."

"Ah!" Ochako yells, and then lowers her voice. Geez, where are your manners, Uraraka? "I'm fine! Sorry."

The man blinks, and Ochako belatedly notices that he has the most stunning, grey eyes. Like darkened silver.

"Why should you be sorry?" He asks with a frown.

And then, he shakes his head.

"Do you need a ride? It's dangerous to get in a stranger's car, but you shouldn't walk around barefoot. Glass would hurt." He pauses, and then adds. "Probably less than murder, but I promise not to murder you."

Ochako is speechless.

But not speechless enough not to /laugh/ at the absurdity of the stranger.

She feels it bubble up in her chest like boiling water, and it floats out of her ugly, like when a pot spills the water and burns on the stove burner.

The man just watches, silent, as she wipes tears from her eye and keeps on laughing. He just leans against the steering wheel and waits patiently, face completely deadpan.

He's /serious/, and that just makes it funnier.

She gasps for breath as she leans against his car, one shoe falling to the pavement and skipping beneath the undercarriage, shit.

Ochako's laugh starts up again as she drops to her knees to retrieve it.

When she comes back up, knees blackened by sidewalk dust, and hands darkened by asphalt, the man is smiling. Just barely.

"I guess murder /would/ hurt more than stepping on glass." She agrees. "Depending on the type of murder."

He murmurs the words underneath his breath, eyebrows furrowing.

"You're right," he says, troubled.

She leans into the rolled down window, arms crossing to hide the ripped hem of t-shirt.

"You sure you /promise/ not to murder me? I kind of need my life."

Well. All things considering, it was pretty much all she had left. She couldn't exactly afford the house after her parents died. They hadn't been able to finish the down payments, and none of them (including Ochako) had enough savings to keep her afloat.

So, hitch-hiking. Walking to nowhere and hoping for more.

A few miles in an air-conditioned car was more than what she had, so she'll take it.

The man turns serious, though. The smile wipes off of his face— not replaced with a frown, but replaced with another deadpan look. He nods his head, making eye-contact the entire time, and says,

"I promise not to murder you."

Well.

He promised, at least. Ochako still had a little bit of mace in her pocket, if she needed it.

So she gets in the car.

---

His name is Todoroki Shouto and he has an open duffle bag of yen, two pillows with embroidered pillowcases, a shattered phone, and a half-full photo album in his backseat.

Ochako stares at the photo album instead of the other three things, because she definitely does not want to get murdered, thank you very much.

He was a cute baby. Two-toned hair from birth, and big eyes that only had one expression: wide. Ochako traces her ragged thumb nail across one of the pictures, where he's covered in cake frosting at his second birthday, and accidentally creases the polaroid image.

She hurriedly flips the page.

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine," Ochako mumbles, ignoring her tummy which immediately begins to grumble in argument. She flips another page to muffle the noise, and comes across more empty pockets than full ones.

From the way there's the edge of one polaroid still caught in one of the slots, Ochako assumes that they used to be just as full as the rest.

She flips to the back, and a roll of film flops into her lap.

"Do you even still have a camera for this?" Ochako asks, holding the strange, almost novel-looking thing up to the waxing light of the returning sun. Then she brings it back down to the shadows in case that might ruin the film inside, oops.

"At home," Todoroki says, low. Her shoes are in his lap, because he wanted her to have more room to look at the photo album. Ochako had tried to just place them on the floor of the car, but he looked so earnest in his offer that she hadn't been able to say no without feeling bad.

Besides, she had a feeling he was pretty harmless. Weird, but who wasn't?

"Oh, are you moving or something?" Ochako asks, and then immediately grimaces at the invasion of privacy. "I mean… 'cause of the stuff in your backseat."

"Moving…" Todoroki repeats, focusing on the road. They're driving slow enough that almost everyone passes by them, but Ochako got pretty motion-sick so she appreciated it.

Todoroki leans back in his seat, both hands at the very apex of the steering wheel. It's outlined in a leather cover and is so shiny that it almost looks metallic. Expensive as fuck, probably.

Everything about him looked pretty expensive, actually. The car was brand new, from this year. Still had the new smell and everything.

Ochako was actually pretty glad he insisted on the shoe-thing, if only to prevent mud stains.

