#But how best to find your way out of disaster than to cling to all the life you can find in this desolate place?

[bluelockmaniac]

baking disaster (ft. itoshi sae)

synopsis: you try to persuade your boyfriend into making cookies with you, but he's not the best baker.

cw: lots of fluff!! mentions of making out, i think sae slaps your butt once

author's note: i literally had to watch a cookie tutorial to make this fic because if baking were a sport, i'd definitely be on the bench permanently. so, i apologize to all bakers out there.

here you were, sitting on the couch next to your boyfriend, desperately clinging onto his chest as he fixates his bored gaze at what he called a 'pathetic excuse' of a football match. the only somewhat affectionate gesture he's giving you is an unexciting arm slung carelessly around your shoulder.

while sae was in practice, you had dedicated two hours dolling yourself up; attending to every little detail of your appearance carefully. you even lit a few vanilla-scented candles in the living room to romanticize the atmosphere, all in order to have a fun date night and bake cookies together. so, why have you spent the last thirty minutes attempting to convince him to follow through with your plans?

"sae," you whine softly, deliberately pressing more of your body against him as you bat your eyelashes pleadingly in an attempt to get his attention, and hopefully change his mind.

"pleasee, just this once! bake chocolate chip cookies with me!"

he cocks his head subtly, looking over at you with half-lidded eyes. "i told you already, darling. i can't bake for shit."

"i know you're probably more likely to start a kitchen fire than bake a decent cookie, but that's why i'm here!"

you look up at him lovingly as his hand travels to your cheek, giving it a light squeeze.

"if that's what it takes to shut you up, then i guess i'll make these lukewarm cookies."

he quickly plants a chaste kiss on your lips as the trace of a very unnoticeable—yet unmistakable— smirk appears on his mouth.

in the kitchen, you rolled up your sleeves and gestured towards the pantry and cabinets, instructing sae to look for the dry ingredients with a rather authoritative tone.

"sae, find the flour, baking soda, and salt. they should be in there somewhere."

he rolls his eyes and gives your ass a light slap, "when'd you get so bossy, pretty?"

you giggle as he disappears into the pantry, turning your attention to the bowl on the counter. with determination, you begin to vigorously beat the soft butter and the brown and white sugar together until it formed a chunky mixture.

"y/n," you hear your boyfriend's frustrated voice call out as he walks closer to you with a displeased expression. "i can't find the ingredients, where'd you even bury them?"

"oh sweetheart," rolling your eyes with a mocking grin tugging on your lips, you teasingly smack his chest and enter the pantry, effortlessly locating the loathsome ingredients that caused your lovely boyfriend's annoyance. "you really couldn't find the ingredients that were practically screaming their location? how lukewa—"

"y/n."

"cute, i meant cute!" you defend yourself with a wholehearted laugh, unaware of the genuine smile forming on sae's lips as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear (his smile quickly dissipated into a more subtle one once you turned towards him).

"sae, get me two eggs... in the fridge."

he lets out a soft sigh and places them on the counter, looking at you for further instruction. "well?"

you shake your head, feigning disappointment as your hand finds its way to your forehead.

"crack the eggs, silly,"

"oh, right..."

"and make sure to do it gentl—"

crack

sae slams the egg on the counter with an unnecessarily excessive force, sending shells and egg whites flying everywhere across the kitchen.

"oh. oops." he says blankly, staring at the slimy mess in his hands— and the counter. he looks over to you expecting to be scolded, but is instead greeted with your loud laughter, your banging fists assaulting the poor counter.

"seriously sae...haha...ha... what did you expect would happen??"

he glances away in embarrassment and quickly washes his hands. "shut up."

"it's okay, love, you can try aga—"

"no."

"—thought so. okay, i'll do it, can you measure half a teaspoon of salt? the measuring cups are over there."

you point somewhere in the kitchen as you turn your attention back to the bowl, cracking two eggs and adding vanilla extract into the mixture.

"baby, let's mix the dry ingredients now!"

you say excitedly as sae appears behind you, placing his hands on your waist as he gently kisses your neck.

without you noticing, your boyfriend scoops a handful of flour. "y/n."

when you turn around, unsuspecting, he brings his hands close to your face and blows the flour from his hands, dusting your cheeks and nose with the powdery residue.

"what the— sae!" you were caught completely off guard at his playful and not so sae-coded gesture, and after seeing him laugh—a rare sight to behold—you couldn't help but break into laughter as well (his laugh is very contagious).

"you look adorable,"

he teases, caging you against the kitchen counter with his strong limbs, preventing you from returning his pleasant surprise.

"heyy, that's not fair!" you huff in annoyance as you squirm around his arms.

"life's not fair, mi amor."

after (a small session of making out), you instruct sae to mix the flour, salt, and baking soda—which he does uncooperatively— you mix combine the powdery compound with the wet mixture.

"alrightt, time for the fun part!" you exclaim cheerfully, lightly smacking the bag of chocolate chips against his chest as you stare at his powder-covered face. a few moments ago, while you were making out, your flour-dusted hands left many imprints on his cheeks. "i'll add the amount you want because you look adorable."

he rolls his eyes, an irritating smirk ghosting over his mouth as he attempts to brush away the lingering flour from his face. "hm. then don't add too mu—"

"on second thought, your charm won't sway me into accepting your very absurd demand— they're chocolate chip cookies, sae, not classic cookies!" you protest, pouring in a bit more than a cup of chocolate chips into the batter, meeting his gaze with a proud, cheeky smile as he sighs and raises his hands in defeat.

"you're a brat."

—

you sit on the kitchen counter, a proud smile on your lips as you watch him awkwardly roll the chocolate chip dough into imperfect little spheres, then place them onto the baking tray in a slightly messy arrangement. you had managed to persuade him after telling him they would resemble miniature soccer balls, and now looking at his attentive features, you couldn't help but snap a few pictures to treasure this moment.

giggling softly, you affectionately ruffle his hair, teasing, "i've never seen you so focused on anything other than soccer, handsome."

he huffs and presses his lips together before giving you a light nudge. "you brought out my hidden talent."

"pftt. yeah. talent." you snort mockingly, running your hand soothingly up and down his back.

rolling his eyes, he pushes the baking tray in your direction, a faint pout on his lips, "oh, be quiet."

you carefully place the tray in the oven before joining him in the living room, where he immediately plops down onto the couch. attempting to squeeze in beside him, you gently nudge him, "sae, move over," but he looks at you lazily and shrugs, "just lay on the other couch or something."

puffing out your cheeks in frustration, you chose to lay on his chest instead. without hesitation, he quickly pulls you closer by the waist, snuggling you warmly as his hands find their way to your ass.

fifteen minutes later, you cautiously remove the tray from the oven (sae didn't remove it because he was scared of the heat radiating from the oven) and set it on the counter to cool, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you lean against your boyfriend. "baby, don't they look delicious?" you ask eagerly, impatiently tapping your fingers against the marble surface. "meh," he replied nonchalantly, purposely trying to annoy you.

"okay pretty boy, you taste it first," you say with a short giggle, offering sae a cookie near his mouth. hesitantly, he takes a bite. with soon-to-be misconceived pride, you optimistically ask, "soo, how does it tas—" your words trail off as he spits the cookie into the trash, his face contorting in disgust. "blegh,"

you were caught off guard, and rolled your eyes in disappointment, "oh come on, sae. it can't be that bad," you say confidently, taking a daring bite of the cookie in an attempt to prove him wrong. however, this fleeting confidence immediately turns into regret as you gag and hurriedly spit it into the trash. "ew, what the fuck?" you choke in disgust, reaching for two glasses and hastily fill them with water. you pass one to sae and quickly chug down the water to wash away the unpleasant taste.

"why is it so salty?" you ask in confusion, closing your eyes as you ponder in thought. you suddenly notice your boyfriend's uncharacteristic type of silence, watching how he presses his lips together and avoids meeting your gaze. there is definitely a subtle hint of guilt in those narrowed teal eyes fixated on the baking tray of cookies. your eyes widen in realization, "wait a minute," you begin, connecting his behaviour with your growing suspicion.

"sae, show me the measuring cup you used to measure the salt,"

"...it's over there," your eyes follow his finger, and eventually settle on the culprit responsible for the cookie failure—the measuring cup sitting innocently on the kitchen counter.

you smack your forehead at the comical mistake sae had made, then turn to look at him. he was still trying to avoid your eyes, but eventually sighs and meets your gaze awkwardly.

"sweetheart, that's a 1/4 cup, not half a teaspoon! that's about eleven teaspoons too many!" you say shaking your head with amusement.

he runs the back of his neck as he yet again focuses his eyes on something else,

"...oh."

bonus:

late at night, you two are cozily draped over the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. sae had ordered takeout to make amends for the baking mishap— although he stubbornly claimed "it was deliberate— to enhance the flavour,". despite the cookie baking failure, you enjoyed you and your boyfriend's special bonding in the kitchen. you wished the next time you two baked together, it would turn out a success.

"don't wanna. also, why am i rolling the dough on your lock screen wallpaper?"

thank you for reading! comments appreciated :)

[floralcyanide]

― ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀᴍ

In which your best friend, Javi, saves your life when a project goes wrong.

↝ pairing: Javier "Javi" Rivera / Gender Neutral!Reader

↝ warnings: tornadoes, disasters, storm chasing, injury, near-death experience, death, some language, SPOILERS FOR TWISTERS (2024)

↝ word count: 1.2k

↝ author's note: I saw Twisters (2024) on Thursday and knew I had to write something for the fandom. I love the OG Twister (1996) movie and disaster movies in general, so I enjoyed Twisters for sure. if anyone has any requests for Tyler Owens, Javi Rivera, or even Bill Harding just send an ask! enjoy this little fic (:

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @saradika | @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You always seemed to be getting yourself into situations. It didn’t matter what the nature of the problem was; you were just constantly getting into trouble of some kind. Whether it was a lame guy you were seeing, your car continually breaking down on the way to class, or, in this case, storm chasing, you were dealing with something. Sometimes, your faults lead you to better things, like a better guy in your life or a new car. Hopefully, for the storm-chasing part, an assured spot in graduate school for your project would be the outcome. Your fingers were crossed.

However, right now, more than just your fingers are crossed. Your toes and everything are crossed in hopes of finding a viable tornado today for your theory to be proven. You and your best friends have worked on the assignment for weeks. And it all comes down to how today goes. A breakout of severe weather is expected in your hometown, so there’s no better time than now to test your work. While Kate, Praveen, Addy, and Jeb go into the field, you and Javi hang back to watch the radar and communicate with the group. 

“How are things looking out there?” Javi radios in after everyone is settled where they’re supposed to be. 

“Lookin’ good,” Kate says, “The winds are crazy out here.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” you respond.

You and Javi hover over the laptop, and the radar shows a large moving storm around where the group is currently.

“Guys, there’s a huge cell over you. Is it anything good?” you radio.

“We’re driving through it now,” Jeb shouts over the sound of pelting sheets of rain, “It’s insane. It’s like the sky opened up.”

“We just have to get through the rain wall, and it should clear out enough for us to see if there’s formation,” Praveen adds.

Commotion is heard over the radio, “Tornado spotted!”

You can see the tornado hook on the radar and become worried as the wind where you and Javi are parked becomes more violent as minutes pass.

“Is everything all good over there?” you ask, and you don’t receive an answer immediately.

“I think it’s too big,” Kate says, a tinge of worry in her voice, “Maybe we should try another time?”

You step out of the van to look ahead at the tornado, and it’s pretty large from a distance.

“I need you guys to get the hell out of there now!” you shout over the walkie.

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” Addy says in a panic.

But, little do you know, it’s too late. The tornado continues to grow quickly, the winds ravaging the car the group is in. They decide to bail and head for the overpass despite being the worst shelter option. But, it’s either that or get sucked up into the monstrous storm and tossed around, or worse. Praveen flies away into the tornado despite his best efforts to run. Addy struggles up the ramp, not far behind Kate and Jeb. Kate tries her best to grab a hold of Addy, but she slips, and the wind takes her into the violent storm. Jeb clings to Kate, shielding her from the whirlwind of debris and ripping gusts. He eventually slips away like the others, much to Kate’s horror.

When a few minutes pass without any communication from the group, you decide to climb into the driver’s seat of the van and book it down the road in their direction. You keep speeding forward despite Javi shouting at you to stop or slow down. You get far enough away to see the overpass as the tornado goes through it and hop out. Javi clambers out of the vehicle, chasing you as you run as fast as your legs can carry you to where you think you see Kate.

“Stop!” Javi calls your name, barrelling toward you.

“Kate!” you scream out, but the sound of the wind drowns out your voice.

The tornado’s path turns toward you and Javi, and you skid to a complete stop. You immediately turn around to see Javi hot on your heels, and he’s also turning to run away. He looks back every few seconds to see if you’re gaining on him. He realizes you aren’t running fast enough and turns around to grab you. Javi puts you on his back and begins running as fast as possible. But the tornado isn’t letting up, and it’s getting closer. Javi spots a deep ditch on the side of the road and makes a run for it. He lays you down in the grass and covers your body with his, shielding you from the tornado that just nearly misses you both. It flies by, taking the van with it. You’re hyperventilating with your eyes squeezed shut as you cling to Javi. The roaring of the storm makes your ears feel like they’re going to burst.

Suddenly, it’s over. Silence fills the air with an occasional clap of thunder in the distance. The howling tornado has dissipated at last. You’re still clutching Javi for dear life. He pulls off of you, his body still over you but not pressed to you. 

“Are you okay?” Javi asks, and you can barely hear him through the ringing of your ears.

“Yeah,” you wince, “You?”

Javi sighs, “I’m as good as I can be for surviving a tornado.”

The two of you jog to the overpass, where Kate is still wrapped around a steel rod tucked under the concrete. You don’t see any of the others, and dread fills you. 

“Kate!” you call out to her, and she cries out your name in response.

You and Javi help her slide down the ramp and notice she has a large gash in her thigh. You both help her walk through the somewhat clear path in the debris. There’s mud, grass, splintered wood, and other various shards of what used to be cars and houses covering the road. Kate explains what happened to the rest of the group the best she can, but you and Javi don’t have to ask any questions to understand what occurred. It’s not something any of you want to think about right now. The three of you finally stumble upon the town closest to where you are, and first responders help Kate with her leg.

“I can’t thank you enough, Javi,” you say, standing next to him as you watch the paramedics tend to Kate, “You really saved my ass out there.”

“It’s no problem,” Javi shrugs, “You know I’d do anything for you.”

You look over at your best friend, a grin growing on your face. You lean over and gently kiss Javi on his cheek. His face burns underneath his freckles, and you chuckle at his reaction. 

After all that happened, there’s a lot of rebuilding and healing to do. And with the help of each other, you and Javi eventually move on. Kate goes off to the east coast and doesn’t really keep in touch. Javi’s new career needs expertise you can provide, but you refuse unless Kate is there to help. She can sense things you can’t. So, you and Javi fly to New York City, and a new adventure begins with Kate. Hopefully, this time, there will be success in yet another difficult situation you’ve been put into. 

[medusapelagia]

04 Back in town

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Angst with Happy Ending) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Zombie Apocalypse) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve & Hopper, Steve/Eddie TW: AU zombies, body horror, injuries, blood, whump, presumed dead character Words: 1221

Steve always knew that he would die alone, fighting some monstrous creatures.

Since the first time he hit a Demogorgon with a nailed bat in Jonathan's Byer living room, he never stopped fighting.

What he wasn't expecting was having to fight people he knew.

Maybe Jason Carver and his brother Christian weren't exactly his best friends, but finding their rotting corpses chasing him while he was looking for supplies in the back of Malvad wasn't exactly on his wishlist.

Steve jumps on a rusty car's roof, holding his backpack tight and looking for an escape. He still has Hopper's gun, but the noise would only attract even more zombies, so he grabs the switchblade from his back pocket and clicks it open, still looking around, weary. If there's something he has learned, it's that towns are way more dangerous than the woods: too many blind corners where zombies can hide.

Jason Carver is already trying to climb on the car when Steve kicks him in the face and his rotten teeth fall on the ground, bouncing like white marbles. Christian is just behind him, and Steve loses no time: he stabs him in the stomach and pushes him to the ground. That’s not the right way to kill them, but the fastest to get rid of them while he runs toward the old movie theater.

The old signboard where Tommy wrote some slurs against Nancy in another life, is dangling, so Steve runs toward it, planning to use the slope at his vantage to get on the roof. He kisses the black and red guitar pick around his neck for good luck and jumps from the car's roof to the concrete before sprinting toward the theater. The signboard cracks loudly before breaking in half under Steve's weight, but he manages to cling to the ledge of the theater, with his legs dangling in the air.

A sudden burning pain makes him scream, and for a moment his left hand slips and moves instinctively toward his injured leg. Christian Carver is standing under him, reaching out toward Steve's legs with his discolored arms. Steve kicks him hard, freeing his leg from the zombie's hold, and with the adrenaline still pumping in his veins, he pulls himself up on the movie theater's roof, rolling on his back and finally catching his breath.

The Carver brothers are still growling, and Steve knows that the smell of his blood will attract every fucking zombie still in town. He's utterly fucked. And Hopper will be furious. He told him not to go in town alone, but El was sick and even some expired meds are better than no meds at all. 

Steve rummages in his backpack: going to the school's infirmary was a good call, he found some gauze and a few meds, but Melvald was a disaster. He knew it was one of the first places that got ransacked. He grabs a half-empty bottle of water, drinks some, and pours some on his leg. It looks nasty.

Fuck.

With a sigh and trembling hands, he takes the walkie-talkie from the backpack and turns it on. It slowly cracks to life while the growls under the theater get higher and louder. How long till those monsters find a way to get on the roof?

"Hey Hop," he says, pushing the button.

"Steve? Steve, where the hell are you?"

"In town."

"How many times did I tell you-"

"Got El's meds."

"Ok. Ok. Now get your ass back home. It’s going to get dark soon."

"Don't think I will. Christian Carver got me good."

"Steve." 

Steve can hear Hopper grit his teeth, "How long? We could still-"

"I'm in Hawkins and it's getting darker. No reason to risk it. I'll leave the backpack somewhere safe here on the movie theater roof. Come and get in the morning, ok?"

"Steve."

Steve whimpers softly. He has some gauze in his bag but he doesn't want to waste it. He's going to die on that roof anyway and the others will need it more than him.

“Sorry Dad,” he says, before turning off the radio and pulling the batteries out.

No goodbyes. Steve hates those. 

The throbbing pain from his leg keeps him awake, while the sun slowly sets. It’s not a bad way to go, he thinks to himself.

He’s drinking some water when he hears the noise of a helicopter propeller.

He must be hallucinating: gas is long gone. But the noise gets closer and closer, and a bright yellow light blinds him for a moment. A rope falls from the helicopter and someone dressed all in black climbs down with ease. The unknown man gets closer to him, and Steve shivers in fear. Maybe he's not so ready to die after all.

The man moves slowly, studying Steve's face before bending next to his leg, "How long?" he asks, staring at the bloody injury.

"Hours."

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

The voice seems so painfully familiar.

"Ok, we can still take you to Owens and-"

"Eddie?'' Steve asks, confused. The last time Steve saw Eddie he gave him his guitar pick before leaving with his band to make it big. And then the world split in two and people were turned into zombies.

"Hey, big boy. You always had a wicked sense of humor. Now that I finally found you, you play me a trick like this?"

"Sorry, Ed. Didn't mean it."

Eddie grabs the bottle of water, helping him drink a few sips.

"I'm going to take you away from here," Eddie says, helping Steve stand, who whines loudly even if Eddie helps him hold his weight. He tightens the rope around Steve's middle and holds himself with his arms while the crew on the helicopter pulls them up.

As soon as they are on the helicopter someone yells, "Are you fucking crazy? He's infected!"

"I wasn't gonna let him die on that fucking roof alone, ok Gar?" Eddie replies, while a dark-skinned man, Jeff if Steve’s memory isn’t wrong, points a flashlight on Steve's leg.

"There's no bite." He whispers, pulling the skin while Steve grits his teeth and Eddie and Gareth keep bickering in the back, "Hey, morons! There's no bite! Just a very nasty scratch!"

"Are you serious?" Eddie jumps next to Jeff, staring at Steve's wounded leg. The cuts are deep and need a very thorough cleaning, but if there's no bite.

"I knew you were a lucky son of a bitch, Harrington!" Eddie says in a jubilant tone, hitting Steve’s shoulder who whimpers and immediately asks for forgiveness.

“El. I have medicine for El in the backpack.” Steve tries to explain, while Jeff is still trying to clean the cut as well as he can.

“We’ll find them and we’ll take them home. For the moment all you have to do is rest and recover.” Jeff says, wrapping Steve’s injured leg.

“Home?” Steve asks, confused.

“Dear Steve Harrington, you’re now a member of the Nina Project Community.” Eddie grins, sitting on the floor so that Steve can rest his head on his legs.

Eddie brushes some sweaty strands of hair away from Steve’s head with his fingers, “Don’t worry, Stevie. Everything will be fine.”

And if Eddie is still alive and he found a safe place to call home, maybe there’s still hope.

[maiochiruhanabiraaa]

Doña Maria (João Félix.)

Summary: You and João Félix stagger out of a bar, both drunk and leaning on each other. João challenges you to a dance-off on the sidewalk, leading to a hilarious, clumsy performance. He then belts out "Doña Maria" off-key, using bushes as backup singers. After laughing and enjoying the chaos, João suggests karaoke might be better for his singing. As you head home, he jokes about sticking to one drink next time, knowing future outings will be just as wild.

You stumble out of the dimly lit bar, your vision swirling with the neon lights that line the street. João Félix, the famous footballer with a well-known penchant for parties, is beside you.

Neither of you should be out at this hour, but here you are, both equally inebriated and clinging to each other for support.

"Okay, I’m not saying you can’t dance, but… I’m also not saying you can,” João slurs, struggling to balance as he takes a swig from a bottle of something indistinguishable in his hand.

You laugh, your laughter a bit too loud for the quiet night.

“João, we’re literally swaying in the middle of the sidewalk. We’re not even at a party anymore!”

He turns to you with a dramatic gasp.

“You wound me! I’m a world-class dancer, you know. Just ask my moves!”

You almost fall over trying to mimic an over-the-top dance move.

"World-class, huh? I’d call it a world-class disaster."

