#//With the most shit-eating grin as they realize what exactly it was she smeared all over them

[oceanxveiined]

On one hand, I love her being a human-allogene in her Genshin verse, bc it is essential for her story as a whole, esp with the sorts of folks she is surrounded by/dealing with

On the other, I miss verses like her original/bnha ones where she has blue blood

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 10

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: The prank war has an unfortunate outcome and Rocket has a run-in with a raccoon.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author's note: Thank you to @maribatshipper for the suggestion for the raccoon scene and a prank idea! And thank you to all the others who have suggested scenes they'd like to see in this series! (I'm still working them in!) Everyone feel free to send me anything else you'd like to see happen in this story, it might take me a bit to work certain things in, but I'll try to add as many as I can!

Word Count: 6,114

You slept-in the next day, as did Yondu, though he slept in a bit later due to having waited up for several nights before finally being able to catch you sneaking out.

When he did finally wake up the first thing he saw was you oiling the hinges to your bedroom door.

The two of you locked eyes on his way to the bathroom, no words exchanged. Just you very deliberately not stopping in your actions with an almost defiant look and him shaking his head with a half-laughed huff because you both knew why you were doing it.

***

Peter and Kraglin wasted no time continuing the prank war. Kraglin attempted to whoopee cushion you at breakfast, but you had seen it and decided to eat your apple standing against the counter.

He then later got you with the same ice trick you had pulled on Peter the previous night. Well, almost the same trick. Jackass actually stood there and kept the ice pressed to the back of your neck for a bit while you seized up and tried to escape the cold sensations before eventually letting it fall down the back of your shirt. He laughed the whole time, Peter too. You hadn't seen him open the freezer so he and Peter must have planned it out before you got into the kitchen, arranging for Kraglin to do it instead, knowing you'd likely suspect Peter.

Your thoughts were that you needed to plot some revenge as you made your way out of the kitchen, but they were interrupted as you walked into the sitting room and Rocket confronted you.

"Hope ya don't think you can bribe me with a new bed to get me to like you."

You crossed your arms and feigned a mildly confused look, saying flatly, "I don't know what you're on about."

Peter and Kraglin make their way past you to sit on the couch, throwing a glance to you and the raccoon as if to gauge the situation. Everyone knew that you and Rocket weren't exactly on friendly terms, and to see you facing each other down inspired a degree of concern.

Rocket scoffed. "There was a new bed in my room last night, where else would it have come from?"

You shrug. "Haven't a clue."

Kraglin now threw a glance at you. He knew you said you weren't going to say anything about it, but he hadn't expected for you to actually outright deny you had done it when asked.

"Oh, so it just magically appeared then?" Rocket said sarcastically.

"Looks like it."

"What's going on?" Gamora asked as she entered the room, eyeing the two of you to see if she needed to help diffuse anything.

Rocket ignored her. "Beds just don't appear out of thin air!"

"Apparently they do," you replied.

Gamora tilted her head back in understanding, and then made her way over to the table where Yondu was sitting and playing with Groot. This didn't appear serious, so she wasn't going to get involved.

When she sat Yondu whispered over to her, "What're they carryin' on about?"

She didn't get a chance to answer because Rocket then yelled, "DON'T CALL ME A RACCOON!"

What had happened was Rocket said, "They do not!" in response to your claim that beds could just magically appear. It couldn't have been one of the others, it's not like they could leave to go buy one, so it had to be you, and it pissed him off that he was so sure and more frustrated that you wouldn't just admit it. He felt like you were making fun of him, calling him stupid for insinuating he would believe in something as dumb as a magically appearing bed.

To be honest, you weren't even fully sure why you were denying it yourself. You had just wanted to set it up and be done, and you were annoyed by him insisting that you admit you had done something nice for him, especially if he was now going to accuse it of being bribery.

You replied, "Why would I have done it? I don't even like you."

Rocket was only growing angrier, crying out, "I know it was you! None of the others could have done it, and I would have seen if one of those SHIELD people showed up with it!"

You shrugged then responded with, "I don't know what to tell you, I'm not in the business of making beds for raccoons."

You knew you were being a little mean. You had called him a raccoon once already, shortly after he arrived, and received a very curt scolding from him for it. You had also seen how it pissed him off when Peter called him that, always angrily insisting that he wasn't a raccoon. So, you had expected him to be a little miffed.

You hadn't expected him to snap and actually lunge for you.

You dodged just in time, luckily, and he landed on the floor, growling at you.

Peter yelled at him to knock it off and Rocket retorted back that you deserved it.

You just stared him down and said, "I'll punt you across the room next time, you little shit!" Why had you taken the time to make him a bed again?

"Alright, break it up!" said Kraglin firmly, standing up to show he meant business, used to having to break up Ravager fights and easily falling back into the old role of neutral mediator.

"Gladly," you say bitterly, turning to leave the room.

Rocket grumbled something unintelligible and walked in the opposite direction, hopping up into the rocking chair to sulk.

***

You went back and forth with Peter and Kraglin with the pranks most of the rest of the day, and it actually helped improve your mood about the Rocket situation, or at very least took your mind off it.

You got them back around lunch when you squirted some lemon juice in Peter's soda when he wasn't looking, and smeared jam on the inside of the handle of the fridge knowing Kraglin was about to make a sandwich. The looks on their faces were satisfying, but you discovered their way of getting you back later was to leave two glasses of water on the table. Upside down. With a note that read, "Have fun! Don't get wet! -Peter and Kraglin"

You didn't have fun, but at least a bath towel made into a makeshift dam around the glasses kept you from getting too wet.

You immediately thought of a way to get them back. Unfortunately it didn't work quite as planned.

That evening, sometime after supper when you finished washing the plate you had used, you placed a piece of duct tape just over the spout of the faucet, so that it was only mostly covering where the water came out. This way, when the water was turned on, it would spray directly onto the victim.

You knew that Peter or Kraglin would likely be the next ones to use the sink, as they had made their own dinner just after you had and were just starting to finish up.

You left the kitchen and went to the sitting room, pretending to look for a book to read but in reality you were eagerly waiting for the screams as one or both of the guys met their fate with an unexpected shower. You even considered returning to the kitchen once it happened just so you could tease them on not following their own advice, referencing the note attached to their previous prank about 'not getting wet.'

Not too long and your desires were met, however, the voice behind the cries wasn't the one you had intended to hear.

A loud, angry, bellowing of, "DAMMIT QUILL!" could be heard from the kitchen and your eyes went wide.

Oh no.

That was Yondu's voice. Apparently he had fancied a glass of water and got in the way of the prank, becoming its unintended victim.

You quietly made your way out the sitting room door, hearing Yondu scolding that Peter needed to grow up and then Peter saying, "I swear! I didn't do that one!"

You made it to the front door and heard Kraglin's voice defending Peter, "No, for once he didn't, sir. I've been with him all day! Pete didn't do that."

You quickly and quietly opened the door and escaped just in time to hear Yondu calling your name.

***

You decided it was probably safe to re-enter the house perhaps half an hour later after taking the time to do some light archery practice.

You were greeted inside by Mantis who was apparently coming to look for you anyway to see if you wanted to play a game of UNO.

You eyed her suspiciously, remembering the last time someone sent her to invite you for something. You lean in close to her and quietly say, "Before I say yes, I want you to answer honestly. Did Kraglin or Peter send you, and is this another trick?"

Mantis shook her head. "No, Gamora sent me. She said nothing about a trick."

You thought for a bit. Mantis didn't seem the type to flat-out lie, and Gamora already said she didn't get involved in Peter's mischief, so you decided it was safe and agreed.

Mantis grinned wide and took your hand, practically dragging you to the sitting room and exclaiming to the others upon entry that you had said yes to playing.

At the table you saw Gamora, Drax, Peter and Kraglin. You didn't know where the others were, but you thought it was probably better that Yondu was elsewhere just in case he was still cranky about getting caught in the line of fire. You also didn't feel like dealing with Rocket.

Gamora and Peter sat on one side of the table, with Drax at one end. Kraglin sat opposite of Peter and Mantis was about to take the seat across from Drax, only just releasing your hand when you realized the only other seat would be between her and Kraglin. You eyed him and said, "Do you promise to behave yourself if I sit here?"

Kraglin feigned being offended. "Of course, ma'am!"

You narrowed your eyes but went to take a seat hesitantly. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him reach his hand out toward your chair, thinking that you weren't looking. If the last couple days had gone any differently you might have thought he was going to try a creepy move and grab your ass, but you had a feeling that wasn't what he was going for.

Kraglin was startled when your hand suddenly darted to grab his wrist and pulled it up above the table.

Just what you thought. Whoopee cushion.

"Aha! Behave my ass!" you scold, ripping the whoopee cushion from his hand easily in his shock and sitting down. "I'm keeping this," you taunt, mimicking what said the other day when he took possession of it from you. You stuck your finger in the opening to quietly release the air from the sack and stowed it away in your pocket as he pouted.

Gamora narrowed her eyes at Kraglin. "You two said you were going to behave." She wasn't referencing how you had made Kraglin promise before sitting down, but rather she had actually made Peter and him promise that they would behave and not cause mischief during the game while Mantis fetched you, wanting to try and make friendly with their host with a game without their shenanigans. Honestly, she wasn't sure why she believed them.

Kraglin grumbled what sounded like a "Sorry, ma'am." and Peter changed the subject by starting the game.

Surprisingly they did behave while playing. All six rounds of it before everyone was tired of playing and decided to pack it up.

***

You had just finished washing up for bed and were exiting the bathroom when a cry to "watch out!" made you turn just in time for a giant spider to fly towards your face.

You realized too late it was only Peter throwing the rubber spider at you.

Too late to stop yourself from shrieking as you batted it away, too late to prevent your loss of balance as you reared back, much too late to stop your socks from slipping on the hardwood floor or you from falling backwards, and unfortunately much, much too late to stop yourself from a poor landing where you tried to catch your fall with your outstretched hand only to be met with blinding pain.

Your eyes rolled back and you couldn't even scream, the sound caught in your throat as if the pain were strangling you.

Peter realized his prank had gone wrong when instead of yelling at him, you only rolled to one side and muted gutted noises came out of your throat as you held your arm.

"Crap! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! That wasn't supposed to happen!" Peter cried, rushing toward you on the floor. Kraglin's voice could also be heard apologizing, footsteps coming from his and Yondu's room where he and Peter had been waiting for you to be done with your shower so they could perform what was supposed to be just a harmless jump scare.

Finally finding your voice you yell, "Don't touch me! Get the fuck away from me!" as Peter knelt down. Your senses were blurred into only pain and rage. Your only thoughts were "go away" and 'fix arm, stop pain.'

More apologies poured from their lips as you tried to right yourself up with only one arm as you couldn't bear to move the other.

Peter tried to help you up but you only kicked him away, still blinded by pain and rage. "I said don't fucking touch me!" Eventually you were able to use the nearby wall to use to crawl into a standing position while the other two made pleas for you to let them help, for you to calm down, and something about dislocation. You couldn't really think clearly enough to sort out what they wanted, and only kept (figuratively) pushing them away as you made your way to your bedroom door where Mantis was now standing looking concerned.

You could just make out other voices, but didn't have a clear understanding of what they were saying or what they wanted either. You were only focused on one goal, and that was getting to your room to assess your arm.

Mantis readily moved aside so you could enter, but then remained in the doorway once you entered, unintentionally preventing you from being able to close the door. You look at her, saying firmly, "In or out. Pick one."

Looking a little frightened, she chose out, and you slammed the door behind her, locking it out of instinct more than clear thinking.

Almost immediately there came pounding on the door, and Peter's shouts that you needed to come out and let someone help you.

"Fuck off! I've got it!" you yell back.

Outside the room was a mess of concern. Gamora stood in the doorway of her and Peter's room, yelling at Peter and Kraglin from across the landing for their foolishness once she realized well enough what had happened. Yondu was standing on the stairs, having heard the loud thump of a body hitting the floor and then you yelling at someone to get away. He came to investigate only to find the scene before him.

Mantis, intimidated by the yelling, sought comfort from Drax who was standing in his doorway wondering what in the world was going on.

Rocket had momentarily stepped out of the room with Groot to see what the commotion was about, but upon realizing it was you just waved the situation off and returned to the room. Not his problem.

Yondu asked Peter what all the fuss was about and Peter admitted that he and Kraglin had fucked up a prank and it lead, to what looked to Peter, you dislocating your elbow, and then you locked yourself in your room. This explanation made Yondu join in with Gamora's scolding.

Inside your room you assessed your arm. Nothing was broken, but the elbow was indeed dislocated. You felt sick, mostly from the pain but also from the unsettling feeling of having a bone out of joint. You knew what you needed to do, you just wished you had a shot or two of whiskey in you first.

Back outside the room Yondu scolded both Peter and Kraglin, telling them that he was putting a stop to this prank war. Gamora agreed, stating that it had gotten out of hand when the guys tried to argue that it was just an accident.

Yondu attempted to knock on your door and convince you to come out, but you wouldn't bite, calling back through the door that you had it handled and for everyone to leave you alone.

Yondu glared through the door at your stupidity. He thought you were acting like a child. "Ya need someone to help ya put it back in place, now get out here. That's an order!" That last line was mostly from habit, and it got pretty much the response anyone would have expected from you.

"I don't take orders from you!"

Yondu growled, not exactly used to being defied, especially not the rare occasions he was actually trying to be helpful. He'd seen his share of dislocations, both from his crew and their victims. It was never pretty. "Well ya can't just haul up in there like a wounded animal!"

You rolled your eyes inside your room, fighting the churning in your stomach as you positioned yourself for the unpleasant task, nestling the inner elbow of your injured arm against one of the short posts of your bed's headboard. You took several deep breaths, trying to gather the courage to do what needed to be done.

After a few moments of you not responding Yondu beat on the door again. "Ya better not have passed out in there!"

You groan and say, "I'm fine! Give me a minute to handle it!"

Before anyone can speak again a pop followed by a cry of pain and a string of curses was heard from your side of the door.

Yondu stepped away from the door and rubbed his face. "I don't believe it. She actually did it." he said in disbelief.

Peter approached the door. "Hey! Hey! You alright?"

More curses, followed by, "I told you I had it handled. Now piss off."

Yondu just shook his head and retreated to his room after that, muttering that you were insane and followed by a remorseful looking Kraglin.

Peter also went back to his room feeling guilty and receiving a scolding look from Gamora as well as an earful once they closed the door.

After a bit Drax convinced Mantis to also go back to your shared room, only planning to return to his once he was sure you'd let her in.

You heard a gentle knock and a soft voice asking, "Can I come back in now?"

You considered telling her no, that she chose 'out' so she could stay out, but now that a bit of pain had subsided and your mind was starting to clear you had the presence of mind to realize that you'd only be being a dick by doing that, so you got up and unlocked the door for her.

She entered sheepishly, asking if you were ok, clearly seeing the pain in your eyes.

"I'm fine, Mantis," you say curtly, tucking yourself into bed the best you could, settling for lying on your back with your arm resting on your stomach. "Go to sleep."

Mantis turned off the light and quietly crawled into her own bed. You could feel her staring at you as you stared at the ceiling and waited for sleep.

***

The next couple days you mostly stayed in your room, leaving only to shower, use the restroom, and eat. You knew with that kind of injury you weren't supposed to use your arm for a bit if you wanted it to heal, and that knowledge irritated you to no end.

You couldn't tend the garden, you couldn't practice your archery, or anything else that required the use of two hands. So, you just sulked in your room listening to music and reading.

The first day nobody bothered you much, sensing that you were very cranky. Peter tried to ask to look at your arm, but you ignored him, and he didn't press it. Gamora had later tried to tell you that you needed to splint your arm, and Yondu added that if not that then you at least needed to keep it in a sling, but you only sighed at them at took your glass of juice to your room, much to Yondu's irritation.

The second day they started getting more insistent when by around noon it became clear that you intended to stay in your room all day again. Yondu grumbled again to Kraglin that you were hiding away like a wounded animal. However, realizing that you'd only get mad if they all kept hounding you, they collectively decided to send Gamora in.

They knew you wouldn't listen to Peter or Kraglin since the injury was their fault and you were understandably not really talking to them right now. Mantis might have been a decent choice since you didn't ever really get angry at her, but she had no basic medical knowledge, so she was off the table. Yondu also could have been a decent second choice, but everyone, including himself, knew he wouldn't have the patience to deal with you if you started refusing to listen to reason.

Gamora went up to your room and took it as a good sign that the door was open. She peered inside to see you sitting at your desk and knocked on the doorframe.

"What?" you asked, not looking up from your book.

"I just wanted to-"

"If this is about my arm again, it'll be fine." you say stubbornly.

Gamora entered your room without bothering to ask permission. "If you just let me look-"

"No." you say curtly.

Gamora took a breath. "We really do just want to help you."

"I don't need it. I've been fixing myself up all by myself for a long time. I don't need help now."

"Look, I can't force you, but please understand that it's not weakness to accept help."

You finally look at her, your expression hard. "I never said it was. Just said I didn't need it."

Gamora stared back at you. You were just so stubborn. Reminded her of a few people she knew... if she were honest. One being herself. There was a time where she had believed if she couldn't solve every problem on her own, it made her weak. This wasn't helped by the fact Thanos raised her to be an assassin, and punished such weakness. However, after she joined the Guardians, after she found a family, she came about unlearning that. It was ok to need help sometimes. It didn't make you weak. She only wished she could help you realize it, but she knew that pushing wasn't going to make it happen. You needed to get there on your own. You needed to trust them.

"Ok," she relented, "but know if you ever do need our help, we're here, alright?"

You shortly nod and turn back to your book. "Got it."

She then left you alone. Sometimes, to get someone to come to you willingly, you needed to give them space.

***

The next time anyone saw you was late that evening when you finally decided to eat something for supper. You were in the mood for peanut butter and jam, though opening the jars proved tricky for obvious reasons, but you managed.

You were in the kitchen having just finished your sandwich when Drax came in the kitchen. He looked around a bit before asking if you had seen Rocket. You hadn't, but before you could say as much you heard the sound of growling followed by Rocket's voice shouting, "Fuck off!"

Your eyes flew wide and you bolted for the door, throwing it open to see Rocket fighting with another raccoon a few meters away, rolling on the ground with Rocket cursing up a storm as the raccoon snarled and snapped at him.

You swore, and pushed past Drax to grab the old shot gun you left hidden in a cabinet near the back door along with a couple shells and ran back outside.

You popped the shells in and took aim, trying to get a shot where you wouldn't hit Rocket along with the other raccoon. Your aim was a little shaky due to your injured arm, the shot gun being just heavy enough to make steadying it with that arm a task, even with the adrenaline dulling the pain. You were worried you might accidentally shoot Rocket, but you had to take the shot. If you didn't, and the raccoon bit him, he would likely be as good as dead anyway.

In what was likely seconds but felt much longer, you managed to line up a shot when the raccoon managed to pin Rocket on his back, the wide body of the raccoon up in the air providing a target that with your SHIELD honed skills would be as easy as hitting a cow's ass with a shovel on a normal day. With your injury, however... well, you could still make it. You had to.

You took the shot. The crack rang loudly through the evening air and the raccoon fell off of Rocket and onto the grass, dead.

Rocket's attention turned to you as you lowered the shotgun and quickly approached him, he was about to snark off that he had it handled when you said in a firm but yet still slightly worried sounding voice, "Did it bite you?"

He sat up irritably but didn't answer. He didn't need you of all people to save him. He looked down at his body. There was blood, but it looked to be just the after spray from where you shot the animal. Terran weapons were clearly messier than blasters.

"Did it bite you?!" you ask more urgently.

He looked himself over. "No? What's it to you anyway? I had it handled!"

"Raccoons carry rabies, you dipshit!" you scold. Removing the other shell from the gun you tell him to get inside.

"I'm not a raccoon! And I don't have whatever rabies is!" Rocket shouted at you angrily. "And I don't take orders from you!"

You groan. You didn't have time for his bellyaching right now. "You utter gobshite! I'm not talking about you! I'm talking about that!" you point to the now very dead raccoon, and just to be mean you threw in a, "You know, that fucker there that looks exactly like your furry ass!" He glared at you but you didn't care. "They carry rabies! Now get inside so we can get you looked over and you better hope like hell it didn't bite you."

Rocket grumbled and started walking back to the house, making sure to complain just loud enough for you to hear that he was going because he wanted to, not because you told him too.

You follow behind him. You would dispose of the dead raccoon in a bit.

"That was an amazing shot." Drax told you as you walked by. "I was sure you would have hit Rocket."

"Not now, Drax, please." you say, walking past him.

You got inside to find that the gunshot had attracted an audience, and everyone else was now in the kitchen wondering what had just happened. You put the shotgun and shell back in the cabinet, making a mental note to clean it later. It had belonged to your father, and never saw much-or any really- use from you as there wasn't exactly a lot to need defending from, wildlife-wise, where you lived. Hell, you couldn't even remember the last time you had even seen a raccoon around before tonight, and even when you had you never needed to defend yourself from one. If you left them alone, they returned the favor.

You turn back from the cabinet and lock eyes with Rocket. "Now are you going to let someone check you over or..." you left the question hanging, your tone clear that there was no 'or.' He was going to get checked out. You tried to ignore the irony and your own hypocrisy.

"What happened?" Gamora asked.

"He got attacked by a raccoon." You answered.

Rocket indignantly spoke up. "I had it handled!" He heard Peter snickering and he snapped, "What?!"

Peter just shook his head and quipped, "Already fighting with family..."

Rocket growled. "Shut up, Star-Munch!"

"Table. Now. You need to get checked out. Quit stalling," you command, irritation and exhaustion present in your voice. "I'm not even kidding."

"So what if it did bite me? How bad could rabies possibly be?" Rocket snarked.

"What's rabies?" asked Drax.

You sigh and say flatly, "A very horrible way to die." You look to Peter, thinking that maybe you had a way to get through to Rocket, and ask, "You ever see Old Yeller?"

"Yeah..." Peter answered, though seeming slightly unsure.

"You remember what happens to the dog?"

His eyes widen a bit. "Yeah..."

"Then will you please explain to him why this is serious?"

Peter looked at an annoyed Rocket. "Dude, she's right. Just let us see."

Rocket rolled his eyes and hopped on the table. "Fine! But only to get you all to stop whining."

Peter checked him over, as it was silently agreed with a nod that Rocket would trust him more. While he checked Rocket you thought to ask if he was given any vaccinations when they got here. Peter said that everyone had, but they had been given so many that they weren't sure what they all were.

You knew that Fury should be stopping by the next day for a weekly check-in, and said you'd contact him to suggest a booster for Rocket just in case.

Luckily, Rocket was bite-free, and he gloated as much. "See! I told you! I had everything under control!"

You roll your eyes. "Right. That's why the raccoon had you pinned under it, then. Yeah?"

"Did not!" Rocket protested.

"Well you certainly weren't having a cup of tea, were you?" you said, the tone in your voice saying that you were done.

Drax spoke up. "It's true. The beast was winning."

"It was not!"

"Enough," you say. "Go get cleaned up. I'm tired of hearing you. "

After he skulked off Gamora asked, "Just out of curiosity, what would have happened to him if he had gotten bitten."

You avoided telling her. "He wasn't, but I'm going to take the animal into town in the morning to see if it was rabid. Just in case."

Gamora asked again. "What would have happened?"

You frown. You didn't know how to put it delicately, and the others could tell you were trying and it worried them. Your eyes meet Peter's.

His eyes widened in understanding. "We can't do that to him." Peter said, shaking his head.

Yondu spoke up for the first time. "Do what?"

You frown. "Just calm down. He wasn't bitten. We won't have to."

Yondu sounded more irritated. "Do what?"

You sigh and look to the ground for a moment before looking back up to answer, "If he had gotten bitten, and he hadn't already received a rabies vaccination..." You pause, choosing your words carefully, "the only merciful thing to do... would be to put him down."

"Put him down?" asked Drax.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Do I really need to spell it out for you?" You kept your voice down, afraid to say it too loud and for Rocket to hear. "We'd have to kill him. There's no cure, and if we didn't, he'd go rabid, and die horribly." You saw the horrified looks on the other's faces and repeated, "But he wasn't bitten, so that doesn't have to happen. He'll be fine. I'm just going to check with Fury that he was given the shot, and if he wasn't I'll make sure he gets one, just in case. Ok?"

They seemed to relax slightly and you stated that you were going to go take care of the raccoon corpse in your yard, mostly to just get away from the situation and hoping they would have dispersed when you got back.

You didn't even get to take three steps before you felt someone grab your arm. Luckily it wasn't your bad one. "What the hell?" you ask irritably, turning to see it was Kraglin, who had been so quiet the whole time you actually hadn't noticed him.

"I really don't think you should be doing that. If it was big enough to pin down Rocket, then it's too big for ya to be lifting with your arm injured how it is."

You sigh angrily and try to pull away, but his grip held firm. Strong for a skinny guy, you thought. "Let go." you say, irritation thick in your voice.

"No. If this is the only way for you to take it easy and let us help, then I ain't letting ya go til you agree to step back."

You look at the others and you can tell they aren't going to be on your side. You roll your eyes and focus them on the space above Peter's head, where you could see where the ceiling met the wall. "You can't help if I can't unlock the shed," you say, hoping to appeal to their sense.

"Fine," Peter said. "But I'll do the lifting. It's mostly my fault you got hurt anyhow."

"Fine," you grumble, just loud enough to be heard and for Kraglin to release you.

You lead the way out the door, Peter, and also Kraglin and Yondu who wanted to see the raccoon, following behind. Gamora and Drax stayed behind to make sure Mantis and Groot were ok, seeing that they looked a bit shaken.

You instruct none of them to touch the corpse and unlock the shed, turning on your phone's flashlight and pointing out an old box and a shovel to Peter.

"Wow, you've got a nice workshop in here," Peter said, noting the various saws and tools set up around the room that he could make out in the dim light.

You used to make things with your dad and brother growing up, and had inherited most of the tools inside, but instead of traveling down memory lane you just told Peter, "Another day. Let's get the raccoon sorted, please."

Peter obliged and grabbed the items so you could finish the task at hand.

Yondu and Kraglin were staring at the raccoon when you returned.

"Thought it'd be bigger." Kraglin said, cocking his head.

He was right. It did look smaller now that it was dead, but it was still a decent size.

Peter unceremoniously scooped it up with the shovel and dumped it in the box.

"We should probably keep that in the shed until morning," you said, "I don't want it stinking up the car overnight. I can wash the blood off the shovel real quick-" You reached for the shovel but Peter handed it off to Kraglin instead. You looked at them in annoyance. "I'm not helpless, you know."

"And it won't kill you to accept some help, girl," retorted Yondu, fed up with your stubborn attitude.

You roll your eyes and call after an already retreating Kraglin, "Try not to tangle yourself up in the hose this time!" You could see him bristle at the taunt, but he ignored you.

After everything was back in the shed and you locked it up everyone headed inside. The others were nowhere to be seen and you assumed they had all decided to just go to bed, in which you also followed suit, but not before sending a quick text to Maria (Yes, you had said you'd contact Fury, but Fury doesn't exactly text) asking about the vaccination situation surrounding Rocket.

You hadn't expected an answer so late at night, but she responded asking what had happened, correctly assuming that you wouldn't be asking unless something had.

You kept it short. Said you shot a raccoon and wanted to be sure Rocket had his shots.

She didn't respond, and you couldn't help but wonder if that was a bad sign.

[milkie-chan]

𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕒 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖.

e. kirishima x fem! reader x k. bakugou

contains: dubious consent, manipulation, emotional blackmail(i think?), blow jobs, slight cum eating, mentioned size kink, subby bakugou, dominate kirishima, slight degradation, over stimulating, female receiving oral, cum eating.

word count: 2,546

notes: god I want a dommy eijirou and a subby bakugou duo. so bad.

Kirishima was attractive, you could say that much. He was monstrously tall, reaching 7’ and possibly still growing, with muscles that didn’t need his quirk to be rock hard. He had multiple girls fawning over him, even as a sidekick, it was scary to think the power he would have when he broke away to start his own agency. He would have endless amounts of women more than happy to crawl into bed with him. That’s why you didn’t feel so bad about this whole thing.

Kirishima was attractive, but he wasn’t your type.

Your type was someone meaner, someone with a sharper tongue and a nasty glare. Kirishima was just too sweet, too polite. Even as he towered over you, almost two feet taller, he was careful to never push you around. To never demand anything of you. He treated everyone gently with copious amounts of chivalry. It was how he had founded himself, and how he would market himself as a hero. It suited him. It just wasn’t exactly what you were into. No, you liked his best friend. Another sidekick for a different agency, but him and Kirishima were often together in their free time. Bakugou Katsuki had your full attention since the moment you had first collided with him in the hall and he had cursed you out. He was mean, he was rough, he was who you wanted. But while he had your full attention, it was almost impossible for you to get his. That’s why you devised your little plan. If you got close enough to Kirishima, maybe you could be around Bakugou more. Maybe you could get his attention. Maybe you could finally end up with him.

