#Explaining their hobbies took a little more thought than I expected

[heinous-desiree]

What are Jas and Hunter's hobbies :000?

(Again, welcome back, dear!)

Both Jas and Hunter have a few hobbies.

Jas the Wildcard

Dancing. Jazz, hip hop, ballet, salsa, femme vogue, etc. She has been fascinated by dance ever since she watched a movie where characters burst out in music and moves. Her actual name is Jasmine (named by the lovely Bailey, she'll never escape comparisons from the Dixney princess), but she started calling herself Jas to sound like jazz. She used her first paychecks to get her into dance classes and can be found humming to herself and moving to imaginary beats while doing mundane tasks.

Reading. She didn't plan to pick up reading, but between going to the library all the time to keep up her grades, and having Sydney excitedly talk about books then cut herself off cause she doesn't want to spoil anything, Jas started reading books per Sydney's and sometimes Robin's recommendations... She loves it far more than she thought she would. She wants to one day own a bookshelf full of her and Sydney's favorite books, but while in the orphanage, she's too scared someone will steal any book she buys.

Gambling. Specifically for luck based games. This is probably a HORRIBLE hobby to pick up, and she fully blames Wren for this. Ever since Wren invited her to join his blackjack games, she never found anything that gave her as much of a high. The fact she can win and dominate based on Lady Luck, and no one has cheated her in these games yet makes her feel powerful when she wins and still in control of her life when she loses.

Hunter the Allrounder

Horseback riding. Hunter likes things that are exciting and active. Riding a creature that moves way faster than you and could break your bones is exactly that. If he could get his hands on a motorcycle, he knows he would be just as addicted to the experience. Horseback is special in its own way, though, since he has to gain the horse(centaur)'s respect and be skilled enough to ride something with a mind of its own. He values the bonds he builds with his animals and God, he enjoys riding to town even more when Remy's goons try to harass him on a horse. You gotta get your kicks somehow!

M*sterbating. Ah yes, the activity that helped him turn from fallen angel to demon in the first place. The town is a stressful place, and some him time is great for de-stressing! However, now it has become a bit of a necessity. If he doesn't do a certain amount of sexual acts within a day, the blood in his veins burns hot white, paralyzing him while he's stuck silent screaming on his bed till the pain eases. A quicky is great when he's too busy to meet anyone for a good time. Anything to escape that traumatizing agony.

Dogs. To clarify, he loves almost all activities involving dogs, even the feral ones that are technically wolves. He loves training dogs, walking them, grooming them, and gaining their trust. He loved his job at the pound till the people put him into a muzzle/leash to make him the dog. He tries to go to the forest every once in a while to hunt with his pack, and he loves training the dogs on the farm. He is a dog kind of person in more ways than one.

[kedreeva]

Okay so, I don't think I've spoken of the saga here yet but! Gather round. I shall tell you a long story about the bird I just acquired and why she is VERY IMPORTANT.

At the beginning of last fall, I started looking into quail genetics a little more, because I got tired of not being able to sex my Celadon quail by their feathers. Originally I thought I could kill 2 birds (ok maybe more) with 1 stone and order nice jumbo wild type (which MANY places advertised as wild type jumbo) hatching eggs, and this would help me put some size on the Celadons (jumbo) while also making them feather sexable (wild type). Perfect!

But then I come to find out that pretty much all jumbo lines are jumbo BROWNS, as in they all have the sex linked brown (SLB) gene. So, I was a little confused and a LOT annoyed because I wanted to work specifically with the wild type color/pattern. No mutations just straight, plain wild type.

And EVERYWHERE I looked - major production hatcheries, private breeders through websites, Facebook groups, local swaps, craigslist, e v e r y w h e r e -

People ONLY had SLB.

This spring I came across a video showing about the differences between SLB and wild type and I figured if the person who made it can tell, maybe she will have some. So I looked her up (not in a stalker way, her farm name was stamped on the video and took me to the website), and what luck! She was in Michigan! Upper Michigan, so still a hike, but not California, y'know?

So I shot her an email and explained that I was looking for WT and that her site said she bred them and that people could do local pickup. She responded yeah she's totally got a bunch! And I said great, I'm also in Michigan, albeit far away, but I don't mind driving 7+ hours each way, because I really need actual, trusted WT for sure birds for my celadon project, can I come pick them up?

Cue the most frankly bizarre email chain in my short life. As soon as I mentioned that I was going to drive, or perhaps that I had a genetics plan in place, she got super sketchy and started saying how she hadn't really paid as close attention to SLB vs. WT, that it mattered less than she thought it would when she started, that I shouldn't focus on that either, and also that "fawn celadon is practically unheard of" in the hobby and "you should focus on a clean Tibetan because it's hard to find without roux in it) implying that I should concentrate on those things instead. And concluded by telling me if I really want WT, to contact this other person (why happens to be someone I can't stand). It all sounded VERY much like she didn't have wild type males, after all, and had thought I didn't know the difference so it wouldn't actually matter. But, it does. It actually matters a lot to me.

So I messaged back to say, well, I don't want to do any of those things, I specifically want to work with this set of genetics and you said you have them so I shouldn't have to go to anyone else??

And then she went radio silent for a week. I kind of figured I'd called a bluff, and that she was one of dozens of people I'd contacted who'd said they had WT only to find out they had SLB. I get that it's difficult to see the difference, but this particular person was the president of the American Coturnix Breeders Association or whatever (found out it's actually just a club formed by her and her friends a year ago, so not as impressive as it sounds, considering they don't actually DO anything- no putting on shows, no newsletters, no certifications, no public breeder directory, no finished SOP, nada), so I kind of expected she should know what she's talking about, if anyone does.

Eventually, after a week, she responded that she had been judging at a county fair, but she had a few heterozygous males (WT het roux, which is fine) and she could set a hatch for me for more if I wanted to come at the end of the month, but she's in WI now, not MI. I said sure, since where she was in WI was actually closer than where she'd been in the UP, and we arranged date/time.

The day of, my neighbor friend, Jude, comes with me for company/keeping me awake through the 15 hours driving round trip. It's a pleasant enough drive. We arrived at a cutesy little house on the edge of town that looks like anyone's house in a neighborhood, with a spacious lawn. The person meets us and takes me around the side of the house to a 6x6x1.5 or so chicken tractor, where she's got some male coturnix. She pulls the available males for me to look through and... fam, they ALL looked SLB, to me.

Now, she swore to me up and down that they couldn't be anything except WT het for roux, because of the way she is breeding them. But I've put these birds next to my SLB males and if I didn't have my males banded, I would not ever have told the difference between them. I still picked up 4 of them, because I will give it a go- worst case, I can produce plain Roux hens/plain Roux males for use in breeding later, best case they do actually produce WT hens and they just LOOK SLB and I have to figure out what the differences are. I don't want to leave without seeing her hens, which she has told me are all WT (which is why the males HAVE to be het for it), and she takes me back. Now the hens, the hens are easy to see the difference. White bellies first of all, but the chest feathers are also wildly different! The shafts are white, the dot around the shaft is dark, ringed in red, ringed in white. On an SLB, the shafts aren't white, it's just a black dot surrounded in a red feather, and the belly is all red/buff/cream, not white.

This is what an SLB hen looks like:

So I take a nice long look to memorize the color, and thank her for showing me and meeting, and we head back home.

I do fecals when I get home because all of the males are VERY thin, no meat on them at all, and since she said she'd been feeding Purina (garbage for fowl feeds), I figured that was why, but no- HUGE coccidia loads in all of them. So I treated them and got them on a better feed. They immediately began putting on meat, and they're find now.

The rest of this summer, I have spent going to local bird swaps and inspecting all of the quail I could find, hoping to find one (1) actual wild-type phenotype bird. Hundreds and hundreds of birds, I have pawed through them all, being super obnoxious to the owners I'm sure, holding and inspecting males. I found ONE suspected WT male (and this is a HUGE "suspected," he could very well be SLB with low red expression). I compared him when I got home and I'm doubting myself still, so I don't know if I will ever actually pair him with the SLB hens or if I'll just wait til I have a roux set.

Regardless, it's been a dry season for getting what I want. It's been a dry YEAR. Yesterday was another swap and more hundreds of quail and me pawing through all of them.

Until.

My eyes landed upon.... her.

If you've only lived in an area that has american crows and not ravens, you find yourself wondering if crows are ravens. You see a big crow and you think wow! maybe that is a raven! It could be a crow, but it's seems bigger so maybe it's a raven. But, if you take a trip to a place with ravens, and you see one for the first time, you realize that there is no question, when you see a raven. When you see a raven in person, there's no question and not only is there no question, you wonder how you could ever have thought a crow was a raven. It's laughable, while looking at the raven.

That's how finding this bird felt. I'd been picking up every SLB hen and going maybe this is actually WT? It could be SLB but maybe it's WT? But the second I laid eyes on her in the middle of a pack of SLB with some mixed colors, I knew I was looking at WT hen, and I can't imagine how I ever thought maybe an SLB hen was WT.

Here's a better photo of her chest and belly (she's beat UP from her previous home, the back of her head and most of her rump are plucked clean from males). You can see the white shafts and the white belly.

And some other pics of her, showing the grey-brown on her side and back- VERY different than the SLB hens

I can't express how stoked I am about this bird. This is the first time after a LOT of effort and time, that I have felt confident I am holding the bird I want.

She's also the indicator that I have a LOT of work ahead of me.

My end goal is to have birds that look like her, weigh 12-14oz, and lay large, blue eggs. I have birds that lay large, blue eggs, I have birds that weigh 12-14oz live weigh, and now I have at least 1 bird that looks like her, which means I can make more that look like her. The first step is cleaning the color mutations out of the celadon line without losing the celadon eggs. This is going to be a bit of a nightmare, BUT, I have a friend helping me out with getting a few celadons that are either WT or SLB (I'm guessing SLB all things considered) to start the work with. I will work over the winter to get a few more actual WT birds here, and to start crossing out the celadons with the SLB jumbos to clean out the other feather color mutations. Once I'm down to just SLB and celadon for mutations, I can clean the SLB out with the WT and roux lines.

This project will likely take me a good 2 years, maybe 3, to complete and then test breed to ensure I haven't lost the celadon gene and I don't have any hidden recessives lingering about. But just having the fucking materials to do it all on hand now is a huge step forward from where I was when I decided to start the project.

[thesoftestpunk]

Will you be mine?

Summary: your crush is starting to become something more

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: This took for-fucking-ever, I'm sorry. I had a 5 month writers block

Warnings: Minors DNI!! If I find out you read this, I'm calling your mom. Lots of making out, dumb sex jokes, first time, smut, oral, piv sex, virgin!Eddie idk if I missed something lemme know. Also reader can honestly be read as plus size. I try to be inclusive.

Pt.1

When Eddie truly saw you for the first time, you were actually giving Dustin directions to the theater department, already late to swim practice, but you nodded along to his excited ramblings about joining Hellfire. You wished all three freshmen good luck and when you passed by Eddie, you smiled. Not even a half-assed, polite smile, but a full one. It’s so out of the ordinary for him that he just gawkes at you with wide eyes until your smile falters a fraction, and you move on. 

It’s been two years since you’ve moved into town, so he’s seen you around school before, but it’s the closest your worlds came to colliding, and in response to that, you smiled. Most people turned their noses up at the sight of him but the harder he thought about it, you never did. Not in two whole years. Even when his hair went through a terrible awkward phase. 

It set his curiosity in motion, unintentionally looking for you any chance he got. It was easiest in class, stuck in the back by choice, but that meant no one was looking at him looking at you. You sat with your friends any chance you got, devoted yourself to them, but anytime they made a snide comment, he saw you withdraw just the slightest bit, eyes drifting and frown deepening. Eddie never liked it when you frowned. In fact, anytime he could tell you were having a bad day, eyes burning with tears, he’d act like a fool in class. At first, you remained nonchalant, eyes drifting like they did with your friends, but the first time he got you to laugh, his heart felt too big for his chest. 

“Again?” Gareth teased when he caught Eddie drooling over you instead of the worksheet in front of him that only displayed the addition of his crooked name and nothing else. 

“I think I like her, man.” Eddie tries to keep his voice low. If anyone caught wind that he liked someone so high on the social ladder, he’d be eaten alive. The teasing over his hobbies he could take, but getting his heart caught on his sleeve and then stomped on made him nervous. 

“You should just ask her out.” Gareth says it so nonchalantly that Eddie can’t help but scoff.

“She’s friends with Christina Whitlock, wannabe cheerleader. She’s worse than Carver and his goons. I’m not going to put myself on the chopping block willingly.” 

“It’s either you ask her out or suffer in silence.” 

Eddie looks at you sitting in the front of the classroom, smiling at something you’ve been told, and his heart sinks a little. 

Then everything shifted after you sat next to him in English that day your friends seemed to be making fun of him about something. At first he thought you did it because you felt guilty, but when you seemed genuinely curious about his tattoos, he let his guard down. Which seemed to backfire pretty quickly. He had to endure hearing you say you didn’t like him, not once, but twice.

When he had lost all hope, you invited him to the pool. He almost didn't go, fully expecting you to turn him down politely, explaining that you were only being nice out of obligation, but none of that happened. When you had expressed your shared feelings for Eddie, he felt unadulterated joy. That was until he kissed you, and it seeped out of his skin, unable to be contained any further. Now, he got to walk hand in hand with you down the halls of the school, giving each other knowing looks when Tina stared the two of you down like she couldn’t believe you would have the audacity to hold hands. 

You always initiated the pda, and he shook off the nerves just to feel the soft skin of your palm against his. He kissed you in private, not wanting any chance of a moment ruined. But you can’t seem to get any privacy for anything more than making out. You’ve come close to the idea of more but that’s all it seems to be. An idea. It’s a lot of getting interrupted in your bed, Eddie’s hand just having slid underneath your underwear and one of you freezing at the sound of the front door. You always proceed to hiss out ‘shit. Someone’s home,’ before the two of you scramble to get decent and when, nine times out of ten, your mother checks on you, you pretend to be studying. 

Despite his -albeit joking- begging, you refuse the idea to do it in his van.

“I’m a bit of a romantic,” you argue. “So I don’t want our first time to be in the back of your smelly van.”

“Okay, it won’t be there.” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “It’ll be up front.”

You shove him off of you as he laughs maniacally, now beside you on your bed. Taking your childhood stuffed rabbit, you whack him in the shoulder playfully, and he catches it quickly. 

“How dare you use miss hoppity as a weapon!” He teases further. 

“Oh, you’re in for it now, Munson.” 

He screams dramatically when you roll over on him and attack his neck in rapid kisses, making him uncontrollably giggle. He had warned you he was ticklish in some parts, and you quickly learned where for your own personal enjoyment. 

“Uncle! Uncle!” He gasps out between bouts of laughter, even though he loved the feeling of your plush lips against his neck. His beautiful neck that left your mouth watering and legs clenching at the sheer thickness of it. Just more space to place kisses. There’s a moment when he’s calming and you’ve placed both hands on his stomach, neither worrying about your mother coming to check up on the commotion you just caused. You feel him harden underneath you, just like every time you get pulled onto his lap. He can’t help it. The way your legs spread just for him, and how your shoulders relax with ease gets him going. 

“What?” You whisper when he just continues to stare like you’ve told him he’s won the lottery. 

“I haven’t taken you on a proper date, have I?” As he asks, his smile turns downward at the sudden realization. 

“No, but I don’t mind.” You trace a finger from the back of his jaw to his chin and give a little pinch. “I like this time together. Just us.”

“Well, I’d be a terrible–” the words get caught in his throat as he almost says the big word. Boyfriend. Neither of you had broached the subject, and maybe that’s why he’s brought up the fact that he hasn’t taken you out. Whatever this relationship was, he was afraid he was going about everything in the wrong way. He should have taken you out before even kissing you, if any romantic driven book he’s read has told him. “-guy if I didn’t.”

“Okay,” you ignore his fumble, bumping your nose into his. “Take me out then.” You flatten your chest to him to feel the rumble of his victorious laughter, but then you remember where you are, and your bedroom door is open fully. “We need to get up before the guard does her rounds.”