João grabs your hand, dragging you towards a nearby street lamp.

“Let’s have a dance-off. Right here. Right now.”

You both attempt to dance under the streetlight, each move more exaggerated than the last. You try to bust out your best moves, but instead, you find yourself tangled up in a mess of limbs. João, with his signature flair, tries to spin but ends up almost knocking over a nearby trash can.

“Okay, fine,” you admit between fits of giggles.

“Maybe your moves are… unique.”

João, taking a theatrical bow, wipes his brow.

“It’s a skill, really. But enough about me. Tell me, how do you feel about public serenades?”

Before you can respond, João starts belting out a rendition of "Dona Maria," the popular Brazilian hit.

“...um não pra casa.. dona maria, deixa eu namorar a sua filha” he’s singing with so much gusto that he’s practically shouting the lyrics, his off-key notes echoing down the street. (press the link 😉)

You can’t help but laugh hysterically.

“Oh my Gosh, João, you sound like a cat trying to start a fight with a foghorn! Dona Maria would probably be running the other way right now.”

João, completely unfazed by your mocking, continues to sing with all his might. He even tries to throw in some dramatic hand gestures, which only make him sway even more precariously.

At one point, he decides the nearby bushes are the perfect backup singers. He shushes them and then gets really into it, waving his arms and directing the “choir.”

You, meanwhile, can’t stop laughing as you try to keep your balance.

Eventually, João collapses on a nearby bench, breathless and triumphant. You sit down next to him, still laughing.

“You know, João, if you ever get tired of football, you might have a future as a comedic performer.”

He grins, catching his breath.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. But next time, we’re going to a karaoke bar where people are prepared for my... unique talent.”

You both sit there for a while, trying to regain your composure.

As you stand up to head home, João throws an arm around you and, in a surprisingly sober moment, says, “Next time, let’s stick to just one drink. Or maybe none at all.”

You laugh and nod, knowing full well that the next time you find yourselves in this situation, it’ll be just as chaotic, just as fun.

And probably, just as drunken.

[ladybellissima]

Finding Love Katakuri x Reader Part 17

The first thing (Y/N) thought was how on earth could she be that stupid to agree to go with them.

Was it Luffy's carefree and kind attitude?

The way he was able to take all of her fears away in an instant?

Maybe

He had this kind of personality which made him able to get her trust without worries.

But damn was he a chaotic man.

Their "well planned" escape was a disaster.  Clinging onto chopper for dear life, who wasn't really helping her either, because he was himself a crying and frightened mess, she thought that running out there to Katakuri wouldn't had been more dangerous than this situation. With the words "We will die!! I see the light. It's bright and white! ", Chopper cried out in panic, while they were rolling around inside of this man's castle.

Shoutings and explosions echoed outside and let the castle tremble dangerously. Was this even real? How could everything escelate in such short time? For one moment she ate a delicious dessert with fruits and chocolate chips. A taste of heaven. Beautiful weather and happy people around. Enjoying her time with Katakuri.

And now?

"Quit that nonsense you idiot!",angered Nami punched the poor reindeer on its head and knocked him out.  (Y/N) was happy to still have one focused and concentrated person around here, but not for long after they had to watch that not only Sanji jumped out of the window.

No.

With a short "I come back", Luffy jumped out as well. Nami got pale like a ghost and (Y/N) had to cover her ears of her outburst of rage.

"These idiots!!!! How could they just jump out! Do they have a death wish!? I will gladly fulfill it!! Come back here!!! ", Nami shouted frustrated and hang by the window exhausted.

Okay. The situation escelated. And there wasn't anything what (Y/N) could do. In a way she understood Sanji to help his family out there. And it wasn't a surprise either that Luffy would go out too.

"He sure is a reckless but kindhearted captain.", (Y/N) spoke to herself while she shook Chopper awake from Nami's punch. Jumping to his feet with a huge bump on his head he cried out in panik again after realizing that his captain was gone.

"(Y/N)-san please hold me till it's over.", he spoke like a little kid and jumped into her arms again. Hugging this cute reindeer dearly, she crawled away from the windows to get a safe spot at a corner. Closing her eyes for a moment she inhaled deeply.

She was afraid.

(Y/N) could feel her body shiver and balled her fists to control it. She was in the middle of a fight. A dangerous battlefield and on top of that, on the wrong side, while fighting twisted feelings.

They all were really nice people. Caring for a complete stranger, keeping her safe and were kind. She wished them all the best and that they could leave like they wanted, but for what price? Would that mean that Katakuri got hurt? Or worse? On the other side could she just watch how Luffy and the others got hurt by him? Her look fell onto the whimpering Chopper in her hands. Even if she never met them in the first place, she was sure that she couldn't stand seeing such a sweet reindeer get hurt.

Sighing deeply she pressed Chopper closer to her, while thinking about Katakuri. It felt terrible to be in between the fronts, but if she had to decide, it would be him. It would be always him.

"Katakuri… I hope you are okay..", she whispered exhausted while the shouting and clashing sounds got louder.

Suddenly her body felt light and got lifted up in the air. Clouds were passing the windows quickly and with an immense speed they were passing the cake chateau walls. Her body was pressed against the wall roughly and for a moment it took her breath away. Nami was clinging onto the windowsill and screaming her lungs out.

It felt like a blackout. A moment where time stood still and your mind got blank. (Y/N) could only endure this rough journey and pray to make it out of here alive.

"We…. areee baaack!!", Luffy's voice echoed through the door and he flew across the room and straight to the wall with a cursing Sanji underneath him.

"(Y/N) ~swaaan..Nami~swaaan. don't worry, now your savior is here…", Sanji grumbled under Luffy's body, while reaching out to her. Shaking her head of his ridiculous behavior towards her, she suddenly felt the pressure on her body loosen and she was able to calm down. Getting up she quickly got to Nami's side and helped her up. Both looked out of the window and were met with the view of an open field. Far away from whole cake. (Y/N) couldn't believe that they really made it out there. Sighing relieved they hugged each other of happiness.

"Nami! (Y/N)! Come out already!", Luffy's voice reached them and let the girls rush out to the entry. Bege pushed them through the door and they landed on the soft gras safe and finally in normal size. Placing Chopper down who kissed the gras out of relief and to be on safe ground again, (Y/N)'s look wandered around in awe. It was so peaceful out here. Nothing compared to the moment before. Inhaling the fresh air she was able to collect herself. The amount of happenings were too much for her to handle in such a short time. And all started with a crying Pudding on the floor.

"It was all fake…"

The words were running in her head and let her shiver. After a long time (Y/N) was able to find a friend. Someone she thought she could trust and share her thoughts. Was this all a show for her? An act to just get informations what a political marriage is about? The feeling of betrayal made its way through her body. Crawling up her neck and giving her an uncomfortable shiver. Was she really that naive?

"(Y/N) ~swan. I am so relieved that you are fine. My precious flower. Is everything alright? You are so serious. ", Sanji appeared by her side and dancing around her like a drunken ballet dancer.

Sighing she gave him a sad smile, which let him stop in his tracks and kneeling before her, while offering a flower to light her mood. Taking the present with a short thank you, she gave it a closer look. "A crimson flower. What a coincidence..", she thought amused.

" I was just deep in thought. Thinking about Pudding, Sanji", (Y/N) answered and she could see his uneasy gaze.

"I have to apologize Sanji. I was very rude towards you. I didn't know that Pudding was about to kill you. I thought she is in love with you.", (Y/N) spoke and bowed slightly. Sanji's eyes widened of her sweet words.

"I was such a fool. Now I realize that she just used me for information to become the perfect actor as a forced bride..she just played with me. ", she added, while still her sad smile didn't waver. Sanji was touched by her words and couldn't stand the thought to see her sad. He knew what twisted mind Pudding had. He got trapped too in her charismatic and confusing world.

"Don't worry about it (Y/N) ~swaan. She is a difficult person and not easy to handle. Maybe not everything was an act. I was sure that in some ways she helped us and then sadly not. Quite difficult to understand. You have to find out by yourself…. ", Sanji spoke seriously and took her off guard. It was sure not easy to believe in his words, but (Y/N) knew that she would listen to her of what she had to say. She was family after all.

"I think you are a really nice person. And you didn't deserve that. I am very sorry.", (Y/N) spoke and knocked him out with her kind words.

"How unbelievable sweet…..", he whispered and got scolded by Nami for acting like an idiot again.

(Y/N)'s eyes met Luffy's bright smile. That someone could still be so enthusiastic after what had happened was a miracle for her, but it also lightened the mood and the will to go on. (Y/N) listened to their conversation of how things would go on now. She was only a side player in this dangerous game and didn't want to disturb. Silently observing their discussions with the scientist and the other scary looking people, who seemed very strong in her eyes, she wished it wouldn't go on so chaotic like before. But she felt that her wish wouldn't come true. They decided to part ways to get better chances in reaching their ship. Kissing Chopper on his head she wished him good luck, while a scary skeleton man asked her to show him her panties. Before she could say something he was already kicked out of the way by a pissed Sanji. Chuckling slightly she joined Luffy's side to start their next mission. Reaching the ship as quickly as possible.

In a way she wasn't surprised that they were just running to the ship. But that they met a speaking tree on the way and were now sitting on it, while it rushed through the fields with high speed, was beyond her imagination. If Katakuri knew what she was doing he would be more than pissed for risking her life and following these strangers. But even if she always was being too quick with her trust towards others, (Y/N) always stayed true to her feelings and her heart. Feeling her body in pain of her past wounds, she was also in a way happy to travel easier. It was really exhausting to be with these pirates.

"(Y/N) isn't that awesome?! Come here and watch this amazing view!", Luffy called out to her, while she was doing her best to hold onto a tree branch. Laughing happily he came to her side and took her bridal style to get her to his view point, while Sanji was shouting at his captain how he could just take her in his arms.

"Don't be afraid look!", he placed her beside him and pointed to the woodlands before him.

"Luffy! Stop that. We are not on a vacation idiot!", Nami scolded him and ordered the poor tree to go faster.

"Yeah (Y/N) ~swan isn't interested!"

Ignoring the others, (Y/N) had to admit that the view was really great at this point. Looking around she was met with beautiful flower fields, exotic trees with fruits and a furious big mom on a cloud. That was something new.

At first (Y/N) wasn't able to comprehend the next disaster, which was about to begin.

"Luffy…", she spoke shocked, while pointing behind him.

"What? Did you find something nice?", he asked innocent, while she grabbed his face to turn it to the nightmare in pink. Nami and the others followed (Y/N) 's look and froze in the spot.

"What the heeelll!!!!", they shouted, while Big mom came closer with a murderous glint in her eyes.

"Wedddding cake!!!!", her voice let her surroundings tremble of her power.

Gasping (Y/N) knew what was going on. Even Katakuri kept a safe distance at such a situation.

"Oh no. She is having a hunger pang… ", she whispered shocked, while the poor tree tried his best to get away from Big mom. Luffy quickly stepped before (Y/N) and was ready to give his best to safe his crew.

"Katakuri…. I hope I see you again", she thought frightened. Because she knew all too well how cruel and deadly Big mom could be.

[running-on-a-broken-record]

If I may… What are the Matt egos’ fears and how does the reader comfort them? (I’m a sucker for angst and hurt/comfort)

Yess absolutely! I, too, am a sucker for hurt/comfort

(I fricken love this ask)

The Detective: - Absolutely, 100% dying. - You mean to look at this man and say he doesn’t have any trauma whatsoever from being beaten to death? You’re wrong - As for comforting him (I imagine this as him having an anxiety attack or maybe even a panic attack), don’t touch him. Like at all. If he’s thinking about how he died before… probably not a good idea to add into that via touch. Even if it’s gentle, it can really mess with him - Using your voice helps a lot. Reassuring him he’s okay— that he’s alive— is the best thing to do in this situation

MadPat: - Ha ha a serial killer can’t have fears! - … yeah no. I know he goes to prison at the end of FNAF: The Musical, but I feel that before that, him being caught was terrifying - He’s not dumb, he knows how prisoners get treated. Much less felons like him - Aaaand he’s a child murderer. Definitely not looking so good for him - I mean, the obvious answer for comfort would be to make sure he won’t get caught, but if you’re not into that, just let him vent to you, or cry on your shoulder if he really needs it - He doesn’t cry often, but when he does, clinging to you and hiding his face in your shoulder as he just… lets it all out is all he needs

Mack: (Crewmate, head engineer, dictator) - I cant’t explain it, but I have the strangest headcanon that crewmate Mack has a horrible fear of spiders. - So, he sees a spider on the ship (don’t ask how it got there because I have no idea) and you just hear him scream, then run in to see him backed into a corner looking absolutely terrified - You are forced to be the Spider Killer of the relationship. But after it’s gone, he will 100% hug you tightly and thank you about a million times for getting rid of it - Head engineer Mack has a fear of failure, I think. Being overly prepared in case of a disaster? He’s scared he’ll forget something and someone will get hurt (or worse, die) and it’ll be his fault, because he failed them - When it gets really bad, it’s easy to tell, because he’ll shut himself off from everyone and throws himself into his work. Because he needs to succeed. At everything. And he can’t possibly fail if he takes every. Single. Precaution. - Take him away from working. Steal his engineering tools if you really need to, but please show him how much you love him, and that failure is a normal thing, because things happen, and that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person or that it’s his fault - Dictator Mack can’t possibly be scared of anything! He’s the leader of an entire colony! He holds absolute power over the lives of everyone! And yet he’s still afraid of losing you - He wakes up with nightmares some nights, afraid that you died in his arms and he couldn’t save you. It really messes with him when that happens - Hug him and let him cling to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear and assure him you’re not going anywhere

The Hermit: - I’m hoping this makes sense (especially considering how he acts in AHWM) but… - I think he’s afraid of the unfamiliar. Like, someone gets stranded on the island and he gets very territorial because he’s afraid of people he doesn’t know - Especially if a stranger were to stumble across his cave. Absolutely not. That cave is a place of safety and comfort and familiarity - When he sees new people on the island, you usually have to calm him down and remind him that not all people are bad, and that more often than not, they’re lost and confused and just want to find a way back to where they belong - With your help, and a little bit of convincing, he tries to help them so he can have the island for just you two again.

WarfPat: - I really tried but I cannot possibly see WarfPat afraid of anything for some reason. Sorry :/

DarkPat: - Abandonment. - It’s why he tries to make himself seem intimidating and unapproachable. If people stay away, he can’t possibly lose them. It’s messed up logic, but it makes sense to him - And then there’s you, his lover, the one he’d risk the world for if it came down to. He’s afraid you’ll realize you deserve better than him and leave, because he can’t imagine a life without you in it - He tries to hide it from you, definitely, but you’re bound to find out. - All it takes is a little bit of reassurance. Tell him how much you love him, and that you won’t leave. He’ll be endlessly grateful for it, and for you

[chaoticneutralbell]

Which Member of a Doomed Space Crew Are You?

Botanist What were you thinking, growing green things in the middle of space? The first time you saw those sprouts rise up out of the dirt, you felt fathomless triumph and then the sickening lurch of hubris. Did your recklessness have consequences? Maybe. But how best to find your way out of disaster than to cling to all the life you can find in this desolate place?

X

[terramous]

pulses slow, faint matrimone

here we are!! the "carlos gets hurt on the way to the wedding and tk thinks he's been stood up" fic inspired by rafa <3 bthb: doesn't know they're injured title: julien baker - brittle boned word count: 6.8k AO3

Fifteen minutes. 

That’s what TK discovered when he snuck a glimpse of his watch beneath his suit jacket. Carlos had told him that it would be ugly to wear a watch to the wedding and he should just omit it, at least for the ceremony, but TK insisted that he couldn’t take it off for a day. Too used to tragedy striking whenever he got too comfortable, he needed to know that he could take a set of vitals at a moment's notice. 

Tragedy seemed to follow TK like an ominous black cloud that only he could see. Why did he think that today would be any different? 

His life filled with torment and disaster would not let up when they exchanged rings, and not a second before. 

Which is probably why he was standing at the altar with his friends, staring at the empty spot in front of him where Carlos was meant to have been standing fifteen minutes ago. 

Carlos had their entire wedding planned out to the minute, had even written it out on the whiteboard that hung next to the fridge; the guests were to be seated by 10:45, TK walked down the aisle with Owen at 11:00, he was supposed to walk down the aisle at 11:03, get to the end of it at 11:04. 

It was 11:19 and the music played through long ago. This was a bit more than just missing his cue. 

Gabriel had taken a tentative seat at the end of the back row, his phone in his hands. He was supposed to walk his son down the aisle today, but there had been no sign of him. 

Everyone was equally as confused. 

Paul had seen Carlos not even an hour ago, and had helped him get ready. Carlos wanted to take a car by himself, so Paul had left the loft only a matter of minutes earlier. 

Mind awhir, TK couldn’t seem to gather his bearings. So he stayed where he was, exchanging the odd glance with Paul or Nancy, but he dared not move. Murmurs spread throughout their guests like wildfire–Carlos was supposed to be here.

He figured that after everything, he owed Carlos the benefit of the doubt, after all, he had never so much as stood TK up for a date, so he really didn’t think he’d bail on their wedding ceremony. But the whispers and prying looks were making him sweat, his skin clinging too tightly to his frame, like if he made one wrong move he’d split apart. 

The next time he caught Paul’s eye, he whispered “where is he?” hoping, somewhat in vain, that Carlos’ best man would have a clue as to where he was. 

Paul just offered him the same wide-eyed look that everyone else was giving him as he shrugged. “I don’t know, man.” 

Great. This was great. 

TK didn’t want to doubt Carlos’ commitment to him but when you’re standing at the altar and your groom was supposed to walk down the aisle fifteen minutes ago, it’s kind of hard to not feel like you’ve been stood up.

It would be better if Carlos had texted, said that he would be late, if he had told TK that he was getting cold feet. Hell, they could’ve postponed or called off the wedding entirely and TK would be completely willing to tell everyone that it was because of him, that he wasn’t ready because of his past. Anything would have been a vast improvement on this current situation. 

He dared not look at the guests, couldn’t even fathom locking eyes with Andrea and Gabriel. 

There were so many sets of prying eyes. He knew if he looked towards the seating, he would find his friends and family bearing similarly confused and concerned looks, no one would’ve thought Carlos would be late. It was more of his thing to be anxiously early to everything, Nancy had cracked a joke earlier about how it was a shock that Carlos hadn’t camped out at the venue just in case the sky caved in and he missed his cue with the music.

Carlos wasn’t Alex but TK was starting to see a resemblance. 

But that wasn’t right. Carlos was a kind man, one so full of love for everything in the world around him, and so much of his love had always been reserved for TK. He must have a good reason to not be at his own wedding. 

The same wedding they had spent countless nights hand-lettering every single invitation for, that had 32 cake testers because it had to be perfect. And yet, the three-tiered cake was here and Carlos was not.  

As TK stood, groomless on his wedding day, he hoped that Carlos had a really really good reason.

-

With a groan, Carlos was hurtled unceremoniously back into awareness. 

The first thing he picked up on was the noise, a cacophony of it that he recognised only as the chaos of an emergency.

He'd done traffic control at pileup scenes enough to know what it sounded like. The scraping of metal against metal, horns, the hiss of steaming cars, the whoosh of deflating airbags. 

He also had half a mind to realise that he was currently in a car that was not moving, and yet was surrounded by this noise. Something had happened.

Something bad because he didn't get a response even as he shook the shoulder of the driver. He wasn't even driving, there was dirt and blood on the edge of his white sleeve–those stains wouldn't come out–but he dimly recognized it as his wedding suit. 

He was supposed to be getting married, this didn't look like an exchange of vows with the love of his life.

But there wasn't anything he could do about it now. 

There was a tiny part of his brain that thought he saw smoke, it was screaming at him that he was in danger, but he’d had enough TK explaining both fire and medical things to last him a lifetime. The car wasn’t on fire, airbags often let out dust as they deployed. 

"Hey, sir, are you alright?" he tried again, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding across the backseat to sit behind the driver. 

Still nothing.

He reached forward, hovering his hand just in front of the driver's mouth, breathing a sigh of relief only when there was a push of warm air against his skin.

Knowing there was a whole lot that he couldn’t do, Carlos mentally rolled through the checklist of things he could. 

The driver was breathing, but unconscious, which meant his airway wasn't being managed. At any point his head could tilt to the wrong angle and he would suffocate.

TK's voice was clear in his mind, reminding him that although he couldn't lie the driver down and turn him on his side, that Carlos could still help keep him alive. 

Properly slotting himself in the seat behind the driver, he reached both hands around the headrest and carefully took hold of the driver's head. His hand came into contact with a stickiness that he recognised as blood before he even saw the red on his fingers.

"If you manage his airway for him and he dies then there's nothing you could've done to prevent it. Mass casualty events suck and they're hard to stomach but that's why there is triage, we save as many lives as we can," came TK's voice in his head. For what wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn't be the last time, Carlos was thankful for his fiancé's tendency to ramble.

All he could do was tilt the driver's head back and hold it steady, hoping that help got to them soon.

Or at least, he could try to bring help to them a little faster. 

Carlos patted down his pockets, but failed to find his phone. It had likely been flung somewhere in the crash. He could always look for it later, but instead of wasting time, he could just flag down emergency services that were undoubtedly en route, if not already on scene. 

Trying to open the door on the driver’s side of the vehicle proved useless, and a quick glance out the window explained why the hood of a red car was pressed against it, the paint splintering and cracking as the bonnet folded under the force of the impact. 

The other side was just as stuck, the window completely blocked out by what looked like the side of a van. How big was this crash? 

How many people were hurt, or worse?

He was fine. He was conscious. He'd be a little late but he was going to make it to his wedding. 

He was ripe with energy, adrenaline lining the walls of his veins with every pump of his heart, he was going to help as much as he could and then he was going to marry TK Strand. 

They were going to hyphenate their names and be insufferable about it–Carlos had already submitted his application for new uniform pieces with Strand-Reyes emblazoned across them in big lettering. 

Every time he went out on a call from now on he would take TK with him. No matter where he was or who he was with, he would always carry that part of TK that he had been so lucky to have shared with him–he would wear TK’s name as his own and TK would do the same. 

He wouldn’t let TK down. Not ever, but especially not on a day like this.

They picked a hell of a day to have a massive pile-up, with Austin’s finest firefighters and paramedics taking the day off to watch him and TK promise themselves to each other–until death do them part. 