At first you felt bad. Kirishima was so sweet, so easy to flirt with and get the attention of. Without a doubt he would make a good boyfriend, and maybe if you had never met Bakugou you would have gone for him, if not simply out of boredom. You weren’t a good person, you had accepted that long ago, but Kirishima was. For a second you almost hesitated in using him. But only for a second. You had him following after you like a puppy in two weeks, eager grins and bashful hands drawing you in— at least that’s how he saw it. Whenever Bakugou was around you amped it up. You let your own hands wander, keeping it just within tasteful as you glanced over at the blond. You only caught his gaze once, something unknown in his crimson eyes as he studied your actions upon his best friend. It was thrilling. It was promising.

Everything was going to plan. Everything was working out— you were sure you just about had him. So maybe you should have ignored it. Should have shrugged it off as hearing things. Your imagination was getting ahead of you at work, maybe. Yet, you would know that voice anywhere. The gruff “shit” hissing from behind a closed door. Most everyone had gone home, you hadn’t even realized Bakugou had stopped by. Hell, you thought Kirishima was gone already.

You should have put the pieces together, but you were too excited to see him. Too excited at the prospect of having him to yourself. The door opened with a little push, and there you froze.

Sitting with his back flush to Kirishima’s chest, his dick fisted in the red head’s hand as he threw his head back against his shoulder. Bakugou’s face was burning, a groan leaving his lips as he tried to thrust up into Kirishima’s hand. Another hand held his hip down against the desk, though, a cocky smirk on the red head’s face as he whispered something in Bakugou’s ear. Whatever was said had his eyes snapping open, focusing on you. “Shit! Eijirou-!” He was cut short as Kirishima’s thumb traced over the head of his cock, smearing pre-cum along the red, swollen tip.

“Hi n/n.” Kirishima smiled kindly, so out of place for what he was currently doing. “Come on in.”

Maybe it was because your mind felt miles away, or the look on Bakugou’s face, but something had you stupidly stumbling forwards. You pressed your back flush to the door, hearing it click shut behind you. “Wh...what is….?”

“Locked please. I think three is already a crowd, don’t you Katsuki?” He was moving his hand leisurely now, drawing tiny curses from the blond.

“Stop— fucking around! Shitty-hair.” He was practically panting now, back arching as the muscles in his thighs strained. His eyes never left yours, though, seemingly hyper focused on your reaction.

“Well?” Kirishima coaxed, his voice almost poisonous with how sweet it sounded in the air. “Aren’t you going to come over here?”

“I don’t understand.” It was the only thing you could muster, thoughts practically a tornado in your mind. What the hell was going on. “You two are-? But you- I- I don’t get it?”

Kirishima chuckled and his hand slowly stopped pumping, earning another groan from Katsuki, “Like I haven’t noticed how you check him out. I know you were using me.”

Your face caught fire with shame and you sunk against the door.

“But that’s alright. We can share. Right Katsuki?” His thumb pressed against a vein in his cock and Bakugou’s head once again thumped back against Kirishima’s shoulder. “Now come on. Why don’t you help him out?”

It only took you one more moment to decide to move your legs. You felt like you were floating as you approached the desk Bakugou was sat upon. You glanced once more up at Kirishima, but were unable to hold his gaze for long. Still too ashamed, you settled on paying attention to Bakugou— mostly his cock. It was painfully engorged, all from Kirishima’s teasing. It was monstrous, and as your fingers closed around the base, replacing Kirishima’s, you wondered if you could even fit half in your mouth. You have a few languid pumps before lowering your top half across the desk, tongue lolling out to drag along the underside of his dick. His hands dug into the desk on either side of his hips, crimson gaze unwavering as you licked up to his tip. Tongue flat you tasted the remnants of his smeared precum, mouth already watering more to help prepare you. You wrapped your lips around the tip, sucking softly before lowering your head further along his length. As expected, you got halfway and then you began to struggle to accommodate him. Instead of pushing it, you bobbed back up, returning to pay attention to the tip with your tongue.

“F-fuck— shit— so good.” Bakugou rocked his hips the best he could, both of Kirishima’s hands resting on them was making it hard to do so. Both males’ attentions were focused solely on you as you bobbed along half of Bakugou’s length, eyelashes fluttered as you looked up at him.

“There you go.” Kirishima’s thumbs were drawing circles in Bakugou’s hips. “So good for us. Such a needy slut.” It was unclear who he was talking to, but his tone made a shiver go down your spine nevertheless. “I think he deserves more now, don’t you?” You hummed around his length, unsure what Kirishima meant. You began to move back up to ask, but a large hand moved to the back of your head and grabbed your hair. No longer was his gaze friendly and sweet, not as he plunged to back down against Bakugou’s length. You gagged as it was forced down the back of your throat, scrapping painfully as your nose was buried in the scruffy blond hair at the base.

Your eyes were watering as you struggled to pull back, but he kept you there easily with one hand. Your hands now gripped Bakugou’s thighs, as if to ground yourself as you tried to breathe through your nose. The blond’s hips jerked again, not helping your case as tears fell down your cheeks. “Shit.” It was Kirishima cursing this time, using your hair to draw you back up Bakugou’s length. He plunged you back down again with little warning, but you were more prepared this time, a groan of pain muffled around the dick in your mouth. “So fucking hot. Isn’t she so fucking hot Katsuki? How does she feel?” Bakugou could only moan in response as Kirishima continued to maneuver your mouth against his length. There was no point in fighting it, so instead you focused on breathing when you could.

When you were sure Bakugou was about to cum, length twitching erratically in your throat, Kirishima drew you back completely. “What the fuck shitty-hair?” Bakugou panted, but his glare focused on you.

“Just give me a second.” Kirishima removed himself from behind the blond, walking around the table to grasp your chin and tilt your face up. His thumb absently rubbed a hanging tear from your jawline, “You’re doing so good. Can you keep making him feel good on your own now?” You numbly nodded, making his grin stretch, “Such a good girl. Katsuki, you’re allowed to touch her now.”

Whatever they had agreed upon before, Kirishima’s words released the blond. In an instant his strong fingers were in your hair, drawing you back down to his cock. Obediently you opened your lips, allowing him to fuck up into your throat. “Shit shit shit.” He groaned, tossing his head back, “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.” His admittance had your heart racing in your chest, almost loud enough to block out the sound of Kirishima’s pants dropping to the floor. Almost enough to numb you of the sensation of your pin skirt and panties being pulled down to your knees.

You mumbled a complaint as you tried to wriggle out of Kirishima’s hands, but Bakugou held you fast against his groin, keeping you trapped. Kirishima’s fingers graced your folds, drawing a sharp whine from your throat as you continued to try and wriggle away. “Sh sh.” He leaned over your form, breath hitting the shell of your ear as he rutted against your ass, “You’ve been using me this whole time, I only think it’s fair. Don’t you?” He used a hand to line himself up, head pushing against your entrance. You were no virgin, but you could easily tell that it would be a stretch. “I got you want you wanted, so let me have what I want.” After some hesitation you relaxed against his hold, allowing him to sink further in. The continued stretch drew another whine, causing Bakugou’s hips to buck harder into your mouth.

It hurt, even with the slick dribbling down your thighs, aroused simply from pleasuring Bakugou, but it was hardly enough to accommodate Kirishima’s size. Bakugou’s cock was long with some weight to it, making your jaw ache as you stretched to accommodate him. Kirishima’s felt like a monster, though. You were almost glad you couldn’t see, as if perceiving it would make it worse.

When he bottomed out you groaned, eyes rolling into the back of your head as his tip lay flush with your cervix. You’d never been this full before, you feared if you would ever be the same again. He gave you a moment to adjust, grinding his hips against your ass to garner a bit more friction while he waited. As soon as you began to move your hips in tandem with his, his hands found your waist and he drew back. Your walls fluttered around the emptiness, as if trying to coax him back in, and his tip strained your entrance. Again he sat there for a moment, watching as you wiggled your ass back in search for him, pleads in the form of whimpers around Bakugou’s cock trying to entice him back in. When he sunk back in he set a rough and fast pace, drawing broken and choked mewls from your throat.

“Fuck, fuck so good. You feel so good.” Kirishima moaned, fingertips tearing into your flesh, “Such a fucking good cunt. So hot and messy for me.”

“Eiji— fuck— I’m gonna cum—“ Bakugou’s movements were becoming sloppier, his length twitching wildly against your tongue.

“Not yet.” Kirishima panted, “Wait for me.”

Bakugou groaned at the command, dropping a hand from your hair to tighten his fingers around the base of his cock, trying to keep himself from coming undone.

You were coming undone, though, around both of their cocks. Your climax rising fast and hard, you could no longer hold yourself up, instead letting them use your body as they please. You were a rag doll in their grip, pitiful moans and gasps smothered around Bakugou’s smoldering cock.

“I can’t— fuck! I can’t.” Bakugou’s grip around his own cock loosened, hot ropes of cum shooting deep into your throat. It took every last ounce of control you had to swallow around his length, not wanting to choke all the while you were starting to see black dots in your vision. When Bakugou released your hair you pulled back with a gasp, tongue lolling out as your grip on his thighs tightened.

“Mm gonna— cum— I’m going to cum!” Your voice sounded pitiful, hoarse and whiny as Kirishima continued to abuse your cunt.

“That’s it.” Kirishima’s voice sounded barely any better, his movements becoming erratic as he neared his own edge. “Cum for me, cum all over my cock.” It was the last push you needed to send you over the edge, letting out a shrill moan as your back arched and he bottomed out for the last time. He came in tandem with you, chest heaving as he watched your body tremble beneath his.

Still unable to stand, he had to lift you on to the desk, his cock leaving your warm cunt with a definite pop, semen dripping down your thighs. Bakugou watched with a hungry gaze, adjusting himself so he could better see your fucked out state perched next to him. “Since you didn’t wait, I think it’s only fair that you have to clean up the mess, don’t you Katsuki?”

“How the fuck was I supposed to wait when you were making her moan like crazy around my dick?” He snapped back, but didn’t hesitate to adjust himself further. He grabbed your thigh, dragging your body to face his as he hooked it over his shoulder.

“Wh— wait a minute I—“ you had little time to process as he licked a clean line up your thigh, collecting the bit of Kirishima’s cum that had spilled in the transfer. He didn’t wait much longer than that to dig in, vigorously eating the other man’s cum out of your spent cunt. “Baku-bakugou oh my god—“ it felt good, too good. You were still reeling from your last climax, the next one building painfully fast.

Kirishima’s hands began to knead gentle circles into your hips, trailing small kisses along your neck as he intently watched Bakugou eating you out. “That’s it, good girl. Cum again. Cum for us again.” He began to trail his hands up, working at the buttons on your shirt, “Again and again and again. Just let us use you, and we’ll make sure you feel good. Okay?”

Maybe they could both be your type, after all.

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Out of the Lion’s Den

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape (not against the reader), attempted rape and assault (against the reader) angst, cursing, insults, the usual super dramatic shit you see in the taken down of an unsub

A/N: Wowie wow wow wow, so this is kinda long. And I know I said I was gonna post it like two days ago, HOWEVER! In my defense, I started writing it and then about halfway through I accidentally closed tumblr so it deleted everything I had. So I went to bed defeated. But it’s here now, that’s the important thing, right? Remember to like, comment, reblog, send me asks, and just be your usual amazing selves and give me the attention that my parents never gave me as the oldest of eight. As always, THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME AND I APPRECIATE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!

___

[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four ]

December 1998

It felt good to be back home in Georgia. The wind whipped at the trees outside of the diner you and you best friend were currently catching up at. The waitress, Flora, knows you by name and sets your usual in front of you with a ruffle of your hair and a couple of southern endearments.

“Tell me everything.” Madalyn says, reaching across the table for the ketchup that was placed on your side of the booth. You swat at her hand when she makes a grab for one of your fries. Her laugh is loud and feels like home, making you smile into your drink in a way you haven’t smiled all semester.

“I’d like to preface this conversation by saying that I feel like this would be a much cooler experience if I were the same age as everyone else.” You point out, brushing your growing bangs away from your eyes with an annoyed swat. Her eyes soften with sympathy, swirling a fry into the ketchup tucked into a safe space on her plate. She doesn’t say anything though, knowing that you have more to say.

“The classes are awesome. The campus is beautiful. I learn something new all the time, which was never happening when I was going to school here,” you pause long enough to glance around the room. It’s packed with all kinds of people, from old men clustered at the counter sipping on coffees to construction workers munching on hamburgers during their break, even big families squished into booths and tables for a nice Sunday family lunch.

“But?” You shrug in response, knowing that Madalyn will be able to read you like an open book if you meet her eyes. Across the table, the amateur profiler squints her dark eyes at you with suspicion.

“Everyone just kinda avoids me. The guys are cute, but they’re all nineteen and twenty. Most of the things to do on campus, you have to be eighteen for, so I mostly just spend my time at the library or at Aunt May’s doing homework.” At this, Madalyn stops eating, raising her eyebrows with a cheeky grin.

“I bet your grades are super rad,” You resist the urge to throw a French fry in her face after what she says next. “And besides, I’m the only friend you need in your life.”

“Actually, I have made a kind of friend?” Flora is over before you can finish the drink in your cup, filling the glass with a dark, blue pitcher. When you thank her, she reaches out to pat your cheek, mumbling something about missing you while you were gone.

“Should I be jealous? Is she pretty? She may be a big sister type, but I’m your soulmate.” You laugh into your sandwich having to cover your mouth when you take a bite and the laughter doesn’t go away.

Madalyn has been your best friend for four years, although time seems to have no meaning in your relationship because nobody would doubt it if you told them you’d known her since birth. While most kids in your age group had grown up thinking you were odd, Madalyn had decided that you were just interesting. That interest had turned into a friendship that would span years and miles more than many friendships do.

While the things you both enjoyed, like Leonardo DiCaprio and Ben Affleck, certainly brought you together, it was your differences that made you click like the pieces of a puzzle. Only true friends can debate on opposite sides of an argument and then end the night eating popcorn while watching Space Jam in the living room.

“His name is Harvey.” When Madalyn’s eyebrows go up this time, it is from surprise. You’ve never been one to socialize with anyone of the opposite gender, much less become ‘kinda friends’ with them. Plus, as a young lady of very womanly curves, she’s quite aware of the way some guys cross the line on a regular basis.

“(Y/N)-” You wave your hand in the air, once again pushing at the bangs that keep falling in your face. You should have never cut them in the first place, and you never would have if you realized what a hassle they would be when you started growing them out.

“I don’t like him like that. He’s just a really nice guy, helps me with homework and walks me to a class or two. We’ve never even met up outside of school.” Her eyes are still narrowed, a stray dark wave falling from the hair comb that pins the top half of her hair away from her face.

Eventually, she changes the subject. Trusting that you are smart enough to know when things have gotten out of hand and how to take care of it.

“So why are you growing your bangs out? I thought you liked them. Didn’t you say they make you look more grown up?” You unstick your thighs from the leather booth seat, pinning her with a look that she knows all too well.

“Now that’s a crazy story.” She also makes herself comfortable in her seat, preparing herself for a story. It’s probably a good thing you’re a phenomenal story teller, or else she would have gotten tired of all the stories you tell really quickly.

“So last month a girl comes forward and reports that she was cornered by a man she didn’t know on her way from the library back to her dorm. He held her at gun point and rapes her. It got kinda big, because she was rallying a group of men and women to escort girls around campus. And, I mean, I understand the unease she must feel, and I was sympathetic, but I was kind of confused why there was so much uproar over one rape.”

Having finished your own fries, you reach across the table and steal one from your outraged best friend. Before she can grab it back, you’ve shoved it into your mouth.

“Until a second girl comes forward and says that she reported the same thing happening to her a month ago. The campus, meanwhile, is doing nothing about it. No increased security, no curfew, not even acknowledged them.”

“For two girls?”

“For five,” The pause you take is natural, scooting the bottom of your cup across the tabletop so you could sip from the straw without picking the cup up, but it reads as dramatic effect. “And that’s not even the craziest part.”

One dark eyebrow raised into her hairline, waiting for you to continue the story and also answer the question.

“Every victim was a freshman, so they’re a little on the younger side, they all had the same hair color and style, all had the same body type, all were the same height, all had the same eye color.” This time you do pause for dramatic effect, using the silence to build the tension.

“And all of them look exactly like me. Bangs and all.”

Madalyn leans forward a little, suddenly very worried about you going back next month. As she hurriedly tries to make sure you are taking the necessary precautions during a scary time like this, Flora floats around the diner, stopping to fill up the cup of a single man just behind your booth. All he has is black coffee, a textbook of some kind is splayed open across the table but he doesn’t seem to be too interested in it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, his ears listening to your every word.

“So in summary, I’m growing out my bangs because that’s obviously apart of this dude’s type.” Madalyn doesn’t protest anymore when you reach for another fry on her plate.

“Stop looking at me like that. I’m going to be fine. I’ll even color my hair if you’re so worried.” And the conversation continues, your best friend overly worried about you and your life as a fifteen year old college student, and you masking your fear for appearances sake. Harvey, however, finishes his coffee and asks for the bill.

He thought you were smarter than that. He thought you were smart enough to connect the dots and at least notice that he’d done all of it for you. That you were his everything. Apparently that was wrong. One day you’ll figure it out, of that he is certain.

For now though, you don’t even notices when he passes your table to get to the door.

Present Day

Spencer steps away from the car door, the cool wind hitting his cheeks and tousling his hair. It helps the dizziness in his head, and the nausea in his stomach, but it doesn’t help the sharp pain in his heart. His brain is swimming in all of the information, putting the pieces of the crime scene together like it was a puzzle.

“He left her in the driver’s seat after stabbing her from the backseat, walking around the front before knocking her out and carrying her to his own vehicle.” JJ looks back at the car, peering around crime scene analysts as they hurry about collecting evidence.

“She tried to leave, but her tires spun in the mud.” Rossi notes, nodding to the mud splatter along the sides of your car and the tiny graves each tire has dug into the ground for itself.

“There’s blood in the back.” Spencer finally speaks, looking away from the backseat window and back to his two partners. All eyes flick to the back seat where there is indeed two drops of blood on the floor and a smear of it on the headrest of the passenger seat.

“If he’s in any system then we’ll catch him.” Rossi said, nodding for the techs to collect what they could from the back. Spencer turns back to the car, well aware that there wasn’t anything else here for them the find that would lend them any information as to your whereabouts.

“In a system or not, I will hunt him to the ends of the earth before I let him get away with this.”

Back at the BAU, Prentiss makes calls to your mother and your best friend, Madalyn. Both answer on the first ring, and both are all the more willing to answer any questions that may assist the team in finding the man who had taken you.

“Is there anyone you remember (Y/N) mentioning that maybe stood out to you or her as creepy and stalkerish?” Your mother doesn’t recall anyone, having been focused on so many different cases during your childhood and having been so distant from you since you decided to not become a detective.

Madalyn, however, is quick to answer with a name Prentiss recalls crossing off the list of persons of interest.

“Harvey Morgenstein. They were friends in college, and although it weirded me out because he was a lot older than her at the time, he seemed harmless and I trusted (Y/N). But then he became her agent’s personal assistant all coincidentally and it just seemed too fishy to me.” Prentiss writes the name down, sliding it across the table with a pointed look at Garcia.

As quick as lightning, Harvey’s life history is pulled up between computer screens for both women to delve into.

Harvey is a short man with a wide build that, in earlier pictures, shows him to be more soft than muscly. His hair is dirty blonde but his eyes are two dark circles of coal that seem to pierce through the screen and into the souls of both Penelope and Emily.

“He’s totally not creepy looking.” Garcia remarks sarcastically, eyes sweeping across the information given to her the way Reid’s eyes might fly up and down the pages of a book or a case file.

“Tell me about it.” Emily replies, leaning into the seat designated for those on the team who so wished to give Penelope a visit while remaining off their feet.

“Harvey is a pretty normal guy for the most part. Single child of a Harvey and Lucille Morgenstein. Graduated from Georgetown in 2000 with a major in computer technology, minor in criminology.”

“The same graduating class as (Y/N).” Prentiss notes, her eyes just behind Garcia’s as articles and documents fly around the computer. Where some people talked with their hands, Garcia talked with her screens. The constant tap-tap-tapping of rings and fingers against the keyboard was like the audible churnining of cogs in her brain.

“Yeah, he spent some time as an IT guy at Georgetown before he got a job as a personal assistant. The only spot on his squeaky clean record that I can find is that he was a person of interest in a few rape cases involving some girls on campus back in the late 90’s, but he had alibis for every single one so they let him walk.” The pictures of every victim pop up across the screen in the form of a newspaper article talking about the serial rappings.

Gasps come from both their mouths as the dots connect.

“Call Reid and the others, and then call the agent. I think I may know what is going on.”

A couple of hours later and the pieces are all starting to come together.

Harvey had been the serial rapist from the 90s, attacking women who looked like you out of anger over not having you for himself, and pure obsession. After graduation, he tried to move on by distancing himself from you, but when his mother was diagnosed with cancer he fell back into his old stalkerish ways.

He followed your every move through your agent, who was the only person you spoke to the most outside of your mom and Madalyn.

After a little digging into unsolved rape cases in the area, it was obvious from the victimology and an oddly specific M.O. where he bit each of his victims on the neck, that he had also fallen back into his perverted rapist ways.

Harvey might have been content to stay like that, an obvious self esteem issue keeping him from ever approaching you directly for a date, until a month ago. Not even two days after the death of his sick mother, you and Spencer went on your first date outside of the bookstore. A double trigger.

In a sick and twisted display of love, Harvey started killing people the way you’d written deaths in your books. But with every death you continued to ignore him and see Spencer.

“Eventually it all became too much for him to handle and he snapped, kidnapping (Y/N) and calling to taunt Reid over his victory.” Hotch passed a hand over his face. The sirens blared loudly as they raced for Harvey’s house just outside of Quantico.

“This guy has been stalking her for a ridiculous amount of time.” Morgan commented with a shudder, sympathy and guilt from the earlier interrogation eating at him as the black SUV careens around a corner.

When they bust through his door, clearing each room and finding a creepy amount of pictures and papers about you, they realize that he has taken you somewhere else. And who do you call when you’re at a dead end and you need information?

“You’ve reached Penelope Garcia in the FBI’s Office of Supreme Genius.”

___

Breaking a chair that is nailed to the floor is a lot harder than it sounds, and it already sounds kinda hard.

There was a lot of kicking and hitting and some bruises were definitely starting to form, but the amount of blood coming from your leg was scary. The chances that the knife had nicked your femoral artery were relatively slim, especially given how long you’ve been bleeding, but you couldn’t help but waver on the side of caution.

After several failed attempts of throwing your body into the wood and kicking and hitting and pulling and crying and then repeating the cycle, you managed to pop a leg off. While the base of the leg stayed nailed to the floor, you spent the rest of your time trying to tear the chair from the rest of the legs, when you did you threw the top half against the concrete wall.

Taking two spindles from the back, you quickly scurry back to the mattress and wait for him to return. It’s only a matter of time before he decides to come back down here to taunt you or try something.

In your short time in what Harvey has so lovingly deemed ‘your room,’ you have come to a couple conclusions in an attempt to distract yourself from the excruciating pain in your thigh.

One being that this is not Harvey’s home. Of that you’re one hundred percent certain. Upstairs, you can hear the sound of two sets of feet thudding around. You can only assume this is his childhood home. You remember that his mother had died about a month ago, causing him to resign from his position as your agent’s personal assistant. She had mentioned to you that he planned to help his father as much as he could before he too passed away.

The second being that you were probably going to loose your leg. Any move this way or that sends a thousand knives through every nerve in your body. Your throat is scratchy and sore from how long you’ve been yelling, both in trying to get someone’s attention and in pain.

The light coming from the small window next to the ceiling hasn’t even begun to wane with the falling sun when the door opens again. The chain around your uninjured leg clatters when you pull your knee up to your chest. You don’t even attempt to move the other leg.

Harvey appears in the opening, a tray of food balances in his hands as he shuts the door behind him.

“Find some weapons?” He asks casually, setting the tray beside the lamp as he sinks to his knees on the mattress. Your knuckles are white around each spindle, the inside of your mouth is sensitive to the touch from how much nervous chewing you’ve been doing.

“Get away from me, or I’ll kill you.” You seethe, fighting through the swimming in your head that hasn’t gone away since you woke up here. He gives you a look like you’re a misbehaving child, but it’s soon replaced with anger when you slap him across the face with one of your weapons.

You were hoping the attack would break skin, but all it does is turns the skin over his cheekbone dark red.

Faster than you can blink, he pins both your wrists with one of his hands above your head on the mattress, using the other hand to deftly pluck each spindle from your grip.

“I’ve done so much for you. I’ve given you a room, and a career, and so much more, and yet you attack me.” The wooden spindles hit the wall next to the door, his body lowers to yours in a way you know means more trouble.

“You’re a creep and a perv and I don’t want you to touch me! You’ve done nothing for me. Only for yourself.” In a way that would make any young boy proud to know you, you collect all the spit and bile in your mouth before shooting it into his face. Part of it hits him in the eye, causing him to roar in outrage.

He lets you go, giving you a brief moment of relief, but he only wipes away the loogey before rocking his hand back hard enough to crack against the side of your face. In your moment of disorientation, he flips you to your stomach and undoes the cuff from around your leg. The chain rings against the ground when he tosses it to the side.

His knee went to your back, his hands went to your waist, and the moment you manage to come back to yourself, your fingers clawed at whatever flesh you could find near you. You screamed and flailed as much as you could, the shooting pain of your leg barely noticeable when your body was in panic mode.

All you can think as that this is the kind of thing you read about. People don’t actually get kidnapped and rapped by people they knew in college. But you know that isn’t true either. You are the daughter of a detective, things like this were apart of your everyday life growing up. Just never as personal as you or a friend being the victim. For some reason that makes you fight harder, a sickly feelings creeping into your throat when you felt his fingers brush under the hem of your underwear.

Then a sound pulled you from your hysteria, the door fell to the ground and a swarm of FBI Agents descended upon the concrete basement you still refused to call ‘your room.’ Spencer was the last of them to enter, but the unadulterated fury in his eyes was enough to tell you that was not a decision on his part.

To you, and maybe even everyone else in the room who managed to look at him for longer than a millisecond, he looked like an avenging angel. Every chocolate caramel curl perfectly framed his face, which looked like it was carved out of stone. His jaw was so tense you could slice your finger if your ran it along the edge. The revolver in his hands was unwavering, only growing in steadiness when he caught compromising position you were in.

The sob that came out of your throat was one of relief. Harvey lifted you from the mattress, reaching into his pocket to pull out that damned pocket knife. He held you so close to his chest that it made your skin crawl.

“Harvey Morgensten, drop the weapon.” Morgan’s voice boomed around the room. Harvey held you with one arm tensed around the front of your shoulders and the other holding a knife to your neck.

“She’s mine! You weren’t supposed to be able to find us!” He screamed, you winced away from the shrilling pitch that scraped against the inside of your ear. It caused him to push the knife into the skin over your exposed collarbone, blood beading around the the metal tip. Your heart was hammering beneath your ribs, your hands flexing at your sides, your mind racing for a way to get out of this situation.

Spencer’s lip went up in a snarl, you half expected him to let a growl tear through his chest as if he was a lion standing against an enemy. The hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention when he took a hesitant step forward, his eyes softening for just a fraction of a second when he looks down at you.

In that fraction of a second all of his defenses fall and you can see all the grief and panic in the bags under his eyes and the raw skin of his bottom lip.

“She was never yours, Harvey.” Spencer says, wincing when Harvey responds by yanking you even closer than before. His breath is hot on your neck, his lips so close that they brush against the skin on the back of your shoulder when he speaks.

“She was never yours, Dr. Reid. She is mine, she always will be.” You cry out in surprise, your fingers coming up to scratch at the arm around your shoulders when a pair of teeth sink into the crook of your neck as if you were the victim of a vampire or something equally supernatural and territorial.

The action has the desired effect on every agent watching, especially Reid, who stumbles forward before Hotch grabs him by the back of his arm. They don’t have a shot, not without hurting you. That much you can tell just from the look they share. It doesn’t take a genius to look around and see that the end of every gun in the room is pierced right through you.

It makes you angry. You grind the back of your teeth together when a dark chuckles echoes from behind you. In your mind’s eye, you see it all happening the way you see a scene from a book playing before you like a movie.

Reaching up with one hand, you grab the onto the arm holding the knife. With the pad of your thumb, you shove every bit of strength you have into the soft skin at the inside of his wrist. At the same time, you pull your head forward before sending it reeling back onto his already broken nose. This time, you can feel the crunch of bones as your skull makes contact with his face.

Simultaneously, he drops the knife to the floor with a cry and drops his arms to reach for his gushing nose. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you manage the couple of steps forward into Spencer’s arms. In a quick and graceful display of surprising strength, he carries you back into his embrace and spins around to shield you from the monster staggering back toward you.

Prentiss is quick to catch him in his blind pursuit for you, twisting both of his arms back without an ounce of sympathy for his pain. The jingle of handcuffs precede the finality of each click around his wrists.

“Everything I did, I did for you! I made your book come to life, I ruined the reputation of those girls, I did it all for you.” Harvey struggles against the restraints, twisting his body any way that he can to get a glimpse of you curled into Spencer’s chest.