You untangle yourself from him, giggling as he has to adjust himself if your mom actually does make an appearance. 

“This Friday, sweetheart. I’m picking you up at seven o’clock, sharp.”

“I look forward to it.”

***

Eddie says he would still rather not be seen at any school event, but he shows up to your swim practice, fulfilling his promise of being in the closest spot on the bleachers as he’s allowed. He drives you home from every practice, bragging about you to you. It’s selfishly endearing listening to the way he talks about how proud he is of you for how talented you are. The rest of the girls on the team didn’t understand his insistence on catching at least the last ten minutes. Usually he would be meeting with hellfire, but he would try and make it just to cheer you on, even if he was explicitly told not to by your coach. 

“He was here again today.” you hear Christina whisper to one of the girls. “I’m starting to think it’s not just for Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” She asks innocently.

“I mean… it’s kinda pervy, right?” 

“Ugh, totally.” Another agrees. 

A chill runs down your spine at the idea of that rumor spreading. Something in you snaps as you slam your locker door shut before turning to see their shocked faces. 

“Eddie is a gentleman,” you glare at Tina. “I don’t care that you all think I’m a freak too, now that I’m dating him, but you need to remember I’m co-captain. Keep his name out of your mouth, and if I hear any sort of disrespect about him, you’re doing drills until you puke.” 

“You’re only co-captain because you’re the coach's niece.” Christina crosses her arms defensively. 

“The only reason I’m not captain is because of nepotism. He didn’t want you whining all the time, but I work my ass off harder than anyone in this room. You could stand to be a little more humble, Tina, considering how slow you were today.” Your hands shake as everyone looks back and forth between you and Christina like they’re at a tennis match, just waiting for a full on cat fight to break out. “So, do you understand me?”

The locker room is silent as you stare down Christina, challenging her to retort back, but she actually looks flustered and nods. It has the others nodding along in a chorus of agreement. There’s no more chit chat as the girls rush to finish getting dressed. You’re one of the first few to leave, leftover anger and adrenaline making you stomp on your way out. That is until you see Eddie and feel your whole body relax. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says his usual greeting. 

Sudden tears burn your eyes as you rush forward to tackle him in a hug, causing him to stumble backwards a couple of steps. He chuckles, arm coming around your middle as he assumes you’re just that excited to see him. A sniffle gives you away immediately. 

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling away to look at you. His eyebrows draw together in concern as he looks you over, hands on either side of your face to inspect closely. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, yes, I just-“ you wipe your nose with your sleeve, feeling yourself get small. It’s the first time he’s seen you cry, and you don’t want to make him worry about why. “It’s stupid. Can you just take me home?”

“You can tell me.” His thumb moves back and forth over your cheek. 

“Eds,” you let out a wet laugh. “I’m fine.” To prove this, you give him a kiss. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“Alright,” he eyes you warily, and even the door to the locker room, but wraps an arm around your shoulder to walk out with you. 

You’re sour for the rest of the week, not even indulging in teasing Tina about your relationship publicly. Eddie knows you’re in a mood, but he has no idea why. He tries everything he can think of; jokes, the little kisses on your collar bones that make you smile, and more jokes, but you just seem lost in your own world. For a moment, he worries you’re tired of him already and the pressure of being seen with him has become too overwhelming, and for his own sanity, he does some digging. 

It takes bribing four different people. One offer to deal at a party sends him to  Andrew Rickman,  who gets some weed for a huge discount, to send Eddie to his girlfriend, Jessica Armstrong who finally sends him to Janice Freedman and a promise to pass along her phone number to Gareth, and he’s sure he’s figured it out. 

On Friday’s you swim on your own. Eddie knows to leave you be for an hour before entering the pool house to catch you just as you’re towel drying your hair. He doesn’t like wandering the halls to risk getting yelled at, so he waits in his van, blasting music while smoking a joint. 

“Have a good swim?” His arms wrap around your waist from behind, the smell of chlorine invading his nose. 

“Mmhm,” you hum, melting into his hold. You had pushed yourself to relieve the frustration because you didn’t want to ruin Eddie’s date plan. 

“Just ‘mmhm?’” He copied your tone, slowly placing kisses along your shoulder, and up toward your neck. 

“You know you’re not supposed to be in here.” You remind him, voice stern, but he knows there isn’t any anger behind it. 

“Got away with it last time didn’t I?” He spins you around by your hips, making you wonder what’s suddenly gotten him in this mood. Eddie captures your lips, pulling your body flush against his, and tips your head back to deepen the kiss. It leaves you breathless immediately with how desperate it feels. 

“Eddie,” you sigh when he breaks it to move to your neck once more. His ring covered hand slides up your side, cupping your breast and giving a squeeze. It’s a shame he didn’t show up sooner or he could’ve done this when you were wearing nothing but a towel. “Seriously? Here?” 

“No,” he snorts, trying to behave. “I’m a gentleman.” 

“Not with that poking me in the thigh.” 

Before he gets the chance to laugh, someone is clearing their throat, making the two of you jump apart. Tina looks to the side, looking more than embarrassed by the obvious bulge in Eddie’s pants, and your kiss stained lips. 

“T-Tina,” you step in front of Eddie for his sake. “What, uh, what are you doing here?” 

“I signed up for extra practice time.” For the first time, Tina seems small, almost afraid to admit she needed the extra time in the water. “Guys aren’t allowed in the girls locker room, Munson.” 

“I’ll wait outside.” Stiffly, he leans forward to give you a quick kiss on the cheek from behind before rushing out. 

“Sorry,” you apologize before she can berate you for it. “I thought we were alone.”

And strange enough, she doesn’t. 

“I used to sign up for the latest slot so Declan and I could be alone when we first started dating.” She opens up her locker in search of her suit. “Just don’t go making a habit of it. Coach nearly tore my head off. Can’t imagine what he’d do to his niece.” 

“Right,” you laugh sheepishly, but catch a glimpse of the Tina you became friends with two years ago. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me yet.” She hardens once again. “You’re doing drills for getting caught.”

You sigh. Tough Tina was back. 

“Aye aye captain.” 

After you rush out, tail between your legs, you smack Eddie in the shoulder with the sleeve of your hoodie. He flinched back like it hurt, but the smile completely gave him away. 

“You dingus!” You try to keep your voice down, but the shrill tone still echoes around the building. 

“Ow!” He laughs more than he does whine. “I can’t appreciate you for sticking up for me?”

“What?” You stop winding up for another smack. 

“I heard what you did for me.” He wraps an arm around your back, pulling you close so he has to speak quietly. “No one’s ever stuck for me like that before.” 

“Well, I- I was just being honest…” your cheeks burn at the way he looks down at you, one corner of his lips tugging up. 

“Mm, well, I find your honesty extremely hot.” 

“We can not get caught by Tina again.” As much as you wanted to reciprocate his appreciation, you weren’t looking forward to extra punishment for making her endure another shared kiss between you and eddie. “You need to take me home so I can get ready for our date.”

“What’re you gonna wear?” 

“Only if you tell me where we’re going but it’s—“

“A surprise,” he finishes for you.

***

Eddie shows up at your door on time for once. He isn’t allowed to pick you up for school, or else you’d be chronically late for first period. He had told you to dress casual, but you can’t help but grab your short tan pleated skirt to match your white shirt with extended shoulders and a jean fabric vest. (A jest if you will). To top it all off, you wear your favorite beat up sneakers and ankle socks scrunched down. When you hear the knock, your heart skips a beat and you take down the hall, shouting at your parents that you’ll get the door. Your dad beats you to it on purpose, but he’s already met Eddie. They were uncertain at first, but Eddie was polite and followed your house rules. To an extent. It was all a front, and you knew it killed him just a little, but he also knew if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to date you. 

He takes you to a local restaurant, nothing fancy, but also not cheap. you love it either way. It never really mattered what the two of you did together, as long as you were doing it together. He’s a bit quiet as you eat, eyes scanning the room, but after you get him to loosen up, he acts like he owns the place. He leans back in his seat, arm thrown over the back as he heavily flirts with you, not even wondering if the other patrons are staring or not.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles while fumbling with the crumbled bills when he pays. You know he doesn’t have a traditional job, selling drugs to help his uncle with expenses, and it makes you wonder how much extra he had to sell just to take you here. There’s a pause as he calculates if there’s enough for a tip before slapping the money down and smiling at you to wave off your worry. 

“Eddie?” You gently take his hand after he’s pulled out of the parking lot. “Did you- you know you didn’t have to take me somewhere that nice, right? I would’ve been fine if you made me, like, chef boyardee at your trailer.”

“I gotta make my girl feel special sometimes, right?” He flashes you that confident smile and brings your hand up to place a kiss on your knuckles. There’s a tug in your stomach when he calls you ‘my girl’ and you bite your bottom lip to stave off your sheepish grin. “Plus, the night’s not over yet. I got one more thing for you.”

You aren’t sure what to expect, but when he pulls up in front of his trailer, you feel a bit of a relief. Not because you don’t like being out in public with Eddie, you do, but you constantly worry about someone making a rude comment his way and upsetting him. In the time you’ve known him, though, the insults seem to roll off his back pretty easily, and you’re unsure how he does it. Every insult repeats in your mind for hours after. 

“Give me five minutes.” Eddie leans over to give you a quick kiss on the lips. 

“What, gotta hide all your cum socks before I go in?”

“I’ve got some class.” Eddie’s breath tickles your lips as he doesn’t lean back just yet. “I washed them yesterday.” 

As he gets out of the van, you laugh to yourself, even when he’s unlocking the door and disappearing inside. You stay inside the vehicle, only unbuckling your seatbelt and glance outside the window. The openness of the area combined with how dark it is leaves you a little unsettled. It’s eerily quiet, and you can tell even with the windows rolled up. A lone cricket and distant barking seems to be the only noise going on around. Turning by your torso, you see there isn’t much to the back of his van, bits of carpet pulling up here and there along the seams, a guitar case covered in stickers similar to what’s on his jackets, and ashtrays with cigarette butts and half smoked joints. There’s a rug thrown in the middle, probably to cover a stain or his attempt to class things up. A sharp knock startled you out of observing the burnt orange and red curves and sharp corners. 

“You okay there?” Eddie teases after opening the passenger door for you. 

“It’s scary as shit out here.” You take his outstretched hand and hop out of the van. “It’s way too quiet.”

“Let me lead you to safety, princess.”

Inside, the trailer is lit by the dim lamp in the corner of the living area, but mostly by the scattered candles along random surfaces leading toward his bedroom. The low lighting flickers off the reflection in the mugs lined along the shelves, and shadows dancing along the walls. Eddie leads you down the short hallway before you can even comment on his romantic decor. You’ve gotten a peek of his bedroom in past visits, but the two of you usually would hang out on the couch, so you know he’s tidied it up for you. There’s still plenty of clutter along his dresser and desk, but his floor is clean from any clothes or trash strewn about. 

He stops you at the end of his bed, your calves brushing against the sheets hanging over the side. Slowly, he brings up your hand to place a kiss on the back of your palm, causing you to shudder. A smile grows on his face and you can see it despite your hand being in the way. He lets go to drag the vest off of your shoulders and when it registers in your mind that he wants it off, you move with him, his face getting close to yours when he has to help your fumbling hands through the holes. You’ve been kissed by him a dozen times but when he dips his chin up to connect your lips, your skin burns in a want you’ve never felt before, as if he’s kissing you for the first time. You both move in sync, dipping down onto the bed, and not breaking contact until he’s hovering over you, delight making his features glow, but you can see the small bit of insecurity in his eyes while he seems to gather up his nerves. 

“Will you be mine?” It’s quiet, intimate, barely above a whisper, but leaves his voice graveling deep enough to send a jolt up your spine. “My girl? Each second with you…” he trails off, shaking his head as his lips split into a grin. “It’s a piece of gold, sweetheart. I want you to be mine.” 

“I-“ you huff out a laugh, his bangs moving with the small gust of air. “I thought I already was. Have been since you kissed me.” 

If his grin could get any bigger, it just did, and his body relaxes, his weight heavier on top of you. The next kiss he gives you is all teeth and tongue, before he calms and kisses you proper. Kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, his lips and the gentle swipe of his tongue erasing all the others that came before. Your giggle is muffled into his mouth, trying to pull him closer than he already was, but there wasn’t any room left. If you could find it within yourself to let go of his shirt, he could be pressed firmly against you, but then you would just want his shirt off, skin to skin, only for that to still not be enough. 

A small moan from you escapes into his mouth when he grinds his hips down into yours, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he does so. His large hands slide up your hips, your shirt coming up with them, and up your ribs until he’s exposed your chest. You hadn’t even bothered with a bra, not entirely expecting the night to go this far. His eyes widen at the surprise, and his cheeks go pink like he’s never had the pleasure of being inches from any pair of tits. Especially a pair like yours, beautiful and on display just for him. His mouth wraps around your right nipple, his teeth sinking into the perked up flesh, and a pained squeak falls past your lips, the sharp sting only working you up more. As an apology, he releases your nipple to swipe his tongue over it in circles, while his other hand cups your other breast, giving it a perfect squeeze. His lips move down, alternating between kisses and biting the soft flesh of your stomach until he’s positioned between your thighs. Looking up, as if asking permission, to which you nod vigorously in agreement, his hands wrap around your legs to rest them on the top of your thighs, fingers digging into the meat as he kisses the inside of your thighs. You can’t help but squirm when he pushes up the fabric of your skirt with his left hand, the one with all the chunky rings, and leaves it there to rest and places one single kiss on your clothed pussy. 

A broken whimper from you gets him into motion, removing his hand from the thigh for a brief moment, moving your panties to the side and licking up you slowly. Eager, he burrows down, his tongue swirling around your clit, nose pressed against your pubic bone, not minding the scratch of the coarse hair. In desperation to hold onto something to steady your uncontrollable squirming and maybe to just find a grip of reality while your mind floats into a high, your hand falls on his that kneads the flesh of your stomach. The lumpy metal digs into your palm, the pain bringing you further back to reality. His mouth, his hands, his heat leaves you for a moment, looking up to the panting mess that you are, and you whine at the lack of touch. One by one, Eddie removes the large jewelry while maintaining eye contact and tosses them to the side before slowly laying back down on his stomach. Slowly his eyes land on your drenched pussy, and you’d feel uncomfortable if it weren’t for the hunger in his eyes. 

“Wait,” you breathe out. Removing the spare scrunchie from your wrist, you sit up to gather all of his hair quickly, apologizing when your fingers get tangled in the curls, and put it all into a messy bun. You don’t even get to soak up the image of his hair being held by something of yours before he’s gently laying you back down, and his mouth returns to his previous work.

His heavy hands hold your already trembling thighs apart. A hesitant finger hovers near your wet entrance, sliding in slowly. You sigh in relief until he experimentally strokes your core, breath caught in your throat and back arching slightly off the bed. Pleading words, begging breaths, you want for more of his hefty fingers inside you, stretching you out for what you expect to be more later. He complies easy, tongue and fingers moving in sync faster, enjoying every moan that falls past your lips. His name is whined out on repeat, each one raising in tone and intensity along with the pressure in your stomach. He laps up the mess you make as you clench around his fingers and fall over the edge for the first, but not final, time of the night. Soft kisses with the intention of being soothing are scattered along your thighs and stomach as his soaked fingers rub your overstimulated clit, letting you catch your breath as you ride the high just a moment longer.

“Fuck,” you huff, a dazed smile following. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Eddie moves so he’s hovering over you, chin glistening with his work. “Fantasy novels.”

“No, seriously.” With your thumb, you wipe the wetness off of his chin for him. There’s a beat of silence and you realize he isn’t joking. “Wait, seriously?”

“Well… yeah.” 

You sit both of you up, scooting up his mattress until your back touches the wall. There’s the pull of rejection in his chest the further you move away, the absence of your touch and the distance between the two of you sends a message that you don’t want to go further anymore. 

“But you-” you pause, adjusting your shirt so it isn’t exposing your chest. “You… you’re you.”

“That’s the problem, apparently.” The defeat in his voice makes you wince in regret. 