Although his pants /did/ look pretty designer. Ah, fuck.

"Yes," Todoroki says, after the long moments of silence. "I'm moving."

"Oh! That's… fun. That's fun!" Ochako nods.

Todoroki turns them off of the road, and pulls into a parking spot. Ochako blinks past the raindrops on her side of the window, and squints out at the illuminated signs.

A restaurant. Ah, /fuck/. Ochako pats her shorts for her wallet, as if she could even /pretend/ it had money in it. All it had was her ID (almost expired) and a coupon for leg waxing.

"Do you want to come in with me?" Todoroki asks, turning to her completely. The seatbelt gets caught, and it does that thingy it does where it locks and gets tighter until you take it all the way off. He doesn't seem to mind.

Ochako smiles, though even she can feel how strained it is. "Ah, I'm fine. I should probably go actually, but thank you for the ride. The rain should stop soon, so…"

"Oh."

Todoroki frowns, glancing at the arm rest between them. He's engaged the parking brake even though they aren't on an incline, and Ochako's smile relaxes to something more real.

"It was really nice to meet you," she says. "I'd give you my phone number but I kinda didn't pay the bill." (Since, uh, last year, but he didn't need to know that.)

"It was nice to meet you too," Todoroki says. "I can buy you food."

"Oh," Ochako parrots, dumbly. Her eyes dart to the yen-bag and she hurries to shake her head. "I couldn't—"

"I don't mind. It's my dad's money— and he hates me. And I hate him, so." Todoroki finally takes off his too-tight seatbelt and it rattles noisily as it smacks against the car door.

"I…"

Ochako isn't sure how to approach /that/ particular landmine. Nor is she sure how she's supposed to resist free food. When had she last eaten. Two days ago, or something? She'd kinda been ignoring it, but the walking helped.

Now that she's technically resting, she can feel her tummy about to throw a conniption.

Todoroki blinks his wide eyes at her as he waits, not making a move. His blinks are slow, like a cat, and his eyes flicker back and forth between her own.

She sighs heavily, but a grin is already parting her lips. "You're a strange one, Todoroki."

"Am I?"

"I don't have any money, so you have to pay for all of it," she warns.

"I will."

"And I eat a lot! I haven't eaten in a while."

"Okay."

"And… and I want my shoes back."

Todoroki hands her the shoes. There's mud residue on his pants and the bottom of his shirt.

But he has a small smile on his face as he watches her struggle to put her shoes on in the closed space, so maybe it was alright.

---

Shouto watches as Uraraka stuffs two donut holes in her mouth, licking away the powdered sugar that paints across her lips. It looks like snow when it dusts down to her shorts, and smears chalky residue on her thighs.

He hands her a napkin, and she blushes pretty like a sunset paints ocean water pink when it sets at night.

"Sorry for the mess," she says quietly.

"It's okay. Is it good?"

"It's good!" She wiggles in her seat, and it reminds Shouto of a really happy hamster. "Do you want some?"

She's very beautiful. Her hair is cut in a way he's never really seen before, but it frames her face nicely. He likes it more than his almost-bowl cut. Some of her hair tickles across her shoulder, but she ignores it as she holds a donut hole out to him with a toothpick.

She keeps holding it as he bites down on the warm, cooked dough. He'd never really been fed by someone before. Well, as a baby— sure. But he had a feeling this was different. Was it different?

Shouto chews thoughtfully, and Uraraka smiles at him. She doesn't seem to mind feeding him. She stabs another one with the same toothpick and holds it out for him again, one hand underneath to catch the crumbs.

"Yummy, right? Thanks for buying them! I'll…" She flinches, interrupting herself. Her smile dims a little, like she'd lost power. "I'd offer to pay you back but, uh… ahaha, you know?"

Shouto /doesn't/ know, but he nods anyway. "I can buy you more," he says, soft. "You can take them with you. When you leave."

She uses the toothpick to prod and poke at the remaining few donut holes. They roll in the leftover powdered sugar at the bottom of the box.

"I'll be alright. But thank you." Her eyes get watery at the bottom lashes, and Shouto frowns. "You've been really kind."