You brain is caught between reality and a distant world, everything around you feels like make believe. Only the feeling of Spencer’s sweater curled into your fingers and his hand on the back of your head feels real. Harvey’s voice is like a recording being played three blocks away, still loud enough to hear but not close enough to focus on. He’s hissing threats and insults at Spencer’s back, that psycho-something in him finally snapping under the circumstances.

Somebody is yelling for a medic and there, just underneath it all, is the sound of someone wailing in such a way that words could never accurately describe the intense pain and grief being carried on every screaming sob. As the events from the last twelve hours come rushing back to you, reality takes the reins of your mind.

It’s you that’s crying like that. That desperate, broken sound is coming from your heaving chest. When your leg finally gives out from under you, the pain too much for your body to bare, he was already there holding you.

The screams fade into small shattered sobs just in time for medics to descend the stairs. Their hands are voices are everywhere, medical jargon flying over your head as they pry your hands from Spencer’s sweater. You pull back from every touch, the thoughts in your brain flying too fast for you to keep up.

It takes them a while to get you to the ambulance, but when they do you start to panic.

“Spencer?!” You cry out, unable to move your head too much due to the neck brace and head strap holding you down. It takes only a second for him to come into view, his eyes glassy and his smile watery. His hand slips into yours before they raise you up to the ambulance, your hand is icy to the touch.

The paramedics had mentioned a possible concussion, excessive blood loss, and signs of acute compartment syndrome. The fact that you had remained conscious and walking this long was a testament to your strong will and fighting spirit.

“Don’t leave me.” You whispered, the black around the edges of your vision creeping in despite how hard you fought it. Spencer almost winced from how hard you tightened the grip on his fingers. His mouth moved, but you never heard the response, your mind fading quickly with every second.

“Don’t leave.”

The sound of a heart monitor steadily beeping was what woke you up. Groaning from all the aches and pains that surged up with consciousness, your eyes fluttered open before squinting into the bright hospital lights.

Your mother was the first thing that popped into your field of vision. The last time she had looked at you with such worry, you’d been in the ER after flipping your car into a ditch. In your defense, it was dark and, as a young driver, you over corrected when you hit a patch of standing water.

“Mama?” You pushed up on the bed, the pillow behind your head falling to the space between your lower back and the mattress. Your mom was quick to pick it up and fluff it back behind your head. She must really be concerned. Had they found cancer while you were out or something?

“Oh my goodness, (Y/N), you had me so worried.” Gingerly, you pressed the heel of your hand to the bandage that stuck to your hair and the corner of your head. Brushing the butterfly stitches that went across the cut on your cheek, you barely had time to react before she pulled you into a breath-stealing hug.

The wound on your neck smarted with the movement and you hissed in pain. Your mom pulled back, squishing your cheeks between her hands as tears began to collect on her lower lash line. Your mother was not the type to cry, about really anything, as far as you knew of. So to see her tearing up like this only added to the confusion and shock you were already feeling.

“Never join law enforcement. I thought I wanted you to, but I can’t deal with this kidnapping and near-death nonsense. I’m getting too old for it.” She teased tenderly, releasing your face from the death grip of love to wipe away the tears before they fell down her cheeks.

“When did you get here?” You asked, taking note of all the wires and tubes that connected to your body via IVs and sticky pads. A glance down at your leg eased the fear that you might have sustained a leg wound that would take your leg from you. You didn’t move it for fear of the pain you could already feel throbbing to the beat of your heart.

The bed dipped under your mother’s weight as she sat beside you, gathering one of your hands into both of hers. Scars littered the knuckles that had wiped away your tears and taught you to throw punches.

“I only got here about an hour ago, but you’ve had round the clock protection from the FBI so no need to get panicky. I can see that look creeping into your eyes.” Her own eyes squint a little, those highly observant detective skills kicking in. She’s always been able to read you like an open book, making you wonder if she would have been good at profiling.

Of course she would have, your mother was good at everything she set her mind to.

“FBI?” You’re full of so many questions, but they all fall away when you mom shifts out of your line of sight to reveal the sleeping agent tucked away into the corner of the room.

Spencer is curled onto a hospital chair that is placed into a corner beside the window looking out over the parking lot. His back is leaned against the wall, one shoulder leaned against the back of the chair. One long leg is curled into the seat and the other is stretched out next to the chair. From across the room, you can see the shadows his eyelashes cast across his cheekbones in slumber. Oddly enough, your first thought is of Sleeping Beauty.

The sight is enough to make your heart feel like it’s squeezing around a ball of broken glass. Before your mother can read too much into the mixture of emotions that, surely, skew your features, you look away.

“He’s been here since they brought you in. I met his team, they’re a fine group of agents. You didn’t tell me you were friends with anyone in the FBI.” Before she can say anything else, you clear your throat. Putting one hand, a little dramatically, to your chest you give your mother a look you haven’t used since you were a kid trying to stay home from school.

“Mama, I’m a little hungry. Can you get me something to eat?” It works like a charm. You’ve never seen your mother jump so quickly before, she races out the door like a woman on a mission. It warms your aching heart.

“Maybe you should have tried acting.” Spencer’s voice is groggy with sleep as he sits up and stretches into awareness.

“How long have you been awake?” He meets your gaze, his expression soft and earth-shaking. When you imagined seeing Spencer wake up first thing in the morning, it was never in a hospital room while feelings of betrayal and confusion stabbed into your chest.

“Just long enough to hear your mom talk about my team. She’s a nice lady.” He doesn’t move from the chair, sensing the tension in the room the way only a profiler can. He’s afraid that if he gets up, you’ll make him leave. He doesn’t need to know that he’s right.

“How long have I been out?” You’re asking every question except the one you’ve been dying to ask.

“A day. You had a pretty bad concussion and acute compartment syndrome in your leg. They weren’t sure you were going to be able to retain control of the muscle given how long you were kept hostage with it untreated, but I know you’re too stubborn to let that happen.” The silence that follows is stifling, your eyes interlocked in a battle of wills.

Was this the same man that had accused you of being a serial killer?

You’re the first to look away, fidgeting with a fray string from the blanket thrown over your legs.

“I think we need some time apart.”

“I’m so incredibly sorry.” You both speak at the same time, but your words drain the blood from Spencer’s face when they finally register. He had hoped that, by some miracle, you would forgive him of the unforgivable sin he had committed against you in the name of justice. He understood why you didn’t.

“I just,” The threads of the blanket you recognize from your childhood bedroom bump underneath your fingers when you smooth your hand over it, “I want to forgive you. But all I keep thinking is that none of this would have happened to me if you had used all those brains in your head instead of all the insecurities in you heart.”

It’s like a slap across the face, and yet Spencer can’t help but feel like he deserves it. Even still, none of it hurts as much as the crack in your voice and the tears that you try so desperately to blink away before he can see them.

It isn’t often that Spencer Reid is rendered speechless, but the guilt and heartache have stolen all the words of every language and all the breath from the air right out of his mouth.

“It’s still so fresh in my mind, I think if we distance ourselves then we’ll be able to come back to something rather than trying to scramble to bridge together the chasm that has formed between us.”

He wants to argue, everything in him screams that he needs to fight for you, but the look in your eyes stops him. If you need space, then space is what he will give you. Spencer would do anything to make this right. He wishes he had the intelligence and technology to build a time machine and go back to two mornings ago.

“I understand,” he says solemnly, trying to talk around the hurt in his chest that is growing like a tumor. “But I promised I wouldn’t leave you. I’ll give you space, but I’m only giving you the space of the wall between this room and the hallway.”

And then he’s gone, staying true to his word and sinking to the floor outside your room. When you mother comes back, holding a collection of jellos and cookies and granola bars from the hospital cafeteria, her steps falter at the sight of the young doctor outside your door.

Inside you’re curled into yourself, taking very deliberate breaths into the cotton stuffed pillow you have buried into your chest. You half expect your heart monitor to be screaming for the nurses, but despite a small quickening in the constant beeps, it gives away none of your heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” You look up, meeting your mothers eyes with tear stained cheeks. Your head is going to be throbbing later, but for now you’re only focused on the sharp pains shooting through your ribs and clouding every other pain in your body.

Between one gasp of air and the next, your mother drops all the foods to the chair vacated by Spencer before rushing to pull you into her arms.

“Can you die from a broken heart?” You whimper, feeling like a small child as you bury your head into her chest. She smells like home, running her hand over the back of your head with gentle shushing sounds.

Outside, Spencer wipes at his own tears, a silent statue of sadness protecting you from everything but himself.

[heartofsnark]

Rent-Free (Johnny Silverhand/OC Female V)

Notes; IVE BEEN ENABLED AGAIN!!!!!! AHHHHH BLAME @rosyibby, but uh, yeah basically given how much we talk about Johnny living rent free in V’s head, it made me think of paying rent through other means...*cue the cheesy porn music* Additionally, this does technically go along with my previous Johnny Silverhand fic, but like they’re not so intertwined that you won’t get it. It’s porn, you’ll catch on. Thanks for all the love on my previous nasty Johnny porn. 

Word Count: 2334

Warnings: Oral, Cunnilingus, Unprotected Sex (hologram fucking has perks), Vaginal Sex, Kissing, Johnny being gross, Dirty Talk, I’m lowkey still insecure on writing dirty talk, so hopefully this isn’t bad, also yeah game still isn’t out so he’s prob ooc to some degree

Hot water rushes from the shower head, relaxing Aidan’s aching muscles. Silence around her as she works shampoo into her hair, a welcomed moment of peace in her life, something that’s been so absent since this mess has begun. It’s late, around four in the morning, she just finished a smuggling run with Jackie. Things went south as they often do, her entire body aches from the shootout, but they got out alive and that’s all that matters.  

She works and lather soap into her skin, feeling the roughness of scars gathered contrasting against the soft give of her body. Aidan squeezes her own breast, feeling the heat and tingle of pleasure from her own groping fingers. She starts to move her other hand further down between her thighs, wanting to take advantage of the moment of calm. 

“You pent up again?” 

“God damn it!” She yells out when Johnny’s voice rings through her head, nearly slipping in her own shower. And he laughs at her as he always does, she quickly finishes washing, before stepping out. 

Johnny is leaning against the bathroom wall, arms crossed in front of him as he watched Aidan walk past, no shame in the way his dark brown eyes drag across her naked frame. Weeks have passed since their little…interaction when she tried to find a hookup. The encounter wasn’t brought up again, Aidan refusing to acknowledge it. 

And she still doesn’t acknowledge it, the weird sexual tension that’s been created between her and the ghost in her head. 

“Don’t rush on my account,” Johnny says as she quickly dries off and throws on an overside shirt along with a pair of shorts. She’ll just get to sleep as soon as possible, ignore the dampening heat in her core. 

“You’re the actual worst, you know that?” She grumbles as she leaves the bathroom, making a beeline for her bedroom. Hopefully, none of Johnny’s memories or brain weirdness will come through her dreams, she needs some peace. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me a billion times, well, that is when you weren’t screaming my name or thinking about riding my-“ 

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells out, her neighbors must think she’s crazy, but she can’t help but scream at him as she flops back on her bed. 

Aidan can feel his gaze on her, looking up to see Johnny standing at the foot of her bed, looking down at her. The position reminds her of that night, him watching her getting fucked, the heat in her core rises again. There’s a lazy calmness in the way he looks her over , no hurry or fervor, just taking her in. His eyes hovering around the plush of her thighs, moving up to where her shirt has ridden up, revealing an expanse of her soft stomach. 

“Seriously,” she starts to speak again, hoping her words can cool the heat gathering between her thighs, “you’re like the worlds shittiest roommate.” 

“Am I?” 

“Yes, you really fucking are. You have no boundaries, you do nothing but annoy me, I can’t rid of you, hell, at least a roommate might pay rent.” 

“Oh, you need me to pay rent? Sure, just let me get my wallet,” Johnny says, reaching into his pocket just to pull out his middle finger.

“Cute.” She rolls her eyes, of course he’s going to be a shit about it. 

“Cute enough for you to throw your panties at.” 

“Shut up! Just shut up!” 

He lets out a low chuckle, resonating deep in his chest, the sound stoke the flames in her center just that much more. Why is he so fucking attractive? Then she feels it, a hand grabbing at her shin, the rough callouses of his right hand. 

“You really want me to start contributing something?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice. 

“I mean, I know you can’t, but you could at least stop irritating me.” 

“Eh, don’t think I can, but I can think of something I can do that might make you a little less tense,” he says, hand skimming further up her leg. 

“Seriously, offering sex in place of rent, you watch that much porn?” 

“C’mon, Samurai, we’re way past the point of you pretending you don’t wanna fuck me, don’t you think?” 

And he’s probably right. 

“I’m definitely right.” 

“You know reading my mind is not attractive, right?” 

“Yet, you still find me attractive, funny how that works.” 

“Fine, fine,” she covers her face with her arm, cheeks burning red, “I wanna fuck you, happy?” 

“I mean, wasn’t exactly a secret, but it’s nice hearing you admit it.” 

“Shut up and touch me.” 

And then he’s over her, knees on her mattress on either side of her hips, hands grabbing the bottom of her shirt. He’s quick and rough as he yanks it off over her head, throwing it across the room. She barely has a moment to take in the cool air from her chest being exposed before he’s groping and touching her, the contrast between the smooth cold metal of his left hand and the warm calloused fingers on his right makes her whimper, arching her back to meet his touch.  The feeling of his thumbs rubbing over her nipples draws another gasp from her throat and then the heat of his mouth connects to her chest. 

“Fuck,” she curses as he works harsh kisses down her body, his touch is hungry and passionate, but most importantly of all completely unpredictable. 

There’s no patterns to where he kisses; whether it’s her collarbones, the plush of her breasts, her ribs, or her stomach. No way for Aidan to know if it’ll be the press of his lips, the laving of his tongue, or the bite of his teeth. The only constant is the scratch of his beard, rubbing her tender skin raw under his touch. She tries to wrap her fingers in his hair, to wrap the dark strands around her fingers but he moves too quickly, and she only gets a brief touch of them. 

A sharp nip just above the waistband of her shorts is her only warning before he’s yanking them off of her. Rough fingers run through her slit, just a fleeting touch as Johnny gathers her slick on his fingers. 

“You’re soaked.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be keeping my mouth busy,” he tells her before sucking his fingers into his mouth, licking her wet from his own skin. 

Then he’s practically bending her in half, pressing her thighs back to her chest, the force lifting her hips and ass off the bed. The position completely opens her up to him, no way to hide her cunt from his view. Before she can squirm or get embarrassed, his mouth is on her. His tongue licking through her folds, lapping up every drop of slick. He eats her out like he’s desperate for it, like he needs to drink up every gush of wet to survive, licking deep inside of her. His tongue finding every spot that will make her wetter. 

His beard rubs the lips of her sex raw, but she can’t find it in her to mind the edge of pain, when his tongue runs up to her clit. No true pattern, no way to predict how long he’ll go between sucking harshly on the bundle of the nerves to licking around it; back and forth between too much and not enough. The heat inside of her is reaching a boiling point, nearly crashing over the precipice of pleasure, but he pulls back before she can meet her end every time. She buries her fingers in his hair, finally feeling the softness of the locks, but she despite her pressing she can’t control his pace. 

And he stops. 

She whines at the loss of pleasure as he pulls away from her. Slick coats his lips and chin, shining in the moonlight that drifts into her bedroom. His looks are grossly unfair for someone who’s both dead and technically in his eighties. Oh god, she’s fucking an eighty something year old digital ghost-

He presses his lips to her and she can’t help gasp, tasting herself on his tongue. Johnny presses down on her body, so his body weight presses her thighs down against her chest, erection grinding into her pussy and her ankles practically on his shoulders. Her slick on his chin presses wetly against her, as his tongue pushes deeply into her mouth. She meets his lips and the passion of it, trying to taste Johnny through her own wet, taking in where he tastes like cigarettes.  

“Stop thinking,” he tells her as he pulls away, realizing the lip lock was to stop her train of thoughts about all the reasons this is wrong. 

“I really wish I could, sorry, but I mean…can you honestly say this isn’t fuckin’ weird?” 

“Who gives a shit?” 

“Wow, that fixed all my anxiety, thank you for you endless wealth of wisdom.” Aidan rolls her eyes. 

“So, the goal is now to fuck you hard enough your brain shuts off, got it.” 

“I wi-” she pauses when she feels his cock pressing against her thigh, smearing pre-cum on her skin, “when did you get naked?” 

“I’m a hologram, I can just do that.” 

“Wha-so when you only had your dick out last time, that was purely for effect?”  Aidan is grinning and already on the verge of laughing at the idea of Johnny being that committed to pretending he has to undo his pants. 

“I mean, kinda…” 

And she bursts out laughing, it’s just too silly and ridiculous, he’s so fucking dramatic. How could one man be so dramatic? What the fuck? Her stomach hurts with the force of her laughter. 

“Don’t laugh at me when I’m trying to fuck you.” 

She tries to stifle her laughter , biting her lip as she looks up at Johnny, he’s smiling. Not a smirk or some smug expression, just a soft little smile, as he looks down at her. The anxiety and tension that has started to creep back up have mostly subsided, humor settling her nerves. 

He grinds his cock down against her slick cunt, reminding her of what they’ve been building up too. 

“This is like…safe, right?” 

“Don’t worry, can’t knock you up or anything. I’ll just fuck you like I’m trying to.” 

Her face flushes red at his words and then he thrust his hips, sliding into her. She screams out his name, between the position and her own slick, he hits deep inside of her, no resistance as her body takes him in. He doesn’t tease or hold back, his entire length pressing into her, filling her completely. 

“Fuck, I knew you’d be tight, but god damn, feel like I’m break you open.” 

“Ah, uhhh, don’t say weird shit.” 

Johnny’s thrusts are punishing and harsh, brutal in the snap of his hips and she wishes she could hear the wet slap of their bodies connecting over and over again. 

“What, don’t wanna hear about how your cunt is choking my dick.” 

“Mnnnn….” All she can respond with is a whine. 

“Don’t wanna hear about how I’m gonna fill you up, how I’m gonna make you leak my cum.” 

“Johnny…” 

He’s pounding into her, each thrust and stroke of his cock inside of her building up the heat inside of her, tightening the tension in her core. The head of his dick hits deeply, harshly fucking against the sensitive spot deep inside of her. Slick keeps her able to take it all, despite the roughness and the size of him, each slam of him into her making more gush out. She can feel her own wet dripping down her the curve of her ass.

“Gonna rearrange your fuckin’ guts, make sure you fit me and no one else.” His voice is tight with a slight growl, movements speeding up. 

And while a part of her knows it’s dramatic, just bedroom talk if his dick was in her organs, they’d have some issues. But, she swears he’s doing exactly that. Carving out his place inside of her, a place only meant for him, so deep inside of her she can feel it in her throat. Stroking the embers of a fire that only he can turn into an inferno.

When that inferno of pleasure builds too high, the tension within her snaps, the bubble burst, and she’s crying out incomprehensibly as she cums on his cock. Everything whites out, mind empty as her body is overridden with pleasure, cunt clenching around him and body squirming as he keeps fucking her through her orgasm. 

“Holy fuck, you’re gonna milk me dry, fuck!” 

And he cums inside of her, hot and warm, flooding her with it. Heavy thick spurts of white coating her insides until it’s too much for her body to hold in, dripping out where the two connect. Her body is still twitching and squirming as she works through her aftershocks, once she’s a little more in touch with reality, she wonders whether his cum on her sheets will need cleaning. 

He pulls out of her and even more of it spills out, Aidan whimpers between the loss of him inside of her and the mess on her thighs. Johnny rolls over to lay next to her, it still astounds her just how real he feels, his body heat next to her own. 

She wants to lay on him, she realizes, a desire to lay her head on his chest. Aidan isn’t seriously considering cuddling with him, is she losing her mind? 

“Just ask for what you want, dumbass.” 

He wraps an arm around her sweaty shoulder and tugs her in against him, her cheeks reddening as she hides her face in his chest. There’s a lot she could mull over, a lot to think about, but with her eyelids growing heavier…it’s best to leave it alone for the night, to take Johnny’s advice for once and stop thinking so much. 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Drifters ch.9 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Enter the Other Brother. Blue, welcome home! You might be in for a surprise!

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge was not a Monster who cared very much for surprises. In his experience, they never led to anything good, not to birthday parties or unexpected gifts, but rather ambushes and dust. He preferred careful planning to the seat-of-the-pants schemes that his brother often came up with, every step made with strategy in mind.

He couldn’t say for certain if Blue was the same way, although he suspected he may be. His understanding of how the alternate worlds worked was more for the layman rather than the professional, but he wasn’t blind to the personality traits that he and Blue shared, the sort of twist in nature vs nurture that any sociologist would love to explore.

He had a fair idea of how he might react to finding this clown car of a domestic scene in his own living room and if he’d known that Stretch hadn’t even mentioned he and Red were here, much less the baby, he would have at least sent Blue a blasted text.

That might have at least braced him and given him a chance to come up with a better question than simply, “Is that a baby?”

His brother, ever the peacemaker, chose that precise to speak up, scoffingly, “sure can tell you two are brothers, ya share the same brain cell, your bro said the same damn thing. yeah, it’s a baby, good on you for noticin’.”

“blue!” Stretch scrambled upright and his bright grin was too wide, too wrong, tinged with poorly hidden guilt. “sorry, bro, i was gonna call and it slipped my mind. yeah, hey, everyone showed up on our doorstep yesterday. check out the snow princess, cute, huh?”

That much at least was the truth, but Blue didn’t seem to have heard a word of it. This wasn’t quite the reaction Edge had been braced for; he’d expected Blue to make a beeline for the baby, had been resigned to handing her over for plenty of excited cuddling and cooing.

This was something else entirely. The normal stars of his eye lights were overly bright, flashing between blue and yellow with seizure inducing intensity, set into a face that was like stone. He barely glanced at the rest of them past a brief, bizarrely sympathetic glance at Edge. The anger in his gaze was for his brother alone.

Stretch seemed equally confused, his oversized smile faltering, “bro?”

“How could you?” Blue said, his voice carrying despite its deadly softness.

“wha…me?” Stretch looked around the room as if perhaps another person had appeared, that it was to this stranger his brother spoke that way. He shrank back as Blue abruptly moved, slamming the door shut as he stalked over to the sofa, his small body radiating fury.

“How could you!?” Again, louder this time, not quite a shout but verging on one.

“coulda woulda shoulda? bro, what the hell—”

Blue ignored that, stamping his foot and sending out a spatter of rapidly melting snow from his boot to dampen the carpet. “Irresponsible!”

Stretch’s face was falling, going oddly blank, his false humor fading. Next to him, Red looked equally perturbed. “now hang on a sec, short stuff, ain’t no reason to go off on the honey bun.”

“Stay out of this!” Blue snapped and for a wonder, Red jerked back, his mouth snapping shut. His eye lights briefly guttered, leaving his sockets dark and black, returning only when Stretch spoke up next to him.

“yeah. stay out of this,” Stretch agreed, softer but no less sharp and from the look he shot Edge, he was included in that statement.

Edge said nothing and even the child was silent, a dab of runny banana sliding down her chin as she stared at the Swap brothers with wide sockets. Even if he’d wanted to intrude, this argument was between brothers and it was an unspoken rule through all the ‘verses that one did not interfere with brothers.

Despite the surface similarities, none of their relationships were exactly the same. Edge knew all too well that if he railed at Red over his laziness, his brother never took it to heart or soul. He let Edge rant, blowing off the steam that built within him throughout the day and his frustrated insults rolled off Red like water off the proverbial duck. The only fallout tended to be yet another sticky note added to the continuing line trailing away from a single, absurd sock.

Stretch was, well, lacking waterproofing. More like Edge in that way, truth be told, and if Edge could snipe at his brother all day long for his ridiculous puns and lazy ways, one genuine return jab from Red often left him deeply wounded, all the more painful for its unerring accuracy and rarity.

He wondered how he’d handle being under the weight of that much visible disappointment. Edge almost always agreed with Blue’s assessments of his brother’s behavior, but his delivery needed work and the unexpected impulse to protect Stretch from that disappointment took him off guard. He wanted to scoop Stretch up like he did the baby, hold him close, cradle him in his arms and protect him, and that was ridiculous, utterly; he was an adult, older than Edge, and yet the urge remained.

In the end, Edge could only look away, stirring the gloopy remains of the banana while the two brothers whispered furiously behind him.

“Of all the careless, irresponsible—” Blue took a deep breath, let it out, muttering out, “This is all right, this is fine. We can deal with this.” He scrubbed his gloved hands over his face and then squared his shoulders as he said, “You still should have called me.”

“probably,” Stretch agreed, and perhaps the unexpected storm had passed. He relaxed back into the sofa, the tension in the room easing. “didn’t want to interrupt your important training.” He flashed Edge a sharp glance and he tried to look as if that was the exact reasoning.

“Yes, well, that’s true,” Blue admitted. “And I appreciate you thinking of that, but next time…well, there probably won’t be a next time of this, I should hope.” Any lingering worry that Blue might object to them staying for a time vanished as Blue finally swung back to the baby, this time with a familiar, bright smile on his face as he gushed out, “Which is a shame because she is simply adorable!”

He rounded the coffee table with the haste Edge originally expected, grabby hands extended, and the moment Blue bent down to reach for her, the baby burst into sobbing howls, squirming away.

Automatically, Edge swung her up, settling her against his shoulder and patting her back gently as he soothed her with a bewildered, “There, there, it’s all right. What’s wrong?”

Blue looked as if he might burst into tears himself, stumbling back a step and his eye lights faded from stars to unhappy circles. “I didn’t mean to—"

They both turned to look at Red as he let out a harsh laugh. “what’s wrong? he scared the shit out of her coming in like that, that’s what’s wrong,” Red snorted contemptuously, “don’t you know nothin’ bout babies? you’re almost as bad as my bro.”

“Not really,” Blue admitted. Shame filled his expression as he shuffled his feet. He noticed he was still wearing his boots and sat on the floor to pull them off, carrying them over to the door and automatically straightening the other shoes before adding his. “Most of my experience with children has been seeing them from a distance.”

That gave Edge a start and he realized he’d been expecting Blue to have some sort of knowledge about childcare, though he wasn’t sure why. This world was softer and tended towards kindness, but that hardly meant it gave them any innate parenting skills.

“Well!” Blue straightened, propping his hands on his hips. “I’m sure that the Magnificent Sans can learn!”

“sure you can, bro,” Stretch said, cautiously, and that Edge could understand, being very familiar with Blue’s brand of determination.

“yeah, well, here’s your first lesson,” Red slouched back on the sofa, picking at his gold tooth with a sharpened fingertip. “babies don’t like it when ya shout.”

“yep, that’s a good place to start. you know what, i’m gonna get everyone some coffee,” Stretch announced and fled to the kitchen, the coward.

Blue paid that no mind, already came back over determinedly when he spied the bowl Edge had hastily shoved on the table. The child was watching him warily as Blue picked it up, taking hold of the little spoon. “Here, let me help!”

Before Edge could stop him, Blue tried to poke the filled spoon into her mouth. The child refused to part her teeth, leaving a smear of mushy banana across them, and Blue’s brief confidence sagged, “Oh. Um. Maybe she’s not hungry?”

“Maybe.” Edge took the bowl back and immediately she began bouncing eagerly in his lap, mouth opening wide as she made urgent little sounds.

“fuck, you two are morons,” Red snorted, because of course he would stay to bear witness. “she don’t know you. kid is small, she ain’t blind. she ain’t gonna take her banana goop from just any plain asshole, she likes an asshole she knows.”

“Yes, thank you for clarifying that for us all, brother,” Edge said sourly. Somewhat gentler, he said to Blue, “Sit with me. Let her see you, it may make her more comfortable.”

“yeah, hold out a hand and let her sniff ya, that’ll do it,” Red chuckled meanly as Stretch came back out with a tray of mugs. He set it down before smacking Red on the back of the skull.

“will you cool it on the running commentary? let them work it out.”

Red rubbed his head and scowled, but he accepted the coffee cup when Stretch handed him one. “just callin’ it how i see it.”

“yeah, well, if they give up on trying, that leaves you as mary poppins, smartass.”

“good point. my teeth are sealed.”

The child grudgingly allowed Edge to settle her back on the pillows with the unspoken promise of more food. She watched Blue warily the entire time she was eating, but he made no move towards her. He sat obediently still the entire time, his gloved hands clasped tightly together in his lap as if to stave off any impulse to scoop the baby up. If nothing else, her attention on Blue kept her from messily sharing any more of her banana.

When the bowl was scraped clean, Edge wiped the child’s chubby face clean with a damp cloth then settled her back into his lap. “You see, little one?” he told her softly, “Blue is a friend.”

“I am! I really am! Want to come here?” Blue slowly held out his hands without getting too close, waiting with impressive patience. The baby looked from him to Edge, and he tried to look encouraging.

Slowly, she held up her arms to Blue. He lifted her a little awkwardly, but managed to get her settled into the curve of his arm without intervention.

“There we go!” To Edge’s relief, Blue kept his enthusiasm at a minimum, though he practically vibrated with excitement. Almost immediately, the baby began to loudly babble and if he didn’t know better, Edge would say she was scolding Blue for his part in the earlier brotherly dispute.