“No, I mean… you’re in a metal band and-” you almost don’t say it. “And I’ve heard… y’know.”

“That I’ll give a discount for putting out?” Amusement flickers in his eyes at that particular rumor. “Okay, I let one girl give me a handy, but that’s it. I’m a massive virgin otherwise.”

“Oh.” Your voice is small, going quiet so you can process what he’s told you. “Well, if you aren’t comfortable we don’t have to.”

“I set up the place for that purpose.” your stomach twists at the image of him excitedly getting ready, lighting the candles to set the mood all with the cute little smile he gets. “Unless you…”

“I’m not.” You almost feel bad for admitting it, but you didn’t regret losing your virginity to someone else. He didn’t seem jealous, just understanding. “And I wouldn’t mind.”

Eddie’s smile grows. “Good ‘cause I bought an entire box of condoms.” Leaning over, he pulls out the comically large box from his bedside table. 

“Were you expecting a sex marathon?” You gawk. 

“That’d be ideal.” 

You shut him up by swiftly removing your shirt and tossing it in his face. He’s quick to pull it off and toss it to the side, but you’re quicker in moving forward, hands falling on his shoulders and pushing him down so he’s on his back. If his hair were loose, you’d be distracted by the halo it created around his bed, but it isn’t. Instead it’s already fighting the scrunchie, his bangs falling down in sparse strands, making him look more innocent than he ever has. Crawling into his lap, you take care in placing yourself directly on his growing hard-on. His hands slide up your thighs to your waist, gripping tightly while you run yours up the entirety of his torso. A couple tugs on the fabric is your way of asking him to sit up enough so you can take it off. Immediately, your eyes land on the one tattoo you haven't had the pleasure of looking at for longer than a few seconds, and slowly you take in the small patch of hair in the middle of his chest. What gets your mouth watering is the thicker patch leading down underneath his jeans. On his back, you can see the peaks of his hip bones leading down to the short valley to his happy trail.

You drag your nails over the thicker patch of hair, smiling to yourself at his sharp intake of air, the upward tilt of his chin from your peripheral, working him up to squirm just as much as you had. He’s a whimpering mess while you only touch him anywhere besides the one place he wants. Desperate, he moves your hips for you, begging for any amount of friction. Almost defiantly, you scoot back, sitting on his thighs instead, and he huffs indignantly. You smirk, bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling fully at his pouting.

“Please,” he begs breathless, hips jutting into the air despite no available pressure from your weight. 

Giving in, you unbutton his jeans, finding the way they pop open satisfying, and tug slowly on his zipper. You can perfectly see the outline of his dick through his tight boxer briefs. You want to take your time, slowly pull his jeans off first and then his underwear, but that flies out of the window when you see just how girthy he is. You don’t undress him in any manner, running the palm of your hand up his length, a long moan filling the room. Leaning down, you kiss his stomach, his muscles jolting in surprise. You slip your hand past the waistband, fingertips brushing against the tip, already dripping at your light touch. Experimentally, you give a light squeeze when you’ve wrapped your hand fully around him. Using his pre-cum as aid, you start slow, his moans coming from deep in his chest. Slowly, you start increasing your speed, dropping kisses along his skin when he seems to get too quiet. 

“Baby, you gotta stop,” Eddie pants. You pull away completely, confusion and hurt covering your features. “No, no,” he takes your face between his hands. “I’m just gonna explode if you keep touching me like that, and I’m not quite finished with you yet.” 

You pause, blink once as heated shock covers your body over the realization. You almost made him cum too fast. Pride fills your chest, and you aren’t sure if it’s a bad feeling to have, but he returns your sheepish smile by grabbing a condom from the box. With fascination, you watch him as he rolls it on, not having had the luxury of witnessing this part. It was too dark or too quick before. There’s a bit of a struggle and you reach out to help but stop yourself, not wanting to take over. 

“Got it,” he smiles. 

“And you’re sure you want to…?” You aren’t afraid, but this is new to him. You don’t want him to be afraid. Everything should be perfect, though you know nothing ever is. 

“Do you?”

“Of course, Ed’s.” Running a hand down his chest to his stomach, to land on his strained cock, you give a reassuring smile. Before you climb back in his lap, he helps you out of your underwear, watching the way you smoothly throw a leg over him and line yourself up expertly without even looking. Raising your brows to wordlessly ask one more time, he answers by resting his hands on your hips, eyes never leaving yours. As you sink slowly down, there’s the familiar burning stretch that causes you to whimper, even more by his girth, but it’s all covered up by his moans. You bottom out, wiggling experimentally while he adjusts to the feeling.

And then you start moving your hips.

Slow at first, grinding your pussy into him, his head falling back onto the mattress and eyes squeezing shut. If he had any nails, they’d be digging into your skin, leaving crescents behind to remind you of this moment later, but his fingers are dull, pushing and pulling you into a perfect rhythm. Leaning down, you press kisses and soft bites onto his neck, your tits flat against his chest and moving with every desperate thrust he gives into you. You support yourself by your forearms, stopping your movements and letting him fuck himself into you. He’s a beautiful flustered mess when you look at him. He opens his eyes just a sliver to catch your smile. 

“Feel good?” You ask, voice soft.

“Mm-hm.” He can’t even speak, brows furrowed together roughly. “‘M gonna—“

“Go ahead.” You place a kiss on his pulse point, swallowing your moans as he thrusts harder, hitting your g-spot. His arms wrap around your waist holding you still, his hips becoming more erratic. “C’mon baby,” you coo. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, giving a few good thrusts before his hips stutter. You give him a moment to catch his breath, the only sound in the room being his panting. 

Leaning back, you smother his face in kisses, feeling his laughter vibrate underneath your chest. 

“Hey,” you say semi-serious, his soft eyes meeting yours. “You did great.”

“I sure hope so.” He finally slides out of you and you whine in indignation, missing the feeling of him already. 

“You did.” You insist. 

There’s this moment where he almost looks like he believes you and you get this warm mushy feeling in your chest at the realization that you’ve had your first time together. Not in the back of his van but in a lovingly decorated trailer with zero chances of being interrupted. To top it all off, you’re also officially his girlfriend. 

“Sweetheart?” He breaks you out of your revere. “Kinda need you off of me to get this thing off.”

“And then we cuddle.”

He smiles. “And then we cuddle.” 

Rolling onto your back, you realize you’ve still got your skirt on, laughing to yourself as you take it off. You look around and find a shirt, unsure of whose it could be, and slip it on, watching Eddie walk out of the room despite promising to get back in bed. A moment later, he returns with a damp rag, gently spreading your legs and cleaning you up the best he knows how.

“I got it, thank you.” You take it from him gently, getting the spots he couldn’t and hand it back. He immediately tosses it behind his shoulder, hoping it lands in his laundry basket. “Eddie, gross.” 

“No time, my dear.” He crawls in right behind you, pulling his comforter over the both of you so you don’t end up cold. His nose nuzzles into the back of your neck, lips leaving soft kisses on the top of your spine. 

“I can’t sleep over,” you remind him, eyelids already feeling heavy.

“I know.”

“My dad wants me back before midnight.”

“I know.”

A hand snakes over your side, wrapping around your middle to pull you flush into his chest. He breathes you in, the smell of your honey shampoo tingling his senses. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hm?” He sounds sleepy and you know you’re in trouble. 

“We can officially do it in your van, now.”

“Finally,” he teases. 

Tag list: @hesvoid3434 @jane-ways @akiratoro420 @ali-r3n @stupid-infinity (there were a couple of you it wouldn't let me tag, sorry <;3)

[wonijinjin]

being in a relationship with joshua hong: silly headcanons

author’s note: lmk if you guys want another member version of this! @welcometomyoasis had to include one headcanon dedicated to you and your headcanons about him driving his lover around haha:)

synopsis: my silly thoughts on how it would be to live and be in a relationship with joshua. (the mingyu version of this can be found here)

word count: 1.3k | genre: fluffiest fluff | pairing: joshua x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of food, getting hurt

- your biggest supporter and bully in one person; he would always encourage you to do whatever you want to purse in terms of like your passion and hobbies, but when you do something embarrassing like trip over in a big crowd he would definitely tease you for it, he just cannot miss such a good oppopportunity; i can just see him softly giggling in an adoring way while teasing you after the incident. (of course my mans is still a gentleman so he would make sure you weren’t hurt in any way)

- he is such a praiser (in every aspect and meaning possible, i will leave this to your imagination guys), he will be the proudest whenever you achieve something and would be happier for your success than you yourself; if you get your degree he would be standing in the front row cheering and screaming, same if you got a promotion at work, he would take you out for dinner to celebrate it.

- his eye smile is almost always there when he is with you; he would grin every time you speak or even move because this is how much he loves you; he has heart eyes when he is with you, and the members for sure tease him for it.

- he is the most patient person when it comes to you (although he is generally patient aswell lmao), he would explain something if he had to over a hundread times just so you got it, it doesn’t matter how much time it takes; one thing that pisses him off though is when you don’t listen to him at all and that is the reason why you are confused; shua is an attentive listener when it comes to you so he expects the same from you.

- biggest princess treatment giver (after cheol lmao) in a relationship, perfect example for this is driving you around all the time; he doesn’t care that you have your license, he will make you a passenger princess and will make you enjoy it very much.

- old money/street casual fashion enthusiast, so when you would get him clothes like those for his birthday he would be over the moon. also loves jewelry on you, would buy you so many pretty (expenive) pieces.

- he is the biggest fan of dancing in the kitchen (just like in those sweet romcoms), yall cannot convince me otherwise; we all know he likes to keep his gentleman image up, he would be the softest when he sees you come into the kitchen upon hearing the music he was blasting through the speakers. he would grab your hands and spin you around instantly, rocking the two of you to the beat and letting out the softest giggles.

- he doesn’t cook much, but would love the idea of the domestic act of cooking for/with you, i picture him as more of the baker type, like someone who prepfers preparing sweet food when doing it himself (for ex.: french toast in the soop); he would definitely be annoyingly playful and smudge flour all over your cheek and nose just so he can be the gentleman and wipe it off romantically while stealing a few kisses.

- joshua loves when you need his help with tasks that require strength, it makes him proud that he can be at your service as your big strong boyfriend; remember that episode in gose when he opened the jars for vernon? he would love to flex his muscles in front of you with that, as he knows you love his biceps.

- babies you when you get hurt, not in a ‘you cannot take care of yourself you little baby’ way, but rather in a ‘you are so adorable let me help you fix it while i gush over your cuteness’ way. iykyk but there’s that one clip of him talking in a cute surprised baby voice in that show when him and jun took care of the twin girls and one of the girls started crying because she didn’t want them to leave, now that is exactly what i mean.

- he secretly loves watching you sleep, no matter if it is in the midle of the night when he just arrived from work or when he wakes up before you in the morning. he is in love with how peaceful your expression is when you are in dreamland, and even thinks the drool and the leftover wrinkles from the pillow on you face are cute. one of his favourite moments is watching you doze off after a hard and tiring day while he is driving the two of you back home, looking over at you every time he is at a red light, he is just kinda lovesick for you.

- will splash water on you every time you two are doing your morning routines in the bathroom together; you would be doing your skincare while he was brushing his teeth and the next thing you knew was him splashing around while you tried to dodge his moves, in the end getting water all over the mirror and him having to clean it up.

- he is not easily flustered when he is with you, he is the cheekier one out of the two of you most of the time, but if you say something out of pocket he will turn so red in a split second you think that he is gonna burst; if you flirted with him in front of the members he would not have the wits to come up with a cheeky comeback since he would be very shy.

- vacations with him are the best; he takes care of everything if you are not that eager to organise the trip with him, and it works so well since you know you can trust him with handling it; he can be a planner so he doesn’t mind having to handle the technical details; i can see him buying tons of travel guide books to learn more about the place.

- speaking of vacations, he would have the greatest ideas about what to do at the location, you wouldn’t even have to tell him what you want since he is exceptionally observant and knows you like the back of his hand, bonus that he would take you on a shopping spree to buy new clothes for/on the trip (whichever you prefer, maybe both) and would make you do a little runway show for him in the new pieces while he watches in a comfortable seat.

- would definitely buy you cute beanies and hats with the little fluffballs at the top in winter and autumn, as he puts it he just wants to protect your head from getting cold by the wind and the low temperature, but in reality he just finds them so cute on you he has to buy you a new one every week (just like the bunny ones he sometimes wears in concerts).

- he would ask you one random morning if he could do your hair, and since you let him do it that time, as life goes on it would become a habit that he would brush your hair and decorate it with cute accessories almost every week, i just know he knows how to take care of his hair, so you would always go to him to help you with not just styling, but with hair products aswell. (for my curly haired gals, he would learn the techniques to style it while it is wet aswell ofc)

- would make you try new hobbies; he would be dragging you to pottery class, and even if you didn’t like it, for the sight of shua’s eyes sparkling while doing his own little mug from the wet clay you would say it was worth it for sure.

- overall he would just love you so gently and treat you with so much adoration every single day that you would definitely feel like the luckiest person on this planet to have him (even though he always says he is the luckiest one to have found you).

[emberfrostlovesloki]

11:11 [Emily x Reader]

Photo Credits: Left (@cheekycatlady) Center (@lockscreens-n-shit) Right (@@viciousclothing)

Prompt: Penelope and Derek play matchmaker after Emily meets the captivating and alternative reader who’s allegedly off the market at a shop where Prentiss is buying a gift for Garcia. A few weeks later, Emily and the reader have the chance to have what they’ve dreamed of for so long, a relationship, but will their differences and fears be too much to overcome? 

Pairing: Emily x Non-BAU!Reader, Fem!Reader, Alnterative-Goth!Reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: Fluff/comfort

Word Count: 8.9K 

Content Warnings: Language, unwanted attention (reader and Emily), if I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This fic is for the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins’s Pride Writing Challenge! I used the dialog prompt “Are they… flirting?” “Big time.” This fic is a lot more fluffy than my usual stuff, but it was nice to just write something romantic for Emily. The reader is described as a goth and a fan of horror, but if those are not your aesthetics, you can swap those parts out for what you like. I do mention a horror film scholar, but I try to explain her ideas accurately. Emily is a gem of a character and I hope I captured her well in this fic. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/c = your complexion 

y/f/d = your favorite drink (alcoholic, non-alcoholic, soda, you decide) 

Emily pulled into the small strip mall a thirty-minute drive from her house. It wasn’t what she’d expected exactly. It seemed… boring. Em sighed and thought, ‘Aren’t all strip malls boring? This is a strip mall, not a strip club, and you're here for Penelope, not you.’ With a hint of a smile, Prentiss got out of her car and pulled her purse and iced coffee from the front seat cup holder. She yawned and put her glasses on as the mid-afternoon sun glared down on her. She had stayed up late from another mid-date last night, thus the tiredness. It hadn’t been bad per se, just boring. After talking about shared interests, the man she’d seen started talking about his exes and how Emily reminded him of each of them. The only good thing about the man was that he’d taken them to a nice bar and promised to pay the tab. So Emily had gone overboard with her drinks. When she’d gotten a glass of the nicest champagne on the menu, she realized she could just sit and listen to this man ramble on and call it performance art the next day. However, even the Advil she’d popped last night after she’d gotten home hadn’t cured her hangover. 

The little bell on the door rang as Emily entered the store. It took a second for her to put down her coffee on a small table by the door with some pamphlets encouraging a yarn crawl next month and remove her sunglasses to see the inside of the store properly. Prentiss was here to get Penelope a small gift after she’d admitted to feeling down after a rough case. It seemed Garcia’s girlhood hobby of crochet had come back to life after she’d seen a cute sweater online, so Em was going to get her some good quality supplies, or at least a gift card if she couldn’t pick out what felt right in the store. The fiber arts weren’t really her thing, and as she saw the front display, pastel rainbows of yarn skeins, and a sample shawl to celebrate Pride Month along with a variety of needles and hooks on the adjacent wall, she felt lost. More lost than if she was at a crime scene. 