When she laughs next, it's thick like she's close to sobbing. Her voice is shaky. Shouto doesn't like it- liked it much better when she was laughing /happily/ instead.

"Thanks for not murdering me," she adds. "This is probably the most fun I've had in a while."

"You can stay. I can drive you anywhere you want."

"Oh!" Uraraka jumps in her seat, as if he'd yelled it. He hadn't really spoken any louder than before, but he clears his throat and speaks even softer anyway.

"We just met, but I can take you anywhere you need to go. And I have enough money for the both of us. I really enjoy your company."

They're pulled off at an empty lot near a supermarket. Somewhere off in the distance is a park. The children there are loud, voices echoing in the evening ambiance.

Uraraka looks out towards the noise, but he can see her swallow heavily.

"That's kind of dangerous, isn't it? We just met."

She says it like how she says other things that are meant to be teasing. He nods anyway.

"It is. You can drive, if that makes you feel better. Or you can sit in the backseat. I would have bought a bigger car if I knew I would meet you today."

She laughs again, starting with a snort and ending with a giggle. It makes his heart beat faster in his chest, and he isn't sure if he's nervous or happy to hear it.

"What if /I'm/ the murderer?" Uraraka stabs one of the donut holes and brings it up to her mouth. She smiles at him when he frowns, and then smiles wider when he shrugs.

"If it happens, it happens."

"/Todoroki/." She slaps her palm against her forehead and sinks down in her seat. "That's the most dangerous mindset I've ever heard."

"I'm sorry?" He glances down at her the further she sinks, but she doesn't seem particularly angry. It looks like she's fighting, but on the inside. "It's not that dangerous."

"It's pretty dangerous."

She brushes her legs clean. Sits up straight and looks out the window again. Her breath fans out across the glass, fogging it.

He rolls the window down for her, and she does that snorting laugh again.

"You're a funny guy, Todoroki."

"Am I?"

"You are." Uraraka shifts in her seat, to pull her legs cross-crossed. There's one donut hole left in the box, and she rolls it around a few more times before she pokes it with that same toothpick and shoves it in her mouth.

As she chews, she glares at him. Almost like she can't see him and needs glasses. He leans in closer so that she can find what she's looking for.

"You're funny in both ways. Weird… but you make me laugh."

She closes up the box, fitting the toothpick between her teeth so that she can absently chew on it.

"So you're… 'moving'," she says, finally. "- and I don't have a home anymore. Where would we even go?"

Shouto glances past the parking lot, at the semi-distant street that is starting to pile with traffic after a brief lull. But his eyes inevitably drag back over to her.

Uraraka stares back, cheeks pink. A small smile grows on her face. She runs her fingernail across the edge of the empty donut box. He'd have to figure out a place to recycle it if he could.

There are so many places they could go. Somewhere warm, towards a beach. Or somewhere quiet, with wide hills and short buildings. To a festival. To a shoe store.

"Everywhere?"

"/Everywhere/?" Uraraka shakes her head, exasperated. "What about when we run out of money?"

Shouto shrugs. Uraraka laughs again. Her hand drifts to the middle console, palm up, and Shouto watches it for a while.

Then she leans over to grab his hand. Her fingers are warm, rough at the tips but soft everywhere else. She would look pretty in nail polish. /Prettier/, rather- if it were possible.

He maybe had a crush on her. Was this what love felt like? Soft hands and warm smiles? He liked it.

"I-"

She interrupts by leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. It's soft, like a feather landing on snow. "Take me everywhere, then. And then I'll give you my answer."

Shouto, dazed, touches his fingers to his cheek. He forgets to stop holding her hand, so hers come along with it. She doesn't seem to mind. "Your answer?"

"On whether or not I'll stay," she says, cheeky. "So you'd better make it a fun ride."

Shouto squeezes his other hand down on the steering wheel, if only to keep his heartbeat in his veins so that the organ doesn't leap out of his chest and act a fool. He accidentally steps on the gas, and the car revs in protest.

Uraraka laughs again. She tightens her hold on his hand and pulls it back down between them. He squeezes it back.

And when they get back on the road again, fifteen minutes later, Uraraka has gone from laughing to singing loud to the radio and dancing in her seat. She's pure joy.

---

It stops raining, and the world feels brighter.