Soon enough, her chattering dwindled to murmurs, her sockets growing heavy, then closing entirely as she slept. Edge let Blue keep holding her as he gratefully took up his own cup of coffee and never had caffeination been so delicious.

Blue only looked at her in awe, lightly touching each of her tiny, perfect fingers. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered, turning the full force of his starry eye lights onto his brother, “but honestly, Papy, you should have told me you two were expecting a child!”

Stretch choked, spilling coffee down the front of his shirt. “wait, what? that’s why you were so pissed off?”

“I would have thought you would be more cautious about that sort of thing, but I suppose it hardly matters now,” Blue said philosophically. “You still should have called me though when she arrived!”

“but we didn’t…!”

“Here we have a new baby, and I wasn’t even able to give her a baby shower!”

“She’s already had a bath,” Edge said, confused. This was going entirely too fast and he was not in top form, how could they possibly have been expecting her, there was nothing about the past two days that Edge had expected in the slightest.

Rescue came from an unexpected and wholly unwanted source.

“fuck’s sake, blueberry, she ain’t their kid!” Red snapped.

“Don’t swear,” Edge and Blue said, nearly in unison. Then Edge nearly choked on his own coffee as realization clicked with the force of an open-handed slap. Blue thought that the baby was his, not simply his responsibility but his own and Stretch’s. Suddenly his earlier sympathetic look made more sense, by Asgore’s horns, of all things he could believe…!

“She’s not?” Blue asked, confused. “But, then where did she come from?”

“where the fuck do you think, numbnuts?” Whatever the patience Red usually had for Blue seemed to have found its limit. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, all but slamming his mug down on the coffee table, “she wasn’t flown in by the stork, kid was homegrown just like the rest of us and she’s got the fucking serial number to prove it!”

“Oh.” There was a wealth of meaning in that single, soft word, too many to properly interpret. Blue looked down at the baby sleeping in his arms, his fingertips hovering over her rib cage without touching, right over where her pajamas hid the healing scar. The same scar his brother and Red still had, faded and blurred, but still there. Then he wordlessly handed her to Edge, climbing to his feet and walked determinedly over to his brother.

Stretch only watched warily, allowing Blue to take away his half-empty coffee cup to shove it on table, ignoring the splash of coffee that slopped out and spread across the wood. He slid his small, strong arms around him, holding onto his brother tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Blue said simply. The words were muffled, buried into Stretch’s coffee-stained hoodie. “I shouldn’t have been so upset with you and I certainly should have let you explain.”

“aw, bro, it’s okay—” Stretch hugged him back, resting his cheekbone on top of Blue’s skull.

“It’s not,” Blue said, the words tainted with the hint of a sob. “I assumed you were being irresponsible, and I shouldn’t have.”

“not like i don’t give you a reason for that.”

“There’s a difference between a messy room and, well, this.” They stayed there a moment longer, holding on tight, and when Blue drew away, he swiped a hasty sleeve over his damp sockets. “Now!” Blue clapped his hands together softly. “I think we should discuss living arrangements.”

“We can,” Edge said, quietly firm, “but I hardly think that will be necessary. We won’t be here for long.”

The sudden trio of protests was loud enough to wake the baby and Edge turned away, bouncing her in his arms as he tried to soothe her back to sleep. He’d known there would be objections, but he couldn’t allow them to sway him. This child was his responsibility, his choice, and his alone.

He had a duty to her and Edge was determined to see it done.

TBC

[spookysmujer]

His Girl pt.2 // Sad Eyes

Summary: Your relationship with Sad Eyes is now known but Spooky loves to mess with his little sister. A sweet and sultry end 🍒

warnings: mild swearing, s m u t 🥵 18+

word count: 2.4k

A/N: twice in one day, who is she? LOL a follow-up to His Girl. Spooky finding out about his little sister and right hand man being a thing! Who else has protective siblings? I hope to see more people write for Sad Eyes, such a stud muffin and we need more gifs. My next fic includes 🧊+ 🎰 with Spooky. Let’s just say what happens there? Stays there.

When you were in 8th grade and Spooky a freshmen, it gave you a little freedom, finally. It meant that you didn’t have to sneak around the hallways to wave to that boy you liked. But Spooky being Spooky had figured it out soon enough. Just as he had figured out now about you and Sad Eyes.

“Snitches get stitches!”

Is what you said that night you found your brother and lover standing outside of your window before shutting it. You all but hoped that he would be a little understanding and give you shit for brief moment but that wasn’t the case. He gave you shit, shit like you were a teenager again.

“What made you think I wouldn’t find out?” Oscar asks you as you sit in silence during breakfast. Cesar has kept his head down the whole time.

You play with the food on your plate, ignoring the comments your big brother has been making since you woke up. This must be hell I’m in? You ponder.

“Didn’t seem to have a clue for the last 3 months..” You say under your breath, Oscar stares at you with a scowl.

When one of his homies mentioned that the summer had been going hard with all these rucas outta high school, someone commented how Sad Eyes was going soft and claimed a ruca before getting a real taste of summer vibes. When asked who, someone slipped ‘your sister’. Sad Eyes never felt holes burned so deep into his skull. When Spooky asked, he had no words. There was rage of course, but if anyone were to date his little sister, who better than is right hand.

But of course, being Spooky, he couldn’t resist giving you shit. Especially for hiding it from him.

“Hm.. well I hope you enjoyed it. No más.” He lights a cigarette, you look to him finally. Your mouth agape, “You heard me.”

“What... I-I’m not a kid!” You slam your hand on the table and he furrows your brows, telling you to calm down,” No, I won’t calm down! I get that you think me dating a Santo isn’t safe but you are my brother for fucksake. Everyone knows it!”

He laughs to himself at your outrage. Oscar continues to eat, you want to flip the table. The Diaz temper present in all 3 of you.

You push yourself away from the table and stomp out of the kitchen and into the your room, slamming the door.

You scroll through your contacts and call him, desperately hoping your brother hadn’t murdered him himself or send the other Santos on him. Despite a few attempts to get in contact, to no avail. Oscar is going to get it, he wants to give you hell? You were gonna give him hell.

It didn’t take long for Oscar to bring home a hyna. You sat in the living room one night when he enters with her.

“Hm, jumping back in the game quick?” You comment, sipping on a coffee. He glances at you briefly, as he pulls the girl through the house. He stops and sees Jasmine in the kitchen, she waves and the hyna gags. Egg salad.

“Um, maybe I’ll call you.” She pulls her hand back and exits the house. You are dying of laughter, the silent kind of laughter. Head tipped back and tears falling.

Oscar gives Jasmine a look and then turns to stand in front of me, “You serious?”

“Oscar, 1. Y/N, 1, bitch. You gonna learn real quick who ran this shit while you were gone. You fuck with my dick intake and I fuck with you hyna intake. Goodnight, mano.” You push past him to join Jas in the kitchen.

Your brother seethes in anger. If you two were in high school, he’d do as he use to and pull your ponytail to fight you on the ground. You have the scars to prove all the physical fights you got in.

☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹

You and Oscar were petty with each other like old times. He couldn’t help it but he has bigger fish to fry now so he green light to Sad Eyes.

“Com’n, we’re going to pool.” Oscar tells you as you lay in your room, you roll your eyes but agree to because of the heat wave that rolled in.

You get changed and head to the pool with your two brothers.

It’s a nice day at the pool, perfect for tanning. You lay on your back, sunnies on.

“Hola mami.”

You hear a familiar voice, peer over your glasses and rest on your elbows, you see a shirtless Sad Eyes standing in front of you. He set his things down beside you nodding to your brother. Your brows furrow.

“Puto!”

Sad Eyes grabs his shoulder that you hit and laughs. He knew that meant that you understood exactly what that head nod meant. No phone call or texts, Oscar reminding you for the past couple days who runs the ship now, all the shit you’ve been given!

“You think you two are soooo funny, hm?” You can hear Oscar laughing in the pool. “Puto I fucking swear.”

Sad Eyes laughs a little more before kissing yourcheek, “Lo siento, mi amor. I had a couple runs I needed to do and he thought it would funny to just mess around with you. He gave me some hard shit for keeping us on the DL. But all in all he thinks it’s better than dating some pendejo.”

You roll your eyes, flipping over onto your stomach. His eyes go to your ass, sharply inhaling air. He missed his mujer.

“Too bad because it seems I am dating one.” You turn your head away. “You realize because you think this is so funny that you get it twice as bad, right? So your 3 days times 2... 6. 6 days you’ll spend being ignored by me. And my kitty and my mouth.”

He laughs at you pettiness. You hear the sunscreen bottle cap and turn to see him rubbing the lotion on his tan skin. The devil in you is forcing you to watch. You can’t look away.

“Need more?” He asks you. You shrug and move your hair over your shoulder. Sad Eyes takes some in hand and rubs them together. His hands smear the lotion on your backside, massaging it into you skin. Oh man, you haven’t felt his hands on you in days.

No! Don’t fall for this!

It’s when his hands move over your ass that you jump. He lets out a breathy laugh and massages for a second before removing his hands.

“Brave.” You comment.

“Yearning.” He slaps your ass and you squeal, looking towards the pool to see Oscar distracted.

After needing to ask God to control your body before jumping his bones right there, you and your brothers head home and get things going for the weekly Santo gathering.

“So he really doesn’t care?” You ask Sad Eyes as he sits against the headboard of your bed, smoking a blunt. He nods as he watches you get dressed.

“The black one.” He says as you look between two blouses. You hold it against your chest and licks his lips. “Hm.”

You set it down and untie your robe, letting it fall from your shoulders. You can hear the moment Sad Eyes loses his breath. Your black lace thong and matching bra clinging to you body so perfectly. He feel himself strain against his shorts.

“New set, like it?” You turn and let him see your ass. His eyes does all the speaking. “Too bad we got this party tonight.”

He stalks over to you as you stand in front of your body mirror. Towering behind you, he steps extra close to you, “I don’t know, mami. Heard that shit is going to be lame.”

You restrain your grin as he pulls your back against his chest, hands on your hip. Your push your ass into groin area and he groans into your ear. His breath hitting your neck as you watch him loosen him.

“Hmm, I don’t know. My mans pissed me off and I wanna show him what he missing.”

“Fuck him.” He pushes his hands down your thighs, using his knee to hit your legs apart. You feel a tingle hit your core immediately.

Sad Eyes steps back and pulls his shirt off and sits on your bed. You give up, once that damn shirt is off there is no resistance. You walk over to him and straddle his lap, feeling his broad shoulders and pushing him down. He watches you with complete lust in his eyes. Those 3 days away from his bebe has been torture.

“You really pissed me off you know, not giving me a heads up about your run. I thought my brother literally killed you.” You push his hands up from where they were resting and hold them above his head. He bites his bottom lip as your boobs hover over his face.

“Forgive me, mami. Lemme make it up to you.”

He lifts his head to plant kisses on your chest, licking your cleavage and earning an involuntary moan from you. He smirks at this and takes the opportunity to overpower you and flip you two over. He sits on his knees and kisses your torso, slowly. Inching down closer and closer to where you want him most. You watch as he does so, his eyes locked on yours.

Your hips can’t help but squirm, yearning for friction. The man is a complete tease and loves to see you whine for his touch. His breath hits against your inner thighs followed by longing kisses.

“Stop teasing,” You close your legs to trap his head which makes you smirk. He pulls your panties down and tosses them over his shoulder. He listens to you and dives right in. His tongue hot in pursuit on your clit.

The moment he makes contact, your back arches off the bed. You grab a pillow and hold it over your face to suppress the moan that you have no control over coming out. Sad Eyes pushes your legs up at the base of your ass to have nice view and space to put in work. His tongue is lathering your sensitive bud as well as teasing your entrance.

You moan and move, feeling the sensation build. God, how could you have stayed mad at him? He makes you come undone with his mouth, his touch, his body and even a just look most of the time. He set off new things you never felt, physically and emotionally. Though you two never formally spoke of being together nor did he openly claim you, you didn’t see end to being with him.

“Mhmmm,” He hums, sending vibrations through your core and nearly having you cross eyed.

You push yourself on your elbows to watch him. Eyes locked and nothing but sin staring back at you, “Fuck me already.” He licks one last swipe and comes up to kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hand finds your hips to tell you move up. He taps your ass for you to move on your knees. Face down, ass up his favorite way to have you.

He pulls your ass to press against him. You can feel his erection and how bad he is about to give it to you, “Please, papi.” A hiss escapes you as he lands a smack on your ass. Then another. You finally feel his fingers spreading your arousal to prepare you for him. He soon replaces his fingers with his cock. For a minute, he pushes himself through your folds to get him slicked up too. This alone is enough to send you into oblivion.

You are growing impatient but before you can speak up he slides himself deep into you to the hilt. His impressive size stretching you, a burn starts but pleasure continues. You both groan as he stays in place to get you comfortable. Sad Eyes has you in his control and you are not complaining.

“So warm, all mine. Hm? Tell me.”

You gasp when he pulls your hair back as your skins slap together, “I-I’m yours, only yours, Papi.” He pulls your hair harder to get you to sit up. Your back is pressed against his chest, still getting pounded. He still has his grip on your hair, your cheek pressed against his. Sad Eyes grabs your face to turn you to look at him, his mouth covers yours and you kiss roughly. Tongues fighting for dominance.

The sensation that has been building up is nearing a release. Your moans sound in the room without your control as if he has a control on how your body reacts. Thankful for the music blasting outside and inside your room to muffle the sounds of you both slowly coming undone.

“Oh shiiiit, fuck.” He releases the grip on your hair and lets you fall forward, gripping your hips now and he is pounding into you relentlessly. He pulls out and strokes himself before pushing back into. He does so a few times before he started to pound you again. The pace picked up meant that he is close to release too. You’d be lying to say you were both about to cum together but you ride out your orgasm for him to reach his.

He reaches under you to rub your clit to help intensify your orgasm. And nearly instantly, your body convulses. The pleasure exploding inside you. You are gasping and releasing inhumane sounds from the bliss your body is feeling.

“Fuck.” He says as he pulls out just in time for his seed to spurt on your ass.

Fuck a workout, all you need is this. You’re trying to catch your breath as he gets off the bed and reaches for towel hanging to wipe the mess from you as you still lay with your ass in the air.

“I can’t move, help.” You laugh and he helps you. He pulls you flush against him, your orgasm has your legs weak. Kissing you while feeling your heated body.

“I’ll never get use to this, you know. Not just the fucking you senseless. Just being with you.” He holds your face in his hands. His eyes glint with adoration.

You blush and look away before puckering your lips for another kiss. He complies, “Mmm, good. I don’t wanna get use to it. I wanna have long days and nights with you. For a while.”

He smiles and nods in agreement, “Mi mujer.”

[joyful-soul-collector]

Spider-Man Lesson Number One

Prompt: Doesn’t Realize They’ve Been Injured

This was requested by my friend on Ao3 happy_to_be_here!

Irondad Tag List: @phahbiyah​ @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars​ @clevermuffinalmondpeach​ @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe​ @canonismybitch​

Thank you to @nazezdha321​ and @sketchibilitea​ for beta reading this for me!

And of course we have to tag @badthingshappenbingo​! 

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list! Hope you all enjoy!

Read on AO3

“Oh my gooooooooooood this is so boring! Friday nights are usually crazy with crime, how is it so dead out here?” Peter said to himself. 

“Crime levels fluctuate, Peter,” Karen said into his ear, startling him so hard he almost fell off the side of the building he was sitting on. “Though I did get a report of a disturbance a few streets away. My guess is law enforcement will not arrive for about ten minutes, plenty of time to help out and leave before you get caught.”

“Finally, good lord,” Peter said, shooting a web and swinging his way towards the street Karen indicated. “I mean it’s a Friday, where’s all the raging drunk college kids doing stupid stuff?”

“Perhaps they have all gone to sleep, Peter. It is rather late.”

“Pfft, it’s nine o’clock, the day’s just getting started for them,” Peter said with a snort. Peter landed with a flip on a building by his destination. “Karen, where exactly did you say--”

A scream cut him off and Peter whirled to look down in a dimly lit alleyway. 

“Shit, Karen, night vision please?”

“Of course, Peter.”

Peter could suddenly see a man cornering what looked to be a woman and her son. The man lunged at them and the woman punched him hard, and Peter could hear the snap of one of her fingers from even up on the roof. Peter quickly lept down as the woman howled in pain. 

“Woah! Hey hey buddy what’re you doing!?” Peter shouted as the man recovered from her punch. He pointed a sharp pocket knife at Peter and snarled, “Give me all your money you little brat!” Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Why is it always the same with you guys? Can none of you get that I’ve beat up supervillains? What in the hell makes you think you’ll last longer than the Vulture?” Peter scoffed. The man faltered but didn’t back down, still pointing the blade directly at Peter’s face. 

“Goddamit--I need this money!” The man growled. 

“You don’t need anything enough to kill someone over it man,” Peter said. “Now are you gonna leave so we don’t have to do the ‘you struggle while I win’ thing, or is that the route you prefer? Remember, this action will have consequences.”

Heh, Ned would appreciate the Life is Strange reference, Peter thought absentmindedly. Hey actually I’m not sure how far he got on that game, I gotta ask him about that tomorr--

Peter’s thoughts were interrupted by the man suddenly swinging the blade far too close to Peter’s chest. 

“Woah!” Peter said, doing his best to dodge the man’s swings but stay in front of the woman and her son behind him. “Not cool man!” Peter stopped the mugger’s fist on the fourth swing, squeezing his arm hard until he shouted and dropped the knife. Peter threw him against the wall and webbed him there muttering angrily to himself. 

“Stupid fucking ADHD. Of course I forget my meds on a Friday, the day I should be the most focused! Dammit! C’mon Spider-Man, way to be an idiot,” Peter said as he scribbled a note and stuck it to the webbing over the man’s chest. 

He turned to face the woman who was still holding her hand with a grimace while her son wailed next to her. 

“Oh jeez, yeah that’s definitely broken, here lemme help with that,” Peter said as he saw a deep bruise blossoming over her dark skin. He shot a bit of webbing into his hand and gently wrapped it around her fingers. “That’s gonna dissolve in an hour so you’ll wanna get that checked out as soon as possible, um, I know someone who can help out if you need the bills paid for that--”

“It’s fine, I’m actually a nurse,” the woman said with a strained chuckle. She glanced up at Peter, but her expression suddenly changed to a look of horror. “Oh god, Spiderman--”

“Woops, I can just tell you missed a hyphen there,” Peter said, giving her a good natured glare. “It’s Spider, hyphen, Man. Man with a capital ‘M’. Sorry, I’m a bit of a stickler for this stuff--”

The small boy next to them cut him off with an ear splitting wail, and Peter suddenly felt his heart squeeze. 

“Aw, kiddo, you’re alright!” Peter said, squatting down to be at eye-level with the child. He only cried harder, scrubbing his eyes and sniffling miserably in fear. 

Peter gently touched his shoulder and looked right into his eyes. 

“Hey,” he said softly. That seemed to calm him down a bit, his wails shrinking into small whimpers. “What’s your name kiddo?”

“M-Miles,” he squeaked. 

“Miles, huh? That’s a pretty cool name.”

“Not as cool as Spider-Man,” he huffed. 

“Well who knows, kid! Maybe you’ll be Spider-Man someday too!” Peter said. Miles’s eyes lit up excitedly and he bounced on his feet. 

“Would you teach me!?”

“Ha! I’m sure you could guilt me into it with those little puppy eyes,” Peter said. Miles made his best little doe eyes and Peter gasped. 

“Oh no! I’ve been defeated by the cuteness! You’re too powerful Spider-Man!” he cried. Miles giggled in delight and Peter squinted his eyes in a mocking glare. 

“Alright kid. Spider-Man lesson number one: Don’t watch the mouth, watch the hands!” 

Peter flung an arm up and shot a web, flying high into the air with an elated shout. Peter could hear Miles shrieking with glee below and he smiled.

“See ya later Spider-Man!” 

And Peter headed to the tower, taking no notice of the wet warmth dripping down his side. 

~~~

Peter arrived at Stark Tower right on time for his curfew, which he still felt was too early to be heading home. Ten pm? Really?

But Tony said Aunt May would flay him alive if he let Peter break curfew just because she’d be gone for a week, and to be honest, Peter 100% believed him. She’s definitely a bit of a momma bear. 

Peter quietly opened one of the windows, only noticing Tony was there when he jumped in surprise. 

“Jesus kid, you about scared the hell outta me. You gotta quit that, you know I have heart problems,” he said, tossing his phone to the side on the couch. 

But oddly enough, Peter was having a hard time hearing him. Or at least focusing on hearing him. Probably his ADHD again. 

“Heheh,” Peter said, his laugh feeling weak. What was he laughing at again? Man, he really should’ve taken his medication. 

“Kid? You alright?” Peter ignored him, staring at something on the window he’d just climbed through. It was a footprint, but it looked all smeared, and oddly… red. 

“Wassat?” he mumbled, staring at the bloody footprint, and feeling rather dizzy. Was this an ADHD thing? He couldn’t remember. 

“Oh my god, Peter! Shit, kid you’re bleeding!” Tony said through the water that seemed to be surrounding Peter’s ears. 

“Hmm?” Peter said. Then he looked down at himself and realized there was a deep cut along his side, and blood had leaked out and run all the way down his leg. 

Tony was saying something else, grabbing his arms and trying to lead him somewhere, but Peter resisted. He didn’t want to get blood tracked all over the carpet. 

“Pr’tty sure this stuff ‘s s’pposed to stay inside me,” Peter mumbled. But the sight of his own blood flowing out of him had made Peter dizzy, and he very suddenly wasn’t worrying much about the carpet anymore. 

In fact, he wasn’t worrying about anything at all. 

~~~

Peter’s side was rather sore when he woke up in a hospital bed, though he was more surprised by the hospital bed than he was about the ache. Peter pushed himself into a sitting position and winced as pain lanced up his side. 

“Careful kiddo,” a voice said from the doorway. There was Tony, standing there with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “You don’t wanna rip a stitch.”

“Oh. Yeah that’s a good idea. Wouldn’t wanna, um, do that.” They stared at each other for a moment before Tony rolled his eyes and gave him a soft smile. 

“What I wanna know, is how the hell you swung all the way to the tower without noticing you had a seven-inch long gash in your side,” he said. 

“Um… ADHD?”

“Ha! Well whatever you were thinking about must’ve been pretty damn distracting,” Tony prompted. Peter grinned, thinking back. 

“I met this little kid named Miles. He said he wanted to be Spider-Man like me. I told him I’d teach him if he ever did become Spider-Man, I was thinking about what I’d show him,” Peter said. Tony’s gaze softened as he walked over. 

“Well that’s real nice of you kid. But, you know that even though that gash will heal by tomorrow I still gotta tell your Aunt about this, right?” he said. He held out a cup of strawberry Jell-O, which Peter took with a snort.

“Yeah yeah, but can we just save that for later? I think I should recover from this before going into another battle,” Peter said, making his own version of Miles’s doe eyes. Tony scoffed and ruffled Peter’s hair. 

“Sure kid. Eat your Jell-O and we’ll go watch some Star Wars,” he said. 

Peter grinned widely and ate his treat, too distracted by the warmth in his chest to care about the ache in his side. 

[skinks]

I see your “fake/pretend dating” scenarios and I ask instead of you: “we’re secretly together and desperately trying to hide it” scenarios

Richie and Eddie finally get their shit together a week before Bev and Ben’s wedding, and after a whole lot of arguing and contingency plans and naked, sweaty discussion, they decide that if they don’t wanna steal that hetero thunder, they have to try their hardest to act like they’re not a Thing

and it’s a mess. They spend the whole week of bachelor parties (Losers plus Patty sans Bev get sad drunk and wish Bev was there) and bachelorette parties (Losers plus Patty sans Ben wear feather boas and get sorority drunk with Bev’s fashion friends, gossip about Ben and sing karaoke) pretending they’re not sneaking off to bone in every unoccupied room they possibly can

It’s a MESS. Richie figures the years of practice at pathetic, secret longing mean they should be better at this than they are. Like yeah, they’re still hovering in this awkward limbo stage where it’s both terribly exciting and horribly embarrassing to be crossing meat swords with your long lost best bro, while knowing you’re both totally into it, but they already acted so couple-y beforehand that it’s probably WEIRDER if Eddie stops smiling all fond and fixing Richie’s hair, or if Richie stops slinging his arm around Eddie at every opportunity. But that’s letting their guard down, and they keep freezing and jumping apart in the middle of casual conversation. They’re standing with Bill and Audra and Patty and Mike in some hotel function room, discussing whether or not stealing Ben’s yacht is feasible when Richie oh-so-gently says “hey—c’mere,” and wipes a smudge of chocolate fondue (contains nuts!!) from Eddie’s mouth with his thumb. Everyone stops talking. Everyone stares. Eddie stares. And Richie needs to duck and cover so he sort of - slaps him? Not even hard enough to make a noise, it’s more of a tap-then-push. He pushes Eddie’s face. “Is that Staniel I hear,” Richie says, after a moment.

“I don’t hear anything,” Patty says.

“No no, that’s definitely Stan,” Richie says, backing swiftly to the door. Eddie’s eyes are on him accusing and hot, dark brown like the chocolate smeared on Richie’s thumb. Later, Eddie will suck the taste off where it’s stuffed in his mouth to keep quiet as they fuck below deck in Ben’s stolen yacht, Mike and Bill fighting overhead about who gets to wear the blue and white captain’s hat. Eddie’s pants are barely even pulled down. Richie does his Quint From Jaws Voice and goes duh-dun, duh-dun as Eddie pushes inside so Eddie will bite his thumb and fuck him harder. It’s all very undignified, and illicit, and stupid. Eddie loves it. “I have great ears, Pattycake, and Stanley makes this sort of, uh, echolocation type noise when he’s having issues with hotel staff. I should know, I went on vacation once with his family, to the Catskills? Stan spilled soup on a waiter and every bat in the fuckin’ place came right outta the forest and flew into the buffet. Don’t ask him about it though, one man’s vigilante origin story is another man’s traumatic childhood. Okay bye.” Richie definitely doesn’t run, but running away is more about aura than gait.

Audra frowns. “Did he just imply Batman didn’t have a traumatic childhood?”

“Haha,” Eddie deflects, stuffing his hand in his pocket, and missing. “He must’ve had the shrimp. Fucked up that he’s the one with the actual shellfish allergy, right? Isn’t that irony, or something?”

“That would be ironic, if you didn’t know everything we’re all allergic to by heart and would never let Richie eat shrimp,” Bill says, still staring.

“I would,” Eddie says immediately. He can’t find his fucking pocket. “I would totally let Richie eat shrimp.”

“You slapped his slice of pizza out of his hand last week because there was oyster sauce in the marinara,” Mike says, but Eddie is already actually running away. Wow, he’s fast.

Even with the Losers, Richie’s only out by implication, but it’d still be weird if he, for some reason, brought a woman as his date. He thinks about bringing Sven the Sound Guy because he’s as opposite to Eddie as it’s possible to find on short notice since Guy Fieri was unavailable, but he can’t decide whether this is genius cover or so on the nose as to be damning. He goes stag in the end, which is perhaps most damning of all. Eddie is in Schrodinger’s closet, because he doesn’t have to answer either way if nobody fucking asks him, and nobody does, because Eddie always starts doing whatever he’s currently doing to an incredibly intense level whenever the conversation turns to dating. One time at dinner when they were all in the same city for one of Richie’s tentative, low-key comeback shows, someone mentioned post-divorce dating apps, and then someone simply said the word Grindr not even in Eddie’s direction and Eddie cut his steak so hard he scratched the plate. This was an achievement in and of itself seeing as the clown took Eddie’s fork-arm, but Richie was spearing his steak for him while he cut it. He’s an enabler. An enabler to steak, and freakouts.

Anyway, even with all of this, it’s still weird that Eddie brings a woman. She’s Paula. From work. Stan sees her checking her phone so often that he figures out she’s one of the women in the matching white wedding dresses on her lock screen. Stan nudges Patty, who becomes very insistent that they should tell Eddie before he gets his heart broken, but Eddie is probably too busy periodically kicking out the backs of Richie’s knees to make him wobble and buckle against the bar to notice, or care.

Bev has great fucking aim, is the thing. There’s a lost catapult and a space-alien dead as a dodo can attest to it, but she’s still facing the opposite direction and could never predict that her bouquet toss would bounce off two different bridesmaids’ heads, straight into Richie’s hands. They’re so beautiful. White and orange and a rich, nautical blue that matches Eddie’s suit, tidily pinned up at the right shoulder and pressed hard into Richie’s side. Bev is laughing delightedly and Ben is taking a photo, and Eddie has been getting steadily drunker ever since he got back half an hour ago from gratefully sending Paula home to her wife in an Uber with some cake. He’s all pink across the bridge of his nose and he looks so fucking adorable with Ben’s blue and white yacht captain hat tilted on his head at a rakish angle, and the others are all catcalling so hard that Richie figures they might as well give up the pretense. He kicks out the back of Eddie’s knees so he’ll buckle into Richie’s flowery arms and fucking DIPS him like that old wartime photo even though Eddie’s the one with the sailor hat getting knocked off his head because they’re kissing so enthusiastically, clinging to the back of Richie’s neck and snortlaughing into his mouth, but suddenly everyone’s shouting, and they all sound - not pissed, exactly, but certainly indignant

“Are you guys serious,” Bill says, “you’re stealing their thunder right now? One major childhood romance realized isn’t enough, you’re gonna crash theirs?”