The soft, “Can I help you find something?” had Prentiss whip around on her heel and see the woman she hadn’t noticed as she walked into the store. Em blamed her hangover, but couldn’t say the same for when she opened and closed her mouth once or twice as she took in the employee behind the counter. Perhaps Emily had expected a little old lady or a mom type to work at a place like this, but she hadn’t expected a young woman standing in all black and what could only be described as vampiric-looking makeup and accessories. The words, whatever she was trying to say or might have said to this type of person escaped her. 

The woman behind the counter seemed to flush, but it was hard to tell with her dark blush, given her y/c and intentionally washed-out tired look. It was the type of look Spencer had unintentionally. The employee looked behind the counter to get the pretty woman’s eyes off of her for a moment. y/n hadn’t expected to be visually dissected this afternoon. She wondered if she had something in her teeth and how embarrassing that would be in front of someone as pretty as the statuesque woman on the other side of the counter. 

Emily finally recovered and coughed slightly, now her blush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she said, “I’m sorry. I suppose I didn’t see you there when I walked in. I haven’t been to a place like this before. I’m trying to get some things for my friend. She’s into crocheting I think. I googled yarn stores in town and apart from the big craft store this is the only one that came up…” Em stopped talking when she realized that she was rambling and the woman moved from behind the counter letting out a chuckle. It looked strange on someone who dressed so severely. y/n said, “Well, welcome in. I can show you around and make some recommendations if you’d like. Does your friend have a favorite color? Do you know if she wants to make something in particular?” Emily let out a sigh, relieved that her behavior and lack of knowledge weren’t mocked. She guessed that there wasn’t a ton of gatekeeping in the crochet community, but she didn’t know. Em swallowed and said, “Well my friend loves pink or any bright colors. As for her projects, I only know she likes working with bigger threads. She says it makes the projects go faster?” 

y/n nodded. This poor, but beautiful woman was out of her depth here. However, y/n never judged. Knitting and crocheting wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Often people just thought it was for the geriatric, though that was far from the truth. y/n had to correct the woman, she couldn’t stop herself as she said, “Yarn.” The customer looked up and said, “Huh?” softly, and y/n felt herself heating up again as she said, “It’s yarn, not thread. Sorry I can’t stop myself from correcting people when they say that. I’m, y/n. What’s your name?” y/n didn’t mean to sound condescending as she corrected the woman, it just slipped out. She tried to recover herself by asking the woman’s name; she was striking. 

Thankfully, after a split second, Emily extended her hand and said, “Emily. I’m Emily. It’s nice to meet you y/n, and don’t apologize. I’m sure I sound like an idiot, so correct me as much as you need or feel like it. I won’t be offended.” y/n smiled and shook Em’s hand twice already enjoying her sense of humor. Emily couldn’t help but look at y/n’s long dark nails that matched her clear glossed, blood colored lips. y/n let Emily’s hand go and pointed toward the back right side of the store and said, “I think this side of the store is what you’ll be looking for. It’s our DK and bulky weight yarn section.” Em nodded like she understood what that meant and followed behind y/n looking at all the pretty skeins and knit and crochet samples on display. Even though Prentiss never thought this would be her niche, it was a very calming and pretty environment. It helped that the playlist that was on in the background had already played music she liked. Emily looked back for a moment at the comfy-looking chairs by the window and could picture herself sitting there for a few hours. 

Emily came back to the moment and realized she was getting distracted. She was firmly in the right section now as the yarn on the shelves looked like Penelope would love them. There was hot pink, yellow, and some purple yarn with sequins already threaded in the yarn. Emiy’s eyes looked around and y/n said, “I’ll let you look around for a bit. The yarn on the middle shelf is our most popular, but if you’re looking for something that’s a bit more affordable, because this stuff can get expensive pretty fast, is on the left and it’s still good quality too.” Emily nodded. She hadn’t even looked at a price tag yet. Money hadn’t crossed her mind. She had been too busy looking at the pretty colors, chairs, and sales assistant. y/n brushed past Em and back up toward the counter and said over her shoulder, “Hollar if you have any questions or if you need anything.” Prentiss turned her head and said, “Thanks,” as she watched y/n move back toward the front counter, her high-top Doc Martens giving her an inch in height that she didn’t have naturally.  

Em tore her eyes away once y/n was just out of sight. It wasn’t a big store, but the shelves that housed the yarn made it impossible for her to see y/n. Emily now turned to the skeins of yarn and picked up the hot pink skein that had first caught her eye. y/n’s comment about price made her look at the price tag, and Prentiss whistled under her breath. ‘$35.00 for some yarn?’ she thought. ‘What are they doing hand-picking sheep and making them eat strawberries until they turn pink?’ That sarcastic line of thinking did take her to the real conclusion, however, that unless yarn was cheap and mass-manufactured in a store, it must take a lot of time and effort to get that kind of color and quality. With the prices in mind now, Emily picked between five yarn colors that looked like Garcia’s favorites and picked her top three from the bunch. She decided on the hot pink, the purple sequined yarn, and a lime green tucked in the corner of a shelf. Happy with her choices, Emily moved around the store to look at the rest of what was there. As was natural for Prentiss, she was drawn to the jewel tones and more delicate yarn. The deep and rich colors reminded her of fall, her favorite sweaters, and hot lattes. She let out a sigh of longing for it to be cool again. For a second she felt eyes on the back of her neck, and she turned her face up sharply to see y/n just move her head toward the front door as if she was expecting someone to walk in. Emily turned her head again and bit the inside of her mouth. Why was y/n so cool? She tried to pinpoint why the woman at the front was having such an effect on her. 

She attributed it to three things. The first was the attitude. y/n had a very nonchalant attitude -- one that said that anything could happen and she wouldn’t be phased. Secondly, there was the confidence to wear what she wanted. Not that Emily had a choice, she was forced into the confines of business casual, but even if she wasn’t, she wasn’t sure she’d have the confidence to wear what y/n was. Lastly, y/n just seemed to be a really good person. It was based only on a feeling, but being an FBI profiler did have its advantages like getting a good reading on people. Prentiss let out a sigh, she was being silly and she knew it. She took one last look at some of the items displaying what the yarn could make and do before she moved to the counter. y/n smiled at Em and said, “Those are some pretty colors, I bet your friend will love them!” Prentiss nodded and said, “I’m sure she will. I’m happy I know about this place now, this could be good for gifts for some people I know.” Emily paused before asking, “Do you own the shop.” y/n chuckled and nodded her head no replying, “No. I just work here part time. I kind of grew up here though. It’s very special to me.” Em could tell. She wanted to ask more, but it would be awkward, so she didn’t. 

y/n sensed the shift in conversation and said, “Alright, well do you want these wound into cakes, or do you want to keep them in skeins?” The look of incredulity on Emily’s face had y/n laugh, pick up the pink yarn, and say, “So see how this is twisted into something that’s easy to hold?” Prentiss nodded yes, not having even thought about that. y/n continued, “So in order to work with this yarn, you have to unwind and rewind it into a ball, or you can use a machine to create what’s called a yarn cake. It’s easier to work with, but you, or your friend, can to this at home too.” Emily bit the side of her mouth and couldn’t think about what Garcia would want. She went on the safe side and said, “I think I’ll just take them as they are for now. If she brings them back would you still wind them for her?” y/n replied, “Yes, of course. I’d be happy to. She or you can come in anytime.” Prentiss looked up at y/n a bit surprised by the woman’s tone, and y/n winked at her. Again, Emily found herself a bit speechless and y/n continued like nothing had happened, “Okay, can I get anything else for you? Some hooks of needles, or is it just the yarn today?” 

Emily recovered just a bit out of breath, and said, “Um, that’s it. Thanks. You helped me a lot.” y/n smiled and said, “I’m happy to help. It is literally my job, as much as I’d like to just sit here and knit or read, life seems to have other plans.” There was a pause, like y/n was thinking about something and continued putting the yarn in a plastic bag before saying, “Because it’s your first time here I’m going to give you some free stitch markers and a crochet hook size gauge.” Emily nodded her appriciation. She could guess what the stitch markers were for, as for the guage device, she didn’t, but she was sure that Penelope would. Em took a closer look at y/n who was looking at the screen to ring up her total. The shape of y/n’s face and lips were alluring. Her dark eye shadow and long lashes fluttered open and closed as she concentrated. y/n caught Emily looking for a split second but looked back at the computer, a ghost of a smile on the edges of her lips. The small interactions between the two of them sent a thrill through Em. When y/n had given Prentiss her total, she handed over her card and in a moment, they were done. y/n handed Emily her bag and said, “Thanks for stopping in. I hope I see you again soon.” Prentiss nodded, moved toward the door, and said, “Thanks. Me too, y/n.” With that, Emily left the small shop and walked back into the sun. Prentiss made it to her car and sat down, putting her sunglasses back on. As she turned the key in the ignition, in the very back recesses of her mind, she hoped she’d see y/n again tonight in her dreams. Em heaved a sigh and decided she’d grab a smoothie or a juice on the way home, her hangover long forgotten. 

Penelope was thrilled when she opened her impromptu gift from Emily the next week. Garcia’s smiles, thanks, and hugs would make anyone feel good, Em believed. This was helpful to Em as she felt the loneliness of life creeping back into her bones. She really wasn’t one to believe in biological determinism, but the more old friends and co-workers from school that started getting married, or more likely, having babies, the harder it was to come home alone all the time. Alone to an empty apartment, and an even emptier bed. She sighed into Penny’s hug, hoping the feelings would stick for a while. It’s not that she was desperate for attention, or heaven forbid a child, but she wanted someone to be with, to share her bad jokes with, or rest her head on. Of course, Emily knew she could do this, life, by herself, she just didn’t want to. Emily pulled back as Garcia asked, “Where did you get these, there’re so beautiful. I want to get like twenty more skeins. God the color saturation is perfect, p e r f e c t, Em. you know me so well.” Emily smiled and said, “It’s this small shop on my side of town. I was shocked that you hadn’t been there before.” Pen sighed and said, “Well to be honest I have a huge yarn stash already, so I decided to just try and use up what I had a home, but now that you’ve gotten me this stuff, I have an excuse to go and get enough new yarn in the same colors so make a sweater.” Prentiss chuckled at her ability to influence Penelope’s financial choices, but it was all in good fun. 

That good fun had Prentiss and Morgan in Garcia’s car two weeks later moving from brunch toward the yarn store. Prentiss’s thoughts flashed to y/n, and she wondered if the pretty woman would be working today. She hadn’t expected to be back to the store this shortly, but the idea of a space to just relax and be from her first time at the shop flashed in her mind, and of course, if y/n was there, it would be nice to see her again too. Emily was sure Penelope would take Derek around the shop for a good hour, much to Morgan’s faux chagrin at his ‘time being wasted.’ 

The trio arrived at the yarn store, Love and Needles, and Morgan made a quip about the kind of love the patrons got. He, as Em could tell, had very much made the assumption she had about knitting as a hobby before she’d gone into the store and seen y/n. That the clients were old. Emily was please when she stepped in to see y/n sitting at the desk. Penelope had already started a lively conversation with her and Derek was standing back a few steps his mouth open in shock. 

y/n looked past Garcia at Morgan and gave him a small smile, showing a flash of her teeth which had the strong agent close his mouth quickly and stand up straighter. This made Emily duck her head as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She raised her head when y/n said, “It’s nice to see you again, Em,” with a small wave of her hand. Derek’s eyes danced between Emily and y/n and he tried to hide a small cough but didn’t do it well. Prentiss elbowed him in the ribs, and he stopped making noise. Emily rolled her eyes and Penelope retook over the conversation they had started and said to y/n, “Well I’ll come back and harass you about those shoes in about an hour. For now, I’m going to oooh and aaah at yarn, and probably spend my whole paycheck too.” Garcia took a split second to look at Emily and the blush that was still painting her face read and took Derek by the hand and said, “You, Mr. Morgan, with me. Maybe one day you’ll date a knitter, and you can impress her with your knowledge of the fiber arts.” Derek raised his hands in surrender and let Pen lead him farther into the store.

Emily looked after her friends, not sure to follow, stay planted, or maybe test out those comfy-looking couches by the window. She was pulled from her thoughts as y/n said, “So, how have you been? I think your friends are keen by the way. I wish I had some like that.” Em let out a small breath and replied, “Yeah, In terms of how friends go, they’re about the best you could ask for.” Prentiss cocked her head to the side, wondering why, and how it was possible for someone as magnetic as y/n to not make friends. Emily remembered the first half of y/n’s conversation starter and said, “And I’ve been okay. Nothing too exciting. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, and a few bad dates. How about you?” 

y/n gave off the vibe that she went to raves or drank red wine in a speak easy. y/n moved from behind the counter and leaned on the opposite side of where she’d just been. y/n studied Prentiss for a moment, taking in her outfit which consisted of a white shirt, corduroy pants, and a small kitten heel. It didn’t match y/n’s heavy-looking platform shoes, black tights, and dress. y/n was wearing the same makeup as the first time Em had seen her, except maybe the lips were darker today. After a moment y/n replied, “I’ve been fine. Nothing major to report.” There was another pause before y/n continued, “Maybe you could get off the apps for a bit? I found when I decided to take a hiatus it gave me some peace of mind. I had no hypothetical woman to please. I could just be me for once without any expectations.” y/n sighed and pivoted the conversation back to Emily, self-conscious to be talking about her struggles in front of someone as pretty as the tall brunette. Instead, she said, “I suppose I didn’t see you working a corporate job. I think I’d die if I had to do paperwork all the time.” Prentiss wanted to correct y/n, that she was more interesting than a corporate job. That she was a profiler in the FBI, that she knew how to shoot a gun, and spoke five languages. 

But Em stopped herself, even if y/n was on the dating market, which she had just said she’d taken herself out of, and even if she did date women, Emily could see herself pulling at strings. That her heart was moving faster than her head, and if she didn’t slow it down, she’d make a real fool of herself. She’d done that one too many times this year, losing both her sense of discretion and judgment sleeping with men most or women who gave the short time of day to fuck. They’d be gone by the morning, or she would be. Not wanting commitment, but not wanting to be alone either. It was the aloneness that she blamed the most for her choices, and she wasn’t going to repeat that now. So Emily replied, “Well it’s kind of a corporate job if you count working for the government as corporate.” y/n let out a low whistle and said, “That’s the most corporate of corporate. I don’t envy you.” There was a pause and y/n said slowly, “So, do you have any secrets you can share?” As hard as Emily tried to keep her mind off of y/n that way, she couldn’t stop herself from blushing again at how her statement could be interpreted provocatively. Just as Em was about to answer the question, the phone behind the counter rang and y/n moved to answer it. Emily could tell the way y/n was speaking, loudly and slowly, that it was an elderly client, and the conversation might take a long time, so she moved to the couches to sit down. 

Unknown to Emily and y/n, Penelope and Derek had been looking and listening to the pair for a few minutes now. When the phone call had interrupted their conversation Garcia motioned for Morgan to follow her to the far corner of the store. Once they were out of sight and earshot, Derek leaned down and whispered to Penelope, “Are they… flirting?” Pen nodded in an exaggerated manner and whispered back, “Big time.” They both leaned over to look past the displays of yarn to peak at y/n and Em and then hid again like teenagers behind a locker. Garcia said, “They aren’t even talking and you tell they're flirting. What type of Timewarp have we gotten ourselves into where Emily is openly making eyes at someone?” Derek sighed and rolled his eyes responding, “One where she probably doesn’t ever make a move. You know Em, she’s as stubborn as an ox if she wants to be.” Garcia dropped her eyes to the ground and said softly, “Yeah. It’s fun to imagine though.” Morgan nodded and replied, “Well, if it seems okay, maybe we can pull some strings? Nothing huge, but they could be friends at least. They seem to get along well, but I doubt they’d run into each other in other circles, so we might have to nudge them in the right direction?” Penelope feigned being shocked and said, “Mon Cheri, are you suggesting a blind date?” Morgan held up his hands and said, “Well not that drastic, but it Emily seems okay with a chance meeting then I don’t see how it can hurt.” Garcia faked a pout and said, “You’re no fun.” 