Even his father was at the venue. There was nowhere better to be if you felt like having an emergency than that aisle Carlos had yet to walk down, but he was here, sandwiched between cars and unsure of what more he could do. 

He’d never been in a car accident in his life. It was nothing like he had imagined. He wasn’t even sure what he had imagined, by the time he saw wrecks, fire and medical were swarming the scene; help had arrived. 

Sure, he’d watched firecrews rip cars apart, but they had equipment, gear and training. 

Carlos was a patrol officer in a white suit jacket, trapped in a steel cage of his own.

Some part of him, a deep enough recess of his brain that he didn’t even know he had, knew how to get out of the car. It wasn’t by opening the doors or slamming his elbow into the tempered glass until either the window or his bones shattered. 

He made quick work of removing the headrest from the passenger’s seat, pausing only to check for the soft rise and fall of the driver’s chest. Once he was sure the driver was still alive, he returned to the window behind him. 

It was the only one he could get to and feasibly get out of if he did manage to break the glass.

With the headrest in his hands, he forced the two metal pegs down, flush against the window and into the junction between glass and door. He tucked his legs underneath him, pushing himself up so he could drive the headrest down as far as he possibly could. 

Satisfied that he couldn’t get it any further, he pulled the top of the headrest back towards him, and a weblike fracture quickly consumed the glass. 

At that point it was easy enough to use the headrest again to push the glass outwards, the crystalline shards falling mostly outside of the vehicle. 

There was an exit, he was no longer trapped as he brushed away the few remaining shards in the edge of the door and pulled himself up and out of the vehicle. 

His jacket caught on some of the glass that was still in place, a sharp rip hitting the air, but Carlos paid it no mind.

Standing on top of the red cars mangled bonnet was an experience all on its own, the ability to survey the damage surrounding him, the massive pile-up of cars clogging the motorway. 

They were far from the edge of the carnage, but like the red paint crunching under his dress shoes, he could see a firetruck not too far off, crew already spilling out. 

“Please!” he shouted, waving his arms. “We need help over here!”

-

It took another five minutes before TK closed his eyes, dragged in a shaky breath and said “fuck this”. 

He was halfway back down the aisle before anyone even moved. 

Hastily, he swiped his tears away and continued, ignoring the various attempts to get his attention. 

Carlos stood him up. 

Left him at the end of the aisle, standing at the altar with a lovesick grin thinking this was the happiest day of his life, until Carlos never showed up. 

It felt like a sick joke. After all, what heartbreak could possibly be worse and more embarrassing than having his proposal declined in the middle of a crowded New York restaurant? 

This. This was infinitely worse. 

This wasn't a gaggle of strangers gossiping and gawking. The people he loved and who loved him, who believed that he was finally getting his long overdue goodness from life, had just watched the life he'd spent his whole time in Austin building, crumble.

He had no idea where he was going, just opted to duck through every door and archway he could find until he no longer felt the heavy gazes of worried eyes that followed him. The second he found silence he pressed himself up against the wall, his tears coming through along with forceful sobs as he sank to the ground. 

Nancy was the first to find him.

Of course she was.

He was confident that she had been waiting for his next move. After all, what are you even meant to do when you’re left at the altar?

Standing there like an idiot for twenty minutes, expecting–believing–that Carlos would walk down that aisle and meet him there. Only for everyone else to get more restless and his smile become one that was forced for image and not because he was elated to be marrying the love of his life. 

They’d been through hell together, almost been torn apart so many times, and yet they always found their way back to each other. This didn’t make sense, why would Carlos wait until now to give up on him?

“Dude, you took off like a bat out of hell,” Nancy said, panting slightly. It was an attempt to lighten the mood, her usual go-to, but it hit dead air and fizzled out. 

He didn’t even have words, couldn’t begin to turn his thoughts and feelings into a sentence, so he just buried his face in his knees and sobbed. 

Wretched tears, ones not unlike he had shed over his mother’s death. 

It was an agony that made him feel like he was being eaten alive. 

Nancy was on the floor with him now, offering a comforting hand rubbing along his shoulders. But he wished, harder than he ever had, that his mother was here with him.

She would have known what to say, she always did. They would’ve sat on the floor and she would have comforted him in a way that only a mother–his mother–could, and then, after making sure he was okay as he could be, she would’ve ripped Carlos to shreds.

Maybe not literally. She had always been very fond of Carlos.

“I’m sure there’s a good reason, TK,” Nancy offered, her voice smaller and softer than he had ever heard it. He was borderline hysterical at this point, shaking and crying, wetness seeping into his tailored dress pants. 

“He-” a desperate jagged gasp. “He left me!” there was no force, no bite in his tone, just the pain constricting his chest. 

Bridesmaid duties typically did not involve missing grooms and meltdowns but Nancy was taking it in stride as she pulled him into a hug. “Paul is going to call him again. Hell, I think everyone is going to call him. We’ll figure this out.” 

Logically, TK knew that Carlos would never do this to him, at least not without a good reason. Carlos had never been one to deliver any less than 100% regardless of what the task was. He wouldn’t do something like this, not to TK, not after everything they had been through just to be together. 

But TK wasn’t thinking with his logical brain, he was thinking with his brain that loved Carlos more than life itself and saw the empty place at the altar as the worst thing on Earth. A pain that lapped the solar system and then some. 

He had no idea what he was meant to do. 

There was a seating arrangement full of people he loved, yet none of them were Carlos. 

Even as he struggled to draw in adequate breaths, each one coming faster and harder than the last, he couldn’t help but wonder where his fiancé was. 

Never had it really felt like they were worlds apart until this very moment.

-

Realistically, Carlos knew that the fire crew were doing everything they could. It was a mess of a situation and there was barely any room to stand between any of the cars, most of those spaces taken up by whoever could get out of their cars. 

There were drivers yelling at each other, people trying to comfort their loved ones, even the sounds of crying children. Carlos’ heart was in his throat as he tried to gauge the situation.

He wasn’t on the clock, he wasn’t even in uniform, but he wanted to help. 

Unfortunately the best thing he could do was stay near the car he had been in, keeping an eye on the still unconscious driver as he waited for rescue crews to get that far into the carnage. 

At least from his current position, he could count the cars involved in the pile-up. Seven of them. 

And yet he was standing in the dead centre of it, unsure of what the first collison was. 

Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to remember the moments leading up to the crash. He was in the car, and the next thing he knew he was stirring amidst chaos. 

Which was probably a bad sign, it indicated that he had probably lost consciousness and suffered some kind of head injury, but he felt fine. He would be fine, he would get out of this. 

He was a bit confused to see the 126’s truck and ambulance pull up and for none of its usual crew to spill out. Obviously he’d seen the other members of the house before, both at the station and in the field. But it felt weird somehow, seeking to lock eyes with his fiancé and finding not a single familiar face–at least not any he could put a name to. 

He missed TK, he wanted to see him.

TK would make being at the scene of this kind of disaster a whole lot easier to stomach.

But TK wasn’t here–maybe he had the day off, Carlos idly wondered–so Carlos was on his own. He flagged down the nearest firefighter. 

“Please, can you help? The driver is unconscious, he’s stuck in here.” 

It was weird to think that someone else had been driving him, someone whose name he couldn’t seem to recall, but the mystery didn’t matter because the driver was unconscious and definitely injured. He needed help. 

“Please,” Carlos started again. “Please help, he’s hurt.” 

“Sir, calm down, we’ll get him out.” 

Despite knowing with utmost certainty that the firefighter was just trying to keep things calm, and keep Carlos from unintentionally interfering, it still felt condescending to be spoken to like that. It was normal, they all did it on the job, but on the other side he felt like telling this other man that he wasn’t an idiot. 

He was a cop, he wouldn’t have a meltdown in the face of something like this. He had more experience than that, he’d watched people die and still maintained his composure–he wasn’t a civilian, he was a professional. 

He was about to say something when someone placed a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, turning around to come face-to-face with a member of the 126’s B-shift. 

Some man, taller than him with a soft smile and wisps of dark hair peeking out from underneath his helmet. He had a comforting energy to him, which is probably why he was the one speaking now. 

“Come with me, we can get medical to check you out while my team works on the rescue side of things, hmm?” 

Knowing that anything else would just be fighting a losing battle, Carlos relented, allowing the firefighter to guide the way back towards the crew vehicles. 

The firefighter helped Carlos climb over a few car bonnets and weave his way through other tight spaces as they made their way out of the wreckage. Looking around, Carlos hadn’t realised how many crews had actually shown up. There were flashing lights coming from every direction, at least four fire engines, and countless more ambulances. 

A mass casualty event. 

That’s why the firefighter could be spared to take him out of the way, there were fire crews crawling all over the scene. Undoubtedly spread thin, but they needed to evacuate the patients who could walk on their own. 

Reaching a hand out and grasping Carlos’ forearm, the firefighter steadied him as he hopped down off of the final bonnet, a blue car that looked sickenly like his camaro. It wasn't, of course, that beautiful beast parked safely at the loft, away from anything that could so much as scratch the paint. 

“You’re dressed pretty fancy, where were you headed?” 

Carlos stopped, his steps faltering quite jarringly as he looked down at himself. White suit jacket covered in mess, a few rips and tears, the stray few blood droplets happily soaked into the edge of his sleeve, only one of his gold cufflinks in place. His black dress pants were a mess also, littered in scratches and tears, a few lighter splotches of dirt, dust or dried blood, Carlos wasn’t sure. There wa a fairly large hole in the right thigh, revealing a laceration that was none too deep but a few inches long and bleeding. 

He was suddenly aware of the wet feeling all the way down to his ankle, his pants sticking to his leg in some places. 

But he hadn’t a clue why he was dressed like that. It was a far cry from his usual jeans and shirt he preferred on his days off. 

He wracked his brain but only drew blanks. 

Somewhere along the line he had gotten dressed with Paul there, he remembered that much. As well as his parents who were also there at some point, Marjan who tidied up his hair. He couldn’t fathom what kind of thing warranted such a fuss of his appearance. 

Especially something apparently fancy enough to warrant a white blazer in the midday sun. 

“Actually, I’m not sure.” 

The firefighter met his eye, his demeanour taking a slight shift. If Carlos were anyone else–except maybe Paul–he would’ve missed it. Something was off, he knew it and so did this firefighter. 

“Are you sure? You kinda look like you’re headed to a wedding or something. People don’t dress that nice for lunch dates.” 

Wedding. 

That made sense, Carlos could be going to a wedding. Although wearing white to someone else’s wedding was definitely a dick move and he didn’t know anyone who was even engaged. 

Aside from himself, and TK. 

His wedding, he realised with a crushing wave of clarity. 

“I have to go to my wedding,” he choked out, startling the firefighter–Wells, his name tag provided.  

Wells almost immediately placed the placating hand back on Carlos’ shoulder. “You should probably sit down, get medical to check you out.”

“No, I’m fine,” Carlos said, swatting the firefighter’s hand away. “I have to go to my wedding.”

Two hands were on him now, both just below his shoulders, gloved fingers wrapping around his biceps. The firefighter was a bit wild-eyed now, his gaze continually flicking over Carlos, never settling in any one place for long. “You can do that as soon as medical check you over, I’m sure it won’t be long.” 

“I can’t be late,” Carlos insisted, once again trying to duck out of the firefighter’s hold. “TK will think I abandoned him. I have to get married.” 

He couldn’t let TK down. He was probably already late but he was sure that if he showed up and explained everything that TK would be okay with it, they could start the ceremony over again. They could still get married today.

“Like, I said,” the firefighter spoke again, Carlos was struggling to remember his name and his name tag was out of sight. “You can do that after medical checks you over and clears you.”

“I’m fine,” Carlos insisted, hoping that if he repeated himself enough then this firefighter would actually listen to what he was saying. “I don’t need to wait for that. I have to get married.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave until a paramedic has a look at you.” 

“You don’t understand, my fiancé is a paramedic and I’m fine. He’s waiting for me to marry him, I have to go.” 

Perhaps being insistent on going to his wedding after being involved in a multi-car pile-up wasn’t the best way to convince rescue crews that you were fine–even though Carlos definitely was–because the firefighter waved someone over, undoubtedly the first EMT or paramedic he laid eyes on. 

“Why don’t you sit down, for a sec?” 

“I told you, I’m fine,” Carlos hissed, once again shaking off the hold. He needed to get to the wedding, to prove to TK that he was willing to spend forever together. He couldn’t do that if he was stuck in the middle of the city waiting for a medical check that he didn’t even need. “I have to go to my wedding.” 

Something odd happened as he finished his sentence, stepping forward, he staggered, a rush of dizziness sweeping over him. There were steadying hands on him yet again, but this time he failed to shrug them off. 

He couldn’t make out the firefighter’s face anymore, it became obscured by a film that made everything blurry. Carlos honestly no longer had a sense of which direction was up and which was down. 

“I have-” he started, the words and his tongue feeling foreign in his mouth. 

“I have to go to my wedding.” 

He didn’t realise how noisy and bright the scene was, sensory overwhelm pouring in from all sides. Flashing lights, the whir of machinery pulling apart cars, the shrieking of metal being ripped to shreds, sirens, the hot Austin sun hanging high in the sky. 

The silence was a welcomed change. 

-

Apparently Carlos couldn’t even be bothered to pick up his phone. 

There was a simmering anger in TK’s chest, roiling behind his pain. He was devastated at the turn of events, but he couldn’t help being angry with Carlos. After everything, he had thought that their relationship meant more. 

It wasn’t even like everyone’s calls were going straight to voicemail either. So his phone wasn’t off. 

The mystery of a lifetime–where was Carlos on his wedding day? 

Carlos was meant to be there with TK, they were supposed to have exchanged rings, supposed to be husbands by now. But there was no sign of him. 

Somewhere amidst the chaos of everything, TK found respite. 

He was allowed to stay in the broom closet, curled up against the wall, his knees pulled to his chin. Everyone else was trying to rectify the disaster that had become of the wedding that was meant to be perfect. 

TK and Carlos deserved this. They’d jumped through hoops and levelled mountains for the love of a lifetime, but somehow TK had gone and screwed it up along the way. There was no other conclusion that he could draw, Carlos wasn’t here, wasn’t in the one place he was meant to be. 

TK wasn’t sure he had ever felt quite this hopeless. Which was a statement in and of itself. 

Rock bottom and he were close friends, he frequented it like it was a food truck and not a crushing empty feeling in his chest. 

Here he was, back again after everything fell apart.

But it felt different now. The aching emptiness was replaced by a fire that seared its way through his chest, an agony that made it hard to breathe. 

Carlos was nothing short of his whole world, for it to crumble like this was something he knew he could never face. He wouldn’t move from his corner, couldn’t handle the idea of getting up and walking out of his wedding venue, finger light and heart all the heavier. 

He should have expected that his father would join him on the floor. 

“How are you holding up?” 

TK just laughed. Unfortunately it sounded more like a cat choking on a piece of plastic it found under the couch. It wasn’t even hollow and mirthless, it just sounded like he was dying.

He felt like it too.

He didn’t humour his father with a reply, just continued his meltdown with new company. 

Owen didn’t touch him. Knew it wouldn’t help. 

Sometimes after a lifetime of being known by someone they understand you. 

Silence is a great companion when you don’t even have the clarity of mind to think straight. His thoughts were jumbled and sounded awfully akin to the cries of a wounded animal. At this point he was one. Cornered and surrounded, unsure of where he could go next, fully aware of the looming threat just beyond his eyeline. 

He never wanted to leave the broom closet. There was a world beyond the four square feet of space in which the man he was ready to spend the rest of his life with didn’t love him in the same way. 

His father had an ulterior motive. He knew that much. 

After all, last time he had been heartbroken it didn’t hold a candle to how much he was hurting right now and his father had found him dead on his apartment floor. 

He survived that, he didn’t think he could survive this. 

“Breathe, TK.” 

He didn’t want to. Maybe if he hyperventilated for long enough he would pass out and wake up to find that it had only been a dream–an awful nightmare. 

There was a hand on his back now, rubbing circles as if he were a distressed child. Maybe he was. 

“Breathe,” his father’s voice was soft, but only in the sense that it was a conversation that only the two of them could hear, it stayed firm, commanding.

TK sucked in a choked and staggered breath, coughing once his lungs fully expanded for the first time in what felt like hours. 

“Good. You’ll be okay.” 

That was a sentence more for easing Owen’s own mind than to comfort TK. But it was true. He either had to be okay or he would die. Even if his heart didn’t stop, he would rot like a corpse, from the inside out. His heart would never recover from this. 

There’s only so much pain you can go through before it destroys you and TK crossed that threshold long before he stood alone at the altar.

There was a dead thing in his chest, beating against his ribcage, maybe if it escaped things would hurt less. 

A clacking of heels against hardwood and TK found the energy to look up at the doorway for the first time. Marjan hovered awkwardly, phone in hand, her eyes blown wide. She looked wonderful in her dress, the soft blue suiting her unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined. Had this not been the worst day of his life, TK would’ve told her that she looked like a princess. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said, her voice unsure but full of care, “but this article says that there’s been a massive pile-up on MoPac.”

“What?” TK’s voice was small, but ripe with terror. MoPac was the fastest route from the loft to their venue. 

Marjan read from her phone. “First responders are still evacuating people but it’s been confirmed that there are eight injured,  three dead, and numbers expected to rise as rescue efforts continue.”

There’s a brief reprieve from the heartache of being left at the altar, only for the fear to flood into its absence and hold him in a vice grip.

Things made a lot more sense now.

Guilt. That was the most prominent emotion, guilt that while TK had been assuming that Carlos had outright abandoned him, his fiancé could be hurt, or worse. 

-

Carlos knew where he was before he even opened his eyes.

He’d spent enough time in hospital rooms when TK was hurt to recognise the feeling in the air if nothing else. Hospitals always felt different. It wasn’t a matter of the noise or the overly sterile-feeling lights–the air carried a different weight. 

Nothing was quite as unhomely as a hospital, seemingly always a hostile environment, at least whenever he was in them as of late. The sound of shoes squeaking against linoleum was enough to throttle him back into the memories of being at TK’s bedside, begging him to wake up, to not leave. 

This was different though. 

When Carlos usually woke up in hospitals it was with a crick in his neck from sleeping sitting up, or awkwardly hunched over the edge of a hospital bed. 

It took him a bit longer than he expected to cut through the brain fog and realise that’s because he was in the bed. 

Something had happened. Something he was not entirely sure of, but it was nothing good. 

When he finally mustered up the energy to pry his eyes open, he found his hospital room basked in moonlight from the only window, a soft blue glow pouring from between the gaps in the blinds. 

Illuminating the figure in the chair next to the bed. 

Head dropped in sleep, Carlos could still recognise his fiancé anywhere. 

TK’s hair was a mess, sticking up in every possible direction. It paired well with his white button down that was all crumpled, in complete disarray, a few of the top buttons undone, one side of the collar flicked up. A black tie around his neck, completely undone as it hung loosely over his shoulder. He looked like a wreck.

It took a few moments but Carlos’ hazy brain finally caught up, placing a context to TK’s clothes. They were too fancy to be casual wear, nicer than anything he had seen TK wear to a nice restaurant. It clicked into place, the realisation firm and bringing with it a sense of clarity. 

Their wedding. 

With clarity came memories. 

The crash. The carnage. Collapsing under the midday Austin sun. Missing his own wedding. 

It was clear that TK hadn’t even had a moment of reprieve to go home and change, although Carlos doubted he would even if he did get the chance. TK loved him so wholly and with his entire soul, and Carlos knew firsthand how much leaving the hospital room feels like your heart is being constricted even if it’s only for a few minutes. 

He’d gotten better at being able to get home and change out of his uniform, it still felt like he was dying but it was a skill he had acquired only through surviving the worst with TK. 

Carlos was torn between leaving TK asleep or speaking in an effort to wake him. His fiancé definitely needed the sleep but there was something about seeing TK asleep in a hospital room that made Carlos’ skin crawl. Realistically he knew that TK was fine, he was safe, but he needed something stronger for his brain to use to confirm that knowledge. 

“Babe?” Carlos asked, his voice hoarse and coming out much softer than he anticipated.

TK jolted in place anyways, his head snapping up, eyes wide and wild. 

Panic. It was a very clear emotion to read but after a few seconds of TK anxiously scanning Carlos over he settled with a sigh, the tension leaving his posture as he took Carlos’ hand in both of his. 

“Hey, baby. How’re you feeling?” 

Carlos paused for a second, trying to take stock of everything. 

“Floaty,” he settled on. 

TK laughed softly, it wasn’t much but it was genuine, dripping in relief. “That’ll be the morphine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” TK seemed surprised, his eyebrows knitting together as he studied Carlos with worried green eyes. Carlos didn’t miss the redness around them. It might be dark and he might be in a world of pain, but he would always notice if something was off with the man he loved.

“I didn’t mean to miss the wedding. You know I would never do that to you.” 

TK was quick to move one of his hands to Carlos’ forearm, rubbing his thumb along his skin in a soothing gesture. “I know, baby. It’s not like you arranged a seven-car pile-up just for an excuse to leave me at the altar.” 

“At the altar?” 

TK was sheepish as he spoke, directing his eyes down to the blankets of the bed. “I had already walked down the aisle by the time you didn’t show.”

“Fuck, TK.” Carlos was blinking rapidly now, tears threatening to spill as the guilt overwhelmed him. He’d left the love of his life at the altar. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Shh, you have nothing to apologise for. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Am I?”

Carlos didn’t mean for his words to sound so sceptical, but he felt a full-body ache and that wasn’t even including the pounding in his head.

“Mostly. You definitely have a concussion, but you’ve been pretty out of it every time the nurses roused you so it makes sense if you don’t remember. But you had an MRI and CT scan, no signs of haemorrhaging. You were also walking around on a broken tibia–which is kind of insane. But other than that, you’re all in one piece.”

“One piece is good.” 

“One piece is great, I love all of you so it’s good to have it all in the same place.”

“Mmm,” Carlos hummed, feeling the drag of tiredness. “I love you too.” 

“You should go back to sleep. Get some rest before your parents come back in the morning.” 

Carlos didn’t have to be told twice. With his hand still in TK’s hold, he let himself drift. 

-

Two weeks following Carlos’ discharge, Andrea Reyes had taken it upon herself to tailor a pair of dress pants to fit over a moon boot. 

Somehow along the way their family had put together a second, less extravagant wedding. 