“Wait,” Richie says

Bev throws up her hands. Richie can’t see, because of her dress, but he’s pretty sure her foot is actually tapping. “Why didn’t you tell us!”

Eddie is still dangling off him like a monkey, all stunned-drunk limp with the bouquet shoved in his face. Richie hears what uh oh sounds like muffled by flowers, and Ben silently takes another photo, like he’s cataloguing a crime scene.

“You guys... didn’t know? We actually kept it a secret?”

“Until now, you jackasses!”

“What secret,” Audra asks, appearing with like eight plates of cake. “What’s happening? Oh wait, I’m caught up.”

“But—but—the fondue,” Eddie says, and seriously, it’s not like the clown ripped his legs off, he could try standing and facing this with Richie like a true bro, but Richie’s kind of enjoying the weight of him. Plus he’s pretty sure Bev won’t dare to go through Eddie to kill him, so. Human shield it is.

“What about the fondue?” Mike looks like he did after the end of The Usual Suspects. Like he’s re-evaluating every time Richie and Eddie left a room together, and wishes he wasn’t. “You guys are like that all the time.”

“Then why were you all staring!”

“Nobody was staring! It was a natural lull in conversation, we were weirded out that you were being weird about it! Have you always been this self-centered?”

“I guess so,” Richie shrugs. He looks down at Eddie, covered in pollen and thoroughly confused. He’s so drunk he’s looking kinda cross-eyed. “You hear that, dude? We were killing it, until we fucked it all up!”

Eddie grins up at him. “Good enough!” he slurs, and then lets go of Richie’s neck for a high five. Everyone’s gone back to ignoring them in favour of dancing to Journey, so at least nobody notices Richie’s so eager to return it that he drops Eddie on the floor instead

[bnha-mha-imagines]

Okay, get this: a new lov member who’s really awkward and shy. Everyone thinks she’s just a normal gal but it turns out she’s absolutely out of her mind? /sigh/ I don’t even know anymore 😔 rip. I’m so bad at requesting it should be my new party trick. Anyways, I hope you have a good day and I love your writing!!

Ahh thank you! :) I’m not sure if you wanted this to be cute or disturbing so I went with the latter because nothing I’ve posted so far is dark themed (all my stuff is like, fluff haha)! :0 Let’s get some well rounded writing up in here! 

New LOV member who’s secretly insane

Warnings: DARK THEMES that include but are not limited to: Blood, dead animals, disturbing images, cannibalism, death, hearing voices, sadism/masochism, violence, mentions of self-harm etc. etc. You get the picture. 

^^^Don’t read if you’re sensitive to similar topics. I went ham on this, yall. 

Disclaimer: The reader depicted in this is chronically insane and is an extreme case. This is in no way a depiction of a person with a mental disorder. I don’t want to spread any misinformation, most people with mental disorders are lovely people and are not crazy/dangerous in anyway

Under the cut vvv

Tomura Shigaraki:

Look, he wasn’t a fan of the whole awkward-shy act, but hey, you were pretty hot and you had a quirk that the League definitely needed

So he let you in, figuring he’d just need to have that timid attitude of yours whipped out of you

But OH. It didn’t take long for him to realize you were completely bonkers. 

Dabi was giving you shit like he did everyone, and all it took was a poor comment on his part for your usually pleasant expression to contort into one of malice and...joy? The way your face darkened and your eyes swirled with an unhinged gleam… 

Maybe you’d be more interesting than he initially thought~ plus, seeing you threaten Dabi was definitely some brownie points in Tomura’s book

At times it gets frustrating because you can get out of hand, and he honestly couldn’t even handle the League WITHOUT another crazy added in the mix

But you were powerful and an important addition to the team, so you were stuck with this sorry lot whether you liked it or not

Kurogiri:

He was a little surprised, but pleasantly so, when Tomura recruited you for the League. You were actually...rather normal compared to the rest of the bunch, but he was far from complaining!

You were also modest and well-mannered, and Kurogiri especially admired that. The rest of the League was full of squabbling hotheads, so you were a breath of fresh air!

At the bar, he’d talk a lot with you seeing as you were one of the calmer villains, but overtime he noticed that certain comments would raise a few red flags. 

One day you bring in the mangled body of a cat and...oh. 

The way you casually set it on the bar counter and grin at Kurogiri happily while you ask for a kiddy cocktail… all the while your hands were still soaked in its blood.

Tomura’s decision made a bit more sense now. You were completely off your rocker! He treats you pretty much the same as before, but is usually the one who has to reel you in when you start to show your crazy too much. 

Dabi:

When you first joined the League, he couldn’t believe it. Was Tomura fucking stupid? How could a shy, pretty thing like you possibly fit in with the baddest villain organization?

Needless to say, he was kind of an asshole to you. He’d make rude comments, blatantly say you didn’t belong here, condescendingly give you names like “princess” 

For the most part you would bear it all with a grin, and though he didn’t exactly understand you reaction, he would scoff and roll his eyes. “Weirdo”

One day he happens to strike a particularly strong chord with you, and suddenly you’ve shoved him against a wall, hands wrapped around his throat

You choking him wasn’t what off put him. It was the demented look in your eyes and the lopsided grin overwhelming your face. You were practically begging him to insult you again.

“It feels soooo good when you call me names!” you giggle, fingers squeezing into his neck. “Maybe you can choke me next?!” Your eyes were excited at the sadistic thought. 

He shoves you off rather easily after he gets over his initial surprise, rubbing his neck. “Crazy bitch…”

The fact that he didn’t ignite your crazy ass on the spot means you’d gained his respect, if in the slightest. Clearly you’re a better fit to be a villain than he thought. He still picks on you, but significantly less.

Himiko Toga:

She was excited to have another girl! She flocked straight to you and grabbed your sleeve right away!

“Aiiya! You’re so cute, look at you!” She poked your cheeks and you got a little flustered under the attention. She thinks you’re so shy and adorable!!!!

She makes it her mission to become your bestest best friend! But she can’t help but get a little excited from time to time.

“(Y/n), you’re too cute! Please, can I cut you up!? Just a few slices here and there! You’d look ten times cuter if I do!” And she’s grinning.

Her grin completely falters, however, when you agree. “W-What?” she didn’t expect it at all! She was used to getting brushed off.

But no...the crazed look in your eye at the mention of spilled blood… you were practically dripping with insanity. 

Kurogiri stopped the both of you before you both had the chance to completely slice each other up, but from that moment on your were pretty much conjoined at the hip.

Crazy cuties flock together

Spinner:

When a cute, shy thing like yourself joined the League, he was a total flustered mess! You were absolutely adorable!

Like Kurogiri, you were a breath of fresh air, a nice change of pace to the usually colorful bunch that he got to hang around with.

You were nice to him, and he always gets embarrassed when you compliment him! So naturally he assumes that you’re the sweetheart of the bunch! 

You’re talking, and finally Spinner outright asks you, “How’d you even get roped into villainy?” because it blows his mind such a normie like you are in the League

And, very casually and chipper, you describe how you murdered your family in cold blood. They hadn’t even done anything to upset you. You just wanted to. 

“O-Oh.” He honestly didn’t know what to say...but he didn’t really get a chance to speak as you suddenly pull a necklace out from under your shirt. It was a strange looking thing, a shriveled black lump on a string. 

“Look! I even carry a piece of them around with me!” His eyes widen, and you just giggle and tuck the petrified piece of corpse jewelry back into your shirt. 

Twice:

Needless to say, Twice had some mixed feelings about you when you first joined the League.

“What the hell is such a prude bitch doing in the League?” “Aww how cute! Finally a fresh face! Happy to meet you!” 

He’s honestly probably the first to realize you’re absolutely batshit because he’s always half doubting your sincerity

Let’s just say he isn’t surprised when you’re on a mission and you start gnawing and eating at a fresh corpse on the ground

“Wow, that’s fucking bad ass” “Ew!!! That’s disgusting, what the fuck!” 

And hearing his voices go back and forth, you just look up, blood smeared across your face, a strange gleam in your eye and you grin!

“Hahaha! Twice, you always say the funniest things!!!”

After the mission he tries to avoid you as much as he can. Though your quirk and tenacity was something the League definitely benefited from, that didn’t mean he wanted to be anywhere near you after the shit he saw that night

You were fucking wild

Mr. Compress

After Shigaraki let you into the League, he was pretty interested in you. You seemed pretty average and you acted like a timid civilian, so what kind of quirk did you have? Surely something must have caught Tomura’s eye that he wasn’t seeing.

So he, being the man of charisma and mystery that he was, made it his secret motive to find out what you were hiding. 

He took it upon himself to show you around the hideout as your own personal guide. Not that you were complaining! Compress is so flashy and entertaining that you were actually enjoying your time with him.

Not gonna lie, he was acting a little too charming and over-confident with you, trying to get you to slip up and spill a secret

And spill you did! Though not intentionally. It sort of all happened at once. Compress was moving ahead of you and all of a sudden he was thrown back against the wall.

He hits it with a grunt and slides down to the floor, looking up at you with a stunned expression. What the fuck did he do to merit that?!

But you weren’t even looking at him. No, you were whispering under your breath, staring at the ceiling and grinning like a madman. 

“You’re right! That was fun!” you spoke to the empty room, pausing a moment before letting out a loud, crazy laugh. “You always were good at jokes!” 

Slowly he rose and moved away from the room where you stood conversing with your imaginary voices. 

Telekinesis was a pretty powerful quirk! Though it seemed your perks also came with some hefty flaws… very interesting!

Magne: 

Magne was so excited to have another girl in the League! She loved Toga, of course, but at times Magne found her to be a bit...much 

So when you first arrived, seemingly normal, she was so ecstatic! She wanted to do all sorts of girl things with you that she couldn’t really do often in the boy-dominated League

You were so cute and timid, she couldn’t help but want to have a girl’s sleepover with you and Toga!

Your true colors started to show, however, during the middle of a truth or dare game. Magne had asked you what your favorite crime to commit was, expecting something calmer like robbery or identity theft 

Color her surprised when your face contorts into the craziest, most terrifying look as you narrate a violent murder and proceed to grab a pillow and rip it to shreds with your hands as a ‘demonstration’. 

Cute AND violently psycho. She can roll with that.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Lumped Together (9-1-1 fic, Hen/Karen. Chim/Maddie, and Eddie/Buck)

As an apology for keeping her thoughts about medical school secret from her wife and partner, Hen takes them (and Maddie) out for lunch. With the promise that it would only be them. And for the most part it was. Until Buck and Eddie strode in with every intention of eating Takoyaki.

Just not with them.

Armed with new information, what's a girl to do? Hen spends the next day fighting back the natural instinct to tease her friends about the wonderful step they've taken together in their relationship. Can she make it home without saying anything? Or will she give in?

           Hen presses her cheek right against her wife’s, smile wide for the camera. She waits for the telltale click before dropping into a more natural expression, rolling her eyes. “Is this one to your liking?”

           Karen squints at her phone, the device a scant few inches away from her face. Hen swallows a comment about needing glasses with another Takoyaki and relaxes when she sees a nod of approval. “The lighting was better in that direction.”

           “That’s what I was trying to tell you, Karen,” Chimney says, dipping a small ball in soy sauce and biting into it. “Where you were trying earlier, the shadows covered too much of our faces.”

           Maddie snorts around her drink, “I didn’t realize you knew so much about photography, Chim.”

           “When half your life was spent on dating websites and apps, you learn how to take a good photo.” They laugh, at his joke and Maddie’s retaliation. She shoves him gently, stealing one of his Takoyaki balls and eating it. “Hey!”

           “Consider this my reward,” Maddie tells him, “for saving you from all those website and apps.” Chimney sighs, laying his arm behind her chair and finishing off his own ball.

           Hen mirrors Chimney’s move, Karen leaning into her loose embrace. “Y’know,” Karen says, “I’m glad we did this. When is it that we can enjoy a meal together that’s just us?”

           The bell above the front entrance rings, drawing Hen’s gaze. She recognizes the newest diners and immediately deflates. “Never,” she sighs, “Because some people have codependency issues.” Her comment confuses everyone, so she nods over where the familiar faces of her coworkers wait for a server to greet them.

           Chimney sees them first. “Maddie,” he hisses, squeezing her shoulder, “I thought you didn’t tell Buck where we were going.”

           Maddie’s frown worsens, brows furrowed. “I didn’t,” she says, “I swear.” At a more pointed stare from the rest of the table, Maddie continues. “He couldn’t have followed me – he said he had his own plans plus he knows how I feel about those tracking apps.”

           A server finally welcomes them into the restaurant and grabs two menus for the pair. Hen straightens in her seat, “Well, however they found us doesn’t matter. Because here they come…”

           They never do. Instead the server sits Eddie and Buck at a small table near the door, takes their drink orders and leaves them with the menus.

           “Are they… not joining us?” Karen asks.

           Chimney shrugs, “I guess they’re not.”

           The fog of bewilderment won’t fade, actually growing stronger as more time passes. More time where Buck and Eddie sit at their own little table. Absorbed in their own little world, Buck grinning dopily at his friend and offering his menu when Eddie wants to point and share a few opinions that make him chuckle. Like Buck isn’t going to order the same thing he always does when he eats here.

           “Excuse me,” their waiter interrupts, startling everyone, “how’s everyone doing. Did you enjoy your meal?” Hen glances at her plate and sees nothing. She must have eaten absentmindedly while watching their friends. They all voice non-committal agreement. “Good,” he says, smile tight while he gathers the plates, “I can bring you all the check now if you want –“

           “Actually,” Chimney interrupts, “Can I get another order of Ponzu I – I can still go for more. What about the rest of you?”

           “Chim, what are you –“ he kicks her under the table, silently pleading for Hen to play along. She does. “Right,” Hen says, rubbing her stomach, “I could go for another round of those Wasabi Takoyaki. Please!”

           He nods, “No problem.”

           When he disappears behind the kitchen doors, she kicks Chimney back doubly hard. His yelp was unsatisfying. “What was that for?” she asks, “Now we gotta pay for food we’re not going to eat!”

           “Sorry,” Chimney tells her, pouting, “I figured staying where we are is for the best. Leaving now might spook the horses, if you catch my drift.” Hen understood perfectly, making his overexaggerated head tilt in their direction unnecessary.

           “Please, they wouldn’t follow us out of the restaurant.” She turns to Maddie, in a more panicked tone. “They wouldn’t follow us out of the restaurant, right?”

           Maddie nearly chokes on her drink. “No, no! I doubt Buck would even notice we left – sometimes he and Eddie get so wrapped up in whatever they’re doing they become completely oblivious. One time I saved Buck’s apartment from burning down because he left the iron on one of his shirts. He forgot because Eddie texted him some video and he ended up watching that instead!”

           “Well then do we ask the waiter to wrap it up?” Karen asks, “Divide the leftovers and hope they don’t notice us?”

           Hen holds the power of final call, the other three looking at her. Waiting for a decision. She flits her gaze over at Buck and Eddie once more, catching Buck showing Eddie something on his phone quickly as a waitress walks over. By the time she slides a strand of hair behind her ear, the boys are ready to order. Strangely ignoring the telltale stance of a woman about to flirt.

           Their waiter returns with the second course, placing it on their table. “Will that be all?”

           She still has to decide. “For now, yes. Thank you.” When he leaves, Hen rubs a tired hand across her brow. “I guess we’re here until an escape route opens up.”

           “If that’s the case…” Karen snags a piece of Takoyaki and pops it into her mouth. She pauses, mid-chew, when confronted with Hen’s frown. “What? We’re paying for them anyway. Might as well enjoy them.”

           “I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” Chimney chuckles, following her lead. Even Maddie nibbles into a ball, and Hen’s exhaustion breaks with a smile.

           “Force my hands why don’t you.”

           Conversation continues between them, not the same as before. Stilted in parts when someone turned their heads and spied on Buck and Eddie. Breaking the natural flow of the story and reporting on what they saw. Karen saw Buck nearly spill his drink after Eddie said something, a blush evident on the younger boy’s face. Chimney caught Buck dragging the waitress over, gesturing at a now shy Eddie while he displayed his phone. With how she swiped across the screen, she must be looking at pictures. Of Christopher, as Buck finds every excuse to show Eddie’s son off. Maddie, in the middle of telling her own story, trailed off when she spied Eddie shoving a Takoyaki into Buck’s mouth and then wiping a sauce smear off with his napkin. Half a minute passed while she regained her senses, idling in uncertainty.

           Hen, though, saw the most damning evidence.

           Buck stands from the table, saying something. He drops his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezed. Eddie wastes no time, nuzzling at Buck’s fingers and then placing a chaste, innocent kiss on the knuckles. Grinning, Buck practically skips towards the bathrooms.

           “Shit.” Hen startled the others at her table, but she didn’t care. She raises her arm searching for the waiter. “Shit, we need to get out of here.”

           “Hen, baby,” Karen says, “what’s the matter?”

           Hen finally sees their waiter and gestures him over. “The problem,” she says, grimacing, “is we’ve stumbled onto their date – Hi! We’re ready to go.”

           The waiter blinks at her, the sudden onslaught of false cheer rattling him. “Uh, sure,” he says, fumbling for their check, “I’ll leave this with –“

           “Card,” Hen hands her credit card over, “Please, as quick as you can.” He nods, spinning on his heel and scurrying to the register. “Now,” she continues, slipping into her jacket, “we need to move fast. Chim, do you have a hat you can wear?”

           “Hold on,” Maddie stops her, grabbing for her wrist, “you still haven’t explained – who’s on a date?”

           “Buck and Eddie are.” Her face drops into objection, readying a discussion they cannot get into now. “Think about it,” Hen insists, meeting each of their stares, “think about how they’ve been acting the entire time they’ve been here.”

           Chimney immediately switches sides. “Oh my God, they’re on a date!”

           Then Maddie. “I can’t believe we’ve been spying on them this whole time!”

           “Exactly,” Hen says, tying her scarf over her head in a hurried manner, “Which is why the sooner we get out of here the better!” She motions for her wife, “Karen, I’m going to give you my glasses, you give me the shades you packed away in your purse.”

           “Wait a minute,” she slaps Hen’s hand, “I’m still… how is this surprising? Haven’t they been a couple this whole time?”

           “Buck? And Eddie?” Chimney asks, tugging his hoodie on overhead, “What gave you that idea?”

           Karen gestures at the other table, “Them.” Then at the three surrounding them. “You all… from how you talk about them –“

           “I mean, they were always pretty close for friends?” Maddie winces, squeezing a too-tight hair-tie over part of her hair for a loose curtain of a pigtail. “I’d tease Buck about him having a crush, but I figured it was one of those weird brothers-in-arms things.”

           “More like lovers in arms,” Chimney chuckles, trailing off when his flat joke turns up nothing but glares. “Yeah, I regretted saying it, too.” He squeezes the hoodie’s strings and half his face disappears behind a puckered hole.

           Karen quirks her lips, glancing at Hen again. “Whenever we talked about your co-workers, you lumped the two together. The fact that I almost always see them with Christopher…”

           Hen rubs a hand on her shoulder, “I did that because they were the only ones who weren’t paired off. I didn’t realize they had paired off… together?” Although she should have. Hen might have better radar for when a woman finds another woman attractive, but the looks are all the same. Reflecting on past memories there were so many moments where she wrote subtle hints and clues off as less than what they were. What they are. What they’ve always been?

           “Excuse me?” the waiter draws Hen’s attention from her thoughts. He hands back her card, a slip of a receipt, and a pen. “Thank you for dining with us today.”

           “Thanks for the meal.” Hen dashes a harried signature and hefty tip, standing. She hands her glasses off to Karen, “Can I have your -?”

           “Here you go.” Karen switches for Hen’s glasses, putting them on her face. She scowls, shaking her head. “When did you get a new prescription?”

           Hen slides the sunglasses over her eyes and grabs for Karen’s hands. “Close your eyes if it hurts, I’ll lead us out.” Although without glasses, Hen doesn’t trust her judgment much. Which is why she allows Maddie and Chimney the lead, trailing behind closely. She has Karen’s hand trapped in the crook of her arm, shielding her wife from Eddie. Luckily the other man seems absorbed in his phone waiting for Buck, the younger boy dawdling in the bathroom. They reach the exit and, like Orpheus, Hen looks behind.

           Buck returned, and she can see the joy in full bloom on Eddie’s face. Especially when Buck laces their fingers together on the table.

           Fearing recognition, Hen leaves the restaurant and joins Chimney and Maddie on the sidewalk, Karen at her side. They put some distance between them and the restaurant. Under the tall, red archway they rearrange themselves into something more presentable than their disguises.

           “Not how I was expecting this lunch to end,” Maddie says, staring at the restaurant. “I can’t believe Buck had a date with Eddie today and didn’t tell me.”

           Chimney scoffs, playing with his now uneven strings of his hoodie. “I can’t believe our luck that it was in the same place we were at for lunch.”

           “If this is as new as you think it is,” Karen says, hand still curled around Hen’s arm, “then maybe he was nervous. Maybe they both were. And they’d rather test the waters before taking as big a risk as telling anyone.” She smirks, gaze darting between Chimney and Hen. “Plus, I think they’d prefer at least some time with this before you tease them.”

           Hen huffs. “After all the trouble we went through to not be recognized… why would we blow it on a few jokes.”

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

           She really felt tempted to blow their cover with a few jokes. Walking into the station on the next day, Hen nearly slapped Eddie on the back and congratulated him for making an honest man out of their firehouse golden retriever. Instead she grunted a quick greeting and hurried into the locker rooms where Chimney waited for her.

           “This is going to be hard,” she mutters, shrugging off her jacket.

           He nods, slipping his t-shirt overhead. “I had to stop Maddie from texting him at least three different times last night. Instead she called Josh and I had to be an unwilling party to their gossip.”

           “Unwilling?” she scoffs, “As if you weren’t making a timeline.”

           Chimney shoves her, closing his locker door and leaving. Hen left soon after and immediately slammed into a passing Buck. Eddie, at his side, catches the younger man. She notices his hands land on Buck’s hips, quickly sliding up to his waist and then off like he was scolded.

           “You okay there Hen?” Buck asks, stepping out of Eddie’s aborted embrace, “I didn’t hit into you too hard?”

           Hen forces a tight smile onto her face, walking away. “Like knocking into a pillow,” she says, “just watch where you go next time, Buck!”

           “You weren't watching either…”

           She hurries up the steps and finds Chimney again. Hen leans close and whispers, “Very hard.”

           Chimney snorts and rolls his eyes, choosing an answer of silence. His response catches Bobby’s attention, however, and he raises a brow at the pair. “Is everything all right with you two?”

           Hen sighs, rubbing her jaw. “No complaints here, Bobby.”

           Bobby looks unconvinced but doesn’t press further. Instead he jerks a thumb at the refrigerator, “Help me throw together a quick breakfast?” The alarms flare and unfortunately shatters those plans. “Never mind,” Bobby say, running off, “we’ll eat later!”

           Emergencies should not inspire such gratefulness. Hen cannot stop feeling appreciative for the consecutive calls, though, lessening the amount of downtime in the station where she was liable of saying anything. She didn’t have to think about Buck and Eddie as a couple when on the job. They were her teammates. They were running into danger. They were dating, but that wasn’t important then. All that mattered was hers, theirs, and everyone else’s safety.

           Except danger can only distract for so long. The city began winding down. Their last assignment had them rushing onto the scene where a woman, thrown from a truck, ended up stuck in wire fencing. Her and Chimney drove the poor victim to the hospital with most of the fence still embedded in her, too close to vital organs. Instead of risking shredding them they clotted the leaks as best they could and left her in the capable hands of the doctors. Leaving them with a leisurely drive back.

           They park the ambulance between their firetrucks and wandered towards the common area. Hen spots Buck and Eddie sitting comfortably close, Buck practically resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. When they see Chimney and Hen, Buck scoots a few inches away.

           Subtle. How was it never obvious?

           “Everything go smoothly during transport?” Eddie asks after they sit across from them, at a distance normal for friends.

           Hen and Chimney share a look. “She didn’t lose any more blood during the ride over,” he says, “so I’m betting she’s fine.”

           “Hope so,” Buck says, wincing in sympathy. “Poor lady kept going on about how she was supposed to get married in a few days… it’d suck if she had to reschedule because of this. I know I would hate to ruin an important date like that.”

           She bites her lip, dams up the rushing waters of sarcasm rushing in. Quells the urge to laugh and buries any retort deep in her stomach where she can vomit it up later in the safety of her home. Where Karen can help comfort her though the sickening ordeal of suffering with wasted teasing.

           As if sensing her woes, Hen’s phone vibrates in her pocket. She relaxes at the notification for Karen’s message. Almost forgot about sending this alongside a kissy-face emoji and a heart. Makes hers skip a beat.

           “What is it Hen?” Buck asks.

           “Text from Karen,” she tells the group, opening it. “I think it’s supposed to be a picture…” Hen trails off, recognizing the photo from yesterday. Staring at it brings up the scene in her mind, especially the boys a few tables away unknowingly being watched by the four happy faces in the photo.

           “A photo?” Buck continues, unaware of her inner turmoil, “what of? Ooh… is it naughty?” He snickers, gladly accepting the elbow blow from Eddie, retaliating by pressing his entire weight onto his side.

           Chimney’s gaze darts from the photo to Hen, frowning. “Hen, don’t…”

           She breaks.

           “Actually,” Hen says, “it’s a photo from yesterday. Me and Karen, Chim and Maddie… we all went out for lunch.”

           “What?” Buck turns on Chimney, “Maddie said you two were going on a date!” Too caught up in the betrayal, he keeps his hand glued to Eddie’s knee.

           Chimney shifts uncomfortably, squeezing his hands together. “We technically were… a double date.”

           “At that place we’ve been to. The one Chim loves,” Hen shows the others Karen’s picture, watching them. “Takoyaki? It was part date, part apology to Karen and Chimney. All my treat.” At the mention of their cuisine, the color drained from both men’s faces. Eddie swallowed exaggeratedly while Buck finally realized his position. He furthered the divide between him and Eddie.

           “Takoyaki?” Eddie asks, “Yesterday? Did you guys… enjoy it?”

           “It was interesting…” Hen smirks, leaning back in her seat. She leaves her answer dangling in front of them, pulling up Instagram on sliding different filters over the photo.

           Buck snaps, “Interesting good or interesting like you saw something?”

           Hen savors every second in an effort of making up for wasted potential earlier. “I think we did see something, right Chim?” she looks over at him, ignoring his shaking head. “What was it? Oh, yeah… this one man came in and ordered every single item off the menu, and then couldn’t even eat any of it he was crying so badly.”

           “What?”

           “What?”

           “What?” Chimney winces at her harried glare, “I mean… thanks, I almost blocked that from my memory. As if the… the nightmares weren’t bad enough?”

           “Crying?” Eddie asks, squinting, “What the… why was he crying?”

           “Well, he was with this woman – she was his therapist. And apparently, he has this fear of balls. So in some weird exposure therapy thing she made him go to the Takoyaki place as the first step. She explained this all in an apology after he caused this huge scene.” Hen snickers at the scenario she pulled straight from her ass. The others believe it, and she sees both of them relax slightly. “I felt really bad about laughing, but at least I was able to wait until after the therapist paid and left with him.”

           “Because slightly rude is better than fully rude,” Chimney mutters. Hen kicks him, accepting the retaliation with a smile.

           “Do you think that would be a good caption?” she shows them her phone again, Instagram active, the space where the caption goes blank. “We aren’t afraid of any balls #brave?”

           Buck chuckles, rocking in his seat. “How about – LA’s best and brightest, brave enough to put out fires and eat delicious balls?”

           “Or,” Eddie frowns at them, “leave the poor man alone and say – Good food, good friends #Takoyaki.”

           Pouting, Buck bats his eyes at Eddie. “You sound like such a grandpa. Stop reminding us why you barely use social media.”

           “Oh! I just got a good one!” Hen says, preemptively defusing the fight in its early stages by standing. She waits until all attention is on her, and then she continues. “I’ll write – The calm before the storm #whenyoufindoutyourcoworkersaredating. And I’ll tag all of us and you two, okay?”

           Hen barely resists the urge to snap a photo. Buck and Eddie gape at her, mouths wide in disbelief. Stunned into silence and inaction. She hears Chimney mutter under his breath as he leaves them.

           “Uh, that’s uh… that’s a pretty long hashtag,” Eddie says, glancing at Buck and hiding his hands under his thighs. “And, well the whole thing kinda…”

           “It doesn’t make any sense!” Buck blurts out with a strange laugh, “Like, why would you tag us? We weren’t there and… and dating? That’s uh – that’s… what makes you say that?”

           “Because we saw you two,” Hen shrugs, pocketing her phone. She lays a hand on both their shoulders, smiling. “And you’re both adorable. For dating and trying to hide it.”

           Eddie’s face scrunches at the accusation. “We were that bad?”