After another moment of snickering from the duo of friends, Morgan and Garcia moved back to the front of the store and like they’ve known each other for years, Penelope chatted with y/n sharing the best shoe, accessory, and makeup brands. Meanwhile, Derek moved to sit next to Emily. She smiled at him and asked, “So, are you ready to woo a woman with your knowledge of crochet?” Morgan smiled and said, “I’ve already done that. My mom crochets, so I at least know the difference between crochet and knitting, and that weaving in the ends is the worst part of a project which is more than most men I know.” Emily gave him a small smile and replied, “Morgan, you really are a lady's man.” Derek chuckled and gave a little salute of appreciation. 

After a few more minutes, the trio left the shop and it didn’t pass up Morgan or Garcia that after y/n had said goodbye to them, she said specifically to Em, “It was good to see you again, Em. I hope to catch you around sometime.” Everyone piled into Pen’s car with Emily taking the passenger seat while Derek smushed himself in the back. Once everyone was safely buckled up, they moved toward Morgan’s apartment first. As they sat and the Spotify played Garcia’s favorite playlist, Derek teased Emily by saying, “I didn’t know you went for the Abby from NCIS characters, Prentiss.” Em twisted in her seat and said, “Morgan give me a break. Even  you thought she was hot and you can’t deny it.” Derek let out one of his low laughs that reverberated though his chest. The kind that could make anyone laugh if they were having a bad day. Em loosened up as Derek replied, “I’m not denying it. She was hot. I just didn’t realize she was your type.” 

Emily sat back in her seat and closed her eyes as she said, “Neither did I.” She meant it to sound like a funny retort or quip, but in reality, there was a longing that neither Penelope nor Derek had heard from her before. Everyone remained quiet and just let the radio play until Penelope pulled up to Derek’s house. He hopped out of the car, then hugged Garcia though the driver’s side window, and then moved to Emily’s side and said, “Keep your chin up Em. You’re a real catch.” Prentiss thanked him; she knew she wasn’t teasing, or being facetious. When Morgan was real, he was real and that was why he was such a good friend. He was never afraid to be honest with his emotions which was a rarity in men. Derek waved at his friends and then moved into his house after calling out, “See you on Monday!”  

Once Derek was at this door, Garcia pulled away from the sidewalk and toward Emily’s apartment. There was a silence for a while before Penelope turned to Em and asked, “You doing okay? You know Morgan and I don’t mean anything cruel when we ask you about the people you like. You just hardly show interest anymore, and you used to be so excited to be going on dates, or when you found someone attractive.” Prentiss sighed and said, “Because I used to be excited about those things, Pen. I used to love the thrill of a first date, or seeing someone hot on the street, but I’ve tried so much and I just don’t seem to be anyone’s someone. I’m too bitter, or busy, or gay. I’ve been fetishized for being bi and shamed for having dated men. I just, feel like I’ve lost that spark, that rush that I used to get. To be honest, I gave myself away so much this year, that I think I need a break, and besides that, I don’t know if I’m y/n’s cup of tea either. She’s alternative, and that makes her stand out, I do think it’s very attractive, but I don’t want to fetishize that part of her either. I don’t want to put her in a stressful positon. She told me she’d taken herself off the dating market today at the store, so asking her out seems like pressing her boundaries, even if it is fun to have her wink at me.” Emily ran her hands through her hair in frustration and said, “I mean listen to me. I sound like a high school cheerleader trying to date the budding artist. It just sounds silly.” 

Penelope looked over at her friend and said, “Yeah, well it might feel and sound silly, but your feelings still matter. You feeling lonely and wanting someone to be with still hurts. I know that as well as anyone, even if I’m good at hiding it with all my sparkle and banter with Morgan.” Emily nodded and looked at Penelope. As opposite as they were in demeanor, they both shared the deep long for belonging somewhere. They just hid that want in different ways. Em let a small smile cross her lips as she wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye before Penny could see, and she replied, “Thanks, Garcia. Thanks for being my friend and making me laugh. I don’t deserve you.” Pen let out a bright laugh and said, “You’ll never get rid of me girlfriend. And don’t give up hope. Things change, everything changes with time.” The rest of the ride was mostly quiet as both women thought about their feelings and shared in the mutual pain that most women felt at some point in their lives. When Garica pulled up to Emily’s house, the tall agent leaned over and hugged the Technical Analyst, holding her tight, then she pulled back and said, “Listen Pen, if I start adopting cats, promise you’ll still hang out with me?” Garcia smiled and said, “Darling, I’m already giving them a name.” With that, Emily got out of the car and went inside. She turned on her record player and poured a glass of wine. She’d just bought a new book and decided to relax and read for the rest of the day. 

It was a month later, and Penelope and y/n had started spending more time together. Like most people, y/n liked the brightness that Garcia brought to a friendship, and how real she was. It was safe to say that y/n was shocked when she found out what Emily and Derek did for work. As she and Garcia walked around an outdoor mall, boba in hand, y/n said, “Wait, Em’s in the FBI? You’re in the FBI! She told me she worked for the government. I thought she meant like the IRA or something.” Penelope nearly choked on her drink as y/n said this. After coughing a few times Penelope responded, “No wonder she doesn’t get close to anyone. She’s lying by omission about how awesome she is.” y/n gave Pen a pat on the back and they kept walking. y/n started asking more questions about the team. After more window shopping and trying things on, Penelope said, “I should tell Emily to be more honest. Really.” y/n stopped in her tracks and said quickly, “Please don’t. At least don’t say I was part of it.” Garcia stopped and looked up at y/n. y/n had the corner of her dark lip inside her mouth and was wearing a face of concern. It was the first time Penelope had seen her like this. The fluorescent lights of the store made her look more ghostly than ever, her darker tones striking against her makeup and dark hair. The shine on her black shoes glistened. Although Penelope wasn’t a profiler, she’d hung around the BAU long enough to know that the quick and urgent tone from y/n meant something more. It hadn’t gone past Pen that y/n seemed to casually bring Agent Prentiss up in conversation. y/n seemed to notice her new friend's change of attitude and said, “I mean, I assume that Em has a reason for not telling me that. Like I don’t want her to think she was holding out on me. I don’t tell everyone everything when I first meet them either. It’s like when douchebags ask me the meaning behind my tattoos in an attempt to get to know me. Am I supposed to tell them my whole life story or just lie and say it’s for aesthetics because honestly, both are true? And yeah, I just don’t want Emily to feel any pressure to explain herself, at least not to me.” y/n flushed. She hated that when she got flustered she used so many qualifying words, ‘but,’ ‘like,’ and ‘and’ flowed out of her mouth like she was sixteen and figuring out her sexuality again. 

Garcia smiled and nodded. Maybe y/n didn’t see it, but y/n was down bad for Emily, and it made Pen’s heart swim. It didn’t hurt that Emily asked every Monday afternoon, when Em made a pitstop at Garcia’s office with a soda to ask if she had seen y/n at all over the weekend. It was funnier because Prentiss was much worse at hiding her crush than y/n. It was still another week before y/n texted Garcia: Is Emily seeing anyone right now? Does she like… you know… women?” Penelope let out a squeal and moved to find Derek and share the news that y/n was asking about Prentiss. Even if Morgan had kept a further distance from Garcia’s matchmaking, he loved the drama of it. The pair spitballed responses, and they finally settled on, “No, she’s currently not seeing anyone. And yes. Solid yes.” They both waited giddily for another response from y/n. It wasn’t until the end of the day that y/n said, “I want to hang out with her, but I’ve only met her twice and I don’t know a lot about her. She doesn’t have much on social media. What are some things she’s into? Music? Movies? Food?” Penelope chuckled and sent a few options: “Books, Queer Films, Lectures, Good Wine and cheese.” y/n shot back a thank you and then asked if she could steal Emily’s number from Penelope, promising that she really wasn’t a stalker or serial killer in disguise. Garcia happily replied with Prentiss’s number. 

It took y/n a week of research and building herself up before she found something that she thought she and Emily would enjoy. A local college was hosting Carol Clover, author of Men, Women, and Chainsaws to give a talk about her famous construct of the Final Girl. This would meet Emily’s love of queer film and academia and give y/n a chance to hear about the horror genre, which she enjoyed. Then there was the fear of actually texting Emily. The FBI agent had seemed so kind, and yet at the same time intimidating. Surely she couldn’t like someone as non-tradition as her? Not when she got dirty looks in public, frowning parents shielding their child's eyes from her body. Was it so profane to want to be yourself? Pushing her doubts aside y/n texted Emily saying that she had gotten her number from Garcia and that she was interested in going to a lecture next weekend and if Em would be interested in joining her. 

When Penelope heard a knock on her doorframe, she looked up to see Emily holding her phone up. Before Garcia could read what was on the screen, Prentiss said, “Pen, did you give y/n my number?” Penelope nodded and said, “Yeah, did she text you?” Em seemed to relax and say, “Yeah. I think she’s asking me out, maybe? Or maybe I’m just reading into it? She said she was on a dating break the last time I saw her, which was like last month. I kind of assumed she might have forgotten about me. I don’t know why she’d be interested in someone as boring as me?” Garcia could see the doubt in Emily’s face. The want for it to be more than just hanging out. That feeling that she and Derek could feel in the yarn shop. Em was questioning that. Even if Penelope had a good idea that y/n liked, liked her friend, she didn’t want to set her up with false hope. So with a steadying breath, Garcia said, “Em. I don’t know y/n that well. We’re not at telepathy levels of friendship yet, but I will say I don’t think she’s asking you to hangout for nothing. Like I said, things change and you won’t know if she’s trying to get to know you that way unless you go and find out. Or, you could be a stick in the mud and just tell her no, which would send a pretty clear signal from your end.” Em sighed and knew that Garcia was saying if she wanted clarity, then she needed to be clear. To take a risk. However, the hesitation was still there. To be let down again would be so hard. So painful. But not knowing, that would kill her more. If she missed someone as charismatic as y/n, then she would have really missed, so she gave herself the day to make a choice, be a coward, or give it one last chance. That’s what Emily said to Pen, and frustratingly, Penelope didn’t think that she was going to hear more about it until much later that evening when y/n texted her: She said YES! It was safe to say that both y/n and Penny spent the next hour freaking out over the news. 

Emily looked around the lecture hall. It was big and fancy, and already filling with people. Prentiss had struggled to find parking and ended up having to go into a parking garage across the street. y/n had already texted her that she was inside and had saved them seats. Em looked at the quickly filling seats. There was an odd mixture of people assembled in the modern and sleek room. There were film bros, students, and more none-descript people milling around and looking for a spot to sit. Emily let out a relieved sigh that she hadn’t over, or underdressed. She had opted for a maroon shirt and a knee-length skirt with nude tights on underneath. Unlike the last two times, Emily was wearing heals. They were black and elongated her legs. She wasn’t trying to send any strong signals that she was more than excited that y/n had reached out. Prentiss was starting to get worried because she hadn’t seen y/n yet. Em’s past fears of being stood up creeping back in her. She clutched her purse strap fiddling with the zipper. Finally, a larger man moved into the aisle, and Emily caught sight of y/n. y/n was looking around for Emily as well with a nervous glance. When their eyes met, y/n’s face brightened and she smiled and waved. Prentiss let out a breath and moved toward y/n. 

y/n had felt the same anxiety Emily had. She’d dressed down a little. She didn’t want her style to stick out like a sore thumb. She’d opted for black mary-janes and tights along with some shorts, a black turtle neck that was too hot for the weather, her toned-down makeup with a blood-red lip, and lots of silver jewelry. She hoped it wasn’t too much. y/n was less worried about her appearance as she beamed at Em. She was glorious as normal. y/n might have dressed in an intimidating way, but Emily was the one with the confidence. The one that could move through a crowd seamlessly. The power she held with just her presence. y/n thought for a moment about Emily’s job. About what she did every day to keep people safe. y/n still hadn’t told Em that she knew about her real work, but y/n expected Emily would have figured out she knew by now. And if she didn’t, then she’d let Em bring it up on her own time. For now, y/n extended her arms slightly at her sides and she and Prentiss hugged lightly. y/n breathed in Emily’s scent for the first time, floral and bright. y/n pulled back and said, “Thanks for coming.” y/n wanted to ask how her day was, and if anything interesting had happened since they’d last laid eyes on each other. And maybe why did you agree to come out with me? But all of that was made impossible by the host of the lecture tapping on the mic and the lights being lowered in the hall. Em and y/n quieted, as did the rest of the audience and everyone took a set. 

y/n was excited for the lecture, she loved horror, so getting to spend this time sitting next to Emily had the blood rush in her ears and her heart beating in her chest, even though she wasn’t sure if Em liked her like that. There was a clear energy between the two women seated near the back left of the room, like an electric current passing between them. Both Em and y/n listened with rapt attention. Emily perhaps a bit more at y/n than Clover. She loved to see y/n, so excited and happy. Plus the content was interesting even if she didn’t understand all of it. Every so often Prentiss would lean down and ask y/n a clarifying question which y/n happily answered in a whisper. There was one moment in the lecture where Clover mentioned the other characters in horror films apart from the Final Girl, the ones that die, stating, “The Final girl is chaste and tom-boyish. But the first victims are often popular or outcasts. The loner, the cheerleader having sex with the football player. And unfortunately, the queer characters. Remember, this was the 80s and even if the trope of ‘bury your gays’ hadn’t been coined yet, it was still heavily used.” At hearing this, y/n couldn’t help herself but lean over to Emily and whisper, “Wait, is this fucking play about us?” Emily almost choked trying to hold in her laughter, and y/n had to pat her on the back to help her calm down. Em was beet red at the comment and her reaction, and they both got a tut-tut from the people sitting next to them. y/n smiled and didn’t make any more comments, however, she did move her right hand out on her leg turning her hand palm up, and when Emily took it in her own, she was filled with a warmth that no turtle neck or sweater could give her. 

After the lecturer, y/n and Emily moved to a bar because they hadn’t had any time to talk before hand. Emily drove them there in her car, but it was y/n’s recommendation. As soon as Emily walked into a bar with y/n holding her hand, she knew it was a gay bar. Not that that was a bad thing, in fact, it was comforting. Emily didn’t go out much, and if she did, she hadn’t really thought to go to a place like this. On her dates, she did coffee or dinner, and no one, not even the women she’d seen had recommended a gay bar. So Prentiss drank it in. Not that it was very different from other bars, but there was more space on the floor for dancing, plus the music choices were different. While Emily was looking around, y/n led her to the bar and the bartender said, “Hey, y/n. How’ve you been. I haven’t seen you in months,” over the music. y/n smiled, and in her normal nonchalant manner, she shrugged her shoulders and said, “You know, alright I guess. How about you, Blaine? You holding up?” The man smiled and replied, “Oh, I’m good. It’s good to know you’re well. Now, what will you and your friend be drinking tonight?” y/n turned to Emily and got her order for a cosmo, and she got y/f/d. The cold glasses were ready in a few minutes, and y/n started a tab before heading to a table. 

The surface of the table was slightly sticky, but neither woman cared. They set their drinks on napkins and talked about their days, what they liked, and just life as a woman. As a woman wanting things. y/n looked past Emily for a moment as she said, “Sometimes I think wanting as a woman is a curse. Is there anything I can desire without being shamed, guilted, or ignored?” Emily frowned slightly. They were both two drinks in, and she could feel a slight buzz making her body warm and flushed. Not overthinking it, Em moved her hand across the table and placed it on y/n’s cheek, brushing the pad of her thumb down her jaw. y/n swallowed at the feeling as her stomach did somersaults. Emily watched y/n’s pupils dilate and she said, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed for wanting things. Even if other people make you feel that way.” Em paused and took a breath before saying, “I, I want to spend time with you. I have since the first day that I saw you. And I felt bad for that, and I feel bad because you said you weren’t looking, and I wasn’t honest. And even though I feel bad about that, I still wanted that and I’m not going to beat myself up about it. It’s okay to want. I’ve kept things from you too.” y/n looked at the table and then back up to Emily saying, “I wanted to be with you too. To know who you are. What makes you such a good person, so strong? And it’s okay to keep things hidden. Maybe not forever, but there’s a comfort in that. I understand.” The tone with which y/n said she ‘understood’ told Emily that y/n knew what she’d kept hidden. Her job. It felt silly now, but y/n seemed to get it and would indulge her for now. Em would tell her for sure if they kept seeing each other after tonight, but it was nice to feel so free. 