There was no fun venue, no caterer, no meticulously crafted invites, but there was a two-tiered cake from the bakery down the road from the firehouse, and a wedding arch that looked suspiciously like Judd’s handiwork and fake flowers hot-glued along the edges. 

TK’s friends from New York weren’t here this time, but the family he had found in Austin was. It was a small gathering on the Reyes family ranch, but somehow it was perfect. 

The ceremony had gone off without a hitch this time, and now they were husbands. Vowed to each other in sickness and in health, until death do them part. 

Perhaps it was a bit cruel to smash Carlos’ face into the cake after everyone had taken a slice, with having one fully-operational leg and all, but he erupted into laughter as he emerged from the frosting. 

There would always be something about Carlos’ joy that was infectious, TK joining him in laughter as he dragged a finger through the icing on Carlos’ nose and made a point of tasting it. 

Carlos may not have been the steadiest on his feet, but he was fluid in his motions as he grabbed TK’s face in his hands and pulled their bodies together for yet another kiss. They were doing a lot of those today, savouring every moment that their lips connected, not as acquaintances, or boyfriends, or fiancé’s, but as husbands.

[theghostnugget]

I watch a lot of psychology stuff on YouTube (for reasons I will not explain lol) and so often I hear something (especially stuff relating to trauma and unhealthy coping skills) that makes me need to pause and think about Hiei.

My poor boy went through so much shit and had no time to process cause he was forced to fight for his life every single day (there was no time for him to sit down and evaluate “ok that was a shitty thing, how do I cope/how do I move on”).

This post’s length got away from me so…

By the time the series starts he is deeply entrenched in the unhealthy coping skills he had to develop (trust no one, they’re all going to abandon you if they don’t outright betray you - never address you emotions out loud or even in your own head because that distraction will get you killed - love is just a crutch for the weak who can’t fend for themselves that’s why I don’t even want it - etc etc). He doesn’t even realize that he has a support group and a safe space to start to unpack because he has no idea what those things look like. Then comes the process of actually unpacking which he has no fucking clue how to do because he never had healthy coping modeled for him. And he doesn’t even think he can ask for help because he a) doesn’t believe anyone cares enough to help and b) he’s still not completely sure they aren’t playing the long game to get him to lower his guard so they can stab him in the back

I think the reason he leaves for half of season 3 is he subconsciously starts to recognize he has trauma he can and should process and that terrifies him. He has no clue how to start and he knows it’s going to get worse before it gets better and most importantly: he’s found ways to make his poorly executed shit work. Anger and lashing out and self-loathing aren’t helping him in the long run but he can’t tell because they’ve been the things keeping him alive so far - and if he does learn to let those go, what the hell is he gonna find underneath?? What if there’s nothing? What if he’s even more miserable than before?? Then he’ll have to confront the idea that the world isn’t screwed up, it’s just him - he’s truly broken and there’s no hope of him ever being happy. So he chooses the devil he knows and actively chooses to walk away from something that has the potential to heal him

There’s this quote from Just Between Us (an excellent YouTube channel that I definitely recommend) that’s something along the lines of “a miserable person gets to live with the hope of one day being happy while a happy person has to live with the fear of one day becoming miserable” and I think that sums up Hiei’s thought process pretty well - he’s terrified of being happy because it doesn’t last but at least, if he’s miserable, he can hope for the abstract concept of it

It used to bug me that Mukuro was the one to pull him out of his bullshit when the only reason he trusted her enough to let her in was because he was already starting to trust Yusuke, Kurama, and to an extent Kuwabara (and I have so many feelings about why his antagonism towards Kuwabara is also rooted in his shitty mental health but I’ll sum it up to this - when you’re traumatized and miserable, you start to hate everyone who’s not miserable because why the hell does he get to be happy and coping with this shit while I’m spiraling out of control here). But I think it boils down to, he feels too broken to really open up fully to people he thinks are stable - (He’s too wrapped up in level 20 mental illness to realize that they’re all coping pretty poorly {except Kuwabara - he’s best boy and he’s killing it}) - but he meets Mukuro and she’s a disaster just like him, she’s been through so much but she still manages to cling to happiness - she’s him 1 or 2 steps into healing (which gives him hope) but she’s still close enough to his level that he feels like he can open up for the first time without the fear of judgement

This post is so rambly and all over the place but if I didn’t express these feelings I felt like I would die so… thanks for reading?

[uncpanda]

House Party

AN: Some fluff for my favorite batfam, mainly because I feel like I’ve been neglecting them lately! So enjoy a double post day. A new installment of the Ties that Bind will be out at 6m EST! 

Prompt: The kids throw a house party and Jason . . . well he’s Jason

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN Reader

“You know, with four boys, I really expected this to happen sooner.” 

You lean against the front of the car and stare at the manor. Every nook and cranny is lit up, you can hear the music from a mile away and there are no less than two people puking in your rose bushes. 

You lean closer to Bruce so that he can hear you, “So, who do you think it is?” 

Bruce’s brow furrows as he goes into detective mode, “I think they all had something to do with this.” 

“Even Damian?” 

He snorts, “Especially Damian.” 

He pushes off the car and starts walking towards the manor, and you follow behind. You wince when you enter the house, the bass hurts your ears. Bruce flips through his phone, and a moment later the sound system goes silent. It reminds you of the movies where there’s a record scratch and everyone turns to look at the authority figures that just walked in. 

Bruce plasters what you call his corporate smile, on his face and takes a step forward. You’re pretty sure he’s partially channeling the Batman persona, “Now. I don’t know which of my sons started this party, or which one of them invited you. For all I know they put up a flyer. What I do know is that you have exactly five minutes to get off my property before Gotham PD arrives, and I start prosecuting for trespassing.” 

It’s an empty threat, you know that, but these people don’t. They stare at him for one, two, three seconds before Bruce’s eyes take on a hard look and he yells, “MOVE.” 

They scatter to the win, running in different directions. You look at him, “You realize some of those people are drunk right?” 

“Which is why I have security at the gate doing sobriety tests, and cars waiting to take people home.”

You smile, “My smart husband. Now did you arrange the hearse for when we kill the boys?” 

“Already on the way.” 

The two of you stomp through the manor taking in the damage. You wince when you see Alfred’s favorite crystal vase smashed to pieces and the new drapes he picked out cut into ribbons. 

The first child you find is Tim, he’s clinging to the chandelier, on an obvious caffeine buzz. You wince, “I thought caffeine didn’t affect him anymore.” Despite your best parenting efforts Tim was at least five percent coffee. It takes you ten minutes to coax him down and then guide him to his room where he promptly passes out. 

You find Damian in the entertainment room with Alfred the cat, batcow, Titus, three dogs you haven’t seen before, a bunny, and what looks suspiciously like a wolf pup. You leave that one to Bruce. The argument takes thirty minutes and all you can hear is muffled yelling from the hallway. 

When Bruce steps out he says, “I negotiated him down to keep the rabbit and one of the dogs. The rest we’ll rehome, and the wolf . . .” 

You hold up your hand to stop him, “I don’t want to know.” 

You proceed further in and find Dick passed out on the kitchen floor. Bruce picks him up in a fireman’s hold and carries him to the nearest couch. 

You step back into the hallway, and stare at the disaster zone that used to be your home. “We might have better luck if we burnt it to the ground and rebuilt it from scratch.” 

“What the hell happened?” You turn to find Jason, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Your brothers threw a party. How was theatre camp?” 

“Great, but apparently not as great as this.” 

Bruce snorts, “Trust me, when your brothers are in hour five of cleaning this place, scrubbing it from top to bottom, tomorrow, they won’t think it’s great.” 

“I don’t have to do that right? I’m the good child?”

You nod, “Today you are.” 

He smiles, “Cool. that means I can brag about being the favorite for what? Thirty-six hours?” 

Bruce chuffs, “With this mess? Go for a full seventy-two.” 

“Awesome. I’m going to go put my stuff in my room, assuming my room is still standing.”

He jogs to the doorway, pauses and turns towards you guys, “How was the conference?” 

 “It was great. Very relaxing.” 

“A conference was relaxing.” 

“Compared to the mess we just came home to it was amazing.” 

Bruce snorts, “And it was all undone the moment we got home.” 

Jason grins, “Maybe you could send them to boarding school?”  

You smile, “Boarding school has its own set of problems. Go unpack.” 

In the end it takes Dick, Tim, and Damian three days to get everything clean before Alfred comes home. And when he does, he makes them redo it to his satisfaction. Jason just sits in a lawn chair and drinks lemonade while watching. All while you and Bruce vow to never leave the kids home alone again. 

[snowywrites]

DDLC Love Language Headcanons

note: these are just my opinions! if you wonder what the 'love languages' are, here is a website that explains them and has quizzes to tell you what your own love language is!

Sayori

✿ The type of love language that Sayori uses to express her affection the most would definitely be physical touch!

✿ Dating Sayori would include soooo many hugs, and that's not all. She'd be the type to always be clinging onto her significant other (or crush, you in this scenario), probably even not realizing that she's doing it.

✿ Constant little touches like shoulder nudges, head pats, high fives- she would also for sure always be leaning against you, perhaps too much in your personal space sometimes, and she would definitely get her feelings hurt if you commented on it or got annoyed with her.

✿ Interestingly, Sayori is probably a little too shy to initiate hand holding, especially in public settings. But she actually would enjoy holding hands with you the most out of any other physically affectionate gestures, so it would really mean the world to her if you happened to reach out first.

✿ It might not all be super lovey-dovey and cute though- being so close to Sayori all the time would be a recipe for disaster! Whenever she trips, which is frequently, she'll probably end up taking you down with her by accident.

✿ The type of love language Sayori would probably most like to receive from you, aside from physical touch, would be quality time!

✿ As much as she loves to have your full attention though, Sayori could often feel very guilty if it seems like you're brushing others off in favor of spending time with her. When this happens, she might appreciate some words of affirmation to assure her and soothe her worries.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Yuri

✧ For Yuri, the primary love language she uses to express her love for you would most likely be quality time!

✧ This is one of the more subtle and quiet of the love languages, but can be considered one of the strongest. You might notice that whenever you are around Yuri, she is very invested and focused- you have her full attention, to the point where she would set her book aside in favor of visiting with you.

✧ Although, Yuri would probably appreciate getting to read or write in silence with you. She would appreciate your closeness and the fact that you set aside your precious time to spend with her alone (even if you might find the silence awkward at times.)

✧ This can be a sort of possessive love language in some cases- if you notice Yuri is a bit more sad or quieter than usual, it could be because you haven't made plans specifically to spend time with her lately, even if the two of you chat casually every day.

✧ While she might have trouble voicing it out loud, she would really appreciate it so much if you put in the effort to plan dates together, and bonus points if they're creative/revolve around her interests.

✧ In this case, the quality love language would be both her preferred method of showing that she cares but also the kind of expression of love she wants to receive in return.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Natsuki

♡ Natsuki's way of showing her love would be giving gifts!

♡ Dating or even just being friends with Natsuki would mean sudden random presents! Cupcakes for when you're sad or just because she was baking and made some extra for you, a random cute hat or some jewelry she saw that she thought would look good on you, a copy of one of her favorite manga so you can enjoy it too, etc.

♡ She actually pays pretty close attention to the object of her affections, and so she keeps a mental track record of your likes/dislikes in order to give you the best possible gifts she can. She takes great pride in her ability to pick out really thoughtful presents for those she loves, but especially for you!

♡ While Natsuki might get embarrassed and pretend to be annoyed if you made a really big deal out of receiving one of her gifts, she'd secretly really be happy.

♡ Natsuki would enjoy receiving gifts from you too, but she would probably also really love words of affirmation from you; this doesn't typically mean giving random compliments, but moreso hearing that you appreciate her or things like that.

♡ She would absolutely melt if you took notice of what an amazing writer she is and gave her the credit she deserves! She doesn't like to be known only for her cute appearance, she also wants recognition for her intelligence and creativity.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Monika

♥ Monika's primary love language would most likely be a good balance between words of affirmation and acts of service.

♥ She's the type to shower you with supportive words of encouragement, and would be the first to remind you how amazing, smart, and beautiful you are.

♥ If you're the kind of person who isn't used to receiving compliments often or having such a 'cheerleader' on your side, you would quickly grow used to it because of how frequently Monika tries to build up your self-esteem! And eventually you would wonder how you ever lived without her positive influence.

♥ Monika also would constantly be wanting to help you out, no matter with what. Grocery shopping, assignments for school/your job, teaching you how to do something like cook, etc.

♥ It can be a little smothering sometimes, and you may feel as if you have a personal assistant in Monika who reminds you of important dates and helps you prepare speeches and such, but this is only because she really wishes to help you out in life and make things as easy as possible for the both of you!

♥ In return for all of her efforts, Monika would be happy with any of the love languages you could offer her; she has no preference because of how deeply she cares for you.

[moonctzeny]

get to you again

pairing: friends to lovers! hendery x fem!reader 

genre: smut, just a tiny teeny bit angsty I guess but with a happy ending, fluff

word count: 3k

warnings: raw sex, creampie, a little corruption kink?

summary:  “You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?”

inspiration: get to you again - mac ayres

tagging the lovely: @markresonates

It had been too long since you last saw Hendery.

You two had met so unexpectedly, both trapped in a small coffee shop a couple years ago, drenched to the bone and trying to find cover from the sudden rainfall.

“I was going to ask you if you were willing to share your umbrella, but I’m guessing you forgot it on the wrong day like me”, he joked, so you decided to share a table instead. After the fourth time he had you clench your stomach in laughter, out of the sheer willingness to make a stranger like you cheer up, you decided to exchange phone numbers, thus starting what would become a beautiful friendship.

It wasn’t easy being an idol. Two promotions in Korea, then a reality show in China, then another comeback. You counted the days, one by one until he’d get to you again. Until you’d finally re-watch his favorite movie with him for the millionth time, just to get to watch him laugh over the same stupid lines.

You weren’t sure when you realized you had fallen for him. Maybe it was last winter, almost exactly a year ago when he handed you your Christmas present. He had driven you on a hill on the outskirts of Seoul, the only place he knew with some privacy from prying eyes, and the breathtaking view of the tiny city lights made the freezing cold worth it. You were both sitting against the hood of his car, admiring the big city that seemed to unravel at your feet when you opened the small velvet box.

It revealed a silver necklace of two wings hanging from a dainty chain, with his initials carved on the back of the charm. As you stared at it long enough to make sure you weren’t making things up, you couldn’t decide which one was more beautiful- the pendant or the stars in Hendery’s eyes as he waited for your reaction.

“It’s symbolic”, he started explaining, a little embarrassed with how much effort he had put into the gift, “I know I’m not around a lot to take care of you, but just know that I’m always there if you need me. Like your guardian angel”.

He sounded so wholesome while saying it, long bangs covering his eyes that bashfully avoided yours. You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?

Tonight, it was beating as fast as the rhythm of the blinking Christmas lights decorating your living room. How could it not, with Hendery sitting only a few inches away, sharing a blanket with you? He was a few minutes late due to a last-minute photoshoot, but he arrived at your door bare faced and dressed in his favourite flannel shirt. He was just how you liked him, raw and soft and beautiful.

Unlike what you had predicted, he suggested checking out a new romantic comedy on Netflix. It was one of those that come out every Christmas season, all with the same low budget and cheesy acting that ended with some festive spirit that magically solves every plot hole. Two childhood friends, falling in love with each other, yet the girl thinks that the guy is way out of her league so she does nothing about it. The pure irony convinced you that the universe must be surely playing some sick joke on you, forcing you to look at a Hollywood version of yourself getting a happy ending for the next two hours.

“I don’t understand”, Hendery huffs in frustration, midway into the film by now, “why doesn’t the girl just tell him she likes him? What guy doesn’t want to hear that?”

“Maybe she’s scared of the rejection, or ruining everything-“ you start defending the character with a raised voice, realizing that maybe you’re invested in the movie a little too much, “sometimes there is this line between two people, and it’s comfortable to stay behind it because you don’t want to lose them in case something goes wrong”. You draw an invisible line with your index finger between your bodies, and Hendery focuses his stare on it as if it was real. He looks lost in his thoughts, still frozen in place before shaking his head and murmuring: “I guess you’re right”.

Your comment, his response, the sex scene playing on the screen. It all made you so painfully alert with his presence that your whole body tensed up and your mouth dried up like it was filled with cotton. You both chuckle in the midst of all the steaminess, as the actor fails to drag his former best friend at the edge of the bed by tagging on her ankle.

“What a loser”, Hendery scoffs mockingly at the character’s mistake, and you turn around to give him a side eyed glare.

“Relax, muscle man. Like you would do it better”

He mocks offense by opening his mouth dramatically, and you giggle at the distortion of his face that still somehow managed to look pretty. It was so cute, how he always wanted to look ‘strong’ in the eyes of others, reliable and macho. You didn’t care about any of that, you thought his resolutions were stupid. He was perfect in your eyes.

“Of course I would! I’m strong, look-“

The disaster played out in front of you like a filmstrip. His hands on your ankle, then his own ankle tripping over the blanket on the floor, and finally the feeling of his chest weighing down over your own. With him pressed so close against you, you were sure he must feel the way your heart is thumping, filled with so many emotions that it’s ready to jump out of your body.

The room was cold, but with Hendery’s sudden body heat coating you, you felt like you were on fire. The fleeting thought of you taking off your clothes, to relieve yourself of the suffocating feeling made your cheeks burn even more. Hendery’s neck was exposed just inches in front of you in it’s full glory, and you thought about where those veins on the side of it, visible through his pale skin, ended. You’d gladly kiss along the path they drew, let your teeth leave little violet blossoms on the way, while you’d make mental notes of what kisses made him react the loudest.

It’s his bangs tickling your temples that made you realize that he is still on top of you. You look up into his eyes, expecting a frantic look, maybe a string of apologies leaving his mouth. He was strangely serene, staring at your own lips instead, and for a second you thought he’d finally mercy you and give you what you daydream about every time he comes around. You’d kill for the sight of him with puffy red lips and blown out pupils, messy just for you. You’d kill for the feeling of his tongue against your own.

When he plants a kiss on your right cheek, right over the corner of your mouth, you think it tastes bittersweet. You were still high on the intimacy when he finally apologizes and rips his body away from yours, your crash back down to reality brutal. The movie was still playing on a high volume, yet all you heard was a deafening silence after his trip. You don’t object when he tells you he has to go before you get to see what happens to the couple behind the screen. They were eating you away, all the things you wanted to say to him as you sent him off, so much more than just a ‘drive safe, text me when you get home’.

Those thirty minutes after you close your front door felt like a lifetime. You replayed the accident over and over again in your head, the skin burning where he kissed you. The thoughts of calling him, telling him to turn around and finish what he started, were so loud that you felt like a crazy person.

You certainly thought you went insane when you heard a knock against your door. Peeking through the peephole, you’re surprised to see that, as if you’d unlocked the secret of manifestation, Hendery was standing once again in your hallway.

“Guanheng? Did you forget anything?”

He looked restless and fidgety as he walked back inside your apartment, like he couldn’t wait to let out whatever was on the tip of his tongue. His shoulders were coated in a light layer of snow that had managed to flush his face, and dampen his hair and eyelashes as well.

“No- well- yes, I-“. He stopped himself mid sentence and sighed, and you let him collect his thoughts. He looked serious, the expression foreign on his usually bright features, yet the way he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration made butterflies fly in your stomach. “What did you say about that line between two friends again? When we were watching the movie?”

You blinked back at him in confusion, waiting for him to tell you that he’s joking, he just forgot his charger, and he’ll see you again when his company allows him to. But he doesn’t, so you start to roll the pendant he gifted you between your thumb and index, trying to calm yourself down.

“It keeps two people that are meant to be together apart, but there is too much at stake to cross it”.

You start drawing that invisible line again, the one that separates the miserable comfort of denying your feelings for him and everything you wish you were brave enough to pursue.

He would be brave for the both of you.

Hendery grabs your lifted hand, bringing it on the side of his neck before he crashes his lips against yours. You don’t hesitate in kissing him back, hungry for his lips that taste as sweet as you imagined them to. He hasn’t realized how impossibly close to his body he has brought you, not until his embrace gets so tight that your necklace pokes uncomfortably against his chest.

You suck on his bottom lip and he welcomes you with his tongue, the kiss getting so heated now that you can’t help but tug on his hair to keep you grounded. Shivering from your action, his hands are now sliding from your hips to your waist, following the curves of your body until he reaches the underside of your breasts. You mewl against his lips as his thumbs dig into their softness, discreetly trying to cop a feel through your cotton shirt.

A moan leaves your mouth, lewd and desperate as he swallows it with a kiss, and he rips himself off of you when it seems to reach his stomach. He looks disheveled, as if he woke up from an intense, lucid dream; panting, sweating, staring at you with those big puppy eyes.

“We- we shouldn’t. We are going too fast, right?” You nod in agreement at his question but you’re not really listening. You had your fingertips placed on his moving lips, and he identifies the metallic smell as the remnants of you fidgeting with your jewelry earlier. “I should take you to dinner first, to that one place you like so much”. Losing interest in what he is saying, the words being too distant and grey when he stood so deliciously in front of you, you mindlessly start to unbutton his shirt, fascinated with that mole over his collarbone and wanting to see more.

The fire your fingers spread against his skin, in the midst of the chilliness of your living room has him groaning under his breath, with a voice as low and sexy as in his good morning calls. You can practically see him throw all his inhibitions out the window when he kisses you again, pushing you with his body until your back finds the nearest wall. Hendery’s hands are far from gentle now, leaving bruises behind all the soft spots he kneads with his fingers.

“I want you”, you confess with a whisper as you rid him off his flannel for good, and you can’t stop yourself from tracing all the lines of his toned abdomen. You can feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest, its fast rhythm matching yours. You grab his hand to lead him to the carpet next to the Christmas tree that is blinking along with the lights that adorn it- you’re too impatient in your arousal to take him to your bedroom and he doesn’t protest.

Hendery lays you on your back, finding his place between your legs as you wrap them around his waist to bring him closer. You remove your hoodie and the sports bra you had on, his lips immediately latching onto one of your nipples. He circles his tongue around the bud, licking and sucking on it interchangeably until you’re a begging mess underneath him.

Tugging on the elastic band of his sweats, you urge him to get naked for you completely, and he removes the extra garments with a strong pull. His sex bouces out of its cotton constraint, red and throbbing and aching for you. It makes the heat that’s pooling on your lower stomach spread even further, and you wiggle your hips to remove your sweatpants as well.