           “Once we found out the context, it became obvious.” She nods, letting go of them. “Congratulations you crazy kids. We all couldn’t be happier. Well, maybe if you told us?” Nothing left to say, Hen leaves them be. Trails up the stairs after Chimney and finds him sulking by the sink. Hen leans on the counter nearby. “I know, I’m awful.”

           “Was it really that hard doing nothing?” he asks.

           “In a moment of weakness, I couldn't take the pressure.” When his judgmental expression remains, she groans and softly taps his arm. “Come on, if Maddie had sent you the picture you would have done something similar if not the same.”

           “No I wouldn’t –“

           “Even you can admit not saying anything was torture!”

           Bobby shuffles towards them, sipping at his coffee. “What was torture?”

           Despite Chimney’s best efforts, he cannot stop Hen. She tells their captain, “Knowing about Buck and Eddie dating but not being able to say anything.”

           He tilts his head, glancing between the two. “Buck and Eddie are dating?”

           Hen winces, realizing her error. “Or, they were on a date? I mean we only found out about it yesterday, so we’ve been sitting on it for a day?”

           Bobby nods, draining the rest of his coffee. He steps between Hen and Chimney and drops it in the sink. Then he strides over to the railing and yells, “Buckley! Diaz! Can I see you two for a moment?” They climb the stairs, glancing between an impassive Bobby and a regretful Hen and Chimney. Bobby points in the direction of his unused office and trails behind them as they go.

           Now she feels bad.

           Chimney clears his throat. “Was it worth it?”

           She rubs at her eyes, groaning. “I really put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

           “Well I don’t think it’s my place to say,” Chimney chuckles, “but if Karen –“

           “Don’t you dare tell Karen.”

           “But I must. Otherwise how will you ever receive the correct punishment?”

           “I can handle that, too.” Hen already has an idea. She waits for them outside Bobby’s office, listening as he discusses the interpersonal relationship rules of the LAFD. About the many different forms they need to fill out and how dangerous it would have been if they carried on with a secret relationship while working together. How, at best, they work at different fire houses and worse case they lose their jobs. An hour later they leave with a healthy stack split between them held together by thin paper clips.

           Hen drags them into another aside, apologizing for telling Bobby. “I wasn’t thinking – I was talking to Chim and then he comes up and –“

           “Hen, it’s okay,” Eddie says, smiling, “we’re not mad about that. We figured Bobby oughta know about us and… well, it’s not like we figured we had a lot of time after you pulled the rug from under us. If we were as obvious as you said…”

           “Bobby even said he thought there was something going on.” Buck shrugs, a hand latched onto Eddie’s neck. Massaging it. “Actually, he said Athena thought she saw something at May’s graduation party.”

           “Which was impossible because we didn’t even think of each other like that then.”

           “Speak for yourself,” he laughs, “I think that’s when I put it all together…”

           Hen breathes easier, chuckling alongside him. “Well, if you’re all good –“

           “You’re not getting out of this that easily,” Buck smirks, cutting her off, “we’re not mad about the Bobby thing. The whole teasing us and making up that fake story about the balls guy… you still gotta pay for that.”

           She nods, crossing her arms. “I figured,” Hen sighs, “Which is why I had this idea… group date. Me and Karen, Chim and Maddie, you two – hell, we’ll even throw in Athena and Bobby. And your choice, my…” the words pain her, throat closing around it so tight she forces it out and scrapes the lining, “treat.”

           Apology accepted, Buck and Eddie leave her for the thrilling excitement of bureaucratic paperwork. Hen trudges towards the tables and collapses onto the first available seat. She runs her hands over her hair, back and forth, until the exhaustion seeps away into a bearable tiredness. Then she musters up the strength needed for telling her wife.

           There’s a message already waiting for her when she checks her phone. Blue light blinking ominously.

           You’re on the couch tonight.

           “…Chimney.”

[garbagevanfleet]

Learn To Leave A Room (series)

PART THREE

Pairing: Jake & female!Reader Warnings:  REAL ACTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. Summary: Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it. Notes:  I appreciate everyone that likes, reblogs, and comments. There’s a special place in heaven for people like you. <3

MASTERLIST

“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.” — Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “How to Grow the Brightest Geranium,” published in Breakwater Review

The cake is perfect. It’s exactly what you had ordered - a vanilla cake with blush pink, buttercream frosting. Little edible pearls spell out Lucy’s name. It’s uncanny how perfectly it mirrors her personality. 

It lives in your fridge for six hours before you head to the party, next to a carton of orange juice and a bag of baby carrots. You think about it periodically while you get ready, trying to remind yourself not to forget it when you leave. 

Lucy had requested that you wear something “really cute for pictures”, so you had gone and bought the most pastel dress you could find at Forever 21 and hung it in the back of your closet. 

You’re trying to figure out if it makes more sense to do your makeup first and risk smearing your foundation on the dress as you slip it on, or put the garment on first and risk dusting powder on it. You weigh the options as you lay out every product you want to use, but in the end, you decide to slide the dress on and then tuck an old t-shirt into the neckline like a bib. It looks stupid, but it gets the job done, because you do drop a pea-sized glob of concealer onto it, and it surely would have stained the lilac-colored fabric.

You run your fingers through the loose curls that you’ve shaped your locks into, and straighten your dress in the mirror.  When you’re finished, you grab your keys and your phone, and you do get all the way out to your car before you realize you forgot the cake. 

It’s only 6 pm when you pull up to the Kiszka house, but Lucy had texted you earlier asking if you wanted to come and help her put up decorations, so you agreed. You’re glad that you did because she’s hectically taping candy pink streamers around the supporting boards on the ceiling. 

“Lucy, wow,” you say. “You look incredible.”

And she does. Her long blonde hair is in a loose, fishtail braid down her back and she’s wearing a party dress the exact color of the cake you’d brought. She only turns her head to look at you and give you a smile. 

“Thanks, babe. I’d look better if I didn’t have to sweat my butt off rehanging these streamers,” she explains, shooting Josh a look, who you realize is leaning leisurely against a doorway instead of doing any work. He grins at you, feigning innocence.

“I don’t really feel like there’s a wrong way to hang them,” Josh argues lightheartedly. “I guess I just don’t know about taping shit.”

You breathe a laugh at him and cross the room to give him a one-armed hug, careful to not risk dropping the cake. He takes it from you and disappears with it in the kitchen. There are heart-shaped mylar balloons everywhere; across the ceiling, tied to the stair railing, framing the doorways. 

“It looks like Valentine’s Day in here,” you say sweetly and Lucy hums back at you.

“I have a lot left to do, but isn’t it pretty?” 

“It’s gorgeous,” you agree. 

You had been completely distracted by everything that you hadn’t worried about Jake once since you got there, so when he steps into the living room through the kitchen archway, it knocks the smile right off of your face. 

You are not sure of much in your life, but you’re positive you’ve never seen him look so good. He looks like the antithesis of this party, dressed in a ripped pair of dark-wash jeans and a button-down that’s undone down to the base of his sternum. An array of long necklaces rest over the exposed flesh. 

The nerve. 

Looking at him is like trying to look directly into the sun, so you try to keep your eyes trained on anything else, but it’s nearly impossible. Lucy is turned away, and Josh is still in the kitchen, so you steal a glance over again. Since you’re the least lucky person you know, he meets your eyes, and the smirk he offers you back makes you wish you could choke him to death with all his stupid jewelry. 

“Can I help with something, Lu?” you ask, snapping yourself back to reality. 

“Wanna spread the glitter?” she asks in a sing-song tone. 

You frown deeply at her. 

“Glitter?” Jake asks in a tone that mirrors your exact confusion. “You know this is a house party, right?”

She nods at him but doesn’t say anything else.

You know you can’t reason with her, but you also know that you should try. “Lucy, isn’t glitter going to be a little messy? How are you going to clean it all up?”

“I’m not,” she responds through a grin that shows her blindingly white teeth. “It’s my birthday, so you guys are.”

You feel your face fall into a sour look, but she just keeps grinning at you. After a good five seconds of silence, you sigh and she points at a gallon-sized bag of glitter on the coffee table.

“For my birthday, I’m going to make you fill this entire house with foam like a rave,” you threaten. “And then, the morning after, I’m going to make your hungover ass eat it.”

She lets out a genuine laugh that makes you feel warm, so you can’t stay mad at her. 

“Wouldn’t it all melt?” Jake asks, playing along. 

“Then she can use a straw,” you say, but you still end up spreading glitter across the tables.

Half an hour later, you’re trying to dust tiny reflective pink stars off of your hands when you hear Lucy gasp. She had been setting cups out on the table, but now she’s staring at you with wide eyes. 

“Shit, we forgot to get alcohol!” she squeals and turns to look at Josh. “Is there anything left from the last party?”

He shakes his head. “Definitely not enough.”

“Will you pretty please make a booze run?” she begs you, looking like she’s about to cry. “I’m not even close to done here.”

“Of course I’ll go.” You start heading towards the door when Josh calls Jake’s name and it echoes through the house. 

Jake calls back a “what” from his room, but you can hear him start to make his way down to the living room.

“I’ll send Jake with you,” Josh explains, and then to Jake as he reaches the bottom stair. “You’ll escort her to the liquor store, right?” 

You try to stop it but your eyes pop open wide. “No, it’s okay. I’m perfectly capable of making it there and back.”

“Just go with Jake so he can help you carry it all,” Lucy insists like you’re being stupid, which you are. “You know what I like, and we need at least the same amount we had for the last one.”

You watch Josh hand Jake his debit card and then he ushers you both along. 

He doesn’t say it, but you figure that Jake is driving when he leads you out to his car, and you clamber in. The bench seat is freezing against your bare legs, and you feel like it’s somehow gotten colder out since you left your house. He must notice you curl in on yourself because Jake flicks the heat on high as soon as the car is started. 

On the drive into town, you’re acutely aware of the small amount of space between the two of you. There’s no center console, so the only thing separating you is a couple of cassette tapes and an unopened pack of cigarettes. 

You chance a look at him and instantly regret it. 

His profile is so unbelievably beautiful, from the slope of his nose to the way his hair rests on his shoulder. It’s starting to get dark out, but what’s left of the natural light makes his jaw look knife sharp. He licks his lips absently, but you can tell he’s aware that you’re staring at him now. It feels safer here, without the threat of Lucy or Josh’s prying eyes. Just you two in a glass box. 

Once your brain gets the idea that you need to touch him, you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried, so you don’t. You reach over slowly and place your hand on his thigh, but you force yourself to resist the urge to slide it up any further. 

He looks down at it and then over at you, and he breathes a disbelieving laugh. 

“You know, you’re starting to give me whiplash,” he says, but there’s no malice in his tone. His eyes flick back to the road. 

Your fingers press tighter into the fabric of his jeans as you open your mouth to speak. “I’m sorry,” you reply, but you know you’re not, and so does he. You wish you could tell him what you want, but you can’t quite find the words, so you just settle for focusing on the feeling of his leg beneath your palm. You leave it there the rest of the ride into town, but you manage to rip your eyes away and watch out your window as the shedding trees pass you by. 

When he pulls into the parking lot and turns the car off, you share a blank look. He’s not wearing that cocky smirk anymore, and you think he’s truly trying to figure out what you’re going to do next. But the joke is on him because not even you know. 

You head inside with him close behind you and grab a cart. A bottle or two of every type of alcohol you can think of finds its way in and you pull a bottle of birthday cake flavored vodka off a shelf. You smile down at it as you set it in with the rest. After you pick out mixers, you’ve got enough to last through three parties, you think. The cashier gives you a look that makes you think maybe you’ve gotten too much, but he rings it up all the same. 

You’re about to ask him to split the tab up, but Jake shakes his head and hands Josh’s card over. 

“We’ll get it,” he says under his breath.

You’re more than grateful to have him along as you pack everything into the backseat because you can admit when you’re wrong, and there’s no way you’d be able to handle all the bags yourself. 

The sun is completely gone as you hop back into the front seat, so the ride back is pretty dark, and you’re a little grateful because it eliminates the temptation of stealing looks at him. However, that doesn’t stop you from placing your hand back on his leg, maybe a little higher up this time, but hey, who’s keeping track?

You keep thinking about his outfit. He normally dresses somewhat like that, doesn’t he? You can’t recall ever being quite so taken aback by his appearance. By the time you’re just a minute away from home, you’ve convinced yourself that he’s dressed like this deliberately, and it makes you wonder if he’d done the same for the last party. 

He parks the car, but you don’t make an effort to get out, so neither does he. He looks over at you expectantly, an eyebrow cocked slightly.

You hold his gaze and, heart racing, you start to slide your hand farther up his thigh. His eyes flick down at it, but it isn’t until your fingertips are brushing over his zipper that he grabs your wrist. The motion is so quick that it startles you a bit. You hold your breath, suddenly worried that you’ve gone too far. 

He looks like he’s considering letting you keep going, but after a few seconds he lets out a shaky laugh.

 “We need to get back inside,” he says, but his voice has taken on that tone again. The silky one that commands your attention. 

You laugh breathlessly back at him and he lets go of your wrist. You don’t let yourself feel like a scolded school kid as you get out of the car, but you can feel yourself blushing. 

Josh opens the front door and jogs out, Sam just behind him.

 “Where’d you come from?” you quip at Sam.

“I was napping,” he says through a goofy smile.

You feign outrage. “Are you telling me that I was spreading glitter and you were sleeping?”

“In my defense,” he starts and then brushes past you to open the back door to the car. “There’s no way I’d help with glitter. And being in charge of the music is a really exhausting job.” 

“I’ll gladly take it over for you,” you tease. It would be nice to be able to hear yourself think this time around.

 “You can pry it out of my cold, dead hands.” 

Josh ushers you inside empty-handed, and you smile gratefully at him. It takes the boys two trips to bring in the bags, but as soon as they’re set down on the kitchen counter, you start to unpack them. Lucy trots up to your side, giving you a hug.

“Thank you so much for going to get all this,” she whines and you hug her back. “You’re a great friend.”

“I know,” you tease. You can see that she’s been busy since you’ve been gone. There’s now little heart-shaped sugar cookies and chocolate dipped pretzel sticks laid out around the house for snacking, and you cannot imagine a reality where there isn’t pink and white frosting puked all over this house in the morning.

You grab out five shot glasses from the cupboard as the boys join you in the kitchen. Lucy looks absolutely delighted at the sight of her special birthday cake vodka, and after pouring you each a shot, you hold your glass up and turn to her.

“To Lucy,” you say and she beams a smile at you. “And to Valentine’s Day in October.”

The alcohol is so sweet that it makes you cough, but you laugh as Lucy picks up the bottle and takes another pull. She disappears into the living room with it under her arm.

As soon as people start arriving, they don’t stop until the house is packed. You get to catch up with old friends from high school, and you drink until you’re feeling nice and loose. This time when Lucy asks you to dance, you don’t put it off. You twirl around with her, and she doesn’t let go of the bottle of vodka the entire time.

The house is warm from so many bodies and it makes your hair stick to your skin. Luckily you had thought ahead to wear waterproof makeup, so when you find yourself checking it in the bathroom mirror there are no smudges to clean up - only flecks of pink glitter dusted across your nose like freckles.

The cake finds its way out unceremoniously and Lucy’s so drunk that she just swipes frosting off the top of her slice. You watch her lick it off of her finger and then offer it Josh to do the same and you shake your head. He laughs at her, but you look away before you see anything else, opting instead to make yourself another drink.

You wind your way through people, too drunk to care too deeply if you bump into anyone. The concoction you mix is a bit too strong, but the cup is too full to add more mixer, so you don’t make any moves to fix it. You’re thinking about trying to stir through it with a straw when you notice that Jake is standing feet away from you. Has he been there the whole time? You think yes, especially when you realize the girl that’s standing between you and him is having a full-blown conversation with him. You want to laugh at the lump in your throat that feels suspiciously like envy.

He doesn’t look deeply invested, but he’s nodding and laughing at all the right moments. You’re not sure he’s spotted you until he locks eyes with you over her shoulder. It’s only for a second, but it makes your face hot, so you rip away and weave back into the living room, praying that he doesn’t think you were eavesdropping. 

You sit with Lucy and Josh on the couch where Lucy is trying to talk with you about a conversation she had with a high school friend. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s too drunk, or because you are, but you’re having trouble understanding her, so you just nod along. You have no idea what time it is, but people are finally starting to leave, and it gives you the warm feeling of a successful party as people come and say their goodbyes to the three of you collectively. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about him before, but now for the rest of the night, you are hyper-aware of Jake’s presence. Every time he’s in the same room as you, your eyes are on him, and you have the sense to feel a little embarrassed about it. At first. But every sip of alcohol sees a fraction more of your inhibitions out the window. 

You should be at least trying to listen to Lucy, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jake standing by the staircase. He sets his drink down on the railing and goes to pull the pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and looking back at you, he flicks his eyes toward the kitchen - an invitation for you to follow. 

You go to excuse yourself, but Josh and Lucy are already standing to hug someone else goodbye, so you’re able to slip away undetected. 

The rest of the house is really starting to clear out, but the kitchen is still the most populated as people rush to get one more drink before it’s all over. You’re easily able to shoulder past them to make your way through, and you find that Jake is already waiting for you on the porch when you get out there. 

The October air is chilly, and you think you’d be colder if you weren’t so full of alcohol. Still, you wrap your bare arms around your chest to preserve heat, and you unabashedly watch his fingers as Jake pulls a cigarette out and slips it between his lips. You’re impressed with how sober he can act as he fumbles with his lighter, especially since you’ve been watching him drink all night. Once he gets it lit, you watch him take a drag. 

Neither of you says a word, but the silence is comfortable as you just stare at each other.  You wish you could play coy - pretend that you weren’t sure if you were going to end up fucking him, but you know, and so does he. 

The way his eyes rake up and down your body makes your breath catch. It feels like his gaze is touching you, leaving your skin to tighten in its wake. You think he might kiss you - you’re hoping - and you brace yourself for it, but he doesn’t. He just smirks at you, and a drunken worry that he can read your thoughts crosses your mind.

When he finishes his cigarette, he stubs it out into the railing, then he gestures you back toward the door and follows you in. You’d only been out there a few minutes - or at least you think it was only a few minutes - but when you reenter, the kitchen is nearly vacant. The only people still lingering are Sam and a girl under each of his arms, one of them brushing her fingers through his hair. You laugh at them on your way past and receive a grin from him in return. 

The living room is completely empty, save for Lucy, who has just shed her heels onto the hardwood and is currently pulling off her earrings. 

“Wow, everyone left so quickly,” you remark, and you have to tell yourself not to look as Jake slips past you and disappears up the stairs. 

“I kicked them out,” Lucy replies sweetly. “It’s pretty late. Hey, do you want me to stay down here with you?” 

You give her a questioning look before you realize what she’s talking about. “Oh, no. I’ll be okay. I’m pretty used to sleeping on this couch.” You pat the back of it, giving her a smile. 

“Are you sure? Or maybe you want to come sleep with us upstairs?” 

The look Josh shoots her makes you laugh a little too loud and you shake your head. 

“Lucy, go. I’m going to be just fine.”

Josh has to help her up the stairs, but as soon as you’re sure that they’re in his room, you slip into the kitchen. Sam (and his girls) have disappeared too, and you allow a sigh of relief. You fill a glass with water and sip at it with the weak hope that it’ll lessen the hangover you’re due for in the morning.  

Back in the living room, you pull a blanket out of the wicker basket by the tv stand and place it over the couch. You stare at it ruefully for a brief moment before roughing it up to look used, just in case someone happens upon it and wonders where you are. A pang of nerves feels like hot fluid in your veins as you flick off the lights. As you’re heading up the stairs, you try to be completely silent. You’re relieved that you can’t hear anyone throughout the rooms, but you also eye the bathroom door, just in case anyone pops out and you have to pretend that you’re too drunk to find your way around.

You pause a second in front of Jake’s door, your hand on the knob. It’s only after you take a deep breath and count to three that you can turn the knob, even if it’s frustratingly slow.

You’re praying that the hinges won’t squeak, so you aren’t expecting it when the door is pulled the rest of the way open from the inside. You gasp as his hand finds its way to your hip and he gently tugs you into the room. He is decidedly less quiet as he shuts the door behind you with a thud. 

“Jake,” you scold through a grin. You feel his fingers press into your hip just a fraction tighter.

His room is dark and your eyes aren’t adjusted yet, but you realize how close he is as he breathes a laugh and it’s warm against your face. 

“Stop worrying so much,” he says, and for the third time in your life, that silky commanding tone of his has you feeling weak. He presses you back against the door and instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck.  When he brings his face closer to you, the smell of smoke and cologne in his hair is intoxicating. You curl your fingers through the strands and press your body back against his until you’re flush together. 

You’ve been anticipating it for so long that the first time that he kisses you, you can’t help but let out a moan at how satisfying it is. He hums a laugh against your lips, but you’re too drunk to feel self conscious about it. He tastes incredible as you start to lick into his mouth, your lips slipping together. He slides his hands down your back, slowly enough that you’re anticipating what he’ll do next. Another, dirtier sounding, moan escapes you as he cups your ass, pulling your hips closer. His fingertips knead into your flesh through the fabric of your dress, and you enjoy the warmth that washes through you. 

Your heartbeat picks up as his right-hand starts to wander lower until it’s wrapped around your thigh. When he starts to wrap your leg around his waist, you think you might lose your balance, but he counters the weight flawlessly, pressing you tighter into the door for support. He situates you until his leg is between yours. Your dress is riding up high enough that your panties are what slides against the denim of his jeans. The breath you let out is embarrassingly shaky as he teasingly rocks you forward, grinding you against his thigh. It’s silent enough in the space between you two that he hears it perfectly, and your sound pulls a smug hum from his throat. You kiss him again, deeper this time because the nerves are melting away with the pressure against your core. He lets you work yourself against him, but between the feeling building in you, and the sound of his timed breathing, it becomes increasingly hard to focus on what your lips are supposed to be doing. Your face feels as hot as the point where you’re meeting his leg, and you don’t realize how wet you’re really getting until you can feel the slip of your skin against your panties.

You break away from his mouth to breathe the word “fuck” against his cheek, but before you know it, he’s pulling his leg away. You let out a whimper and mourn the loss of contact as deeply as you would a dead friend. He huffs a pleased laugh into your ear, making you shiver and when you realize he’s teasing you, you frown - even though you know he can’t see it.

“That’s fucked up.” You intend it to sound angry, but it comes out in a soft, pleading whisper. He holds you far enough away that you can see his face, and you can just make out his features in the dim light coming from under the door.

 When he speaks, it’s with his hand cupping your jaw. “What’s fucked up is the way you’ve been fucking with me for weeks.” His tone is serious, but you can hear a hint of a smirk under it. 

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted,” you explain through a breathy laugh.

 He shoves you tighter against the door, and it doesn’t hurt in the slightest, but the strength of it only turns you on further.

He leans in and takes your lips against his again. “Don’t lie to me,” he says directly into your mouth as he pulls you away from the door and starts walking you both towards his bed. It’s clumsy because of the state of your sobriety, but when the backs of your knees hit the bed, he pushes you down on it. The slight force of the action elicits a low moan from you.

Ever ready to push him further, you lay back and run your hands down your body, slowing over every curve, and you have to bite your bottom lip at the look on his face. 

There’s an old neon light plugged into the wall in this corner of the room and the dull red catches against the side of his face. The sight of him standing over you - you’re sure you’ve never seen anything like it in your life. He slowly pulls off his necklaces and they make metallic noises as he lets them drop to the hardwood floor. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you breathe and he cracks a smirk at you. You absolutely can’t help yourself - you sit up and start helping him undo the bottom buttons on his shirt, and as soon as the skin is exposed, your mouth finds it. Wet kisses leave shiny marks along his stomach and across his hips. His hand rakes through your hair, tugging the strands lightly. You nip into the skin and the feeling of his muscles jumping at the touch makes you groan through your teeth. 

Your fingers dance along the hem of his jeans, and without warning, you cup his cock through the fabric with your hand. The denim is a little too thick to feel the exact shape, but you can feel it getting harder as you palm against it. His grip in your hair tightens, maybe involuntarily, as your free hand fumbles with the button and then the zipper. You peel the fabric back and mouth over his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear. 

The little noise that falls out of his open mouth makes you feel instantly wetter, and you try to grind down against the bed for some reprieve, but it’s not quite enough to be satisfying. Your fingers are dipped under the band of his briefs, just about to tug them down when he gently shoves you back again. 

Your expression, eyes wide with shock, earns you a deep laugh from him. He pushes you up until you’re both fully on the bed and then crawls half over you, his hair falling around your face like a curtain. 

You reach up and run your fingers through it, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp. He dips down and kisses you again, but this time, he means business. He’s got his tongue in your mouth almost instantly, and you lick against it, tasting him. He tastes like sweet alcohol, but you lose focus the second you feel his grip on your knee. 

He starts to move his hand up your leg, painfully slow. When he gets to the hem of your little dress, he slides it up. His fingers press into the skin of your thigh, lightly at first, but then deep enough that you pray they leave bruises. You gasp against his lips, so he pulls away and leans in to nip at the skin on your neck. 

By the time his fingers catch against your panties, you’re feeling starved for the touch. He’s not giving you any pressure - any friction. It’s feather-light, but when he brushes over your clit, your hips buck into his hand without your permission.   

“Sit still,” he instructs, and it’s so sexy that it makes your eyes roll back. When his fingertips press against you again you have to press your hips flat to the bed to keep them from moving. Goosebumps rise over your limbs as he pulls your panties to the side and you feel his fingers toy along your skin before they pause. 

The look on his face is a little alarming. His brow is furrowed and the area around his lips is all red from the friction against your neck. His voice is already a little gravelly from want, so his voice comes out deep. “You are so fucking wet.”

You purse your lips together and bury your head into his shoulder. You’re way past feeling embarrassed, but you absolutely cannot handle him looking at you like that. The obscene whine you let out would be a little too loud if it wasn’t muffled against his hair, but you can’t stop it as his finger drags over your folds. When it dips into you, you can feel just how truly wet you are - you let him work it into you and love every movement. At that moment, you decide that his fingers are your very favorite thing about him.

You completely forget where and who you are until you hear how ragged his breathing is getting. He moves to delve in to the last knuckle, but as his body shifts, you can feel the length of him against your hip. 

“Jake,” you whisper, past the point of caring if you’re begging. “Please.”

He must be able to hear the desperation in your voice because he sits up and pulls you along with him, your arms tight around his neck. He holds your hair to the side as he undoes the zipper on your dress, and lets you shrug out of the garment. It gets set aside with care before his hand is cupping your breast, thumbing across the nipple. They’ve always been sensitive, so when he leans in to suck one into his mouth, you give a high whine from the back of your throat. Your fingers thread into his hair as his tongue circles around it. You’re thankful that he doesn’t waste too much time on them, but you can tell that he wants to. You make a note that if you ever get another chance at this with him, you’ll try to be patient enough to let him. 

He slides your panties down and onto the floor before he starts fumbling with his pants. The denim is so tight that he has to work a little to get them off, and it doesn’t help that his hands seem to be visibly shaking a little. You give a half-hearted laugh at the struggle.    

You are struck completely breathless, however, when he slides his briefs down and his hard cock is suddenly right there. At that moment, you decide that his fingers are no longer your favorite thing about him.

When he catches you eyeing it, he grips it and he gives it a couple of slow strokes, making a show of it for you. The fact that the sight makes your mouth water is fleetingly concerning to you, but you add another thing to your “next time list”.

You’re more than ready as he parts your legs and situates himself between them. Leaning over you, he presses his lips against yours and as he slides in, he swallows the shaky breath that you let out. 

He pauses for a moment after he’s in to the hilt, giving you a chance to adjust to it. He seems to be fighting the urge to move, and you think the sentiment is sweet. So sweet, in fact, that you feel slight butterflies, their wings beating against the inside of your stomach. But you have never been so turned on in your life, and you want this. 

You grip his hair, maybe a bit too tightly and look directly into his eyes. “Fuck me,” you demand through clenched teeth. The proud feeling you get from the way his breath catches will live in your head forever if you have any say about it.

He grips your thigh and hitches one of your legs over his hip before he starts thrusting into you. It feels so good that you can’t even make a noise; your lips just part as your chest tightens. His fingers have done such a good job at laying the groundwork that you feel like you’re already peering over the edge. You’re wet enough that just him thrusting in and out of you is enough friction on your clit and it feels like absolute heaven. 

He’s undeniably handsome under normal circumstances but he’s so much hotter in this moment than you ever could have expected. You can’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along his clenched jaw and his pulse races under your touch as he picks up a rhythm. You have to close your eyes because seeing his face like this is too much. 

You can feel him breathing hard against your cheek, and the space between you is so hot that you’re starting to sweat. You drag your nails down his back and he lets out a low hum between pursed lips. You try to imagine the red lines your fingers leave in their wake but he’s fucking you so good that all of your thoughts feel like they’re melting away before you can realize them. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you whisper against his lips and he desperately kisses you, like he’s afraid that the sound of your voice is going to send him over the edge. 

He shimmies up until his hips are flush against you and when he thrusts in again you have to cover your own mouth to keep yourself from crying out. The slight change to the position has him in you so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with every stroke. You’re so wet that you can feel it dripping and that thought alone makes you bite against your palm.