After a moment, Prentiss asked, “So is there something you want now, y/n?” y/n nodded, suddenly shy, and replied, “How about a dance?” Emily smiled and nodded, extending her hand out for y/n, which she took. The pair moved on to the dance floor which was crowded, but the bodies felt less pressed together than at a normal bar. There just seemed to be less pressure to be so close, instead Em and y/n just let loose and let their inhibitions let them move close to each other. At one point y/n helped Emily do a little twirl which she loved. After Em had straightened from being dipped down, a man tapped her on the shoulder and asked, “Might I cut in?” The fun Emily was having was instantly cut short as she said, “No. You can’t. I’m with someone right now.” Prentiss watched y/n change her face to one of disdain, it looked natural on her, pretty, ethereal even. And y/n leveled that look at the man who had cut off their shared joy. The man didn’t seem intimidated by y/n and he scoffed brushing harshly past Emily he asked y/n, “how about you, Babe? You down for a dance. You look like you need to lighten up. Maybe get laid by a real man?” y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed and said, “In your dreams, Babe, Now if you don’t mind, you can fuck off.” The man puffed his chest, offended to be rebuffed twice, but y/n didn’t back down with her glare and finally, the man moved away muttering something about ‘stuck up bitches,’ under his breath. 

y/n moved closer to Emily and took her hands in hers, checking in. “Hey, sorry about that. I swear to God I’m like the worst man magnet. Would you check and see if there’s a sign on my back that reads, ‘Lesbian, step right up?’” y/n turned around and Emily let out a laugh, turning y/n around by the shoulders leaning in and kissing her. y/n’s eyes opened in shock, but the warmth and scent of Emily so close to her had her relax and lean into the kiss. It wasn’t super long, but Chappel Roan was playing in the background, and for y/n and Emily it was like all the hurt they’d felt for not being wanted for whatever reason washed away. y/n moved her hands to Emily’s back and preseed herself closer to Em taking in the moment so she could keep it forever in her mind. When y/n and Prentiss pulled away, Emily’s phone went off with a chirp. She flushed and pulled it from her purse. y/n was still close to Prentiss when she pulled out her phone, she stepped back to give Em some privacy. Emily looked up at her and said, “You don’t need to worry. It’s nothing super personal. Just Penelope being nosy and asking how it’s going.” y/n pursed her lips playfully and asked, “And… what are you going to tell her?” Emily shook her head and replied, “Well, I’ll let you know when I have an answer. So far, pretty good” Em was going to say “don’t you think,” but stopped herself when she saw the time. It was 11:11 and she continued speaking, changing her train of thought saying, “Quick y/n, it’s 11:11, make a wish?” 

y/n titled her head to the side and asked, “What?” Emily moved forward took y/n’s hands in hers and said, “close your eyes and make a wish, quick.” y/n did as she was told and closed her eyes. She scrunched her face in concentration as she made a wish. y/n opened her eyes and said, “Well I did it. I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” Em smiled and said, “I’m kind of neurotic about it. Like a superstition. If I see it’s 11:11, I have to make a wish.” y/n nodded and they stood for a moment before Prentiss asked, “So, what did you wish for.” y/n chuckled and replied, “Come on now Em. you know if you say your wish out loud it doesn’t come true.” Prentiss smiled and said, “Well now I’m interested, how about you write it out for me?” y/n felt her chest constrict with excitement and apprehension. Could she? She wanted to, desperately, but it was so fast, too fast for someone like Emily. y/n looked at the woman she’d been brave enough to ask out and it was like she already knew. Em gave her a reassuring nod, and y/n moved back to their table. She pulled out a pen and wrote on her palm. y/n took a deep breath before placing the pen back in her purse and lifting her hand. 

The room was dark, the lights low as the light on the ceiling reflected off several disco balls. Emily had to lean in a bit to read the all-caps, slightly smudged: WILL YOU GO HOME WITH ME? Prentiss felt her heart swell, as she nodded her head. It was fast, yes, but it also felt right for the first time in so, so very long, Emily had waited for that, and she knew now was the time. y/n was smiling now and it wasn’t until she put her hand down that Em noticed that her nails were cut short. She moved in again and kissed y/n, her tongue sliding over y/n’s lower lip. y/n let her in, sucking in air while she could before their mouths closed around each other in a more passionate kiss. y/n let out a hum as they parted. She was half-breathless taking in air as she said, “How about we get out of here?” Em nodded, pecking y/n on the nose before taking her hand. They both grabbed their things from the table. They stepped out the door just as Teenage Dream started playing. Wish on hand, Em and y/n moved toward Em’s car, ready to find a place just for them. A place that was accepting and forgiving unlike how life had been for them before. Together, they could make that place.

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[ohnococo]

Fight Night | CHAPTER 4 | MMA Fighter!Sukuna x Reader

“Further down the hall to the right if you want to find yourself a drink though.” Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. Something about the way he leans back onto his hands and sets his mouth into a line, brows rising as his eyelids lower, makes it feel like a test rather than a genuine offer. You consider taking the offer nonetheless, maybe clearing out something nice from whatever alcohol he had to make up for him wasting your time getting dressed up just to stand here feeling like he was playing some game with you without explaining the rules, or the goal.

Two months after you last closed the door on your "situation" with Sukuna, he sends you a message.

Notes: There's a tone shift here, and some development of reader i.e. explicitly stated hobbies.

Warnings: Oral sex (giving and receiving), deep throating, fingering, vaginal sex, manhandling, rough sex, ruined orgasm, creampie

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

You hated how much you’d dreamt of him texting you again. It felt pathetic, dreaming of a text. At least in your other dreams about him you’d suddenly find yourself in the middle of a club, dancing, his hands hot on your body, stirring you up even though in reality you were very much alone under your covers. But just a text would have you waking up with an uneasy churn in your stomach.

Just like the one you have now, but that second of wondering if it was actually happening is overtaken by the excitement that yes, it was. You even do a double take, thinking you might have imagined what was on the notification that had popped up, brightening your screen and presenting you with that little “👹👑” that had last left you giddy two months ago.

Then, you open your phone and actually read the message.

You free right now?

You roll your eyes, annoyed at his usual lack of formality. No hey, no how are you, no long time no see, just asking if you were free. It annoyed you even further that he couldn’t throw a little sugar on his first contact after months. You roll your eyes again as you begin typing your response, trying to stomp down the butterflies fluttering in your stomach despite him being straight to the point as always.

I thought you had to keep clean for 6 months?

When he’d told you that you took it as him saying that, at best, you two wouldn’t see each other until after his next fight, after all the random drug tests were out of the way and he was able to party with you like before. It was either that or what you’d come to accept was the far more likely scenario, which was him forgetting about you in that time, having found a new woman to party with the exact same way he’d found you. Here he was though, 4 months out from his next fight and texting you. Responding within a minute as well, to your shock as your phone lights up again just seconds after you’d locked it.

are you coming not?

You imagine the annoyed sigh that had preceded his message and smile as another one comes immediately. This time, it’s an address.

As you look it up you’re surprised to find it’s not some club, it’s a neighbourhood. A nice one. An area filled with giant gated houses, spanish style architecture with just a splash of McMansion flair, and uncomfortably uniform topiaries. Maybe it was a house party. Maybe it was a party at his house.

Another message comes through.

im free after 2

You’re more confused than before. 2? In the afternoon? You can’t even wrap your head around what kind of pre-gaming Sukuna had in mind to be meeting up so early, but you weren’t exactly going to say no. You never did when it came to him, especially not when you’d gone without as long as you’d gone with.

see you then

When you step out of your Uber you find that the house is just as big as you’d expected. He’d spent enough on your nights out for you to know by now that he had money to burn, but as you make your way up to the door in your heels you can’t help but think about how your own place could fit in the driveway alone.

Once you get to the front door you take a peek through the large accent windows on either side, seeing how spacious the house was just from the little view you could get. Then you ring the doorbell, tucking your small clutch under your arm to tug your dress down your legs a little as you wait for an answer.

The door opens and you’re unsurprised that the person answering is Uraume, though they do seem very surprised to see you.

“Why are you here?”

You’d learned not to take their brusqueness personally during the encounters you’d had with them since the first one. You’d figured that shared trait was why they got along with Sukuna so well.

“Sukuna said to come over after 2.”

Their eyes narrow. “And he asked you to come here?”

Heavy steps approach from the large, brightly lit hall just visible from where you were waiting at the door. Uraume stops, looking back as Sukuna appears. You’re surprised to see him out of his usual clubbing attire, no slacks, no expensive leather shoes, no button up straining over his musculature, not even a flashy chain around his neck or watch somehow large enough to be ostentatious on even his frame. Instead he’s in tight boxer briefs and nothing else, with a towel over his shoulder to catch the drips coming off of his wet hair.

“What’s the problem, Uraume?”

“I didn’t know you were expecting someone.” Any trace of shock or confusion that had been on Uraume’s face isn’t present in their voice as they speak to him, but apparently Sukuna senses it nonetheless.

“Do I need to tell you about every single person I bring into my own home?”

“Of course not.” Uraume steps back and opens the door wider, giving you space to enter. They close the door behind you and turn to Sukuna, giving a deep nod that borders on bowing before leaving towards what you presumed was the kitchen due to the distant sound of an extractor fan.

“Thank you, Uraume.” There’s annoyance there, but it’s a thanks nonetheless.

Sukuna looks you up and down, and somehow his expressionless appraisal is more intimidating despite having dealt with it several times before. You don’t want to hear it, not when you were still trying to figure out what exactly was going on tonight.

He can’t be stopped though, “I can always count on you to get all dressed up for me.”

Then, he’s tilting his head towards the hallway he’d previously emerged from, gesturing for you to follow as he walks off before you can respond, forcing you to catch up with his long stride in your heels. As you walk just behind him you glance into the rooms as you pass, finding them either blindingly bright due to the floor to ceiling windows, or incredibly dark with only the sunlight from the skylights above the hall illuminating them.

You’re half expecting him to take you to some room with a built in bar and all his entourage pre-gaming. Or pre- pre- gaming at this hour, maybe, but when you finish the walk through his halls and reach your destination you find that it’s just his bedroom. To your surprise, this room falls into the category of “blindingly bright” and the high ceilings and cold tile floors would leave it feeling sterile if it weren’t for the things filling it. Dark wood furniture, warm toned bedding, and monstrous looking masks above his bed not dissimilar to the little emoji you had in your phone representing him.

As he disappears into his walk-in closet for a moment you think you know what he’s getting at now, a party before the party, and you’re a little embarrassed at how your body is already responding to the thought of it.

Then… you’re just confused again as he re-emerges fully dressed in grey sweatpants and a tight white t-shirt - attire very much the opposite of what you were in. He says nothing, sitting on the edge of his bed and looking at you expectantly.

You swallow thickly, looking at him, “Well…”

Something about standing in front of him while he just stares silently has you suddenly feeling self-conscious about getting dropped off at a rich man’s house in the middle of the day, in tight clothes and makeup meant for dim lighting no less. On your nights out you could fool yourself into thinking you were on equal footing - or at least that there wasn’t such a gulf between the two of you as you blended seamlessly into his entourage. Here though, with just the two of you and no distractions, you feel very small in his big, big house. You feel small in front of him.

“Well?” He parrots you, undoubtedly taunting you with that glint in his eye. Your annoyance at that tone and at how it makes your pussy respond pushes you to finally form your confusion into words.

“So what are we doing then?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid, like he hasn’t been vague as hell like he always was, expecting you to be able to read his moves as he makes them. “Hanging out.”

“Hanging out?”

He raises his brows and tilts his head like it’s obvious, like he shouldn’t have to repeat himself.

“Just me… and you… and Uraume?”

A dismissive hand waves in the air, “Uraume is just finishing my meal prep, then they’re leaving.”

“Are we going out tonight?”

“I’ve got training at 5 tomorrow, and when I’m clean I’m clean.”

You cross your arms, scoffing at your inability to get an actual answer out of the man and getting a little sick of it. When your little display of petulance draws a chuckle from him you click your heel against the tiled floor, hoping it would distract from whatever tell you might have that his laugh alone was already turning you to putty in his hands.

“Further down the hall to the right if you want to find yourself a drink though.”

Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. Something about the way he leans back onto his hands and sets his mouth into a line, brows rising as his eyelids lower, makes it feel like a test rather than a genuine offer. You consider taking the offer nonetheless, maybe clearing out something nice from whatever alcohol he had to make up for him wasting your time getting dressed up just to stand here feeling like he was playing some game with you without explaining the rules, or the goal.

But… you don’t really feel like drinking if he isn’t. So you slip off your heels, deciding that you weren’t going to be uncomfortable in them at least, toss your small clutch onto his bed, and sit down next to him.

“Meal prep, training at the crack of dawn, not even one little drink… you’re really serious about this whole fighting thing, I guess.”

He looks irritated for a moment, but amused nonetheless. “I have been the reigning champion for 6 years, you know.”

You lean back onto your elbows, crossing your legs and looking up at him, trying your best not to give away that you already knew that.

“And 3 years before that at my last organisation.”

You knew that too, and that he’d been banned from there for fighting dirty. You knew a lot more about him since you’d last seen him, having watched what clips of his fights you could find. He was impressive, worthy of being as cocky as he was, worthy of all the starry eyed reactions he’d get on your nights out.

“That’s cool.” His brow raises and you go on, feeling the need to assure him that you weren’t being sarcastic with him for once, “it’s nice to have something you’re passionate about.”

His expression goes blank, and you’re beginning to realise when he’s indifferent and when he’s trying to look indifferent - that subtle distinction between him peering into you and looking through you.

“What are you passionate about?” You think he might be genuinely interested. “Other than getting fucked up.” You think he’s pretending he isn’t.

“Um…” you have a brief moment of suddenly remembering nothing you’ve ever done or liked just because you’ve been asked, and the smallest twitch of a smile forms at the corners of his lips before he seems to decide to throw you a bone, just this once.

“What are your hobbies?”

Your mind is still drawing a blank, but you’re more able to continue, feeling like talking about what you like feels a little easier than explaining something you were as passionate about as 6 Year Reigning Champion Ryomen ‘The King’ Sukuna was about fighting. “I like reading, playing video games… uh…”

It’s weird having a conversation with him. Not that you hadn’t before, but they were always dripping with innuendo, banter dipped in tension and implication acting to fill the gaps between drinks and drugs and fucking. Conversations containing questions like ’What do you do for work?’ followed up with ‘you don’t have some sugar daddy waiting for you to come pay him a visit tonight, right?’

Now there’s another kind of tension here, one that Sukuna cuts with his usual playful bite, “So you’re a bookworm and a nerd?”

Sitting back up, you open your mouth, ready to lash an equally sharp remark back to him, but he’s stopping you in your tracks with his next words.

“Cute.”

He’s said it before, several times, but it always had that curt tone in it, clearly broadcasting that it was meant as his own special word for you in lieu of calling you a brat. Because that’s always when you’d earned the name, when you were being a brat. This time you don’t feel like there’s anything behind it, and it might just be exactly what it was: Sukuna thinking that you’re cute.

Even considering that that might be the case makes a little bit of warmth blossom in your chest, then lower down when one corner of his mouth lifts just so and it looks like he knows exactly what it’s done to you. That’s his only tell, as he moves on quickly, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his heavy hand on your hip.

“What kind of games?”

Now the blood that had rushed downward makes its way to your face as you shrug, “I dunno…”

“You don’t know what games you play?” His brows raise in a way that telegraphs he’s warning you not to lie to him, the thought of what the punishment might be for such a trespass has your mind racing.

You feel an odd pang of guilt in your chest though, for thinking of what he could do to your body when he seemed to be looking for an actual conversation, but then you’re second guessing even that. So you decide to just take it as what it is, a question, and answer it.

“I like Animal Crossing.”

“The children’s game?”

The bite is back as you roll your eyes at him, “It’s not just for kids.”