There’s something about the frilly pink panties you’re wearing- the innocent design on your shapely body that ignites a carnal instinct in him. He wants to ruin you, mark you, make you his. The sound of fabric getting ripped has your eyes bulge out in shock. You’ve never seen Hendery so determined.

He falls on top of you again, leaving urgent kisses on your jawline as he rubs his hard member against your heat. It’s driving you insane, how he’s so close to where you want him but not quite there yet, and you tug his hair again to make him look at you.

“I wanna feel you raw”

And raw was how he’d give it to you. You feel his warm hand over your stomach, keeping you in place as he aligns himself with your entrance, and the pressure his tip’s already feeling has him cursing out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this”

He dips himself slowly into your pussy, careful not to stretch you uncomfortably much. His worried eyes are glued to your wide ones, reading your expressions to ensure they’re those of pleasure. And indeed they are, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he bottoms out fully, a symphony of both your moans filling the room.

He starts out with a steady rhythm, your pussy adjusting to his size with every calculated thrust. You’re getting drunk with the intimacy, with his smell that sticks to your skin and the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear. You feel addicted to it already, to the feeling of having him be a part of you, and as his growing desperation has him picking up his pace, yours makes you wish you could live in that moment forever.

“I don’t think I’ll last much longer”

”Neither do I”

He can tell how close you are, your heaving chest and guttural sounds giving you away. His cold fingers find your clit then, rubbing your sensitivity in messy circles and pumping more blood to the area.

“Yes, baby. Let go for me”

Little stars of various colors dance around in your vision, framing the sight of Hendery fucking into you so beautifully. You enjoy the hypersensitivity that the continuing motion of his hips gives you, locking your legs around his waist as his thrusts turn sloppy.

“Come inside me”

Just those simple words, slipping out of your pretty mouth are enough to send him over the edge, grunting as he paints your walls in ropes of white. You feel him twitching inside you for a good while, your belly bulging in fullness. It drips out of you slowly when he finally gets off of you, his hands spreading your thighs apart so that he can admire his creation.

He chuckles in disbelief of what you two just did, removing a piece of fake snow that somehow landed on your hair. You can only admire the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down, all the little curves and shadows on his neck, his smile that gives you tunnel vision.

“All this time…”, he whispers softly, “you liked me too?”

You silently winced at the naiveness of his words, knowing damn well your feelings ran way deeper than a simple attraction. Nodding affirmatively, you avoid looking at his eyes by pretending to play with his fingers. You can’t let him see the way they have glossed up, yet the numbing feeling of disappointment is getting hard to ignore.

He doesn’t let you distance yourself from him further, lifting your chin up so you can make eye contact with him again. To your surprise, he looks way more nervous than you, subconsciously nibbling on his lower lip. He takes a deep breath, mustering up some courage before verbally letting his thoughts out of his chest.

“What if I told you I am in love with you?”

You were shocked at the confession, so much so that this reality seemed like a figment of your subconscious mind. You expected to wake up at any moment, to find yourself asleep on your couch, two feet away from him and still stuck in the sucky friendzone. But that moment never came, no matter how long you held your breath to trigger your awakening, and you let it go with a sigh and a blurb of your own thoughts.

“I’d ask you to be mine”

[jackrrabbit]

Sidekick /// Dabi x f!Reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Summary: During a rescue gone wrong, a rookie sidekick catches the attention of two villains.

A/N: Thanks for 1k followers!! This is the fic that made me create a smut blog/lowkey inspired this. imho this might be the spiciest thing I’ve ever written 😳 also wanted to call out @kazooli​ because this is highkey inspired by her lol thanks queen

Tags/warnings: quirk kink, reader’s quirk makes other quirks stronger, noncon, threesome, lots of foreplay, outdoor sex, mild overstimulation, degradation, mild violence, threats, chronological/temporal inaccuracies, fucking long

You can hardly be blamed for not recognizing them. It’s only been three weeks since you debuted as a pro, and you’re not even really a hero. You’re a sidekick, and apparently you’re not important enough to have been briefed on the major villains you need to look out for. You’re just…doing your duty. Rescuing civilians indiscriminately. Stupid, naive little sidekick. It’s not your fault that the lives you just saved belong to the two most notorious villains around.

Still, Shigaraki can’t wait to see the look on your face when you find out.

///

The disaster you ‘rescue’ them from—the League’s bar crashing down, the result of a small-time villain’s poisonous gas quirk—isn’t even a disaster. It’s a minor annoyance, sure, but Shigaraki and Dabi would have been fine without you…even though both of them missed Kurogiri’s warp gate and ended up trapped under a wooden beam in the wreckage of the building… Okay, it’s more than a minor annoyance. Shigaraki hacks violently as the cloud of foul-smelling steam and powdered debris enters his lungs. The poisonous quirk doesn’t seem to be having the same acid-burn effects on his body as it did on the building, but he can’t assume it’s harmless.

Father… Shigaraki took Father off his face to drink at the bar earlier before the gas hit, and now in the confusion the severed hand is either buried underneath the rubble that used to be the League’s main base or somewhere else out of view. “Father? Father!” Shigaraki calls out, attempting to shift under the crushing weight of the beam.

“Shut up,” Dabi says from somewhere to Shigaraki’s left. “Kurogiri took it in one of the portals, I saw it.” He looks worse than Shigaraki feels—something hit him in the face as the bar collapsed, and a few of the staples (piercings? stitches? whatever) on his right cheek are torn open and bleeding.

“Are you lying to me?”

Dabi sneers and rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get out of here.” His palms glow blue and Shigaraki follows suit, letting four fingers sit on the wood that’s pinning both of them to the ground. It’s too heavy to lift, so they’re going to have to get rid of it…a task that seems significantly more difficult when it becomes clear that neither of them are positioned at the right angle to touch it.

Shigaraki tries to wrest his arm out enough for his thumb to touch the wood, but it’s impossible. Beside him, Dabi’s having the same issue. “Shit, I can’t reach—“

“Is someone there?” Confident, clear, and oddly robotic, your voice cuts through the din of gurgling water from cracked pipes and police sirens like a lit flare in the darkness. Shigaraki tenses and halts his attempts to get free from the beam, and a second later Dabi mimics him.

“I heard voices.” The same unfamiliar voice rings out through the half-light, now accompanied by a body—your body, taking a series of awkward jumps down the piles of rubble to land in front of the two of them. The outfit you’re wearing is ridiculous: a pair of metal boots that clang against the cement wherever you step, matching braces on your arms, and a space-age chrome motorcycle helmet to top it all off.

A hero. Shigaraki’s lip curls in disgust as your head turns his way.

You scan the scene quickly, eyes resting on the two men trapped in front of you for a moment before you turn back to the opening in the wreckage. “Found two civilians!” you call out to the rescue workers just in case they’re within earshot, although it’s unlikely.

Dabi snickers under his breath. Civilians? Even in the chaos, you should’ve known the second you saw them who you’re looking at. Are you faking ignorance? Got something up your sleeve?  It’s either that, or you genuinely don’t recognize them. Priceless.

You kneel down in front of the fallen beam and give a half-hearted attempt to pick it up. It doesn’t budge. No surprises there—if it were light enough for you to lift by yourself, the two men held down by it would have no problem getting out with their combined strength. You’re going to have to use your support gear to get it off them.

But first—you search for a memory of your rescue training. Reassure the victims. They’re probably panicking.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell them, your voice coming out mechanical and distorted from the helmet you’re wearing. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here to save you.”

This time, Dabi has to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Ah, yes…they’re so lucky that there’s a do-gooder little hero around to rescue them, because they’d be helpless otherwise. The laugh is still audible, though, and Shigaraki shoots him a glare.

You raise an eyebrow at their expressions. Did he just laugh? Well…you’ve heard that people sometimes have inappropriate reactions in times of crisis. The dark-haired man seems more badly hurt, so you creep toward him first, careful not to disturb any of the debris and trigger an avalanche reaction. “I’m going to check your injuries now,” you tell him, and your gloved hand brushes away a sweep of spiky hair to examine the sizable red bump growing on his forehead.

Ouch…there’s no way that doesn’t hurt, but the man’s not letting any of the pain show on his face. Instead, he looks disinterested at best, and at worst? You almost get the feeling that he’s eyeing you up under your hero costume. Not that you can blame him. Damn this skin-tight bodysuit—it leaves basically nothing to the imagination.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask him. “I don’t think this is too serious, but they’ll look you over for a concussion when I get you to first aid.”

Dabi shrugs and you frown. Is the non-verbal response because of the ripped stitches in his face? Is it too painful to talk? Or could there be brain damage? Or maybe he’s just a man of few words or something…?

“Can you get on with it? Pick up the fucking beam already,” Shigaraki hisses.

Startled, you pull your hand away from the other man’s forehead. That ungrateful little…nope, nope, don’t get annoyed, he’s just in shock. “O-Of course, sorry. Just gotta make sure it’s okay to move.”

Luckily, the beam doesn’t look like it’s supporting anything else that’ll fall if you pick it up. You crouch down next to one end and steady your feet against the cement, lifting up with all your strength while activating the effects of the support items you’re wearing. When you feel the metal on your arm braces grow warm, you remind yourself again to thank the developer of your costume. You may not be a fan of the way-too-tight bodysuit that clings to everything, but the strength-enhancing armor that you wear on your arms and legs more than makes up for it.

A second later, you hold back a grin. It’s moving! You try to ignore the unpleasant screech of metal against stone as the beam slowly lifts into the air. As soon as the men get out from under it, you pant and let it crash back into the ground. “You guys okay?”

“Mm…yes,” Dabi replies, running a hand over the torn piercings in his cheek. “Got any more gas masks for the poison mist?”

“Don’t worry! The Commission is familiar with the villain who created it, and the gas isn’t harmful to anything living. Only buildings. It’s a troublesome quirk, but we’ve got it under control.”

“Then what’s with the helmet?”

He can hear the hesitation in your reply, even distorted and tinny through the metal speakers. “Uh…I, well…”

Now that you’re getting a good look at them, the two scarred faces in front of you seem weirdly intense, considering you’ve just saved them from a collapsed building. The dark-haired man’s eyes are…very, very blue next to the burned-looking skin underneath, and the other man’s greyish-blue hair isn’t quite long enough to obscure a pair of red irises that are scrutinizing your face with obvious hostility.

You give a nervous shake of your head to clear it. “Um, the helmet is…it’s dangerous if I take it off. I should get you guys back to the rescue area, I need to meet up with my hero…” Without thinking, you take a step back and then one more, not knowing exactly why you’re backing away when you’re supposed to be escorting them. “I’ll just lead the way?”

With your third step back, though, you bump into something hard. What was that? Your head jerks around but before you can identify what it is that stopped your retreat, you feel the faint sensation of something tapping lightly on the back of your helmet.

And then…it just…crumbles.

What just happened?

You cough and shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of dust. A breeze whips through your hair, sending a chill through you in more ways than one. How? No one pulled the helmet off; you would’ve felt it if they had. More dust sticks to your face, and you rub your eyes so you can open them.

Behind you, Shigaraki waits with outstretched fingers an inch away from your neck. If he had to explain the decision to decay your helmet strategically, he could—you’re a hero, a potential threat, and he wants to know what you’re hiding under that outfit just in case you figure out who they are and decide to turn on them.

But really? He didn’t think about it that much. It was an impulse reaction to you walking away from them; a tantrum. Child-like.

Once your stunned face is exposed, Dabi has to wonder what you were even trying to hide. You’re…surprisingly ordinary. Young-looking—a rookie, fresh from hero school graduations a few weeks ago maybe? Large, expressive eyes, lips parted in shock, but nothing particularly interesting. Shigaraki cocks his head to the side to study your face too, and both of them are so focused on your appearance that it takes a moment for them to notice the feeling.

Well, feeling isn’t really the right word, but there isn’t a word for the way your quirk works. Dabi’s eyes widen when it reaches him and behind you, Shigaraki stiffens. You notice.

There’s an involuntary quiver in your voice as you break the silence. “Y-You guys must have strong quirks if you can feel it just from that.”

Dabi sucks in a breath. So this is your quirk? It’s different…he’s never felt anything like it, not that he’s exactly sure what it is. There’s some kind of energy in the air around you that he’s breathing in, a feeling like taking a shot of espresso after days of sleep deprivation.

No, it’s stronger than that. The head rush after doing a line of cocaine would be a better metaphor.

Either way, he’s awake—more awake than he can remember feeling in a long time. Heat rises to the surfaces of his palms unbidden, his quirk appearing without him calling it. “What is this?”

“…It’s called Boost,” you say, licking your lips as a dry wave of heat radiates out from the man in front of you. “I can strengthen other people’s quirks. That’s why it’s dangerous—if the villain finds us—“

“It must have been hard to get through hero school with a quirk like that,” says a raspy voice from behind you.

What—? Your head twists around. When did he—

Shigaraki grips your shoulder with three fingers, holding just tightly enough to keep you from stumbling forward and away from him. His pinky and ring finger hover an inch over your costume, careful not to disintegrate the fabric he’s touching—although with the power sparking through his veins at the moment, it almost feels like three fingers would be enough.

“…Doesn’t really seem like the kind of quirk a hero has.” His voice, soft and pondering (a weird contrast to the harsh architecture of his facial features you’d seen earlier), feels very close to your ear. Something soft tickles your cheek. His hair?

A voice (an instinct?) deep inside of you is telling you to run. You ignore it. This is normal, right? It’s not uncommon for civilians who’ve just suffered a traumatic villain attack to have questions, even if those questions seem irrelevant to the situation at hand. You have to answer, even if your gut is churning. “I’m not really a hero. Not yet. For now, I’m a sidekick to one of the pros—and speaking of which, I really need to find—“

“But how does it work?” Dabi doesn’t notice himself making a conscious decision to step forward, but he does anyway and being closer to you feels right. He can see the trepidation on your face as he gets close enough to reach out and touch you, but you can’t really ask him to stay back, can you? Not when your quirk feels this good?

“I—“ Is it unreasonable that you think you’re being trapped right now? They’re just a couple of civilians, right? The question itself is common enough. People often wonder how you can be a hero. It’s a concern you’ve had to address dozens of times over the years. “Well, I work with rescue operations, especially with other heroes who have healing-type quirks. I can also assist in combat in some situations.”

“In combat? If you’re with a hero and a villain, you’ll enhance both quirks. Seems counterintuitive,” Dabi says, half aware that his voice is getting lower.

“And you clearly don’t have physical abilities. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have…these.” Shigaraki taps three fingers on the metal brace on your right arm.

“The effects can be unpredictable. And I can increase the degree of the enhancement with physical contact.”

“Contact?”

“Yeah. The gloves of my costume come off. My quirk is way stronger when it’s skin-to-skin.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

You shouldn’t have said that.

Shigaraki’s ring finger and pinky, which were hovering over the arm brace, come down to rest on the cold metal. The effect is instant: no crumbling, no slow decay—it’s there, and then it’s dust. His quirk in action, boosted by yours.

“What—What are you doing? What did you just do?” You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tight by your collar. His other hand comes up to grip your chin, and in one long sloppy stroke, he licks you from your neck up to your jawline.

You shudder. So does Shigaraki.

“It’s my quirk,” he tells you slowly. His breath is steamy warm on the cold, wet trail of saliva painting your throat. “Decay. Have you heard of it?”

You flinch away from his hand and your back falls against his chest. Of course you’ve heard of the Decay quirk. You might be a rookie, but even civilians know about the young, impetuous head of the League of Villains. Jesus, how had you not recognized him earlier? White hair, red eyes…you should have known. You should have left him under that beam. “Shigaraki…Tomura.”

“So you’re not completely clueless. Do you know me, then?” Dabi asks. He would think he’s the more noticeable of the two (the burn scars usually identify him), but you just stare up at him with the same deer-in-the-headlights look as before. Smirking, he lights a blue fire in his palm and it jumps up toward your face—not just the small spark he intended, but a bright, high flame. “Maybe this will help you remember.”

“The Forest of Beasts incident. You’re the one who started that fire,” you whisper. You’ve seen the TV coverage of the attack on UA’s training camp, the abduction of that teenage student, the forest lit up blue from wildfire. No wonder his skin looks burned.

“Dabi,” he corrects you.

Breath is coming out of your mouth in shallow puffs. Are you hyperventilating? Is this what hyperventilating feels like? You’re definitely panicking. They’re so close to you, caging you in between them. The smoke from the blue fire is uncomfortably hot over the exposed skin of your face, and Shigaraki’s lethal hands are still touching you. If they want to kill you—and why wouldn’t they?—you’re fucked.

The flame goes out and Dabi’s hands come down to squeeze your wrists. His palms are hot like he was holding them in front of a lit stove. It’s not painful, but it’s a threat.

“I’ll fight,” you say.

Your voice is trembling, and Shigaraki likes it. The effects of your quirk, the way he felt when he licked your face… And you’re afraid. He can see it in your shoulders, the quivering of your torso pressed into him. It’s nice. He wants to feel it more.

You’re struggling against their hold, and Dabi feels the urge to laugh. “You’ll fight…the two of us.”

“If you try to kill me, I’ll—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Shigaraki’s hands flit down to your metal support gear and disintegrate it. Shit. He’s fast, and you’re helpless.

Dabi releases your wrists and cups your face in a mockery of intimacy. His eyelids flutter closed as his skin meets yours… Fuck, he could get used to this. You smell so good, sweet and soft and clean, like fruity shampoo. What is that, watermelon?

Life must be difficult for you, hm… Everyone around you must want to touch you constantly. It seems like Shigaraki enjoyed licking you—maybe bodily fluids are an even stronger conductor of your quirk? Pushing easily past your resistance, Dabi forces your jaw upward and kisses you.

Oh…yesyesyes, just like that. Perfect. Dabi has to bite down a groan as his tongue enters your mouth. It’s ridiculous for someone else’s spit to taste this good, but he’s right—your quirk is amplified by the contact from the kiss.

After a moment he has to break it to regain focus and make sure he’s not burning you. You cringe away from him, your cheek brushing against Shigaraki’s neck, but Dabi tangles his hand in your hair to pull you back. He runs a finger against your closed lips, letting the pad of his fingertip heat up until your mouth drops open in response to the threat.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shigaraki asks, voice laced with revulsion. Privately, you agree. What’s going on? You were sure you were about to be either burned to a crisp or decayed into the equivalent.

Dabi laughs under his breath. “Try it. It feels crazy good.”

Curious now, Shigaraki wrenches your head around and tilts your jaw up to repeat Dabi’s action. When you refuse to open your mouth, he taps your jaw warningly and a hiss of fear escapes you. Would he really kill you? He decayed your support gear so quickly—would it be the same for your body?

Well, what’s going to stop them?

You open your mouth.

Shigaraki’s lips are harsh and unsentimental against yours. His tongue sweeps over the inside of your mouth, invasive and brutal. He grips you forcefully, his face pushing you deeper into the strained hold with your head twisted toward his. You’ve never been kissed like this before. His spit—it’s in your mouth.

And Dabi’s hands are on your waist. “How do you get this thing off?” he murmurs, pinching the fabric of your bodysuit.

A surge of panicked adrenaline gives you the strength to pull back away from Shigaraki. “What? No, you can’t!”

“Are you going to stop us, little sidekick?” Dabi mocks. “I think I can burn it off without too much damage.”

“Let me.” Shigaraki takes hold of the cloth, careful so when it dissolves into dust his hand isn’t touching you, and within a second—a second—you’re left shivering in just your underwear and boots.

“Help!” The plea squeaks out and you hope blindly that there’s a hero close enough to hear you. But is there even anyone who can fight them? You certainly can’t. “Help me! Somebody!”

“Shut up.” Dabi sends up a tongue of flame from a fingertip and you shriek as the heat sears against you. “Oh, come on. You should feel lucky. Bad guys like us usually don’t hesitate to take heroes out.”

“I don’t— Please, I’m just a sidekick, I’m a rookie— What do you even want from me? Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone! Please let me go.”

“Well, I think I know what I want.” Dabi traces circles over the tender skin of your hips, playing with the elastic of your underwear. He meets Shigaraki’s eye over your shoulder. “I think he wants that too. Right?”

“Yeah, I want…I want to fuck her,” Shigaraki hums. This isn’t like him, but he can’t help himself. You’re different. Leaving you here and never feeling this stimulant again isn’t an option. He buries his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, bites down on the soft skin there, and sucks.

You whimper, half from his answer and half from the sensation of his chapped lips on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…you smell like something I want to eat. Especially this.” Dabi kneels down in front of you and hitches one of your legs up over his shoulder so you feel his hot breath washing over your clothed pussy.

You whine and attempt to wriggle back away from him, but Dabi’s grip on your thigh holds firm. His other hand brushes against the fabric of your panties to rub up against your slit and another surge of panic jumps up your throat. You can’t let him do this.

You kick your foot against his back, desperately attempting to make contact using the heel of the high boot that’s the only piece of outerwear still left on your body. It hits him awkwardly and he growls. “Damn it. Can’t you keep her busy?”

“Ahh…” Shigaraki ceases his oral assault on your neck and scratches a fingernail against one of the bright red marks marring your skin. He feels almost dizzy from the way your quirk is affecting him. Behind him, the broken expanse of wall digging into his back is the only thing keeping his focus. “Behave, sidekick.”

Before you can respond to the mocking title, Shigaraki’s face is against yours and his tongue is in your mouth again. Rough fingertips work up under the band of your sports bra and pushes it up over your tits. You screw your eyes shut at the sudden feeling of cold air on your nipples, and you know without looking that they’re standing up. Shigaraki gropes you thoughtlessly, keeping one finger lifted off of your skin, and you gasp on his tongue.

“That’s better.” Dabi’s mouth returns to brush against your panties. To be honest, eating you out isn’t the first thing on his mind. What he wants—what he really wants—is to shove you up against the wall and fuck into you and find out what your quirk feels like when you’re wrapped around his cock. But you’re probably not wet enough for that, and it’s not like Shigaraki is going to do anything to take care of you. Dabi would be surprised if the other man’s ever eaten pussy before in his life.

Besides…you smell good. It’s not even just the feeling of your quirk exciting him. The rich, feminine scent of your pussy is inches away from him, and Dabi is dying to make you cum in his mouth.