You can tell that he’s getting closer as his rhythm slowly starts to fall apart. He leans back and places one hand on your hip for leverage as the other starts rubbing firm circles into your clit. 

A string of expletives fall out of your open mouth into your palm, and you rock your hips into his touch, desperate for more of the hot feeling building in you. You don’t have to tell him that you’re going to come - you’re sure he can tell when your eyes roll back. As a last coherent thought, you recall something about him playing guitar, and you think that's maybe why he’s so dexterous - his fingers working so precisely against your clit. 

Before you can overthink it, you rip his hand from your hip and pull it up to your face. There’s a wild look in his eyes as you suck his forefinger and middle finger into your mouth. His jaw clenches tight as he starts to work them past your lips in time with his hips. He pushes them in just far enough that you can feel your throat threatening to gag.

Between his touch on your clit, his fingers in your mouth, and his cock sliding into you, the sensation overload sends you over the edge. Your eyes roll back and you can feel yourself clench around him as you come. 

He fucks you through it, slowing until his thumb is just brushing over you and patiently switching to long, deep thrusts. You hadn’t realized that you’d closed your eyes until you open them again. You can tell he’s so close to coming that he looks pained, and your hazy mind takes a split second to appreciate how insistent he’s been on your orgasm. He slowly pulls his fingers from your mouth, and you make sure to tease your tongue along them as he does. 

“Come on,” you say, your voice a bit fucked out. “Come for me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, but he doesn’t wait for you to ask again. He leans over you, hands on either side of your head and starts fucking you in earnest. The rubbing against your clit is beyond intense post orgasm and you can’t hold back a whine. He feels incredible inside of you, and the sound of his jagged panting is something you never want to forget for the rest of your life.

He’s shaking as he pulls out of you and slides his cock through a tight fist a few times. He comes across your stomach with a low growl through clenched teeth and strokes himself for a moment longer.

You’re both panting as you come down from the high and you’re drunk enough that when you stare into his eyes, you don’t feel embarrassed. Your fingers reach up to tuck his sweat-damp hair behind his ear. Smiling down at you, he huffs a laugh. 

He fishes a t-shirt off of the floor and gently wipes his come off of your stomach, pecking a kiss against your cheekbone as a consolation. You try not to feel too sentimental about the gesture.

He pulls on a pair of loose shorts across the room and you watch intently as the dim, red light catches the sheen of sweat across his back muscles.

“Do you want me to go to the couch?” you ask gingerly as you sit up and pull his sheet across your bare chest. 

He turns and gives you a look that’s near mortified. “What? Do you want to?”

You shake your head. “No, I just-” You trail off as you reach for your panties and slip them back on. “Didn’t know what the boundaries were.”

He laughs at you, low and under his breath as he thrusts one of his clean t-shirts at you, and you slip it on gratefully. “Don’t you tire yourself out worrying so much?”

You offer him a smile and a shrug.

He crawls back into bed and pulls you down next to him. You’re not sure whether or not you’ll regret it in the morning, but you lay your head on his bare chest and press a kiss into the skin. He rubs his hand across your upper shoulders and wriggles until you’re flush against his side. You’re drunk and exhausted, and still coming down from an immense high, so you’re not sure if you’re dreaming it or not, but the last thing you seem to remember is him nuzzling his nose into your hair.

PART FOUR

Taglist:  @myownparadise96

[antiquechampagne]

Silver Linings - Chapter 2

Dust watched as she sat on the ground, the pain in her arm slowly melting away. Her eye had even started to open a little, the throbbing ignorable with a little effort. The ghoul, while coolly leaning against a rotted wooden post, effortlessly held his shotgun at the ready. The woman shuffled things in and out of her pack, shifting through the junk laying around and seeing what would fit. Nora grumbled to herself before picking out several rolls of duct tape, replacing it with a pristine looking camera.

“You sure you want to leave those?” the ghoul asked. “You normally hoard those things.”

“Yeah, I know.” Nora answered. “But the new Jamaica Plain settlement needs a settlement beacon. I’m missing crystals for the emitter.” She glared down at the rolls, frowning. “It’s not exactly like I was planning on hauling more crap after everything we scavenged back in Quincy.”

Dust’s jaw dropped. It took her a second to process what the vault dweller was saying. “Wait a minute… Quincy?” Her dark hazel eyes glanced between the woman and her companion. “What did you do in Quincy?” Dust’s mind raced. Everyone with more than a couple of brain cells knew to stay away from that place. The Gunners who camped there were basically their own army, easily raining death on anyone and anything that stepped close.

“Oh, the General here decided it was time to clean that place up. Gunner green was so last season.” The ghoul smirked as he shrugged. “So we did.”

“No fucking way!” Dust blustered, thinking. “Just the two of you made it out?”

His smirk grew into a wide grin. “Just the two of us went in, too. We had one hell of a blast, didn’t we, Sunshine?”

Nora laughed at their inside joke. “We sure did.”

Dust mulled over the implications of their words. It didn’t seem like they were lying to her. “If you guys are so tough you can take out a fucking Gunner camp without breaking a sweat, why the fuck did you attack us?” Dust motioned to the handful of raider corpses that had been moved to one end of the trench they had called home.

“We were trying to sneak around, to be honest,” Nora shook her head. “but I guess someone spotted someone with a huge red target on his back.”

The ghoul just rolled his eyes and shrugged again. “What can I say? No one can get enough of my threads. Either way, you guys shot first.”

That seemed true enough. Most of the time you didn’t live long unless you adopted a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ attitude in the wastes. But… if these two really offed all those Gunners…

“Hey,” Dust pushed herself up on her knees slowly. She didn’t need to give anyone another reason to start shooting. “If you really need all that stuff, just load me up. I can truck it wherever you need it to go.” In the corner, Dust could see the ghoul step forward. “To pay you back… for not killing me and shit.”

Hancock nodded to Nora, his eyes never leaving Dust. “Your call.”

Nora’s eyes studied her for a moment.

“How much can you carry?”

Dust stood up. She knew her short frame could be deceiving. She barely came to the vault dweller’s shoulder. Over the years, quite a few people learned the hard way that every square inch of her was packed full of rock hard muscle. Walking over to a weathered table, she pulled out a large military rucksack tucked underneath it.

Confident in her abilities, she simply stated: “Fill’er up.”

Twenty minutes later, Dust was trudging across the wasteland, the stuffed rucksack slung between her shoulder blades. Hard points from the objects inside pushed against her ribs like a sack full of elbows, but she shrugged it off. She thought better than to complain that she was not given a weapon. The woman took up point in front of her, the ghoul a few steps away taking up the rear.

After a while of walking in silence, Nora piped up.

“So, how long had you known those guys?”

“Um,” Dust tried to shove her shoulder against the most offending corner, trying to force something to shift into a more comfortable position. “I think about a week or so.”

“A week?” Nora shot a look back at her before turning back to scan along their path. “What made you join them, then?”

“I needed something to eat.” Dust replied flatly. She didn’t understand what was so confusing about the concept. “Plus, they had a good supply of chems.”

Hancock nodded. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

“What were you doing before that?”

“I ran with a different crew before that. Good bunch of guys. Hard as fucking steel.”

“What happened to them?”

Damn, this bitch is chatty. Dust thought. “We made a pretty good living hitting caravans. Sneaking up on them at night, that kinda thing. One night, we were stalking a real juicy mark when we ran up on a pair of sleeping yao guais. I barely made it out after one of those fuckers took a chunk out of my leg.” She frowned at the memory. “But at least I made it out. No one else did.”

“What about before them?”

Dust was getting frustrated with all these questions. “Why the fuck does it matter?”

“I’m just trying to figure something out,” She answered. “Like, what makes a person turn to raiding.”

“You do realize ‘raiders’ fuck and pop out brats, right? Those little fuckers learn real quick what it takes to survive out here… and it ain’t playing nice with soft townies. Not if you want to get your share of something to eat.”

That shut her up. They walked in silence for a few more hours. The light in the sky started to dim. Even though they were close to wherever they were going, it was decided to find a secure place to hole up for the night and continue in the morning. They found some kind of old shop and boarded up the door. Dust took off her heavy load, sitting in a corner. After starting a fire in an old metal trashcan, Nora began to prepare a few cans she pulled from her pack. Mayor Hancock took off his coat and began to clean his gun in the fire light. Once the food was warm, the vault dweller brought a can and spoon to Dust. She took it with a cautious nod, sniffing what looked like beans before shoveling them into her mouth. The other two chatted as they ate, occasionally glancing over at her.

Dust ignored them. She kept to herself, trying calm the sneaking itch in her brain. She couldn’t help focusing on how long it had been since her last hit of jet. It took all her concentration to keep her leg from bouncing. Instead, she repeatedly twisted the ends of her bandana in between her fingers,a nervous habit she had picked up as a child.

After a while, Hancock walked over to her. “I’m taking first watch, Nora’s taking second. You should get some sleep while you can.”

Even though that made sense, Dust knew her feet and back ached something fierce, she was far from exhausted enough to sleep. Not when she was like this.

“I’m good,” was all she answered.

The ghoul seemed to study her. “Since we are almost to Jamaica, you might want to rethink that make up job of yours.” He pointed to her face.

“What’d’ya mean?”

“The locals know us… but you?” His mouth tightened into bit of a grimace. “Well, they tend to shoot raiders on sight… and right now your face screams ‘I’m here’ ta fuck you up’.”

It had been a while since Dust had smeared broad swaths of black kohl across her face, but come to think about it… not a lot of townies she’d run across marked themselves like that. She supposed the ghoul was right.

“Fine.” she asked. Dust untied her bandana.

Hancock pulled out an open carton of water and handed it to her. With a good dash of water, she rubbed most of the paint from her face, pinpricks of pain reminding her of the tender new scars forming over a good portion of her face. When she thought she was done, Dust turned to the ghoul.

“Good?”

“You still look you’ve got two black eyes, but close enough.”

Dust nodded. She thought the ghoul would return to the other side of the room, but he stayed by her. Her pointed to her hands.

“Are you sure you’re good?”

Looking down, Dust realized that she was continuing to violently twisting her soiled bandana in her hands.

“Yeah, well ya know… the Jet will make you jittery.”

This time it was Hancock who nodded as he reached into a pocket.

“There ain’t much left in this one, but here...” He handed her a red inhaler. “I don’t need you jonesing all night.” He got up and returned to fire.

Dust turned over the canister in her hand. Food and chems… well, she could have done worse. She had in the past, and for less… but then again, you don’t get anything for free. She’d just have to wait and see what that price was going to be.

She put the plastic mouthpiece between her lips and inhaled. She felt a small burst of chems coat the inside of her mouth and throat, it’s burning kiss burrowed into her blood through her lungs. The flickering flames across the room slowed to a languid pulsing. A wash of heat traveled like lightning through her body, soothing her frazzled nerves.

Any exhaustion from the stress of trekking across the wasteland she might have been feeling evaporated. The only problem with all this added energy was she had no outlet to use it up. The only thing at hand was her dirty bandanna. Quickly, she ripped the flimsy fabric into a handful of thin strips. Nora stirred at the noise but turned over after Hancock put a hand on her shoulder. Dust ignored his scowl, focusing on weaving the red strips into thick braid she could fit around her head. After a few attempts, she had something that would keep the sweat and hair out of her face. It took long enough to burn of the remainder of her Jet-fuel energy binge. Soon, she scooted herself into a corner, propping herself up in a sitting position to doze the rest of the night.

Early the next morning, after a quick breakfast, the group headed out again. It was just before lunch when they reached the new settlement. It wasn’t much more than a half-collapsed building with a patch of dirt on the side. Two thin figures poked their heads out from behind a crumbling corner, gun barrels trained on them, but they waved a hearty welcome once they saw the vault dweller in the distance. She waved back. Soon Dust’s bag was off her shoulders, the contents spread across the dusty floorboards.

Dust parked herself in the corner on a stool, studying the scene playing out in front of her. The pair of settlers eyed her suspiciously, but begrudgingly ignored her as Nora pulled out random bits of armor and weapons for them to try. Soon, the two were outfitted with a ragtag collection of gear marginally better than the rags they wore underneath it all. After that, Nora got to work explaining what she needed to make them this tower beacon thing. Soon, everything was collected and piled together on the sidewalk, ready for assembly. Before work could begin, they sat down to eat.

“Here you go.” One of the settlers held out a bit of scrambled Cram and eggs. When Dust didn’t move, she put it down on the broken windowsill next to her with a shrug. It smelled good, but Dust did not touch it. She felt strange. Out of place. An imposter.

“Don’t be rude, now.” Hancock nudged her.

Dust sheepishly gulped down the food as fast as she could. The settler who had handed her the bowl came back to collect it.

“Guess it wasn’t too bad, eh?”

Dust shrugged.

“Not much of a talker? That’s alright.” She flashed a small smile at the silent Dust before shuffling away.

Dust felt like every eye was burning on her, even though she could clearly see that their attention had turned to construction of the tower. She skulked away to the other side of the building, away from the imaginary stares. She scanned around the perimeter of the ‘settlement’. There was a giant blind corner and holes in the perimeter everywhere she looked. This place was an easy mark, just ripe for an attack from nearly any direction. She’d burned plenty of settlements just like this to ground for less than the lunch she had just been given. Hearing gravel grind into the pavement, she turned around to see Hancock stepping around the corner.

“You okay back here?” Dust shrugged again. “You thinking about taking off?” he asked.

Dust shook her head. “I’m just no good at building shit. That’s all.” That part of was true, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. Before the ghoul could say anything else, she pointed to the blind corner across from them. “This corner is a death trap, if no one is watching it.”

“And you should know…” Even though it wasn’t an accusation, his words stung. “I’ll see if we can rig up a trap or something. Nora’s a damn genius when it comes to that kind of thing.” He looked at her, like he was trying to read something on her face.

“They would want me over there… if they knew me.”

“They know you helped us make their life easier. Hell, you’re even going to make their home safer for them.” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered her one.

She took it and mulled over his words. They stood and smoked in silence. Eventually, Hancock dropped his spent cigarette, grinding it out with the heel of his boot.

“We need to haul that scrap over to Hangman’s Alley. Think you can make the trip?” he asked.

Dust had no idea where the fuck that was.

“Sure,” she replied.

[captainillogical]

Distant Lands Ch.2

Stranded on a planet with toxic conditions and nothing but the clothes on your back, your only means of survival lies within the gem that got you here in the first place.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants​

You wake up with a jolt, gasping for air.

Sitting up, you internally wince. Everything fucking hurts, and your body feels like you got tossed under a 16-wheeler. It’s pretty dark around you, but you can tell that you’re alone. 

Once you feel like you can breathe normally again, you begin to look at your surroundings. The air is kind of humid, and smells.. weird. You were.. somewhere. It was hard to tell with how little light there was. Could it be night time already? Were you really knocked out for a whole day? The walls around you are crumbling and falling apart but it doesn’t look like anything from Earth, and you could almost make out some sort of drawings on them. They’re too worn out for you to make anything out of it, though. 

You can see lush green plants growing from the cracks in the walls, and they seem strange to you. You’re no expert on plant life, but you haven’t seen plants that look like this ever in your life. Thick, ropey vines were streaming down the surface of the walls, and large bulbous, orange flower-like plants were blooming on them. They looked.. fleshy.

You stand up from your place on the ground, legs wobbly from their lack of use, and realize that half the reason why you feel so weird is that the gravity is heavier? You feel sluggish. You’re definitely not on Earth. Fuck. This is just.. great.

You take one step and groan out loud. Your leg muscles are so sore, and this is taking an immense amount of effort to not go back to curl up in a corner and pretend everything is fine. You start to feel your way around the room, hands trailing against the wall. Slowly making your way northbound, hands running over several vines and one of the flowers hiss - you quickly step away from it. Okay. The fucking flower hissed at you, no big deal. 

You keep walking in the direction you were going before, and eventually find an opening in the wall with some moonlight pouring in like a spotlight. You have to bend down to get out, nearly stumbling over the scattered, worn bricks on the ground. Once you steady yourself, you look up to see that yes, it was night time you guess? You don’t see any stars, and the atmosphere is murky with a thick fog. The sky is dark and tinted a soft bright green - unlike anything you’ve ever seen, and a bright, orange moon. Actually.. three moons, what the hell?

Turning your head in both directions, you look around you for any immediate signs of danger. The trees around you are thick like a jungle, and you don’t see an immediate pathway to how exactly you got here.

Swiping your forehead, you wince and remember your flesh wound from earlier. It feels dry, so that’s good, but it also seems to be smeared down your face like someone tried wiping it off. You don’t know how you feel about this, so you try not to think about it.

You eventually spot a crude footpath that looks pretty old and overgrown, like it hasn’t been used in a century you think. You walk slowly along it, body sore and not used to the gravity change - and peer around you at the plantlife. Many of the trees here are tall and droopy, long leaves coming from high arches above. They’re similar to palm trees but also very much not. So many large tree-like bushes that are in various shades of greens and oranges, leaves and color formation very alien to you. It’s all very strange. You don’t seem to see any kind of organic lifeforms around either, except for some type of gnats and other small bugs.

You keep walking along the path you found, and you spot a couple of freshly torn tree branches, so you forge ahead.

Your mind is swimming with thoughts as you slowly regain most of what happened today. A gem you’ve never seen before tried to kill Steven, knocked you out and took you with her to a different planet, as.. what. A bargaining chip? She didn’t outright kill you, which she could’ve done very easily, but didn’t for some reason. You’re positive you came here via warp pad, but you cannot leave alone, as you are human, and humans can’t use the warp pad without at least a gem beside them. 

Steven must be so very worried about you, and you hate to make him worry. You hate to make any of them worry. They’ve done so much for you, despite.. certain things. You shake your head to clear your thoughts. Best not to dwell on past mistakes, especially when you’ve got much more prominent things to worry about. Like finding a way off this fucking weird planet.

The path ahead of you turns slightly, and you start to see the beginning of an opening to a clearing. A spark of hope bubbles inside your chest as you pick up the pace. You nearly trip out into the clearing - catching yourself on a nearby tree, and you marvel at the view around you for a second.

There’s a good sized clearing here before a massive line of trees hit the outer edge - it’s probably the size of two football fields you think. The expanse of the horizon is enormous, all three moons in clear view, and you think you see a few scattered stars here and there through the thick atmosphere. There’s a couple large hills in the distance and some large towering rock formations as well from what you can see, and it would take at least a day or two to physically walk over there if you wanted to - but you’d rather eat your own foot than stay here any longer than you have to, curiosity aside. Off to the left of the jungle there seems to be miles upon miles of rocky terrain, huge chasms running through the sides of the crust. You can’t really make out anything around it from here, though.

Your eyes eventually spot the warp pad in the middle of the clearing, and you make a beeline for it. Your heart rate picks up pace too, and you cannot quell the hopeful feelings inside you.

It.. it looks intact. You let out a long, weary breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in, and walk around the warp pad to inspect it. 

There isn’t any damage, and it looks usable. This was definitely the one that you came through when you were brought here. You’re unsure if there are any others on this planet, or if this is the only one. Speaking of.. all of this. This was a gem planet, clearly. You have no idea what it was used for, from what you can tell. Actually, from what you can tell, this planet seems pretty intact? Compared to some of the other planets you’ve seen while you’ve adventured with the crystal gems. Why was it abandoned? Aside from you wanting to go home, this place doesn’t seem so bad.

You are so completely lost in thought that you don’t hear someone approaching you from behind.

“Well, what do we have here?” A familiar voice speaks up from a few feet behind you, and you freeze in your tracks.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and your turn to look at her, eyes wide.

“Didja think your little friends were gonna come save ya?” She says with a devilish grin, and takes a threatening step towards you. You take a step back. Your mouth doesn’t work for a few seconds as you regard her appearance, now that she’s not trying to actively chop you to pieces.

Her heart-shaped gem is upside down, and on her chest. Her pink hair is in pigtails, and she’s got streaks down her face, and her attire is strange. You have no idea who she’s supposed to be, and honestly you don’t give a shit. You don’t care about anyone that would dare lay a hand on Steven.

“They still could,” You reply, and try to keep your voice even. “They wouldn’t just abandon me.”

“Aww, that’s cute of you to think.” Her grin gets a little wider. “I hate to say it toots, but they ain’t gonna find us out here.” She takes another step closer to you.

“They’ll find a way,” You back up the same distance, and your heel hits the edge of the warp pad. “They always do, somehow.”

She considers you for a moment, and lets out a low chuckle that sets off your fight or flight. Your feet feel rooted to the ground.

“I seriously doubt that.” She says with a grin, and you watch in dawning horror as she expands her fist, slamming it down on the warp pad behind you with a loud crash. Some pieces of debris hits you, and you stumble, crashing to the ground. 

The only half-baked plan you had of escaping just flew out the window. You struggle to get back on your feet, and you hold yourself back from screaming endlessly into the night.

“Why the FUCK would you do that!?” You yell at her, forgoing any rational thought that you had. “That was the EASIEST way for me to get home and you just ruined any chance I had!” She lets out another chuckle before responding.

“Oh, you thought you had a chance. That’s adorable.” She continues to take another step towards you, insistently getting closer. “Ya’ see.. I brought you here with the intention of not letting you go.”

“That makes no fucking sense, you came to kill Steven, like every single other gem.” You reply, unable to move anywhere without tripping on the pieces of the broken warp pad. She’s only a couple feet in front of you.

“I did. Changed my mind, though.” 

“Wh..” Too many thoughts are racing through your head. “What do you mean, changed your mind!? Why ME!? I’m not even a gem! You could’ve just killed me and made this easy!!!”

“Now, why would I want to kill my best friend?” She chuckles, darkly. “I just got her.”

“B-best friend.” You reiterate, mind reeling at this. “Excuse me? You are NOT my best friend. You’re far from it.” 

Her eyes snap to yours, and you’re immediately filled with unease. She moves closer to you, and gets right up in your space, merely a few inches from you.

You want to bolt.

“Ya wanna repeat that.” She replies calmly and regards your face, blinking once.

“You’re not my best friend, and I don’t even know you!”

Her hand snaps to your face, and she’s gripping your jaw roughly. You can feel her thumb pressing into your cheek, and she forces you to look at her. She grins wide enough that you can see many of her teeth, and it doesn’t reach her eyes at all. 

“Sweetcheeks, we can get to know each other. We have.. time.” She ends the last word slowly, and every fiber of your being is telling you to get very, very far away from her. You grip her arm with your hands to try and pull away and she pulls you flush against her, still holding your jaw painfully. She wraps her arm around you to keep you in place.

“Now, just why would you want to leave dear ‘ol Spinel? After everything I’ve done to make sure we’d have a grand time together?” The moonlight above making her eyes look brighter, her irises boring into yours. You can’t look away.

“S-Spinel?” You push on her arm, trying to get some distance between the two of you, but she holds tight. She looks absolutely delighted and practically purrs as you say her name, and you are one hundred percent uncomfortable now. You make another attempt to pull away, but the gem has an iron grip on you. 

“Say it again.” She demands, holding you in place. “Say my name.”

You feel like no matter what you do, you’re probably fucked regardless.

“Uh.. Spinel?” You nearly squeak as she presses you uncomfortably tight against her. Her gem pushing against you actually hurts.

“It's.. so nice to hear my name again.” The pink gem smirks, her face so close you can feel the words coming out of her mouth. 

You make a silent agreement with yourself to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, or at least die trying. And as if this moment couldn't get any more uncomfortable, your stomach decides to growl loudly enough for the gem to notice. 

Spinel drops her hand from your face and disentangles herself from you, looking at you in mild confusion. 

You suddenly notice just how hungry you are as your stomach growls again, and it feels like it’s eating itself. You avoid making eye contact with the strange gem in front of you as you attempt to walk around her, done with this place, done with this gem, and done with everything. You’ll unpack all of your emotional shit later, if you ever get time to yourself.

A hand shoots out and grabs onto your arm, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Spinel spits out at you with a glare.

“I gotta eat.” You answer curtly, pushing her hand off your arm. Why the fuck is this bitch so touchy?

“Not alone, you aren't.” Her fist finds its way to your arm again, and this time her grip is much tighter than before. 

You sigh loudly, extremely annoyed at this point. Not only were you stranded on an alien planet, but you were stranded with this crazy ass gem who couldn't decide if she wanted to kill you or be your best friend. You want to scream.

“Okay, fine. But I need to find something NOW.” You turn from her and walk off, and she follows closely behind you, much to your irritation.

You look briefly around the clearing for anything that looks even remotely edible, and you find nothing. It’s dark out, but there’s enough moonlight to see that there’s really nothing but the now-destroyed warp pad here. Heading back from where you came is probably your best option, considering this area has only one pathway in and out.

On your way back you actually spot a couple bushes in the thick of the trees a few feet out that seem to be bearing some kind of berry. You think you'll take your chances, and meander your way through enough vines to nearly strangle yourself. Spinel is still holding your wrist, and she follows you closely. You wish you could ditch her somehow, because you're worried she'll murder you in your sleep. You think maybe later you can try to find an opportunity to escape her somehow. 

The berries on this bush are.. weird. They're a mix of blues and oranges which is kinda wild, but you're so hungry you don't even care. You pick a couple off the bush, and hold them up to your face to sniff them.

"What are those?" The gem next to you asks.

"No idea. Don't care at this point though." You reply, and shovel a couple into your mouth.

They burst in between your teeth, and they taste.. not great, you can't lie. But you're hungry, and they seem alright, so you scarf down enough to placate your stomach. You grab another handful to bring with you to the ruins you woke up in, aka your makeshift shelter. Spinel is watching you with curiosity, and almost looks like she wants to try the berries herself.

You move around her carefully - you don’t want to agitate her again, and you don’t want to give her any indication that you were fine with her as well. Nearly tripping over the heavy foliage, you walk back to the narrow pathway so you can attempt to rest for the night. It’s getting colder, and you only wore long sleeves and jeans today. You quietly curse yourself for not wearing a sweater today like you were going to originally.

“What was that?” The gem asks from behind you. 

“Nothing.” You reply. Of course she heard you.

“Are you keeping secrets from me?” She stops, and grips your arm tightly. You turn around to face her.

“No, first of a-” You feel something coming up and slam your hand over your mouth. You hurl against the tree next to you. Christ, it tastes worse coming back up. You empty the contents of your stomach on the ground, gripping the tree for support.

You feel a hand on the back of your neck, gently grabbing your hair away from your face. You feel fucking awful, but you have enough in you to be pissed that she thinks she can touch you like this. After a few more dry heaves, you feel like it’s stopped enough. Leaning against the tree to steady your breathing, you finally find enough strength to push her hand away from you, and you walk off angrily to the ruins. She’s holding your arm again - of fucking course.

You don’t know if you have any strength in you to continue to find any sort of food source tonight. It might be best for you to rest for a couple hours, and get up when it’s lighter out. The temperature is also rapidly declining, and you worry if you can’t find some source of warmth, you’ll freeze to death before you can even get out of this place.

It only takes you a couple minutes to get back to where you were before you ventured out. You’re miserable, pissy, cold, and you feel like absolute shit. And it doesn’t help that the single being to get you into this entire mess is standing next to you like you should be grateful to her for this. It’s fucking insane.

You head back inside the hole you came out of earlier, but not before grabbing a couple large leaves off the weird palm trees to make yourself a makeshift cot. Maybe you can salvage some kind of warmth for yourself..

“Whatcha doin?” Spinel has the gall to ask beside you. You stare at her.

“I’m going to sleep.” You reply, moodily.

“Why?” 

“Because humans need rest to recuperate.” You aggravatedly sigh, and lay a large leaf down in the corner, away from the vines with the hissing flowers. You sit down on it, and Spinel moves to join you.

“Okay uh, can you.. Not. You can sleep over there.” You say, and point to the opposite side of the wall.

“Why would I do that if you’re right here?” She squints at you.

“Personal space?” You glare at her, and shiver from the cold creeping up on you.

“And that is?” She scoffs at you. “Who cares. And besides, you look cold.”

"Yeah, I'm good. I'll be fine right here by myself." You pull up your other two leaves over you to protect yourself. Like somehow she can't just rip these apart and strangle you to death if she wanted. She stares at you for a moment, and then sits down right next to you. Her leg is pressing against yours.

"I'm not going anywhere. I don't want you running away on me." She states, determinedly. 

Oh, great. You don't even get to have the private emotional breakdown like you wanted. 

Today sucks.

"Whatever. Don't touch me." You huff, and roll over to your side. It's cold, now. Decently cold, actually. It was humid when you woke up some time ago, but in the last half an hour or so it got significantly chilly. You seriously hate this planet. Your abdomen is sore from the violent vomiting before, and your whole body just aches in general. You still feel the pain on the side of your face from your flesh wound from earlier. You haven't felt this shitty in a long time.

You're lost in thought when you feel Spinel slowly wrap an arm around your stomach, and leans against your back. You freeze instantly.

"What did I just say?" You hear yourself say out loud. 

"Nothing I have to listen to." She says from behind you, and tightens her arm around your middle.

Well, there goes your other half-baked plan of possibly sneaking away from her.

You sigh in aggravation, and reside yourself to trying to sleep. It's proving to be difficult though, because your mind won't stop swimming with thoughts and unease about the gem against you. You don't know anything about her aside from her name, and that she took you to be her best friend, whatever the fuck that actually means. You still have no idea why she came to kill Steven earlier, or how she knew of him in the first place, considering you've known him half his life and you've never seen her before. Or even mentioned. But somehow, she knows him.