He smiles and squeezes lightly at your hip, then pulls you close, so your sides are pressed together and you have to tilt your head up to look at him. It makes you pause, makes you have to tell yourself not to be obvious in the way you cross your legs a little tighter. He doesn’t miss a thing, though.

“Well what’s this Animal Crossing about, then?”

“You’re a villager-“

“Like a peasant?”

“No, like… a little guy. Or girl, or whatever, and you move onto an island with a bunch of animals that live there too.”

His smile widens as his brows raise higher, “And that’s not just a children’s game?”

“It’s not just that, you basically build up a little town, planting trees, building things, decorating the place.” You pause, waiting for another remark from Sukuna, but find he’s just listening, waiting for you to continue. So you do, “You can even do things like fishing or catching bugs, it’s-“

He dips his head down and his lips brush yours, pressing for just a moment before he’s pulling back and speaking low. His nose is still pressed to yours, and hearing his voice at a near-whisper for the first time has your panties wetter than ever. “It sounds surprisingly peaceful.”

“I like a little peace and quiet sometimes.”

“Not when you’re out with me.”

You look into his eyes, and notice what an interesting shade they are, warm and deep and as intense as he was. It makes you realise that you’d never seen them without being overtaken by dilated pupils.

“Well… that’s you.”

The small ’Hm’ he lets out is dipped in something you can’t quite decipher yet, but it doesn’t really matter as his tongue parts your lips, giving you the kiss you’d come to crave. He lays you back, arm still underneath you, and you wrap your arms around him as he scoots you further up his bed bit by bit until your head is resting just below his pillows.

Whether the conversation before was genuine or simply pretence doesn’t matter now as he slips his muscled thigh between your legs, giving you an encouraging hum when you grind on it. Your hands are quick to find their way into his hair, then work their way down his back and up his sides. He feels so familiar yet different as the resumed training has made his body harder than before. When your hands finally make their way down to where his clothed cock rests heavy against your hip, you find a wet patch at the tip to match the one you were undoubtedly leaving on his thigh. His tongue is strong against yours, lips demanding as they lead until you’re moaning into his mouth, ready for him to do more than have you humping at his leg.

Sensing that, he pulls back, moving to lay beside you, hand on your jaw keeping you in place so he can look down at you as he speaks.

“Still scared to suck my cock?”

Here it finally was, that moment when he brings it up when you’re not too worn out to do something about that unstoppable smugness. You push him onto his back. Or, rather, you try to, finding him an unmovable object as your strength means nothing to him. He chuckles, and slides off of the bed to stand next to it.

“Here,” he slides his hands under your arms, pulling you until you’re lying on your stomach, elbows perched on the edge of the bed and peering up at him standing over you, “let me help you out.”

He hooks his thumb in the waistband of both his sweatpants and underwear, tugging them down enough to have his cock out and hanging, too heavy to stand fully on its own despite its hardness. He pumps it a few times, squeezing up slowly until a new bead of precum forms at the tip, and when you open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out to catch it as it drips down, he gives you that wicked smile you know so well.

“You’ll have to get it nice and wet if you expect it to fit in your throat.”

“Obviously.” That was the closest he’d get right now to an admission of you being intimidated by his size, he already wasn’t letting you forget those words that first night you’d met.

He’s right though, so you lean forward and swirl your tongue around the thick head, wrapping your lips around for just a moment before shifting to latch onto the side of his shaft. He holds it steady by the base, watching you intently as you suck and kiss your way down, letting the spit gathered in your mouth cover it as you go, and giving him the smallest hint of what he wanted. As you lick your way back up to the tip you look up at him and he bares his teeth, eyes sparkling as you finally take it in your mouth again and slowly sink down.

Just as the head hits your throat, you pull back, eyes still on his, before going back down slowly. You bob your head up and down like this a few times, coating his cock more and more until spit is dripping down your chin and into the floor below.

Then, he pulls his cock away from your mouth and flips you flat onto your back, this time with your head hanging over the edge. You open wide, tongue out, and grab onto his hips as he wipes the head of his cock across your lips before pushing in. He pauses for a second when he’s about to enter your throat, releasing his grip on his cock now that he’s firmly anchored inside of your mouth, and pulls his shirt up and over his head, throwing it onto the ground behind him.

You wonder why he’d even put it on in the first place, then you wonder nothing at all as he starts pushing his way into your throat and you have no choice but to put your full focus on the challenge before you. He only goes so far before he’s pulling back until you’re tightening your lips over the head of his cock in a kind of kiss - catching your breath for just a moment before he’s parting them to push his way back in. He repeats this motion, pushing in a bit further each time, until he’s pressing his way all the way in until your nose is nuzzled into his heavy balls.

He stays there, low grown bubbling out from his throat, and your own throat starts to clench around the length inside of it. It’s not long before you’re squeezing at his hips and bringing your knees up. He pulls out then, and you only have a second to sputter and cough before he’s bending down and kissing you hard, tongue feeling much less invasive now that he’s had his monster of a cock in there.

When his lips part from yours, the smile he gives you makes your pussy flutter, “See, I knew you could take it.”

It feels like a compliment as much as it feels like a warning.

Then, he’s standing up, and sliding his cock right back into your mouth and down your throat in one quick thrust. As he fucks into your mouth you find that your throat, and lungs are indeed more accommodating than you had thought. The throbbing soreness of having something so thick so deep isn’t so bad, and you time your breaths perfectly before your air is cut off briefly from the intrusion. Eventually he stays deeper and deeper each time he pulls back until he’s barely leaving your throat before he’s filling it again.

His thrusts are slow and relaxed while he leans down and runs his hands over your body. He gropes at your tits, squeezes at your stomach, then settles a hand over your pussy. He presses firmly, moving his hand side to side as he enjoys the wetness already there.

“Tell me, are you this wet just from a few kisses, or from finally getting a taste of my cock?”

You wait for him to pull back and let you speak, or sputter, or even moan as he continues palming at you pussy. Instead he hooks a thumb into your panties, pulling them to the side and sliding two fingers into you while thrusting harder into your throat.

“Got nothing to say for yourself?”

In lieu of an opportunity to speak, you swallow around his girth, tightening your throat enough to have him hissing through clenched teeth. A laugh follows that has your pussy clenching, and the sudden knowledge that even that had your body needy for him pushes the sound from a chuckle to a pleased growl.

“That’s fine, just let this do the talking.”

He fucks his fingers into you fast, stirring you up so well you lose your focus on breathing when you get the rare opportunity. You feel yourself getting lightheaded, eyes rolling back, grip on Sukuna’s hips loosening, until he suddenly pulls back and returns to those much more shallow thrusts where he’s only barely entering your throat.

You think it’s a merciful break, until you realise he’s pulling his fingers out of you and repositioning himself to hunch down over you on the bed. He slides his arms under your thighs, before hooking his hand back in your panties and settling his face between your legs, cock back to bullying it’s way as deep as it can go in your throat while still letting him keep his mouth on you.

His tongue is big, lathing over your pussy in long firm strokes, dipping inside you just to feel you clench before he pulls it back out and presses the flat of it over your bundle of nerves. When he wraps his lips around it he sucks hard, pulling back with a wet pop and leaving you yelping around his length as the intensity borders on painful. Then, just as quickly as he’d done it, he’s rubbing it better with his tongue, warm and soft and working you towards your orgasm.

He keeps your panties firmly out of the way with his index, sliding his middle and ring finger inside of you to give you something to clench around as sucks and licks your pussy until it’s drooling for him. You can’t even tell whether the wetness dripping down your ass is from you or his mouth as he growls into it, seemingly driven back to that savage state he’d fucked you in once before just by the taste of you. It’s sending you flying to the edge, whole body tensing, not sure if you’re breathing and not sure if you really need to as he fucks your throat, and the final push comes suddenly as you start clenching around his fingers.

All at once, it’s ripped away from you and you’re tightening on nothing. The cold air is jarring as he sits up, mouth and fingers abandoning your pussy, cock vacating your throat, and you outright scream in frustration at having your orgasm ruined. He pulls you up, tossing you back into your earlier position with your head on his pillows before he’s flipping you on your front and pulling you onto your knees.

“Fuck, I was cumming!”

“Too bad,” he lines himself up with your pussy, “I need to fuck you.”

His words ring loudly in your ears and your head spins as you realise this is the first time the two of you will have fucked completely sober, though you hardly felt sober with the way he’d toyed with your pussy like that.

As he presses in, much more slowly than you were anticipating, he groans and throws his head back, hands rubbing over your ass.

“So tight… no one’s fucked you right since me, hm?”

You don’t intend to answer that. It wasn’t any of his business what you did, and didn’t do, in the time he’d left you hanging.

Sukuna won’t be ignored though, ending his slow push forward by shoving the last few inches of his fat cock into you hard and fast enough for a little skin on skin slap to ring out just as you yelp.

“You haven’t been fucked stupid like that again, have you?”

“N-no.” It’s hard to keep your composure when you’re being split open for the first time in months.

He pulls out to the tip, and you brace yourself for another punishing thrust, but instead he’s back to pressing in slowly. He leans down over you, tracing his tongue up your back as he continues fucking you deep, pausing every so often to kiss and nip at your skin until you’re arching your back, rocking back into him.

“There you go,” he squeezes your hips, picking up the speed just a little, “a pussy like this needs to be fucked often, doesn’t it?”

You nod, moaning as your orgasm is already inching closer thanks to his cock dragging deliciously along your walls.

“Guess I’ll have to keep you around then, it would be a shame to waste it.”

He’s stirring you up so well you can only think to agree. Of course you needed his cock, of course it would be a waste, and how gracious of him to sort you out like this. Like his cock was a favour. Like he hadn’t said just minutes ago that he was the one that needed it. Not wanted it, needed it.

Your head is spinning, stomach clenching as he begins to fuck you like he was making up for wasted time. It’s hard enough that you’re unable to stay upright, slumping forward as your arms give out on you. It doesn’t slow Sukuna down in the least, as he pulls you back into his thrusts quickly, fingers pressing into the very spots your body knew his bruises belonged. He leans up and into you, shoving your body forward enough that you throw a hand up to brace yourself from being pushed into the headboard as he leans his full weight onto you, reaching beneath you to swipe at your clit roughly.

He’s shoving you towards that edge again, making you whine and moan for him as you have no choice but to cum fast and cum hard, something he does right along with you as he’s snapping his hips against yours and filling you with wave after wave of hot cum.

You collapse fully beneath him, pussy still twitching every so often with the aftermath of your orgasm, Sukuna acting as a far too heavy weighted blanket on top of you while he gets his breathing under control after an orgasm that seemed to rip through him as hard as it had you. He seems to finally hear your struggle below as he sits up and pulls out, letting you take full breaths now with his weight off of you.

He tugs his sweatpants back up and lies down on his side next to you, pushing your hair out of your face to make sure you were at least conscious before letting out a small huff of a chuckle.

“I thought you had passed out for a second there.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.” The bite isn’t really there as your voice cracks and you lick your lips, mouth dry from how you’d been panting so hard.

Another chuckle and he’s rolling you onto your back and pulling you into him, sliding his fingers into your pussy and smirking as he feels your walls still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm. He leaves his fingers settled in there, playing idly in your warmth as you lie there under his smug gaze.

You want to say something but you don’t know what, and deciding he looks content in this silence you just let the moment hang. Then, as your heart steadies and your body stops buzzing with the soft afterglow, you find yourself clear headed for the first time since you’d gotten that text from Sukuna earlier this day.

“Fuck!” You push yourself up onto your elbows, trying to reach for where you’d tossed your small clutch on his bed but being stopped by his heavy arm across your body, fingers hooked securely inside of you.

Once you start to shove at his arm he sighs, sliding his fingers out of you to grab the small leather purse and tossing it onto your stomach. He seems entirely uninterested in whatever you were on about as he settles back down on the bed and slides his fingers back inside of you.

“I completely forgot I had actual plans tonight.” You’re annoyed at yourself for just forgetting everything the second you’d gotten one text from Sukuna.

You’re annoyed at yourself even more for admitting in front of him that you’d bailed on these plans without a word the second he came calling, catching the way his fingers stop stirring inside you for just a moment before they’re back to their lazy movements.

He doesn’t seem interested in teasing you for it at least, letting out a contented sigh as you dig your phone out from where it was squeezed into your clutch, taking up all the space in there save for a small slot for your lip gloss. He watches through half-closed eyelids as you type your message of apology to your friend. You don’t bother explaining yourself, knowing they’d probably text you something back about getting your back blown out and you didn’t need his head getting bigger about any of this. When he sees your messages he locks onto his name in your phone again before you lock it and start to put it back in your bag.

“Put my name in your phone.”

“What?” You look up at him, surprised he still cared about that. He doesn’t look mad, or annoyed even, not like he had the first time he’d seen it. Whatever is in his expression isn’t fully clear to you, though it doesn’t feel entirely unlike when you’ve disappointed a parent.

“Put my name in your phone. Properly.”

You watch him carefully as you pull your phone from where it was half-stuffed in your bag, and do just that. Looking down at the screen to type out ‘Ryomen Sukuna’.

“There.”

He pulls his fingers out of you, rubbing your wetness and his lingering cum through your folds, then patting your pussy lightly. Then, he pats it again, this time firmly enough to make you jump. “Good girl.”

-

CHAPTER 5

[crusty-chronicles]

Hi,

Can I request kurama x human reader who share his love for plants and nature which makes him fall for them?

Thanks for considering this requst

An: My man's would be gushing 💯.

Kurama With An S/O Who Loves Plants

It's inevitable he becomes smitten

Someone else who shares his love of plants? You're his.

You start out as one of his classmates.

Just another face in the crowd.

It isn't until you have a project together that he gets to know you.

You'd chosen to do it at your house. It was more convenient that way. There'd be no interruptions and you'd get to finish faster.

There was just one catch though.

“My house is kinda humid. I like to keep the temperature high. If it's too much we could always work in the library,” you explained.

The heat was something he could handle. It wouldn't bother him in the slightest. And when he stepped foot inside, it was pleasantly bearable.

What he was not expecting were the ferns littered around your living room. Along with several other types of potted plants.

They all looked to be well taken care of, too. Seems you had quite the hobby.

He followed you to your room. Fingers skimming over the leaves of a pothos as he passed it. If you saw the action, you didn't mention it.

In your room were a few more plants placed towards the window sill. One in particular caught his attention. Through the foliage he could see glimpses of red.

“An anthurium,” he mumbled out.

“Huh?” You called from your spot on the floor.

He met your confused gaze and offered you a smile.

“You're a bit of a plant enthusiast, aren't you?”

You seemed to light up at his words. Excited to talk about your favorite hobby.

“Are you kidding me? These are my babies. I'm a single mother of about 24.”

Maybe it was a little endearing to see you talk so passionately.

“In all seriousness, I think I'm gonna become a botanist when I graduate. What about you?” You asked.

What would Kurama do? He'd probably be offered a job at his stepfather's company. If something else hadn't killed him first. But he felt like that wouldn't have been a favorable answer.

“I haven't decided yet.” Was his response.

He expected you to pry further. Instead you playfully nudged his shoulder.

“You could always join me.”

Surprisingly, he was left speechless by your offer. You'd wanted him to study plants with you?

“Don't think I didn't notice how you addressed Derek by his full government name.” You gestured to the anthurium behind you.

“You really know your stuff.”

Oh you had no idea.

“You name your plants?” He questioned. You were an intriguing individual.

“Hello? I told you they were my babies. And don't you try to change the subject.” You scolded.

“I'll consider it. How about we start on our project now?”

He figured that would've been the last time he interacted with you. That couldn't have been any further than the truth.

You showed up to his desk the next morning with a small potted plant.

He looked up at you quizzically before you spoke.

“What's this?”

You were trying to test him. A part of him found it cute. You had absolutely no clue how vast his knowledge was. Of both this world and the demon one.

He took you up on your challenge without hesitation.

“Bear’s Paw succulent. Also known as the Cotyledon tomentosa.”

“Aha!” You cheered triumphantly. As if you caught him red handed on something. Whatever connection you think you just made, he'd never know.

It became a daily habit of sorts.