A moan curls up from deep in your throat as Dabi caresses the lips of your pussy through your underwear. You don’t bother protesting—at this point, it’s unlikely that any plea you could muster would stop them. Your earlier begging didn’t do much besides spur them on, but you still cry out as softly as you can when an unnaturally warm fingertip slips under the cloth of your panties to dip into your slit.

“Oh? You’re wetter than I expected. Are you enjoying this?”

Your frantic denial falls on deaf ears. Shigaraki rasps out a laugh and bites down on your neck again. He’s supposed to be keeping you still, but he can’t help enjoying the way your almost-naked body feels as you press yourself back into his chest, trying to force some space between yourself and Dabi.

Your squirming is no problem for Dabi, though—you’re so soft and vulnerable and the velvety skin of your inner thigh looks so delicious… He nuzzles against the area of bare skin and latches on to it, sucking until he’s sure you’re going to have a mark in a few minutes. The thought of leaving hickeys on you like a teenager is sickeningly nostalgic. You’re probably going to try to forget this when they’re done, aren’t you? But you won’t be able to, not when you’re covered in love bites and bruises. You’re going to be marked up for weeks.

Fuck, he’s hard.

Too impatient to bother taking off your panties, Dabi just pushes them aside to gain access to your damp cunt. His fingers feel hot—too hot, almost unbearably hot; you feel like you could melt into a puddle and your pussy is certainly slick enough as he pets your clit and slides one finger in, then two… You whimper and shake your head, silently denying what’s happening to you. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but Dabi’s fingers quickly find that rough patch inside of you that makes you want to beg like an animal. You hate it, but it feels good.

“She’s so tight,” Dabi says with something like awe in his voice. You can hear Shigaraki panting behind your back.

“Get on with it,” Shigaraki says.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

For a second you just feel Dabi’s humid breath against your dripping cunt before he closes the space between the two of you and his tongue slides onto you, laving over your cunt to come to a rest on your clit. A sound you’ve never heard yourself make before forces its way out of your mouth as Dabi eats you out in earnest, rubbing his tongue against your clit in a stuttering rhythm that gives you no time to catch your breath.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Your head rolls back onto Shigaraki’s shoulder. You feel like crying for a million reasons at once. Maybe you’re already crying—the sounds you’re making are almost like sobs. You want him to stop. You never want him to stop. Your hands twitch as you fight the impulse to fist them in the villain’s hair and pin him down between your thighs.

“Fuck, oh fuck, no stop please stop, ah…!” The stream of gibberish coming out of your mouth crescendoes into a real sob as you feel your climax coming. No—you can’t—you can’t cum here, in this broken-down bar, on the tongue of a villain, but it doesn’t matter that you can’t, because you’re going to cum anyway.

“Please don’t, please let me go—“ You writhe uncontrollably as the desire to cum sweeps over you, but Dabi just curls one arm around your thigh and pulls his face away so he can push his fingers back in, angling his palm to grind roughly over your clit. The harsh, rough texture after the warm wet softness of his tongue is enough to push you over the edge and you cry out your orgasm, your pussy clenching onto Dabi’s fingers as he works them in and out of you.

Unable to support yourself, you crumple like paper, and only the two villains you’re sandwiched between keep you upright.

“Fucking finally,” Shigaraki growls, and he pushes you down so your knees scrape painfully into the rubble. Your earlier resistance was cute, but so is your dazed compliance as he pulls your hips up to meet his.

“You’re going first?” Dabi asks incredulously. After he did all that work getting you off? No way.

“You can use her mouth,” Shigaraki tells him. His cock is straining against his pants and he groans as he releases it and rubs it over your panties. He could decay them, but…they’re cute. Pale pink, peach-pink, except for the wet spot over your cunt. Precum is already dribbling out of his cock as he pulls your panties to the side and lines it up with your pussy. Jesus-fucking-christ, you’re wet, sopping and slimy. Doesn’t that mean you’re begging to get filled up? Shigaraki hears himself sigh as he slides the head of his cock up and down your slit so it’ll be wet enough to go in.

You’re still out of it, dizzy from your orgasm and the tension of the situation, but you snap back to your senses with the feeling of something hard pushed up to your entrance. “Wait!” you yelp for what feels like the hundredth time. The gravel scattered over the wreckage where you’ve been forced onto your hands and knees digs painfully into your flesh as you pull away from Shigaraki, but he holds fast to your hips with pinkies raised.

“Uh-uh,” Dabi admonishes with a grin, as if he’s reprimanding a dog for not coming when called. He settles himself in front of your front and kneels again. Your hair is mussed but still silky soft and he takes a moment to enjoy the way the strands slip over his skin before he tangles his fingers close to your scalp and yanks your head in his direction, forcing your cheek to chafe against the crotch of his pants. It’s not difficult to tell what the the thick bulge is through the fabric, and you try to flinch away only to be caught again and immobilized.

“You’re going to take care of us,” Dabi tells you. “Like I took care of you. Okay?”

No, it’s not okay, it’s absolutely not okay, and you would say so if you didn’t see Dabi’s expression darken at your obvious denial and feel a wave of acrid heat coming from his hand in your hair. The smell is worse than the feeling, honestly—you’ve had enough run-ins with hair curlers and flat irons to recognize the smell of hair when it’s three seconds away from burning. “Okay! Okay,” you answer, panicked, voice muffled by the fabric of Dabi’s pants.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and the heat fades.

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Shigaraki says from behind you.

“Then don’t.”

You whine, too scared to try to get away again or even plead with them to let you go, but it doesn’t matter. Shigaraki’s cock presses into your pussy, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him as he slides into you, inch by inch, torturously slow. Is there anything to bite down on? You need to do something, anything to distract from the pain of Shigaraki’s cock stretching you out. He’s big, impossibly big.

Eyes squeezed shut, you bite your lip until you can taste copper and scrabble around blindly until your hand finds loose fabric to grip. It’s something of Dabi’s, probably the coat he’s wearing if you remember correctly, but your brain isn’t exactly working right at the moment—

“You were right…shit, she’s…she’s so fucking tight.” Shigaraki’s voice is low and labored with the effort of not thrusting into you all at once. “Feels like…she’s trying to push me out…”

Fuck it, he thinks. Would it really be so bad if he did push all the way into you in one stroke? It’s better to just get it over with, isn’t it? Yeah…you’d probably prefer him to do it quickly. And besides, he can’t wait another second to feel you all the way up to the base of his cock.

Your strangled whimper is drowned out by his satisfied groan as he shoves the rest of the way into you in a single sudden thrust. The pain knocks the breath out of you in a gasp, and your eyes fly open as you clutch Dabi’s coat like a lifeline.

“It hurts—!”

“Yeah…yeah, I bet it does,” Shigaraki pants, holding your hips steady as he thrusts in and out of you. The bored nonchalance of earlier is gone, replaced by a feral intensity as his cock carves its way through your pussy. If you didn’t know better, you’d think there’s something affectionate in his voice.

For Shigaraki’s part, he can hardly think of anything aside from the soft, hot, wet cunt wrapped over his dick. It’s taking every vestige of concentration he has left to make sure he’s holding a single finger on each hand away from your skin. It’s pure bliss. Your body was made to be fucked like this. He wants to live inside your pussy, he wants to do this every day, every minute. Fucking you raw is the best he’s felt in months…years. And it doesn’t hurt that your quirk is still working on him, still sending pleasurable shocks of energy that make him feel simultaneously like he could keep you pinned down for hours and like he could cum any second.

“Oh, she’s crying,” Dabi says, tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. You flinch and try to jerk your head away, but his hand is still holding you by your hair and he’s so much stronger than you are. They both are, even without using their quirks. “Look at me.”

You comply, more by reflex than any real desire to obey. It’s pretty striking to Dabi how cute you look as Shigaraki pounds into you so fast and deep you can hardly catch your breath. Your eyes are glittering with unshed tears, your tits bounce with every thrust, and you’re still holding onto Dabi’s coat like your life depends on it. It’s almost like you’re pulling him closer. Adorable.

“She can…take it,” Shigaraki responds breathily between thrusts. “Such a good whore, taking my big cock in her tight little pussy…”

The backhanded compliment jars you and you feel hot tears spill over your cheeks. “I’m—not—a—whore,” you manage to say, each word punctuated with Shigaraki’s skin slapping against yours.

“Really?” Shigaraki’s pace slows and he leans closer to you so he can reach an arm around and swirl two fingers against your clit. You mewl like a kitten at the unexpected stimulation and he laughs rudely. “Feels so good…can’t believe the heroes don’t want to fuck you like this all the time…”

You shake your head desperately and bury your face in Dabi’s chest, barely noticing him stroking your hair and then reaching down to unzip his pants.

“No, no, I bet that’s what you do as a sidekick, right?” Shigaraki’s thrusts are back to frenzied jerks, and he rubs over your clit just as roughly. “Spread your legs for your hero…you’d make a great personal cocksleeve. Or maybe they rotate you around so every pro hero gets a turn…?”

“No, I don’t! No! Ah— ahnnn…” The denials pierce the air uselessly as the villain’s cock fills you up again and again. You’re not a whore, you’re not…even if it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the growing pressure of Shigaraki teasing your clit in time with his cock rubbing against your sweet spot. It still hurts—he’s so big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had sex with before, but there’s no way you’re going to admit to yourself that it’s starting to feel good.

“…Is my cock better than All Might’s?” Shigaraki’s words are cut off by his own grunt of pleasure as your cunt twitches around him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi cuts in. “I’m sick of hearing a guy’s voice moaning. I’m going to get soft.”

Past the point of comprehending the situation, you look up at him gratefully, only to reel back in shock as Dabi frees his own cock from his pants and it brushes against your cheek. Trying to pull away from him is more instinct than rational thought, but he holds you just as easily as before and forces two fingers into your mouth. You tense, ready to bite down, (and hopefully take a few knuckles off) but he sees it coming and suddenly your mouth is horribly burning hot.

“You’re going to suck my cock now,” says Dabi conversationally, extinguishing the flame almost as soon as he started it. It’s not so bad—probably more like a coffee burn than anything else—but you’re coughing and spitting anyway. “Say yes.”

“…Yes,” you whisper, voice barely intelligible.

“Good little sidekick. And you’re going to be very careful. You’re not going to use teeth.”

You nod, unable to mount a defense with Shigaraki mercilessly fucking you from behind.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeal as Shigaraki finds a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

“Good.” Dabi drags your head down to hover over his cock and massages your jaw until it falls open. “Suck.”

One of his hands falls to your shoulder to try to stabilize you, but you can’t help feeling the threat in the motion. You quickly duck down and attempt to ignore the heady smell of sweat and precum as you trace your tongue up the underside of his dick. He’s big too, maybe thicker than Shigaraki, and you hate yourself for feeling lucky that it’s not this cock inside your pussy right now.

The stunt Dabi pulled burning your mouth made you salivate, and you let drool coat your tongue as you lick around the head. But it’s not working—you rock forward every time Shigaraki stuffs his dick back in your aching pussy, and Dabi’s cock smears over your mouth haphazardly.

“I said suck. Not lick.” Suddenly (although you don’t know why you keep expecting some kind of warning before these villains find a new way to violate you), Dabi grabs the back of your head and shoves his cock into your mouth. Your throat constricts involuntarily as the thick head triggers your gag reflex, and all three of you shiver in unison.

“Do…do that again,” Shigaraki says, voice strained. “She tightens up…when you do that.”

Dabi smirks and thrusts into you again, relishing the warm, humid cavern of your throat around his cock along with the pure swell of energy from your quirk enhancing his. His rhythm matches Shigaraki’s and his cock hits the back of your throat with every rapid pump, making you gag and clench like you’re trying to milk the cum out of him. What a perfect little slut… He can see from Shigaraki’s sloppy movements that you’re squeezing around his cock every time too.

The feeling of having one villain cock buried in your pussy while another ravages your throat is unthinkable, even more so with Shigaraki’s fingers on your clit coaxing out an earth-shaking orgasm. But you’d almost be able to forget what’s happening—god knows you’re delirious with sensation, barely able to keep track of who’s doing what to you—if not for the sound. The wet slap of Shigaraki’s hips against your ass, the horrible squelching from your (dripping wet, even if you don’t want to admit it) pussy as his cock pistons in and out of you, your choked moans and gagging noises, and above it all, the unrestrained voices of the villains fucking into you.

You feel like a fuck toy, a sex doll, used without mercy by the two most evil people you can think of…and you’re about to cum.

Your voice is getting louder by the second, and the pulsing of your cunt around Shigaraki’s cock is telling him exactly how close you are. He curls his body over yours to get a better angle to rub your clit, enjoying your high-pitched whine in response. “Yeah…that’s right…good girl. Cum on my cock…like a good little sidekick.”

You keen and goosebumps rise on your skin as Shigaraki licks at the sheen of sweat on your back. He feels your climax almost as soon as you do… If your scream wasn’t stifled by Dabi’s dick in your mouth, everyone within a one-mile radius would know you were getting fucked silly, yeah? The walls of your pussy clamp down on Shigaraki’s cock, your body begging for his cum, and he grips your ass to make sure you can’t get away as he comes to his own orgasm inside of you.

Fuck… Shigaraki could die right now and be happy. He keeps stroking your clit, knowing it’s cruel, knowing you’ll be overstimulated and sensitive and that it’ll hurt to keep touching you like this after you already came, and not caring because every time the tips of his fingers push that little magic button, you shiver and squeeze him like you’re trying to milk him dry.

Shigaraki gives a few last thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into your body, fucking it into you so you’ll be dripping white for hours, and then finally pulls out. The slurping sound your cunt makes as his cock leaves your pussy is obscene. So is the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connects your pussy and the head of his cock until he pulls it away. He loves it.

Knowing that Shigaraki came—inside you, no less, the inconsiderate bastard—Dabi grips the back of your head and tugs you down to deepthroat him. Your walls twitch involuntarily and Dabi groans, letting himself shoot his load down your throat. “Yes…yeah…yeah…just like that. Swallow.”

You don’t swallow. You don’t do anything but gag on his cum and gasp as he thrusts into you. Dabi pulls you off of him, annoyed and ready to threaten you into submission again…until your head lolls to the side and he can see that your eyes are closed.

“Shit, she passed out.”

“…What? Are you kidding?”

Dabi slaps your face lightly. You wince in your sleep but don’t wake up. “Nope. Must’ve been when she came the second time.”

“Is she…” Shigaraki trails off, not sure how to end the question. ‘Okay’ isn’t exactly right.

“She’s breathing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The two of them wait for a moment, but you don’t move. When he catches his breath, Shigaraki wipes off his dick and pulls up his pants. Dabi does the same. Without them holding you, you flop down into the fetal position on the broken concrete. “What now?” Shigaraki asks.

Dabi wipes the sweat from his forehead. “You tell me, leader. I’m surprised Kurogiri hasn’t opened another warp gate to get you back. Guessing you don’t have your phone either?”

“…We can go to Giran’s place to meet up. They’re probably waiting for us there,” Shigaraki says, scratching at his neck.

“Do you have cab fare?”

“I don’t have my wallet on me. You?”

“Not enough for a cab. We’ll have to take the train. You can owe me.”

Shigaraki looks down at you. You make a pitiful scene, naked except for your boots, sports bra, and cum-soaked panties. Your neck is bruised red and purple, and you’re shaking, shivering in the cool air now that the sun has sunk further toward the horizon and you’re not being touched. “Are we going to leave her here?”

“What, you want to bring her on the train with us? You don’t think that’s gonna look suspicious?”

“Well…” Their eyes meet and Shigaraki knows Dabi’s thinking the same thing he is. You have a lot of potential as an asset. They haven’t even had the chance to see how your quirk boosting works in combat, but Shigaraki almost wants to pick a fight just to give it a try.

And fighting power aside, Shigaraki isn’t a fan of the possibility that he’ll never get to fuck you again.

“Yeah, I know. But she’s a pro hero’s sidekick. She can’t be too hard to find.” Dabi shrugs off his coat and crouches next to you. You’re limp enough that he has no trouble lifting you into his lap and guiding your arms through the sleeves of his coat. Once you’re wrapped in the black fabric, he does up the buttons, combs through your hair with his fingers, wipes the mixed cum and spittle off your chin, and admires his handiwork. Sure, anyone looking closely at you will know at least a little about what happened—you’re still sweating in the cold, you have that undeniable ‘just got fucked’ look all over you, and the smell of sex is overpowering. But at least you won’t have to walk back to the rescue tent in your filthy underwear.

In your sleep, you nuzzle into Dabi’s chest, reaching blindly toward the source of warmth. He grins and strokes the back of your neck, soothing warm fingers over the bruised skin there and enjoying his last opportunity to touch you and feel your quirk working…for now, at least. “You know, I wonder why villains don’t get sidekicks. Seems a little unfair, right?”

Shigaraki’s sneer matches Dabi’s as he bends down to run his fingernails over your cheek, almost hard enough to hurt. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

[jaskiersvalley]

Witchers didn't have daemons, that was a known fact. They were terrifying in their solitude, unfeeling and unaffected. Monsters made to fight monsters, they didn't need part of their soul for that. What the general public didn't know though was that the daemons weren't imprisoned somewhere, nor were they dead. The mages had figured out a way to separate daemon from child and force it into the most unnatural of shapes, another human. It meant two Witchers from a single child and the best part was, neither child nor daemon felt any connection to their counterpart once the process of the trials was complete.

In an effort to make sure full separation was certain and not even a sentimental link remained, daemons and children were separated and trained in different schools. Lambert had arrived at Kaer Morhen, still tripping over unfamiliar human feet and seething at being separated from his human. Over the years he tried to remember his human but, like all Witchers, they were given new names when they got their medallions and Lambert didn't think Luca still went by that name, nor would he be the scrawny kid Lambert remembered him as.

Whenever Lambert met another Witcher, he couldn't help but wonder whether it was his Luca that he was meeting. Though he wanted to believe that there would be a spark some kind of recognition there. He had been a little relieved when he met Letho and there was nothing there between them.

Of course Geralt had to be the first one to find his daemon. The smug bastard had found a bard who told people his daemon was a flea which was just like him; unnoticeable until he causes a nuisance. Most pitied him but Geralt had seen through the charade. He watched the bard without a daemon, curiosity and caution allowed him to permit Jaskier to tag along. The story tumbled out eventually.

"My great grandparents bought me. I was some kind of freak novelty some merchants were selling."

That was all Geralt had needed to hear and he was all but dragging Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in the winter. Nobody had expected Vesemir's face to close off completely.

"I remember you!" Jaskier said in way of greeting. "You were a dick."

"Julian." The reply was terse and tight.

Lambert got a front view seat to seeing Geralt's face flit through more emotions in one second than he usually did in a whole year. The embrace was tight, Geralt's nose buried in Jaskier's hair.

Jealousy trickled through Lambert's veins. For all he knew, his human was already a dead Witcher. There was no link between Witcher and daemon, the trials severed it all completely so when one died, the other didn't even notice, let alone die from it.

"Why isn't he a Witcher?" Eskel asked, eyes glued to the happy reunion.

"Kaer Morhen needed money. Your cohort, the daemons didn't become Witchers. We sold them to the highest bigger."

Lambert didn't expect Eskel to punch Vesemir across the jaw but he was sure as shit glad he saw it. It meant he didn't need to do it on behalf of Geralt and Eskel. For the first time though, Lambert had an optimistic thought.

"It might mean he's living a happy life somewhere. I mean, look at Jaskier. He's had it better than us."

That was a topic that came up repeatedly over the next few weeks. They dreamed up all sorts of fancy lives Eskel's daemon could have lived, the wonders he would have seen. Through it all, Lambert bitterly wished his daemon could have been anything but a Witcher. Alas, Vesemir rapidly disillusioned him from that idea.

"He's become a Witcher, probably dead by now. And if you met him, you'd probably wish he was."

"Is that so?" Lambert drawled, emptying his tankard with a disappointed sigh. He couldn't believe it was empty again.

"You suffered the same shit fate I did. Your human was trained by Cats. Guxart turned into an utter dick."

The words were muttered darkly and Lambert tried not to take it to heart how much hatred Vesemir oozed. It made him all that much more determined to not go the same way as the bitter old man. Instead, he turned to Geralt with a leer. "So, is it gay or is it masturbation to want to get off with your own daemon?"

To say the table erupted in uproar was an understatement. Geralt was scowling somewhat fierce, arms crossed over his chest in protest. It only egged Lambert on further.

"I think it's incest," he declared with a shit eating grin. "Technically it's part of your family because you have the same parents."

"It's masturbation at most." Geralt was growling and glowering. "Because the daemon was still part of you."

Through it all, Eskel stayed rather quiet. It was only when the other two looked to him for opinion that he leaned forward, propping himself up on the table with a serious crease to his brows.

"I think-" the words were low and measured, "-that as long as everyone involved consents, it's fucking hot is what it is."

"The only thing it is," Vesemir finally butted in, "is a disaster waiting to happen. You don't want to meet your counterparts. Trust me."

Except that only made Lambert all the more keen. He wanted to both prove Vesemir wrong and also have what Geralt and Jaskier seemed to be hurtling towards. So, come spring, he set out with the intent of fulfilling one contract only. It was one that he would pay himself for in emotional fulfilment. He was going to find every Cat he could until he found Luca.

He met Gaetan along his travels who laughed in his face and said he was much more into snakes than wolves. That was an encounter Lambert was more than eager to cut short because he did not want to think about how Letho and Gaetan were oddly complementary. It was also another jolt of bitter jealousy, another Witcher and daemon had been reunited while he was still out there looking for his own. Assuming Luca had survived.

Meeting Guxart was a bit of an accident and Lambert wished he'd not encountered the old Cat. He growled and hissed about his stupid daemon who would probably have turned into a useless pigeon if left alone. There was obviously no love lost between them and Lambert desperately hoped he wasn't going to have the same fate.

Third time lucky, as the saying went. Lambert had trailed the new Cat for a few days, learning his habits and watching him work. There was no ounce of recognition or familiarity. But then again, the last time Lambert saw Luca, they were being dragged away from each other, foreign hands on his rapidly shifting body so his eyes could barely adjust enough to see the screaming, tear filled face of his human. It was quite possibly the worst last image he could have had of Luca.

Satisfied that the Cat wasn't someone Lambert wouldn't want to associate with, he approached in the evening when the campfire was still bright but slowly settling.