You feel some warmth coming from her, and try not to lean into it. You hate her. Your life was going great before all of this. You miss your bed, you miss your sweater, you miss the food you bought earlier and left on the counter. 

You miss your home. You miss the gems. 

You miss Steven.

Sighing again out loud, you pull your leaves closer to you. You'll deal with other things in the morning if you don't die in your sleep. Your eyes droop heavily, weariness from the day catching up to you. Sleep comes to you eventually.

[duker42]

💜Recovering💜 1 of 4

Recovering: Part 1 of 4

*****Warning*****Spoilers Ahead/Manga

Y/N took in the view before her. Grass covered fields stretched before her, gentle hills and scattered trees filling out the landscape. A sense of calm was over area, causing a coil of tension to curl in her gut. Times like these were the most dangerous.

Trouble was coming. Maybe not an Abnormal Titan, like she would have been expecting in years past, but something.

The screen door behind her opened as a petite blonde in a long flowing dress joined her on the porch. Her angelic features were enhanced by the protruding swell under her breasts. Turning towards the expectant mother, Y/N inclined her head slightly.

“Good morning, Your Majesty, did you sleep well?” She turned, taking in the heavily pregnant woman’s appearance.

“Y/N, for the LAST time, it’s Historia! I order you to call me Historia.” The young monarch giggles, flashing a mischievous grin to the older girl.

She supposed it was alright. She had known Historia since she had joined the Scouts under the name Christa Lentz all those years ago. How things have changed.

Commander Hanji had assigned Y/N to watch over Historia as she entered her final months of pregnancy, worried that the Yeagerists might take some action against the mother-to-be in a blind show of loyalty to Eren.

It was a duty to be taken seriously. That was why Y/N had tried to establish boundaries. But the girl who once giggled over gossip and played silly games with her in the their barracks block after lights out refused to let them slip into predetermined roles. Sighing, Y/N gives into the inevitable and flashes a light hearted grin. “Okay, HISTORIA, how’d you sleep?”

Groaning, Historia rubbed her lower back. “Let’s just say I will be happy when I can sleep in some other position. And I don’t have this one trying to practice for ODM training in my womb.”

“Sit down, You’ll feel better.” She lead the girl over to a rocking chair and guided her into the seat before looking back across the open fields. Scanning the area, a bit of movement from the river caught her attention. She narrowed her eyes, trying to determine if it was an animal that was moving in the brush or approaching danger. She gripped the handles of her swords loosely, trying to move casually as to not upset the woman beside her.

The movement continued, and Y/N began to make a out figure pulling something from the river. “Historia, did you give permission for anyone to travel by river or fish lately?”

Glancing at the direction Y/N was staring, Historia’s eyes widen as she realizes the reasoning behind the question. “No.”

Moving swiftly, Y/N gathers up Historia and rushed back into the farmhouse. Putting her down, she quickly shoves a rifle in the queen’s hand. “You haven’t forgotten how to shoot, I know. Stay here and stay low. I’ll call out to you. Whatever I shout, don’t hesitate. You aren’t a soldier any longer, you are our Queen.” When she nods silently, Y/N slips back out onto the porch, preparing to defend her friend and liege to her dying breath.

Silently slipping down the front porch steps, Y/N makes her way to the well worn path that leads to the river. She was finally close enough to recognize the green cloak wrapped around the now soaked figure, still concentrating on something on the ground. As she starts to pull her blades slowly from their sheath, the figure looks up and spots Y/N.

Sagging with relief, she shoves the blades back to their resting position and rushes forward, fear of a threat now well past. “Commander Hanji!”

Hanji’s single brown eye widened when she saw Y/N. She looked down at the item she was clutching at and shouted for the girl. “Come help me! I need to get him in the house!”

When Y/N reached Hanji, she realized the object that Hanji had been struggling with was a person, a man, horribly wounded. A long deep slash across the man’s face from his eyebrow to below his lip was still oozing blood. Fragments of metal were sticking out of the other cheek. As she came closer, she realized that his right hand was steadily dripping blood, the ends of his first two finger were severed. Reaching the frantic woman, she realized she wasn’t looking at just any wounded man.

“Levi....” She gasped.

“Come on, Y/N. Help me.” Hanji snaps her out of inaction. Y/N reaches down and pushes her obviously exhausted Commander back and scoops the short statured Captain up into her arms.

Struggling with his surprising weight, she grunted, shifting him carefully as she hurried towards the farmhouse. “Fuck, he’s heavy. What does he do, eat rocks?” She blithely comments, trying desperately to not panic at the critical situation they found themselves in.

“Historia! Quick, get hot water and towels! Get the medical bag! Put them in my room!” She shouts as she gets closer. “What happened?” Hanji flinched at the question.

“Thunder spear, I think, I’m not exactly sure. But Zeke had transformed and I found Levi next to the river like this. Piece of shit Floch wanted to shoot him, so I dove into the river with him and managed to get him here.”

“And the monkey?” Y/N growled, referring to Zeke’s Beast Titan.

“Bastard still lives.” Hanji ground out, her teeth gritted in anger.

“Okay, then our little Captain here can’t die today. Let’s get him inside and fixed up to fight another day.”

Pushing into the farmhouse, she steadily makes her way to the bedroom she had been staying in. The top floor, back bedroom had never seemed so far away as she carried her heavy burden up the narrow stairs, careful not to injure him further. Reaching the room, she found Historia busily arraigning all the requested materials and stoking the fire to life in the hearth.

Laying him down in her bed, she steps back and takes a breath. Now the real challenge was beginning. Reaching into her medical bag that she had prepared for the birth of Historia’s child, she begins to lay out all the tools and medicines. Hanji came over and started pulling Levi’s water logged boots off his feet.

“We have to get his clothes off. I can’t see if he has any other injuries with them on.” Her hurried words betrayed her panic. Quickly grabbing the taller woman’s hands, Y/N stills her. “Hanji, go shower and change into dry clothes. I can handle this for now. We can’t afford for you to get sick. Historia, take her.” Confidant they would heed her, she turns back to the unconscious man before her.

Slipping a dangerously sharp knife from the sheath in her boot, she murmurs an apology as she swiftly cuts the elite soldier’s clothes from his body. Flinging the sodden material on the floor, she begins to dry him off, looking for wounds more pressing than the ones on his face and hand.

Finding none, and relieved to find no bruising to indicate internal bleeding yet, she covers his naked form with a thick blanket. Her movements graceful and fluid, she surveys the fingers, her main cause for worry at the moment. The bleeding on his face had slowed, but his missing digits needed to be dealt with immediately.

Slipping a long blade into the fire, she sighs as she realizes cauterizing the wound is his best option. He would come back to life and gut her unmercifully if she allowed the notoriously fastidious man to die of an infection.

When the metal was red hot, Y/N carefully held his hand, her body practically laying on his own to prevent movement. While he was still unconscious, Captain Levi was dangerous, and she could take no chance that he would come to during this and hurt himself or her. Wincing as she touched the hot steel to his open flesh, the sizzling and burning smell etching themselves into her mind. She felt him jerk beneath her, but thankfully his eyes remained closed.

Washing the tender skin, she put a healing salve on his now shorter fingers and carefully wrapped them in gauze. Turning her attention to his face, she wept internally over the damage. She had always believe the stoic, crass man to be breathtakingly handsome. Few others thought as she did, but it never bothered her. But, even as horrible as his wounds looked now, she didn’t think that she would ever be able to view him as hideous.

Shaking her head, she scoffed at her foolishness. He needed her to help him right now, not moon over his looks. Going to his right eye, she carefully peeled open the lid and was relieved to see that the cut had not penetrated below. A beautiful grey orb rested unharmed in it’s socket. She was quick to note that there were more blue flecks in the iris at this distance. Smiling at her newfound discovery, she closed the lid and set to cleaning the wound.

Stitching his face had taken longer than she had hoped. She was still working on the lower portion when Hanji came back into the room.

“Check him again for bruising, please” Y/N said, not taking her eyes off the delicate sutures in her hand.

Pulling back the blankets, Hanji rechecked his stomach and chest, not finding any deep bruising. Covering him back up, she silently watched the loyal Scout carefully sew her friend back together. After Y/N had finished that arduous task, she concentrated on the other side, pulling the bits of metal from his skin. Sanitizing and sewing those wounds shut, she smeared the salve over the wounds. Over his eye, she had not stitched the wound, opting to pull the skin closed with some medical glue and cover it with a thick bandage.

Finished with her task, she looked up into the worried coffee colored eye of her friend and leader. Unshed tears gathered as the woman looked down at the bed that held her dearest friend, the last veteran from before the wall fell that she had left. She looked back at Y/N, a newer friend, but no less important to her. “Do you think he will make it?” She whispered, afraid of the answer.

Standing, Y/N gathered Hanji in a fierce hug. “Levi is stronger than all of us. He will make it. He’s just going to be pissed that ‘shitty Beast bastard’ is still kicking.” Hanji gave a small chuckle when Y/N used the colorful moniker Levi used when talking about Zeke Yeager.

Hanji pulled away, sighing heavily. “I need to go. They will be looking for us. I need to get back to HQ and figure out how to deal with this. Keep him safe, Y/N. If they find him, they will kill him.”

Nodding solemnly, Y/N gathers the Captain’s ruined clothes and slipped downstairs to give Hanji a few moments alone with Levi. Reaching the kitchen, she finds Historia seated at the table, her troubled gaze settled on the tea cup in front of her. Guessing where the small girl’s trouble thoughts lay, Y/N settled a hand on her slender shoulder. “Levi is still unconscious, but he’ll survive. I know it.”

Sitting down in the opposite chair, she continues. “Hanji is going to be leaving him here. The Yeagerist’s are going to be searching for them. We need to be careful for anyone approaching the house. Trust no one right now.” Her friends face paled at the implications of her statement, but she nodded.

Y/N sat with Historia for a few more minutes, explaining the Captain’s condition and reminiscing with her about the few times they had actually seen the seemingly indestructible man hurt. When the conversation tapered off, Y/N got up and set the ruined clothes out to dry in front of the kitchen hearth.

“When these are dry Historia, if I am watching over the Captain, burn them.” She says, fingering the blood stained cravat she had taken off of him. Pulling it out of the destroy pile, she ignores her common sense and sets the dirty linen in a bowl of cold water to soak. When she turns around, she catches the understanding look on Historia’s face. “He would want us to get the stains out.” Y/N sheepishly explains.

Footsteps on the stairs signal Hanji’s approach. When the tired woman comes into the kitchen, Historia bustles around the room gathering provisions. Y/N hands Hanji a cup of tea she had just poured, liberally adding a splash of whiskey to the brew.

“There are extra horses in the stable. I had them brought here in case of an emergency. Take one, it won’t be missed if someone comes looking.” Y/N tells Hanji. “They are looking for you carrying a wounded man, they won’t act quickly enough to block the road for a lone rider on a a horse.”

Knocking back the tea, she grimaces and hands the cup back to Y/N. “I knew I was right to station you here.” She smiled gratefully as Historia handed her a sack full of food stuffs and a water skin. Placing a hand on Historia’s stomach she looks at both of the women. “Take care of the baby, him and each other. I’ll send word as quickly as I can.” And with that, she walked out of the house towards the stable.

**Time Skip**

After Hanji’s departure, Y/N went to the stables and cleaned the now empty stall. If someone did come looking for the now hunted pair, she wanted to give no reason for suspicion. Satisfied that the stables looked proper, she walked to the river’s edge and started eliminating signs of the wounded man being carried from there to the farmhouse.

Coming back into the house, she made her way to Historia, watching over the sleeping Captain. Settled into a rocking chair beside his bed, the former cadet was reading quietly to the man that had once threatened her to convince her to take her place as queen.

Pausing in her reading, Historia looked at Y/N. “I’ve burned their clothes. Should we burn the boots?”

“No, he wears a size similar to mine. I will just say they are an extra pair if anyone questions it.” For a shorter girl, Y/N had surprisingly larger feet. Looking around the room, she noticed that it was dirty from working on him earlier. “Take a break, I’ll watch over Levi and clean the room. The last thing we need is him waking up to a dirty recovery room. He’ll shit bricks.” She grinned as Historia laughed.

While Historia settled on the porch, Y/N gathered the cleaning supplies. Throwing the bloodied towels in the fire, she carefully wiped down the room, restoring it to it’s before Levi appearance. Stowing the medical supplies away, she retraced her steps through the house, making sure there were no tell-tell drops of blood. Satisfied that their tracks had been sufficiently covered, she returned to the kitchen and began to make dinner.

Humming quietly as she peeled and chopped vegetables, her thoughts drifted back to the man upstairs. She was worried about how he was going to take loosing his fingers. She hoped he would look at it like she did. Most soldiers would be completely at loss with their dominant hand damaged, but Levi held his swords differently in battle. Using the other fingers on his hand was natural to him, so she didn’t believe it was too big of an issue. No, his real problem would be holding his tea cup. Unique in most every aspect of his life, drinking tea was no different. Rather than holding it by the handle like most, Levi gripped the rim of the cup with his entire hand. The loss of those fingers would definitely affect that.

She snorted to herself as she moved the pot of hearty stew over the flames. They had nothing to worry about if the primary concern about their strongest soldier’s injury was how he was going to adjust to drinking his tea. Wiping down her work station, she fixed a tray with all the necessary items to make tea in her room and headed upstairs.

Entering the room, she found that he had not moved. His breathing still steady, as if he were sleeping. She wondered if he had a head injury from being thrown in the blast. There had been plenty of soldiers that showed no sign of injury but went to sleep and never woke up. The possibility terrified her.

Setting the tea kettle on the hook, she moved it close enough to the fire to stay warm, but far enough away to not boil. Setting up a cup for whenever he decided to come back to reality, she stopped for a moment to take a good look at the man she had been caring for. She noticed that his neck had a smudge of dirt on it and his hair had debris in it from the river. Damnit...he wouldn’t be comfortable like this if he knew. Even when he was about to fall out from exhaustion, he had always dragged himself off to clean up before anything else after a mission. A tiny coil of dread knotted in her gut. She was going to have to give Levi a bath.

Guilt....that was the feeling in her gut, she thought to herself as she wandered back into the kitchen. Filling a pail full of hot water, she collected more towels and a rag before going back up the stairs. She was feeling guilty because she was going to see him naked. When she had cut his clothes off of him, she had been focused on the injuries. Now that the danger had seemingly passed, she was ashamed to admit to herself that she was a little curious.

Setting the pail beside the bed, she went to her bathroom and got her soap. Something she had found in an upscale store the last time she was in Wall Sina, it had a heavenly mixture of lemon and rosemary in it. She hoped he wouldn’t shit at smelling like a girl when he woke up. Smirking, she came back over and contemplated the best way to go about her task. Modesty called for just reaching under the covers to blindly swipe at his skin, but knowing how meticulous he was, Y/N sensed she would be doing him an injustice if she washed him that way.

Deciding to start on his hair, she wet the raven locks as best she could and lathered the soap through it. Feeling the surprisingly soft strands as her fingers massaged his scalp, she wondered how he would react if he were to wake up at this moment. Would it feel good to him, or would he bat her hands away from him? Lifting his head, she placed an empty basin beneath him and scooped clean water over his hair, rinsing the suds out. Toweling the moisture from his disheveled hair, she swapped the pillow beneath his head, giving him a clean place to lay.

Now onto his body. As she grit her teeth, she scolded herself for acting like a child. Levi’s voice rang through her head. ‘Just get it over with brat.’ Steeling her nerves and with a quick glance at his face to make sure he was still out, she pulled the covers completely off of her Captain.

Hard. That would be the word she used to describe him. While many people discounted Levi due to his height, his form was nothing to scoff at. His lean frame was covered in taunt muscle. His shoulders were surprisingly broad and his chest was smooth and absent hair. Small light scars from old injuries were scattered across him, but added to his appeal rather than detracted. Defined pecs led down to chiseled abs, so many ripples in his stomach telling of the hard training he put in. The deep v of his hips led down, and Y/N felt herself blushing a deep crimson as she tore her gaze away from his anatomy. With a quick rush of air escaping her lung, she knew she would NEVER forget that sight. It seemed to be disproportionate to the rest of him, even when asleep. She would be a little afraid if she ever saw the man aroused. His thick coiled thighs spoke to all the years of ODM gear use and tight calves leading down to surprisingly cute feet.

‘Okay, drooling over, start washing the man’ She hastens over to the water, plunging the rag in to wet it. Wringing a little water out, she runs it over the inert body. Wetting it again, she soaps up the rag and begins at his neck, carefully washing the filth from him. Moving him gently, she contorts his body to reach as much of him as she can without turning him over. Sliding the wash cloth over him, she begins to hum to distract herself from her actions. When she reaches his waist, she pauses, unsure if touching him there was the correct corse of action. Remembering all the times he knocked Hanji out and bathed her, she shrugs, realizing he will understand the practicality of his situation.

Careful to avoid any roughness, always hearing about how sensitive they are in that area, Y/N gently washes him. Startled a bit as that one area moved at her touch, she quickly moved lower, washing his legs and feet with mechanical precision. Finishing up, she rinses the rag and wipes the soap off of his body with another run of the rag. After drying him off, she covers him in a new blanket, pulling the warm material up to his chest, anchoring it with his arms.

Coming back down the stairs with the pail and basins, she meets Historia at the bottom. Her eyes were wide and panicked.

“Someone’s coming.”

Part 2 Here

Part 3 Here

Part 4 Here

Mobile MasterList

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MLHolidays2k19 - 19. Naughty and Nice

A continuation of 18. Elves

Please do not kill me, y’all, there will be a part 3, I promise.

Note: Part 3 is here!

Luka honestly didn’t expect her to come. Not many girls would come even to a mall bar like this dressed like one of Santa’s elves. Not to mention it was entirely possible that she thought he was a creep. He was kind of hitting on her while she was working, against his own policy. She was just so cute and sweet, and if he wasn’t totally misreading her, she was maybe a little bit into him too, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of missing out completely, so he gave her the most low-pressure invitation he could think of. Luka tried not to think about it after that.

It didn’t go very well. Outwardly he kept his cool, but internally he diverted his thoughts into a list of reasons she wouldn’t come and why he shouldn’t be disappointed. She’d doubtless be tired after handling kids and parents all day. And it was a little weird for a grown woman to be dressing up as an elf. Although it was pretty selfless of her to do it for charity, and year after year, too, it was a kind—wait, no. She probably thought he was a freak anyway, flirting with her after she cheered up his niece, like one of those pathetic guys who thought walking a puppy would help him meet girls. Man, he really hoped she didn’t think that, she was so cute and she seemed so nice and—damn it, Couffaine. 

Luka scanned the place every time he walked through as they were setting up. It wasn’t the type of venue he normally played, but the act that had originally been booked for tonight had bailed at the last minute, and the bartender had convinced the manager to let Luka’s band play, though their sound was a bit heavy for the kind of crowd that frequented this place. The stage was smaller, the sound system less powerful, and the lighting quite a bit brighter than what they were used to, but a gig was a gig. Luka had visited while another band was playing to get the feel of the place, and he’d done his best to tailor their set list to make the most of it.

He was just about to go on when he spotted her, leaning against the bar and breathing hard, like she had run to get here in time. Luka swerved away, ignoring his bandmates’ hissed demands for him to come back. “Hey,” he said, touching her elbow to get her attention. She turned toward him and her mouth dropped open a little as she looked him over. That was a nice ego boost, and Luka grinned. “Glad you could make it. I’ve gotta go on, but I’ll come find you after, okay? Enjoy the show.” 

He turned to go and then changed his mind.“Hey, Vic,” Luka called, leaning over the bar. “Do me a favor, let Santa’s Helper here order a drink on my tab?”

Victor gave him a wave and Luka headed back to his aggravated bandmates with a shit-eating grin and an extra bounce in his step.

Luka felt good about the performance; the audience seemed into it, the sound quality was acceptable, and it looked like the balance was okay. The lights were hotter than he liked, but that was a minor difficulty, and he was prepared for it. 

Luka ditched his bandmates as soon as he could when the show was over, doing the bare minimum to help with the breakdown before slipping away (the others grumbled, but every one of them had been in this situation before, so they just rolled their eyes as they took his spare keys to the van). Luka stopped in the men’s room to rinse off the worst of the sweat and change to a clean shirt, and then he slipped out in search of the cute elf waiting for him. At least, he hoped she waited for him. He paused at the end of the bar when he didn’t see her right away. He jumped when Victor spoke right at his elbow.

“Nice performance.” Victor slid a shot across the bar to him. “I think you’re going to need this.” 

Luka looked at him, confused, and Victor tipped his head to indicate a seat a few feet farther down the bar. Luka turned to look where he indicated, and his jaw dropped. 

That...was not the elf he expected. Marinette had removed her false ears and name tag of course, but also the belled collar that had lain over her shoulders, her white, long-sleeved undershirt, and the scalloped green overskirt with the bells on it, leaving her in just the red sleeveless dress with its candy cane striped belt. Her striped stockings and belled shoes were also gone, replaced with a simple pair of flats. Her arms were bare, her dress was no longer buttoned up tight to her throat, and her very nice legs were crossed as she perched on the bar stool. She’d taken her hair out of the pigtails and it hung loose around her shoulders. Marinette looked up and smiled a little nervously as someone leaned over to talk to her, and he could see she’d redone her makeup as well, making the most of her stunning blue eyes. 

Luka groped for the shot still on the bar without looking away. Victor laughed and shoved it into his hand. Luka tossed it back, barely registering the burn. “Thanks, Vic,” he managed, before he took a deep breath, and went to greet his cute but suddenly not so innocent little elf. 

“Hey,” he said, looking her over. “Wow. I thought you were cute before but I gotta say, I’m impressed.” 

“Oh,” Marinette blushed. “I didn’t really do much, I just wanted to, you know,” she waved a hand vaguely. “Blend in a little better.”

“Well,” Luka chuckled, looking away before he embarrassed himself staring at her legs, “If that was your plan, then I’m afraid it failed miserably, because you—“ He met her eyes again. “Definitely stand out.”

She blushed harder, but picked up her drink with a flirty little toss of her hair and sniffed, “I’ll bet you say that to all the elves.”

Luka laughed. “Oh my God, you’re so cute,” he chuckled. “Listen, I’m starved, how about we grab a table and get some food? Are you hungry? On me, for taking such good care of Angie. Rose loved the pictures, by the way.”

“Oh, good. Is she feeling any better?”

The question surprised him a little. “Yeah, I think they’re getting towards the end finally. Rose is upright, at least, but Jules is still spending most of her day face down praying to die.” He smiled at her. “Thanks for asking, most people wouldn’t even remember.”

“It’s good that Angie didn’t get sick,” Marinette observed, taking his offered hand and letting him help her down from the bar stool. 

“Oh she did,” Luka chuckled. “She’s the one who gave it to her moms. Now she’s all better and wanting to play while they’d rather die than move from the couch. Needless to say I’ve been doing a lot of babysitting the last week or so. I had it a few months ago so they figured I was safe. I promise, I’ve been keeping her clean and sanitized so she can’t pass it along.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “Alya made me get a flu shot before we volunteered.”

“That was probably smart.”

A quick word with the hostess got them a table in the restaurant part of the bar, a small circular booth in the corner that was actually probably as private as the place could offer. That was nice. “Are you hungry?” he asked, passing her a menu.

“So hungry,” she sighed, leaning back against the back of the booth. 

“You look tired,” Luka said sympathetically. “Sounded like you were in for a long day when we talked before.” 

“Yeah,” she turned her face toward him and smiled, and his heart stuttered at the cute way her hair bunched up behind her when she shifted her head. “It was a good day, though, and I’m not sorry I stayed. It took us longer to pack up than I expected and I almost didn’t make it. You guys did great up there, I really enjoyed the show.” 

“Good,” Luka said, trying to contain himself as he looked over the menu. “I’m glad we made it worth your time to come. This isn’t exactly the type of place we usually play, though, so we toned everything down a bit tonight. I’d like to have you come see us play for real sometime.” He glanced at her and thought he saw a hint of pink in her cheeks, though she was studying her menu as intently as he. 

“I’d like that,” she said, and then darted a glance up at him. They smiled at each other and went back to the menu. 

They chatted their way all through dinner, with a generous mixture of flirting whenever one of them could get up the nerve. She talked about her work as a junior designer and her volunteer work with the hospital, and he talked about his family and the musicians he worked with. 

Marinette was pretty and she was sweet and she was smart as a whip, and Luka was somewhere between smitten and enamored by the time they ordered dessert. She asked to try his and he ended up sliding close so they could share both. 

Then she looked up at him, giggling at something he’d said, and there was a smear of chocolate on her lip that did him in entirely. There was no sign of his usual self-control as Luka moved toward her, catching her face in his hand and turning it up so he could catch her chocolate smeared lip between his, tongue eagerly running across it to sweep the sweet syrup into his own mouth. Then he moved just enough to kiss her more fully, and just as his brain was catching up enough to realize just how forward he’d been, she kissed him back and he lost his mind again, one arm going around her waist to pull her closer, angling to bring her in deeper, and her hands slid up his arms to grip his shoulders, and they were well on their way to a full-blown make out when the sudden slap of the folder containing their check on the table made them both jump. The server gave them a dirty look as he walked away. The message was clear. Stop camping my table and get a room.

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, and turned to grope for her oversized purse. It jingled when she grabbed it and Luka bit back a laugh. 

“I’ve got it,” Luka said, flashing her a smile as he picked up the folder. “I told you it was on me.”

“Wow, it’s really late,” Marinette said, looking at her phone. “I guess we were talking for kind of a long time.” She smiled at him regretfully. “I should head home.” 

“Let me grab my guitar, I’ll walk you to the metro station,” Luka said, sliding out of the booth and offering her a hand. He wanted to offer her a ride, but intense chemistry or not, he didn’t think she’d be comfortable getting in a car alone with him at night. Especially since he drove what Juleka lovingly referred to as a “kidnapper van” to accommodate the band’s equipment.

“You don’t have to do that,” Marinette said as she slid out of the booth. Luka realized he was staring and quickly diverted his eyes from her legs, though he was pretty sure she’d caught him from the way she tugged her skirt down.

“I want to,” he smiled, squeezing her hand lightly before letting go. “I’ll meet you right outside? I’m already packed up, I just have to grab my things.”

Luka booked it as quick as he could to the back. He put on his coat, shouldering the guitar case and his bag, barely remembering to snatch up his hoodie where it was draped over a chair before he left. He cut through the dwindling crowd to the entrance, winking in response to the thumbs up Victor gave him as he passed.

Marinette was standing just inside the door, looking out of the windows and chewing her thumbnail. 

“Don’t you have a coat?” Luka asked, frowning. Marinette jumped nearly out of her skin and whirled. 

“Oh. Oh, sorry. Um, no, actually, I think I left it in the locker at the North Pole and they’ll be locked up by now,” she sighed, shoulders slumping. “It’s fine, I’ll just grab it in the morning.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Luka said, draping his hoodie over her shoulders. “Here, you’ll freeze like that. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled, slipping her arms in the sleeves and zipping it up. Luka turned to open the door for her, mostly to hide the grin on his face at the way his hoodie swallowed her. 

Marinette seemed jumpy as they walked, which wasn’t surprising since it was pretty cold outside and the hoodie really wasn’t much. She flat refused to take his heavier coat. Her cheeks were pink from the wind, and he couldn’t get a good look at her face in the streetlights. It was too cold for chitchat, and at their quick pace, it didn’t take long for them to reach their destination.

“Well, here we are,” Luka said, stopping to turn toward her as they reached the metro entrance. 

“Thanks for walking me,” Marinette smiled, pushing her hair back as the wind tried to blow it in her face. “It was really nice meeting you.” 

“I’d really like to see you again,” Luka said, reaching tentatively to take her hand loosely. “I know it’s kind of crazy right now with the holidays, but could I get your number, and maybe we can see about finding some time to get together?” 

“Oh...” Marinette bit her lip, and the deer in the headlights look she gave him stopped his heart. Her next words broke it. “I just—I mean, I don’t, uh…I mean we just met, and—” 

“Okay,” he smiled, letting her fingers slide out of his. “Then I guess, thanks for a great night, Marinette. I had fun.” He hesitated, and couldn’t help adding hopefully, “I’m taking Angie to Place des Vosges tomorrow to play. We’ll probably get there around ten. If you change your mind, that’s where I’ll be.” 

“Um, your jacket—” Marinette began, reaching for the zipper of the hoodie, but Luka raised his hand.

“Keep it, I’ve had it forever, it’s no big deal. Goodnight, Marinette.” Luka turned quickly, trying to keep his exit slow enough that he didn’t look like a dog fleeing with his tail between his legs. It wasn’t like he’d never been rejected before, but this one stung. 

It stung a lot.

He walked to his van, stowed his guitar mechanically, and dropped his head on his folded arms. “Idiot,” he muttered. “Damn it.” He sighed, sat up, and started the van.

TO BE CONTINUED please don’t kill me THINK OF THE FICS I CAN’T WRITE IF I DIE

Part 3 is up!