"I was wondering when my shadow would make himself known," the Cat said easily enough, barely glancing up from where he was whittling something.

The last two times Lambert had tried to be careful with exploring the idea of the Cat Witcher being his human. He was tired and cut straight to the point.

"Luca?"

By the fire the man froze. It was only luck that meant Lambert could hear the shuddering exhales of someone trying to keep up the façade of calm and collected. Finally, the man set his carving aside and stood with an easy smile that felt like a thousand lies.

"I go by Aiden." It wasn't a reply and Lambert knew it.

"I don't remember my name," he admitted softly, desperately hoping he wasn't about to make an utter tit of himself. "People call me Lambert. But I'm looking for my Luca."

He didn't expect to suddenly have an armful of Witcher clinging to him like their very lives depended on it.

"It's really you!" Aiden sounded close to tears. "You never did have a single name, usually going by Idiot, Pain In The Butt, Menace and so many other equally flattering names."

"Guess that never changed," Lambert laughed wetly. He held Aiden close, wishing he could feel as he used to when they were connected. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

It was just that start of something Lambert never thought he'd have. Easy companionship, shared disdain for the whole Witcher thing, stories upon stories of contracts gone well, gone wrong, or just plain gone. By the time winter rolled round, Lambert was firmly of the opinion that he and Aiden would travel together, fuck the Path and all the teachings about it being lonely. If Geralt could have his bard then they sure as hell could have each other.

Getting to Kaer Morhen, Lambert gleefully had an arm slung around Aiden's shoulder, introducing him to the rest of his family. He especially delighted in the flaring of Vesemir's nostrils as he took in the situation.

"Cats and Wolves don't mix. You of all people should know that."

"And you should know it's my life's mission to prove you wrong, old man," Lambert shot back.

Perhaps the most curious part of the whole winter was that Geralt was already back with not one, but two guests. Jaskier was a known quantity and Lambert greeted him warmly. The other though was a near silent man who watched them through eyes that looked way too old for his body.

"This is Cahir," Geralt said when the man didn't even introduce himself. "We'd heard rumours of a Nilfgaardian without a daemon and went to investigate."

"Not a Nilfgaardian," Cahir grumbled with a half-hearted glare.

It took Lambert a moment to figure out just why Geralt would bring such a man back before his eyes widened in delighted realisation.

"You think that-"

"Mhm."

That was the extent of their conversation because Lambert was cackling in delight. He looked Cahir over with a newfound interest. Young, like Jaskier but so very different in behaviour. As much as they'd wondered about Eskel's daemon's fate, this wasn't one they'd predicted.

Three days later Eskel was leading Scorpion into Kaer Morhen's courtyard. Lambert and Aiden were all but bouncing with excitement, not wanting to miss the moment Eskel met his daemon. In their opinion Geralt was drawing things out and making it less fun by not having them all meet in the stables. Instead, Eskel was allowed to venture into the kitchen in the company of Lambert and Aiden who were vibrating in anticipation.

"Eskel," Geralt greeted him with a warm hug. Jaskier and Cahir were behind him, even Vesemir had ventured out to see what the outcome would be. "It's good to have you home. Allow me to introduce you to Cahir."

The two looked at each other with guarded gazes and Eskel gave a terse nod. It was as anticlimactic as fuck. No recognition, not interest, nothing. Just a slow once over which, if Lambert had thought about it, was pretty much a mirror image of each other, equally considering and closed off.

Despondent, he dragged Aiden off, helping lay the table for a shared meal. Vesemir was quick to follow, there was no way to tell whether he was disappointed or relieved by the lack of drama. Geralt and Jaskier wandered out, oddly deflated. Not two seconds later there was an almighty crash from the kitchen and they were all racing back. Only to turn right around and flee after a glimpse of Cahir pinning Eskel to a wall and kissing him like Eskel was the last gasp of air for a drowning man.

"So, are they?" Jaskier asked, glancing towards the kitchen. Something else crashed and thumped but it was best not to investigate.

After a moment it was Vesemir who tiredly said, "Does it matter? It doesn't seem like they much care."

All in all, Lambert didn't think he cared either. Cahir and Eskel seemed happy enough in their new acquaintanceship, trying to figure out their past could wait, if they even wanted to explore it. Though Lambert had a hard time imagining Cahir as a goat. Over the years he'd heard Eskel lament enough about how his daemon preferred to take the form of a goat.

Regret came the next morning at breakfast when Eskel and Cahir appeared at the table, seemingly indifferent. If the rest of them hadn't see the two almost violently making out in the kitchen before disappearing to a bedroom, they wouldn't have guessed anything had gone on between them.

"Hey Geralt," Eskel called, face passive. "You know the difference between a goldfish and a mountain goat?"

"A mountain goat could live in Kaer Morhen but a goldfish couldn't?"

Eskel rolled his eyes. "No, a goldfish mucks around a fountain."

"And a mountain goat fucks around a mountain," Cahir finished the joke. He and Eskel high fived without looking at each other. Lambert only smacked his head on the table when Cahir continued, "And I am no goldfish."

[mxchellesworld]

swim

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings; smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, degradation, light choking, creampies, slight thigh riding

Synopsis; during a night out with your friends you spot a tall man in a dark suit with an even darker look in his eyes

a/n; this is literally just smut with very little plot lmaoo uhh i’ve been struggling in my smut writing/writing in general so here’s this, hope its not completely trash and you enjoy!

fic inspired by swim by chase atlantic, bc god knows i can't write anything original sdhfdh

***

It was 10 o’clock when your girlfriends rounded you up for a night out, hopefully full of sweet drinks and good company. By 11:30 you were happily buzzed and the feelings of warm bodies around you brought a heat to your lower stomach. Maybe tonight you’d go home with someone, wake up the next morning with that delicious sense of soreness between your legs. The only task at hand was finding a companion.

Once the current song ended you walked over to the bar grabbing a water and taking a seat next to your friends.

“How are the prospects lookin tonight y/n/n?” Jessica, the short brunette you’d known for years asked. Being around her had rubbed some of her boldness onto you. Hopefully that could make an appearance tonight.

“No luck so far,” you sighed “but my eyes are wide open.” You brought the straw to your lips, gulping down the cool water as you looked around the dimly lit room.

“Woah check out suit and tie over there. He’s been checking you out for a while,” chimed Erika. While she has happily taken, that didn’t stop her from going out with you guys and pushing you into random laps.

You looked up to see the darkest pair of brown eyes on yours. Maybe it was the lighting but here was something in them. Lust perhaps? His eyes travelled down your frame as you stood up. The tight lilac dress you had on hugging each of your curves perfectly.

"I'm gonna get some air, let me know if you guys wanna head out," you said never letting your eyes drift away from the handsome stranger a few feet away.

Once outside you let your back hit the brick wall. The music from the building could be felt vibrating through the cracks. You looked up seeing the stars barley visible through the city lights.

"Contrary to popular belief you can never see millions of stars, they simply aren't close and bright enough. On a really exceptional night, with no moon and far from any source of lights, a person with very good eyesight may be able to see 2000-2500 stars at any one time."

You turned to see the same man from inside. He was gorgeous, a light stubble grazing his cheeks, long hair falling past his ears. He was a lot taller than you had thought probably taller than 6'0 but all that made you think about was him towering over you.

"Did you make that up off the top of your head? Or do you approach all your conquests with astronomy facts?"

"That depends do you usually let strange men corner you behind bars or am I just special?" he said walking closer to where you stood.

"Touche Mr."

"Doctor actually."

There was a brief pause where you both let out a giggle. The dark eyes from before seemed lighter and you cold almost make out a blush on his cheeks. The lack of alcohol on his breath told you it was from the conversation, though there was nothing to be flushed about yet.

“But seriously a pretty girl walking out to a back alley late at night is just a recipe for disaster,” he finished scanning both ends.

“Well do you plan on hurting me doctor?" you said coyly. You did you best to flutter your lashes looking up at him.

"Is that what you want?" he said letting one of his hands tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. That same hand ended up resting loosely around you neck making you gulp.

"Yes," you breathed out, "please doctor."

He wasted no time in crashing his lips to yours. You moaned into his mouth as he slid his thigh in between your own. His unoccupied hand went down to your hip, slowly guiding the pace of your frantic rutting.

Your lips parted as your head tilted back onto the brick wall. A symphony of whimpers leaving your mouth.

"Look how desperate you are for me. I haven't even done anything and you're already such a mess," he said leaving wet kisses, cooling on your scorching neck.

"Oh fuck doctor," you said clinging onto his arms, "need y'to fuck."

The power he had over you turned your brain to mush. It was sad how quickly he had you melted in the palm of hand without even doing much but kissing. At this point you didn't even care. The only thought swimming in your head was having him inside you.

A pout formed on your lips as his hands dropped from your frame. However it was quickly wiped away as you heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling.

"Is this what you needed baby? You need my cock to stretch you out?" he said pulling your hips closer to his.

You looked up at him for permission before you reached forward to pump your hand along his shaft. He lifted your right leg, hooking it over his arm as he pulled the thin material separating the both of you to the side.

Guiding his length to your glistening folds was a sight you'd want engraved in your brain forever. The first intrusion of his fat tip in your tight hole had you mewling a mix of curses and his title.

All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life as his thrusts gained speed. The sound of your skin slapping luckily wouldn't have been heard through the door with the loud music playing inside. But anyone who walked by the alley or decided it was time for a breath of air would surly be in for a show.

"Fuck you're such a good little whore for me," he said gruffly against the skin of your shoulder, "letting me fuck you out here where anyone could see."

Your pussy clenched at his words and your moans amplified as he continued to pound into you. The curve of his cock hitting the spot inside of you that had you seeing all the stars in the sky contrary to what he said before.

"More doctor! Please wanna cum," you whined.

He made a noise of disapproval before pushing you back farther into the wall. At this point you and the red bricks were one. You were sure to have crescent marks on how hard he was holding up your thigh.

"Greedy little whore aren't you," he gritted out, "You take whatever I wanna give you."

"Please I need it! Need t'cum please please please," you rushed out bucking your hips to meet each one of his thrusts.

His hold on your hip got tighter as he started drilling into you. You could feel his heavy breathes on your shoulder and the way his cock was throbbing inside you ready to fill you up.

Your mind was dizzy. It felt like you were in a bubble of him, the scent of his cologne trapped in your senses. Your nerves were on fire, any pressure on your neglected bud would be sure to set you off.

It was as if the gods had answered your prayers when he spoke, "I can feel you clenching around me baby. Go ahead and touch yourself for me," he rasped out.

Reaching between yourself you felt the slippery mess where you both connected and started rubbing at your stiff clit. Your fingers sent lighting strikes through your body, breaking the damn that was building in your lower tummy.

"Gonna cum! I'm oh god cumming doctor," you all but yelled out. If people walking around the corner were unaware of the spectacle they sure would be now.

"That's it.. such a good girl."

Your arms around his neck let up as you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. His lips swallowing the moans you let out as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

"Where do you want-," he tried to speak out but you cut him off.

"Inside," you begged, "Need to feel you cum inside." His thrusts turned frantic as you spoke against his lips. Pleading for hum to fill you to the brim with his seed.

You sighed as you finally felt the warm liquid coat your walls, his thrusts continuing to pump into you.

He pulled out stepping back to watch the creamy mess spill down your center before be swiped it away with his fingers, bringing them up to your awaiting mouth.

Happily you took his fingers in your mouth, moaning around them at the salty taste of your mixed release. You looked up at him keeping your gaze on the sliver of brown around his dilated pupils.

_

Walking back into the bar Jessica and Erika's eyes nearly popped out of their heads as they took in the limp in your walk and your disheveled hair.

"You whore!," Erika screamed out greeting you with pats on the shoulder.

"Shut up," you said looking down feeling the heat rising to your cheeks.

Jessica giggled handing you her compact mirror, "Yeah I bet we're not the only ones who called her that," she finished with a raise of her brow.

Looking back up across the bar you saw the same dark eyes from before staring at you with a smug smile, proud how much of mess he left you in. If the little business card tucked in your bra told you anything, it was that the stunt from outside would be far from the last.

[ateezmakemeweep]

lights out.

neighbor!yunho

word count: 7k

angst, fluff

you had three requirements when searching for your first apartment: a good location, an all pets allowed policy and access to the rooftop.

it seemed a little unusual, that you’d really find the perfect place, all the other check marks and lovely amenities secured, and just say no because you weren’t able to escape to the roof. 

but it was a place you always found solace in. 

cold nights overlooking the city or warm, spring days in the sun - and when you first moved in a few months ago, overjoyed to check out your new daily view, you saw one of your other neighbors also had an affinity for the rooftop. 

he was softly humming to himself as he looked out over the roof, his tall, broad figure covered in a yellow hoodie. just the profile of his face alone had your cheeks warming, faded light blue hair peeking out from under his hood.

a peaceful look covered his face, all the light in eyes and softness of his features making him look boyish and sweet. 

and then as if he sensed your presence, or more like your fascinated stare of admiration, he looked to you and his lips pulled into a bright smile. 

“hi.”

you bit down on your lip at the realization you got caught, a slight blush on your cheeks as you shot the handsome stranger a shy smile. 

“hi,” you said softly, your eyes moving from him to the view behind - all very picturesque and pretty, tall skyscrapers and a clear, blue summer sky. “i’m sorry if i interrupted you.”

“not at all,” he hummed, his arms crossed carelessly over the edge. 

an awkward silence hung in the air, unsure if you should stay grounded in your place or make a move closer to him; you chose the former, in case the handsome stranger was weirded out by your closeness - but he seemed to take it another way.

“are you scared?”

your eyebrows pulled together at the teasing smirk on his face, an interesting contrast to the slightest hint of concern in his eyes. 

“of what?” you ask in confusion, looking from the view to his cute, questioning face. “you?”

a smile crosses his face that has your heart jumping in your chest, the sun shining down on him and proving that he really is just as perfect as he seems even from afar. 

“i was thinking more the heights or the view but i guess the fact that you’re on the roof with a stranger could be scary too.”

an awkward chuckle leaves your mouth, not so much because of his comment but because you don’t know how you’ve managed to develop a crush on this man in less than 60 seconds. 

you hesitantly make your way over, your eyes shining with nerves and slight amusement. 

“actually, i’ll have you know, access to the rooftop was one of my three requirements for getting a place.”

“oh yeah?” he asks, a smile on his face as he turns his body toward you. “did you just move in?”

he’s pressed up against the concrete without a care in the world, eyes roaming your face and not once dipping toward your dress-covered body. 

“i did,” you smile, “about an hour ago.”

“no shit,” he smiles, the profanity leaving his mouth a stark contrast to the sweet smile on his face. he makes his way over to you, his large form towering over you making you swallow nervously - he’s far too handsome and big, two factors proving to be a major weakness for you.

“i’m yunho, apartment 304.”

“y/n,” you smile, the way it lights up your face making yunho’s heart jump in his chest - you’re even prettier looking this happy and excited. “apartment 305.”

you should’ve known then that the handsome man on the rooftop was gonna turn out to be the kindest neighbor you’ve ever had. 

he welcomed you into the building with open arms, invited you to a dinner party with his friends mingi, wooyoung and san who also lived on the same floor as you two. 

he was always quiet and considerate of the people around him, making sure his tv and music was low by the time 9:00 came around - and even when it wasn’t, you couldn’t help but mind because it was always sweet, soothing tones of comedic chatter or soft pop music. 

he always lended you extra butter or milk when you needed, the first time he saw you in your messy ponytail and pastel pink apron the time he realized he might have a little crush on you.

that the times he got excited seeing you down in the lobby or in the elevator were more than just his heart having random palpitations. 

the knock on his door that day was soft in a distinct pattern of two, opening up his embarrassingly messy apartment to see you standing there with flour in your hair and a sheepish smile on your face. 

“hi neighbor,” you smiled sweetly, your small hand with chipped nail polish waving to him. “do you have an extra egg you can spare?” 

“depends,” he smiles, leaning his head against the doorframe cooly. “what are you making with it?”

“pumpkin bread,” you inform him cheerfully, just about the only festive, fall food you’re able to make apart from sweet potato soup. 

“ooh that sounds good,” he smiles, his large hand ushering you inside. “come on in. excuse the mess.”

it was your first time stepping inside his apartment, messy and properly lived in but a nice, clean scent in the air - like laundry, home and men’s cologne. 

he had a large sectional to fit his crazy group of friends he told you about once in the hallway, a large tv perched on the wall and a small dining room table with rickety folding chairs.  

you could tell immediately that it was an apartment that was like a home rather than a house, the same type of warmth in it that shines through the man taller than his own refrigerator. 

“i wish i could say my apartment isn’t always this messy but that’d be a lie,” he says, one egg in hand as he makes his way over to you. he looks down at you with a smile, his eyes going back to the cute little apron adoring your body. 

“that’s okay, so is mine,” you say, far too guilty of skipping your sunday cleaning day for the past three weeks.

you can’t help the way your eyes trail over his soft brown ones, everything about him and his aura only making you develop a stronger crush on him. he just seemed like such a sweet and genuine person, always looking out for you and going out of his way to send you a smile. 

no one has ever made you feel so welcomed in a new place before nor have you ever seen someone with such a sweet, soft smile and kind eyes.

“so just one egg?” he finally asks, breaking the silence and the way your eyes roam over each other intensely. 

“i.. oh- yes! yes, thank you, just one,” you stutter out, taking the cold egg from his large hand. you never noticed how nice his hands were either, veiny and large with long fingers and clean nails. 

there doesn’t seem to be anything about this man that isn’t perfect, apart from maybe his disaster of an apartment. 

“i’ll be sure to bring you a piece of bread when i’m finished,” you say sweetly, the man smiling down at you teasingly causing your heart to jump.

“and if you burn down the complex?” 

a mock gasp leaves your mouth as you hit him lightly, his soft chuckle ringing through the air as he watches you turn to leave his apartment. 

“forget it then!” you squeal jokingly, knowing right when it’s done, you’ll be rushing over to make sure it’s still nice and warm for him.

his eyes linger on the bounce of your hair and your messily tied apron as you disappear into the hall, letting out a small sigh when he feels the remaining hints of butterflies in his stomach. 

“are you ever gonna tell her?” his best friend mingi asked, the two of them going down to san’s for thanksgiving dinner a few weeks later. “you’ve known her for three months now. that’s a reasonable amount of time to have a crush, she wouldn’t be weirded out.”

“i know but we haven’t really like... talked talked, you know,” the tall boy explains, a bowl of mashed potatoes in hand. “we have... neighborly chats in the hallway or in the elevator, sometimes even on the roof if we’re both there, but we really don’t know each other that way.”

“okay and that’s what a date is for, the fuck?” his younger friend spats, a small chuckle leaving his mouth; he wishes it really were that easy for him. 

“do you just wanna give her eggs and sugar for the rest of your life?”

the tall boy lets out a sigh as he looks at his friend, the dramatic, playful flair of his body causing him to bite back a smile.

“and it’s obvious she doesn’t have a boyfriend, you would’ve seen him coming and going by now,” mingi continues, their loud footsteps stomping further and further down the hall. “you really have nothing to lose.”

but he kind of has everything to lose. 

he likes being the friendly neighbor you can get eggs from or see on the rooftop. 

he likes being the person who’s made you comfortable here, helping as you adjust to a new, intimidating setting.

he likes being a friend to you, one that genuinely cares for you and doesn’t have any ulterior motives because he may or may not have feelings for you. 

“i don’t know, maybe one day,” yunho says, knocking on san’s apartment door with his free hand. “but today is not that day. today is not the day i confess my tiny, small, minuscule crush to-”

the door opening causes his words to halt, potatoes nearly slipping from his grasp when he sees your smiling face and the light brown sweater dress clinging to your body. 

“y/n,” he smiles, shocked but pleasantly surprised to see you here. “hi. i-i didn’t know you’d be here.”

san comes out from behind you less than a second later, throwing a friendly arm around your shoulder as he smiles at him connivingly - yunho knew he was gonna regret letting his little crush on you slip when he and san went out and got shit-faced at dinner together. 

“i heard she made delicious pumpkin bread so she had to make the cut,” san said, bumping your arm teasingly when you turn to narrow your eyes at him.

“oh? you heard i made good pumpkin bread?” you question, remembering the events from a few weeks ago very differently. “or you demanded to be let into my house for a bite after you smelt it through the walls?”

“eh, tomato, tomahto,” he says quickly, ushering in mingi and yunho who are holding in their loud, contagious chuckles. “come in, we’re fucking starving waiting for your slow asses.”

you catch yunho’s soft gaze moving to you, smiling at him sweetly and heart fluttering rapidly when he smiles back.

“hi, neighbor. surprised to see you here.”

“yeah,” you chuckle out awkwardly, not wanting the man to think you’re intruding on him and his friends after your short time knowing them. “i hope it’s okay. once san smelt the bread and heard i wasn’t doing anything for the holidays, he kind of, basically, insisted that i-”

“oh, no, no, i’m... i’m happy you’re here,” he says, his words rushed out and awkward but full of sincerity. “i’m really happy to see you here.”

your heart jumps at the sentiment, a soft blush on your cheeks that you’re somehow ignorant to on his face as well. you bite down on your lip to control your smile, giving him a small nod before offering to take the potatoes from his hands. 

when you turn to bring the bowl over to the dining room table, your back to the two giant boys watching your retreating form, you miss the way yunho’s blush becomes darker. 

you miss mingi elbowing his friend obnoxiously and mimicking his cute, flustered “i- i’m really happy to see you,” resulting in yunho elbowing his friend back roughly.

he’s able (aka cuts off, both, wooyoung and san) to secure a seat next to you at dinner a few moments later.

he tries to ignore the way your elbows bump all night, the two of you awkwardly giggling and apologizing with soft smiles before finally allowing your arms to just... touch. 

remain close to one another and find comfort in the way your skin is warm and soft on each other.

he tries to ignore the way your fingers graze as you wash the dishes and he dries them later that night, what feels like electric sparks shooting through your skin every time you touch.

“that was really good,” you tell yunho softly, your eyes observing the boys throwing left over remnants of food at each other or picking through the netflix movie selection. “you guys are good cooks.”

“like your bread wasn’t demolished in three minutes,” yunho huffs, pride and assurance in his tone that causes you to smile sheepishly; there’s a few beats of silence, embarrassed by the compliment, before he begins to speak again.

“our first thanksgiving together was also the first away from our families,” he shares quietly, ignoring the way his heart jumps as he takes a plate from you. “we didn’t know what the hell we were doing and completely fucked up the turkey.”

you let out a giggle as he recalls the disaster that was thanksgiving day two years ago, airing out the smokey apartment and waiting for their thanksgiving feat of chinese food. 

“well you guys definitely redeemed yourself, it was all very good,” you compliment proudly, a pretty smile stretched across your face. “one of my best thanksgivings.”  

“did your family not celebrate?” he asks absentmindedly, watching the way your face falls for a split second before masked by a small smile. 

“not really,” is all you share, both of you quickly pulled away by wooyoung’s incessant demands to “hurry up so we can bust out the second desserts.”

you both try to ignore the slight tension in the air as you walk back to your apartments that night, arms bumping and soft giggles echoing through the walls. 

it feels as if the night shouldn’t end yet, like you guys have been talking in this hallway for hours upon hours because neither of you wanna go inside and separate yet. 

a couple of nosy onlookers can’t help but observe the scene, your back pressed against the wall as you talk animatedly about your journey for a pet.

“i wanted a cat but i also want a dog,” you tell him, the light in your eyes as you talk about the possibility of orange tabby cats and golden retrievers. “maybe i’ll get both one day.”

yunho’s smiling down at you with such a fond softness in his eyes, like he’s hanging onto each and every word you say no matter how small or casual.

“they’ll be dating by next,” san says, bumping his arm into mingi playfully. 

“nah,” the taller boy says, knowing that while his friend definitely likes you, he’s slower and shyer when it comes to romantic feelings. “give it two months. and that’s if we’re lucky.”

you never considered yourself to be a lucky person, although luck seemed to be on your side when you found this apartment complex in the first place, so you can’t say you’ve been cursed with terrible luck. 

but it’s certainly how you feeling right now, in the dead of a january snowstorm and one of the only apartments in the complex with absolutely no power.

“it could be a problem with your breaker in particular,” the maintenance man said over the phone, “someone could come look at it tomorrow.”

but no power meant no heat despite the negative temperatures outside, all of your freshly cooked food rotting spoiled and no means of communicating with your cell phone currently on 1%. 

“tomorrow?” you squeak, understanding the horrific conditions outside are making their job difficult but also not wanting to freeze to death. “would it be possible if someone could come-”

your phone light shines on your face before it promptly fades to black and dies, the only source of illumination in your dark apartment now gone as well. 

you let out a sigh as you resist the urge to scream, attempting to move around your apartment without impaling your body parts.

you’re able to light the three wick candle on your table with little to no problems, collecting all the blankets and fuzzy socks you can find and placing them on your couch.

you have a long, cold night ahead of you with nothing to do but an attempt at rereading some old books and forcing yourself to sleep. 

but it’s then, right before you sit down, that you remember all of the food in your fridge. 

you used every last bit of your ingredients for this week’s meal prep, knowing that if you it goes bad, you’re not gonna have that much around the house until next week’s trip to the grocery store. 

you guess that’s on you, though, foolishly forgetting to not go to the food store before a massive winter storm.

you notice a faint stream of light coming from under your front door on your journey to the kitchen, lips pursing to the side before you open it up with a squeak. 

you peek over at yunho’s door besides yours to see light coming from underneath his - so he didn’t lose power it seems, the lucky bastard. 

it takes you just as long to convince yourself to go over and ask if you can store the food in his fridge as it does to pack it all up into two containers, not wanting to inconvenience yunho and his storage any further than you are by asking. 

you reluctantly knock on his door with the two containers in hand, forgetting you already have on about three layers due to your freezing apartment. 

a smile immediately lights up his face when he sees you standing outside his door, small and cute and bundled up like you’re ready to brave the snow storm outside. 

“hi, y/n,” he smiles, noticing the two containers of food in your hand. 

“hi, yunho i’m sorry for bothering you,” you begin apologetically, a slight grimace on your face as you prepare yourself to ask him for a favor.

“i lost power for the night and just meal prepped the rest of my food for the week yesterday so would you be able to keep this in your fridge for me?” you get out quickly, for some reason feeling panicked and grimy. 

“someone’s gonna come fix it tomorrow but when i tried to ask someone to come tonight, my phone died and now i just don’t want this to go to waste because i stupidly forgot to-”

“hey, hey, relax,” yunho says calmingly, his voice all kinds of sweet and soft as he takes the food from your hands immediately. “of course, y/n, no problem.”

you smile at him gratefully, slightly embarrassed by the desperation in your tone.

“thank you, i promise i’ll be back tomorrow to pick it up. i just don’t want everything rotting overnight.” 

the wind howling outside causes both your eyes to widen, a sinking suspicion coming over him after he hears the horribly stormy conditions outside.

“wait... does that mean you have no heat?”

“no, i found a lot of blankets and fuzzy socks though,” you chuckle out humorlessly, gesturing down to your ridiculously layered outfit and purple socks. “also found some candles so as long as my food is taken care of, i don’t think it’ll be that-”

“stay with me, are you crazy,” he says, his eyes looking at you in disbelief. “you can’t sit there in the dark and freezing cold all night!”

“it’s okay, yunho, really,” you quickly insist, about ready to take off and into your apartment because you know how overwhelmingly nice your neighbor is. “i just didn’t want my food for the week to go to-”

“y/n, please,” he begs, the soft, sympathetic look in his eyes tugging at your heart. “it’s too cold tonight. even with blankets, you’ll be freezing. and your phone died, that’s dangerous.”

a small, touched smile covers your face, heart warming at how kind and thoughtful this man is - how could you not have the biggest crush on him still? 

you thought after a few weeks that you’d be over it but he just makes it harder and harder the more you get to know him. 

“i don’t wanna intrude,” you weakly protest, the heat coming from his apartment far too tempting right now.

“you’re not, i’m inviting you,” he says, dragging you in by the sleeve of your sweater and leave no room for protest. 

he places the food back in your hold before his large hand rests on the open front door, peeking his head into the hallway to see your door still open.

you watch as he walks into the hallway before quickly reappearing a few seconds later, the sound of your apartment door closing echoing through the hallway. 

“don’t worry,” he hums, smiling at you as he walks back into his apartment and closes the door. “i blew out your candle.”

you let out a soft, amused giggle as you look at the boy, his sweet smile mirroring yours as he takes back the food and walks toward the fridge. 

“got any 4s?”

“go fish.”

“got any 7s?”

“go fish.”

“got any aces?”

“go fish.”

“okay, one of us has to be lying!” you squeal from the other side of the coffee table, yunho throwing his head back in laughter at your competitive, feisty side.

he couldn’t help but smile at the way your eyes lit up when you saw the pack of cards on his table, leftover from poker night with the san, mingi and wooyoung that rid him of his last $50. 

his smile only grew wider when you told him the one family tradition you had, at least before the age of ten, was to play go fish - especially on nights when the electricity was turned off, although you left that part out. 

in all your experience of playing go fish, however, you’d never seen a game go on for this long. 

“i’m not, i swear!” 

“so you’re telling me the one four i need is in that deck?” you ask, not even realizing you outed yourself until he throws you a wide-eyed, playful look. there’s a silent stare-off, able to hear a pin drop in his apartment. 

your eyes are  roaming each other carefully before down to the deck in complete ignorance of who’s turn it is to go. 

you let out a squeal when chaos erupts afterward, the two of you frantically grabbing at the cards. you make a mess over the table as everything goes flying off, a melodic giggle leaving your mouth nearly causing him to stop his futile attempts at grabbing the next card.

it should be considered unsportsmanlike, really, for you to unknowingly use your cute giggle and wide, happy eyes against him. 

you just get even happier when you grab at the desired card, flipping it over and letting out a squeal when you’re lucky enough to flip over the last remaining four in the deck.

“i got it!” you squeal happily, yunho at a terrible loss as he sees all your matches lined up in front of you. he can’t even be sad about it though, accepting defeat as he throws down his cards. 

“that was probably the longest game of go fish ever,” he says, stretching out his long arms; you guys had played several rounds but that one had to have lasted over forty five minutes.

probably because you two kept getting distracted, babbling about stories of friends and family or the real pet fish yunho won at a fair that lived for three and a half years. 

“i know right,” you giggle, picking up the cards from the floor as you start to tidy up his house. you ignore his pleas to leave it alone and let him clean up instead, your head shaking as you continue to clean the mess you helped make.

you hand him the deck a card a few moments later, your fingers grazing as he takes them from his hand. 

“thanks,” he smiles at you, his eyes roaming your slightly flushed face. 

he’s never had you in his apartment for longer than ten minutes, never had you so close to him with your bright smile and cute giggle. it’s proving to be very trying for him already, trying to keep you entertained and himself distracted so he doesn’t do something, or say something, he regrets. 

a silence hangs in the air as you look up at from your spot on the couch, about to make a comment about something, anything, when your stomach decides to do it for you in the form of a growl.

it’s embarrassing and makes an awkward giggle leave your mouth, a handsome smirk crossing his face as his eyebrow quirks up playfully.

“hungry?”

“just for a snack,” you mumble shyly, in disbelief you’re still hungry after your left over pizza. “i ate about four slices of pizza before.”

he lets out a low chuckle as he rises to his feet, sock-covered feet padding over to see kitchen where he holds up a big tub of chocolate chip cookie dough. 

“wanna make cookies? i was prepared for the storm tonight, unlike some of us.”

you’re so excited at the prospect of making cookies that you ignore his snide, teasing comment, letting out a happy gasp as you rush over to him. 

the two of you stand side-by-side as you prep the oven and cookies, rolling the cold dough between your hands. he makes the cookies a lot bigger than yours, an obvious difference in who made which ones on the baking sheet.

“they kind of look like us,” he remarks playfully, a loud giggle leaving your mouth as you poke his arm.

you two linger in the kitchen once the cookies are in the oven, sharing shy smiles and softly spoken words with the scent of chocolate and warmth in the air. 

you thank him again for allowing you to stay in his warm house for the night, grateful for his ample food and running refrigerator. 

“it’s kind of crazy since we’re literal neighbors,” you speak aloud, your hip leant against the cabinets. “i didn’t even know that could happen.”

“i know, right,” he chuckles, his smile and eyes getting softer as he looks down at you. “but i’m happy you decided to stay. i wouldn’t want you there alone in the dark and cold.”

and perhaps that’s the bare minimum. that someone wouldn’t want their neighbor, someone considered an acquaintance or even a friend, to be without heat or food in a snowstorm. 

but to you, it’s something you’ve never had before. 

you’d spent far too many nights cold and hungry where nobody cared if that was the case. it’s why you so often escaped to the rooftop, away from the loud voices and looming presences that made living there just a little too difficult.  

it’s why you blurt out, “why?” not meaning to sound as brash and sudden as you do but it’s just something that gets to you sometimes. how kind and thoughtful and genuinely good jeong yunho is.

his eyebrows pull together but he’s still wearing a soft smile, his body inching just a little bit closer to you.

“what do you mean why?” he questions, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy. “why didn’t i let you freeze to death?”

he tries to keep his tone light and teasing but feels like it falls flat when you give him a sad smile. he thinks it would’ve fooled anyone else, a person who basically hadn’t fallen in love with your smile in five months, but it doesn’t fool him. 

he doesn’t know what or why something is bothering you, how your mood seemed to change after his reassurance, but he just wants to make sure, above all, that you’re okay and comfortable. 

he doesn’t realize how close his body is to yours until you’re looking up at him, your head just meeting the top of his chest in a way that makes him wanna protect you even more. 

his eyes roam every part of your face, wondering just how warm your skin is or if your hair is as soft as it looks. 

this would probably be the perfect time to confess his feelings to you. 

to tell you that he wanted you over tonight because he likes you. that he’s really, really come to like you over these past few months of getting to know you and he wants to know you more.

he wants to take you on a date and show you off to the world and maybe one day, if things go well, introduce you as his neighbor turned girlfriend.

he wants to make sure you’re never cold or alone in your apartment again, that you know you could always come to him for anything whether it be reassurance or an egg for pumpkin bread. 

but instead, he gives a slightly less intense, cheesy version. for now.

“you’re my favorite neighbor,” he begins quietly, not quite the confession he wants to make right now but the one he settles on. there’s an aroma of cookies and heat around you as you stare up at him, eyes so wide and curious, he has to swallow down a second rushed out, bumbling confession. 

“i didn’t want anything happening to you, especially when i’m right here to make sure you’re safe.”

safety is always what you craved. safety and security and warmth, even if just for a fleeting moment. 

and your fleeting moment proved to be tonight. 

the ding of the oven as you both got the cookies out silently, pulled from a moment you both felt forming but was quickly pulled away from. you ate the gooey chocolate with quiet hums of “mmms,” and “ahhs,” softly padding your way over to his couch when he suggested watching a movie. 

he sat on one end and you sat on the other, before your bodies eventually inched closer and closer to share a light blue throw blanket in the middle of the movie. 

“this is really nice,” you comment as you touched the fabric, observing the intricate stitching on the soft blanket. 

“yeah? my mom made it for me actually,” he tells you, watching closely as you play with the blanket between your fingers. he wants to reach out and just hold your hand, feel your smaller one in his and see just how much they fit. 

“when i first moved out, she was slightly distraught,” he chuckles out, remembering the dramatics that were his mom’s tears and demands to visit once a week. “i was the first one to move out and she didn’t know what to make of it. i swear she brought me over food every day for the first six months.”

your heart feels heavy as you hear him talk, not only because of the fond moments between parent and child but because of the love in his eyes as he talks about it. 

how, even though he’s complaining about it, it’s obvious there’s a love and affection there that you, yourself, could never understand or reciprocate in your own life. 

“that’s really sweet,” you comment, his gaze catching that sad smile once again.

it causes his heart to drop, a slight sinking feeling in his stomach as he tries to understand what made you that way. are you uncomfortable here with him, just a few inches away from each other under the shared blanket?

or is it something more, the topic of conversation regarding parents and living alone and all things deeper and more personal. 

“me and my parents were never really closed,” you find yourself saying. 

you don’t even mean to blurt out the words but it’s like one second it’s silent and then the next, it’s not. 

the next you’re telling him about how you couldn’t wait to get out. how fighting and loneliness and the cold was a big part of your life growing up, how you got so used to it, it’s taken you a while to adjust to a normal life.

you’re still trying to adjust to a normal life, honestly. 

“i don’t know why i just told you all of that,” you confess awkwardly, the blush on your cheeks causing his heart to soar in chest - he likes you, he really really likes you and now he won’t ever be able to let go of these feelings. 

“but... i just wanna thank you,” you tell him, embarrassed that you somehow managed to make the conversation and vibe like this. “you and san and wooyoung and mingi made the adjustment a lot easier for me. but you, especially.”

“oh? with all my eggs and sugar?”

you let out a soft giggle as some of your anxiety eases, your eyes flicking toward his to see, despite his teasing, his eyes are 100% serious and locked on you. 

“yes, definitely that,” you smile, biting down on your lip as you look back down on the blanket. 

“but amongst other things too. it was funny meeting you on the rooftop, actually, because that’s always where i felt most comfortable. i’d always escape there but i’d be alone. it was nice... it’s been nice having someone, i guess.”

it feels like you could just about die from embarrassment, oversharing with the most handsome man you’ve developed a massive crush on about your tragic tales of a broken home and pretentious love for the roof. 

but then he inches just a bit closer to you, placing his hand atop yours on his mother’s soft blanket, and just smiles at you. everything about him warm and soft and sweet, making you feel the safest and coziest you’ve ever felt in your life. 

“if you’ll keep allowing me up there, i promise i’ll come every time,” he promises softly, the pounding in your chest and butterflies in your stomach overwhelming you to the severest degree.

your cheeks are burning and you’re positive he can feel the frantic beating in your chest but you try to keep it together. smile at him with a a breathy little giggle, tell him that while you love that he’s asking, you have no control over who does and doesn’t go on the roof. 

he lets out a soft chuckle as he pinches your arm gently, the hand on your arm slowly falling down until your fingers are just grazing. 

closer and closer and closer until they’re locked around one another, both of you eternally grateful for the lights being off because of the burning on your cheeks.

he wakes up around 2 a.m. to the bright tv blasting, a heavy ache in his bladder and your head on his shoulder. 

it takes him a moment to remember where he is and what’s going on around him, the events of the night quickly swarming back when he peeks down at your sleeping face.

you look so peaceful and at ease in your sleep, eyelashes brushing against your cheeks and your lips pressed into a firm line. 

he wanted to kiss you for half the night, every time you giggled or moved closer to him or asked him a question about the movie getting distracted by your lips or pink cheeks.

he felt an immense amount of happiness at the fact you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him, that you were still here beside him and so comfortably sleeping against him. 

told him things about your life and family that make him wanna be there for you even more now.

he doesn’t wanna move, he doesn’t think even the snowstorm crashing through his apartment could get him to tear himself away from you, but the embarrassment of pissing his pants right beside you on this couch outweighs everything.

his eyes roam your pretty, peaceful face on more time, moving a stray piece of hair with his long fingers and watching as you stir. press yourself further into his hand and let out the quietest of groans, he has to stop himself from proclaiming his undying love for you on the spot. 

it only gets worse when he remembers he gave you his clothes to wear. noticing just before the movie ended, you were picking at your leggings that stuck to your skin uncomfortably. 

“do you want a change of clothes?” he had asked, noticing your discomfort and only wanting a little bit to see how much his shirts engulfed you. “i have sweatpants and a clean t-shirt sitting in my dryer right now.”

you took up his offer for two reasons: your leggings were sticking to your ass and there was nothing you wanted more than to wear this man’s clothes. feel the soft material on your skin and have his manly, teakwood scent surround your very being.

but right now, as he stares down at you and attempts to keep you as comfortable as possible, it feels as if this might’ve been too much for him. 

seeing you wrapped up in his clothes and on his couch so comfortably, moving your smaller body so you’re laid out on the cushions and resting your head on the pillow.

your eyes pop open, confused and in a daze, as you look around at the unfamiliar surroundings and sound of movement. you smile softly when you see yunho’s sleepy, pink face at face-level with you, his large body knelt down beside you on the couch.

“sorry for waking you,” he whispered into the dark, the tv and snow reflecting outside the only source of light. “i had to pee and wanted to make you comfortable.”

“it’s okay, thank you,” you mumble, stretching out your arms when you realize the sleeves are well past your hands. “forgot i changed into your clothes.”

“yeah,” he chuckles lightly, not being able to help the way his eyes roam over you. 

even sleepy in the dark and the daze that you’re in, you’re able to see the slightest bit of hunger in his eyes. the way they trail over your body slowly and surely, taking in the way his shirt engulfs your figure and looks against your skin. 

how if you stood up, he’d see the way the pants are baggy and making your smaller figure looking even more short and petite and cute.

it makes your stomach flip and swoop uncontrollably, your own eyes staring at his lips and picturing what they’d feel like on yours. 

“i hope that’s okay. they’re a little big on you.”

you let out a soft, quiet giggle, adjusting your head on the pillow so you’re staring up at him even closer. 

“it’s okay,” you assure, tongue peeking out to lick at your dry, hopefully not crusty lips. “i like it. i like them.”

it takes everything in him not to let out some sort of growl, throw all of his sweet and nice boy caution to the wind and confess to you how much he likes them too. 

how much he likes seeing you in them and how much more (or less) he wants to see you in them. 

but because the time isn’t right, because he knows for sure the time isn’t right and he wants something a lot more pure and honest with you, he doesn’t say anything. 

he wishes you a goodnight after a nearly ten-minute bickering fest back and forth, yunho offering you his bed three times before you eventually flipped over and put your back to him.

he let out a deep chuckle as he ran his hand through your hair instinctively, smoothing out the parts that stuck up in your sleep, before bidding you one final goodnight. 

it was around 10:00 when he woke to the smell of bacon, eggs and pumpkin bread. walking out of his bedroom to see you there still clad in his clothes and your hair in a messy bun. 

you jumped when you noticed his presence perched against the doorframe, a wide smile on his face when you let out the softest but harshest of curses. 

“what’s all this?” 

“i made you breakfast. and your very own loaf of pumpkin bread.”

a soft smile covers his face when instead of looking over the food that looks and smells delicious, he looks at you. standing there smiley and sweet, in clothes that morph your body and make you smell like him. 

he feels grateful for the extra bit of counter space he has when he places a hand on your waist, lifting you off your feet with ease and plopping you right down on the granite. 

your eyes are wide and your heart is racing but you’re staring right at him, happiness and excitement swelling in your chest when you catch the look in his eyes - you thought you made it up last night in a dream-like daze but you’re still seeing it right now.

a certain kind of softness mixed with desire and fondness, the way his eyes take in every part of your face before finally landing on your lips. the very same way you dreamed of him last night, with his lips against yours and a sweet smile on his face.

“thank you, neighbor,” he mumbles with a smile, voice low and deep and making your stomach swoop dangerously. “did i mention you were my favorite?”

“you might’ve,” you respond breathlessly, all too aware of the way he’s leaning in closer and closer until you’re pushed flush against the cabinets. 

his large body is covering yours but he doesn’t make any moves until you do, your bodies naturally drifting closer and closer together until, finally, you’re the one to do it.

press your lips against his so so hesitantly, scared and unfamiliar about making the first move but wanting him to know you wanted to kiss him - you needed to kiss him, or you would’ve gone crazy.

he smiles against your lips as he deepens the kiss, keeping you perched right on the counter as his hands rest on the sides of your legs. he doesn’t make any moves to touch you further or deepen the kiss, allowing it to be sweet and soft and as chaste as could be. 

you both pull back and stare at each other with soft smiles and pink cheeks, silence lingering between the both of you before you let out soft chuckles at the same time.

“do you kiss all your neighbors?” you finally ask, fighting the smirk threatening to make it’s way on your face. “or just your favorite ones?”

“just one,” he says, tapping the tip of your nose gently and feeling his heart jump when you smile widely at him. “just you.”

it’s 2:00 on the snowy rooftop and bright summer sun when you hear the heavy metal door squeak open, turning around to see your handsome, smiley neighbor coming toward you with two mugs of hot chocolate in hand. 

you take it from him with a soft “thank you,” pressing up on your toes to peck a sweet, soft kiss to his cheek. 

it was only fitting that you had your first date where you two first met, shy smiles and nervous jitters turned soft pecks and loud giggles as you got to know the sweet, handsome neighbor you just knew you were gonna fall for.  

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