Every morning you'd stop by his desk with something new.

The same question of ‘what’s this?’

And he'd always answer correctly.

You were persistent in whatever endeavor you were chasing. He thought you would've gotten bored by now, yet you kept at it.

Little by little, he starts to consider you a friend. He started anticipating your presence in the morning. Enjoying how you stuck around after quizzing him now. Getting to know each other more and more.

You didn't fawn over him like the girls in your class. And you weren't jealous of him like the boys. You were just you. And somehow you wormed your way into his life for the better.

You trusted him wholeheartedly with your plants. Even going as far as to ask him to take care of one for you.

“I have to go on a family trip. Watch Cornelius for me.” You'd looked up at him with pleading eyes. Ones he found himself unable to say no to. So he (not so) begrudgingly said yes.

A cactus. You gave him a cactus to look after.

He makes it bloom for you by the time you get back.

“Some green thumb you have.” You mused once you got it back. A small feeling of pride washing over him.

Eventually Kurama starts returning the favor and bringing you plants instead.

The first time he did it, he had left a special type of rose on your desk.

“What's this?” His words mirroring yours.

You gave a smirk at the challenge.

“Easy. It's a Falstaff rose.” you answered.

“Now what's this~” you pulled what looked like a white and pink flower from behind you.

“A trick. That's an orchid mantis.”

“Damn. I almost had you.”

Every now and then he'll throw you off by growing a plant from the demon world.

“Is that a hybrid of some sort?” You asked, prodding at the rather sentient looking plant.

Did it just blink at you?

“It's cool whatever it is. How'd you get your hands on it?”

By now your guessing games had started to take place out of school and in your homes. Right now, you were at Shuichi’s because he said he ‘wanted to show you something.’

He appeared amused by your curiosity.

“I have my ways.” He responded.

“This plant is carnivorous. It produces a saliva stronger than acid.” Though he'd never let it hurt you.

And instead of being frightened by it, you were ecstatic.

“Let's feed it a bunch of things!” You suggested.

Did you hear that? That was the sound of his heart beating in overdrive. You were a very brave human.

But you also found beauty and wonder in things most would cower at.

He makes sure to bring and grow you more plants from demon world. Most of them are relatively harmless.

As long as you don't get too close that is.

It becomes a new game for you to guess what they do. What makes the flowers bloom. The conditions they thrive in.

Most of the time you end up being correct. Using your prior knowledge to make logical guesses. It's surprising how accurate you are for a human. But then again, you weren't exactly normal.

He's still not over how you fed that plant your entire backpack.

He would be lying if he said he hadn't taken an interest in you.

Not just because of your shared hobby. He liked how you made it a point to check on him everyday. How you'd let him ramble on excitedly about some new fauna. The way you explored and investigated something new without fear. The exaggerated movements of your hands when you were talking passionately.

All of it had pulled him in little by little.

He makes it a point to confess to you in a way only you two would understand.

“What do all these mean?” He asked you, presenting you with a small bouquet.

“Oooh! Going the extra mile today? You're on.”

You took the flowers from him and began mentally listing them off.

You hadn't taken in the full context until you were already speaking.

“Red carnations mean my heart aches for you. Forget me nots mean true love. Baby's breath means everlasting love. And a rose means passion…Oh.”

It hit you like a truck then, the implications of why he might've gave you this. Was this still part of your usual game?

You looked to Shuichi who didn't hide the softness in his expression.

“You're being serious? I…”

‘Say yes you idiot!!!!’ You internally screamed at yourself.

Instead you plucked one of the flowers and offered it back to him.

“Here's my answer.”

You'd given him the rose in return.

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

An: yeet! Google came in clutch for this one.

[discotenny]

Gift Giving (hypmic)

Hypmic characters and the gifts they give you

Featuring EVERYONE (excluding Rei and Saburo)

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Buster Bros

Ichiro

I feel like he’s the type of guy to gift you experiences rather than physical items. He’d take you to a fancy cafe you’d been eyeing, maybe a movie you wanted to watch, possibly even plan a surprise picnic!!

He dresses up for the occasion too! Even if you don’t expect it, he’s out of his usual jacket and attire- sporting something he seemingly newly bought. Ichiro will absolutely light up in smiles if you compliment his outfit and effort.

Ichiro feels like his time with you is more valuable than any gift he could give. He has so many other responsibilities on his shoulders so he uses his “gifts” to make up for any time lost.

Jiro

Jiro worries himself over trying to come up with a gift to get you. He doesn’t have much money, with most of his salary going towards helping his siblings. When the time comes to give you a gift, he’s embarrassed- bumbling over himself with apologies for the supposed shittiness of his gift.

But oh, oh, oh he’s so sweet :C. He’ll hand make a card for you, educating himself on paper craft so it’s the cutest it can be. There’s paper cuts that litter his hands as he gives it to you.

Jiro immediately leaves the room, not wanting to see your face as you read the letter, in which he pours his heart out for you to fully see. Run after him and kiss his face will you?

Saburo

404 not found!

Mad Trigger Crew

Samatoki

Samatoki gives you a leather wallet... that he made himself!!

One of the old men who he buys meatbuns from told him about a class that would 'fit his vibe.' And when he begrudgingly took the class, the old man was totally right! Samatoki gets really into the task, hiding the new hobby from you because he wants to surprise you with a gift at the end of the class.

When he hands you the wallet, you can tell it wasn't professionally made. There's stray burn marks on the front, mildly messy seams holding it together, and a tag inside that is signed with his initials and yours inside of a heart. Samatoki is so, so proud of showing you his accomplishment though- and hopes you enjoy it as much as he enjoyed making it.

Jyuto

Jyuto gets you a personalized music box.

It's of your favorite song. One you would always play for him whenever you were given aux in the car- that he would always playfully say was becoming annoying to hear. One he only seemed to tolerate instead of actually enjoy listening to it.

But he knows the joy it brings you to listen to. He sees the smile on your face when you turn the volume louder, the shine in your eyes when it surprisingly comes on the radio. It's why, despite his mild dislike of it, he buys you a music box so you could play it whenever you want. Just so he can see your smile whenever he can.

Rio

Rio is a man of practicality. So he gets you a self care box!

He kind of throws everything into it, multiple body washes and bath bombs, a variety of different scents- he has more experience in self preservation instead of self care. But just from the amount of... stuff inside- it's clear he thought a lot about it!

When he gives the box to you he has a little trouble explaining what it's for. It's a rare sight to see, Rio stumbling flustered over his words trying to explain he wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself in ways outside his understanding. If you offer to show him how to use all the stuff he got you, he'll gladly accept!

Fling Posse

Ramuda

Ramuda gives you an outfit he specifically designed! In his mind, there's nothing more meaningful than something made from hand.

He’s poured over it for weeks, wanting it to be absolutely perfect for his perfect partner. Ramuda knows your tastes to the smallest detail, so he knew just what to do to make sure you'd like it. And its comfortable too!! Made with the softest fabric he could buy, so despite whatever flashiness it has it's super comfy to wear.

When actually giving it to you, he makes you model it right in front of him! He's kicking his feet and squealing as you twirl around in whatever he gives you, excited to see you in something he created.

Gentaro

mfeafeiafjewamawe Gentaro gifts you a notebook.

It's unsuspecting first, with a plain, brown, leather bound cover. He's unusually casual about it too, handing it to you under his sleeve with a meek smile. Usually, Gentaro would make a show about whatever gift he gives you, jokingly saying you should bow to his feet in praise for his effort.

However, once you open up the notebook, you'd find it's filled with words of love. Poems, short stories, letters, all of it written by Gen to you. It's so, sickenly sweet and romantic you'd never expect it from him. When you look back at him after peeking through, he's red in the face, flustered to hear whatever feedback you may have.

Dice

Dice gives you a special lucky charm!!

He spent months hunting it down. Seeking through pawn shops and all the shady back alley sellers he knows. When Dice gets a good idea in his mind, he sticks to it thoroughly, the only thing on his mind being the joyous reaction he expects you to have.

And what does he give you? The matching piece to his earring of course! If you don't wear earrings, he'll have it converted to a keychain so you can carry it on your bag. Dice thinks it's the perfect good luck charm, both for him and for you :3

Matenro

Jakurai

fewafewafewfeaw Jakurai gets you one of those mini books that's like "30 things I love about you."

You know, the ones that have a different prompt for each page that you have to fill in. Despite the small space, he gets really detailed, and it's so sweet and romantic and yuck !!! They're all wildly different responses, ranging from how he thinks you always look wonderful to how he thinks you truly saved his life just by being in it.

When Jakurai hands the book to you he's shy about it, apologizing about the responses because he wasn't able to fit all he wanted to say. Of course, he'll gladly say it in person if you're insistent 😚😚😚

Hifumi

Hifumi comes to your door with a bouquet of flowers. He's all smiles as he stuffs petals and stems in your face.

Ooh, he was insistent on picking out the flowers himself. Hifumi has a company discount with the local flower shop his club works with- so he was all in on getting as many different flowers as he could find (as in, all the flowers he found pretty[as in, all of them]).

He also put together the bouquet himself!! It's a little messy, with some broken stems and falling petals. However, he's just so happy to give it to you that you can't help but find it adorable.

Doppo

Doppo gets matching keychains for you guys!

He likes being subtle about a lot of things, including his affections. The keychains he gets are the type that look regular on their own, but together they can link to form a heart or your initials or something romantic like that.

Doppo will often link your keychains together in public, smiling to himself as he sees the connection. Whenever he gets anxious in public and he's alone, he'll hold onto the keychain tightly, being reminded of you. Yes, while it was a gift to you it also was a gift to himself, to have a reminder of you with him always :CC

Bad Ass Temple

Kuko

Kuko is so shit at giving gifts I'm so sorry. He has to ask his friends what gifts to get you and they're all so sick of it LMAO. Ichiro tells him to take you out somewhere, and that eventually gives him the perfect idea for a gift.

Kuko says his gift to you is a day of him being on his best behavior. He says it with a smug smile, expecting you to tell him how good of a present it is and is shocked to see your confusion.

He gets legitimately upset when you tell him that his best behavior shouldn't be a gift. The day ends with him promising you that he'll get you an even better gift next time, which leads him back to the drawing board as this dude is just so, so shit at giving gifts.

Jyushi

Jyushi writes a song for you!

He's not the lyricist for his band but he has a heavenly voice to back up whatever he writes. But he puts EVERYTHING into writing the song for you. Jyushi throws in references to your relationship, to specific dates or moments in time, to things only the two of you would know. He sees it as his magnum opus, and is very very proud of being able to perform it to you.

If his band doesn't want to perform the song with him he makes Kuko and Hitoya help him. Sure, it may have taken a few tear filled begs, but with their help he's able to perform the song he spent so much time working on, just for you

Hitoya

Hitoya makes you a playlist!

He's a bit of a classic guy, and would've made you a mixtape if anyone still used those on the daily lol. There's a lot of different memories within your relationship related to different songs, and he wanted to compile all of them for you two to listen together. Hitoya makes the picture of the playlist a photo of you two on your first anniversary, one where you're holding hands by the sunset and smiling.

It's sweet, cause he plays it first without telling you what it is. With every song that passes you recognize where it's from, and he's left smiling like a kid when you beam with joy asking him if he really made a playlist for you.

Dotsuitare Hompo

Sasara

Sasara gets you a build-a-bear bear!!

He goes in store alone to buy it, and goes a little overboard in designing it. Sasara gets a bunch of overpriced accessories, stuffs it a little too much with stuffing, and picks one of the most expensive dolls because it was the cutest.

Sasara records his own voice messages so they could play whenever you squeeze the doll's hand. And oh my goodness, he recorded so many. There's multiple shitty jokes, several wild compliments, and a myriad of 'I love yous' said in various different tones. Just don't hug it too much, he might get jealous ehehe.

Rosho

Rosho gets you whatever you want.

He gets really concerned when trying to get you gifts, worrying over what you would like best, if you already have it, or if you'd think it's too much/too little. So, eventually he'll just go ahead and ask you what you want as a present.

As long as it's in reason, of course. If you say some ludicrous thing like a yacht or a new car, Rosho will get sad and say you know he can't afford such luxurious (why would you do that to him LMAO). But he'll take you to the shops and have you pick out anything you want, buying it with no question as he just wants you to know he loves you so so so much :CC

Rei

404 NOT FOUND!!

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A little late to post on Christmas but fwjhshshshshf. I tried to keep it neutral on the occasion since not everyone celebrates holidays and Kuko canonically doesn't know who Jesus is. I lowk couldn’t think of anything for Saburo so that’s why he’s not here bakbdkdbdksns

This isn't my best work as I was a little too tired to put these into anything else other than thought formatting but whtverrrr

I hope you enjoyed !!! I'll see if I can post anything else b4 the new year but eheheehhehe we all know me

[akutasoda]

Could I request Gepard with a toymaker s/o who loves making and selling toys to little kids? I can't help but picture them gifting Geppie a plushie of himself.

Also, are you doing well?

made with love

synopsis - the toymaker he adores gift's him a plush with a simple question

includes - gepard

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight pining, wc - 1k

a/n: i am doing well! i hope you are aswell :)

taglist - @teddirika

you had first caught his eye when he was returning from the front lines. he had promised to swing by his sister's workshop and on his way he spotted a new stall not too far away from the florists, it had various bright colours and shapes that he could barely make out from this distance and they intrigued him. much like a child to a candy shop, he started moving toward your stall - his sister's workshop could wait.

the first thing he would notice is the large crowd of people near the stall, all children with their respective carers. the second thing he would notice is the owner of the stall. the bright smile you adorned as you crouched beside a child showing off a toy nearly distracted him from beautiful you were. he watched as you handed the toy to the child before another took intrest in another toy and you happily handed it too them.

he watched you work a bit longer than he thought before remembering he still had to see his sister and so he quickly turned heel and left. he spent some time with serval as she rambled on about her latest invention but he wasn't really listening because all he could think about was you. serval easily noticed her brother's lack of engagement and quickly shut down her rambled and asked him what was keeping him so lost in thought.

he asked her if she had seen the new stall near the florists and she explained you showed up a couple of days ago - that made sense to him as he had

been on the frontline for about a week. he then followed up by asking if she had the chance to talk to you which she obviously said no as she had been cooped up in her workshop. now he really was curious and so he quickly bid his sister farewell.

if you were being honest, you saw the captain of silvermane guards watch you earlier and it intimidated you. it made you think you did something wrong and now you could visibly see him walk towrds you again, making you panic even more. you were one hundred percent sure you had all the right paperwork and permits to be operating on the streets of belobog and you were sure you didn't commit any crimes, so why was he heading over?

gepard had noticed your stall had calmed down a bit and decided to find out who you were and why you plagued his thoughts. he approachhed you rather directly after he thanked another parent for their purchase and he could see you were visibly worried. he opened by telling you that you weren't in any trouble and he was just curious about your stall. you calmed yourself a bit before telling him about how you enjoyed making toys for children and it was a hobby that became a source of income.

he listened to you with absolute admiration. he thought it was absolutely adorable that you had such a passion for what you did and it was this that made you consume his thoughts even more. he eventually (and reluctantly) left, mainly because you had more customers and he wished you well.

eventually gepard had made a visit to your stall apart of his daily rounds - if he wasn't on the front line - and it would take you a while not to panic when he walked over. your customers would also have to get used to the captain's presence but the children never seemed to mind, if anything they proudly showed off your work to him.

one day you had an idea. gepard had become a constant in your daily life that you'd never expect but greatly appreciated and so you wanted to gift him something special, something made by you. you greeted him cheerily when he visited you the following day and immediately told him to close his eyes for a moment, he was going to question you but simply went along with whatever you had planned.

when you told him to open his eyes he was greeted by you happily presenting a handmade plush of yours. he immediately recognised it's likeness and his face exploded into red. he reached one hand out to grab it as the other covered his face and coughing out a very flustered thank you. you nagged him about how he wouldn't be able to appreciate it with his head turned away and eventually he let up.

he had to admit it was beautifully sewn and had a noticeable increase in quality compared to your regular works and that made his heart swoon. what he failed to realise at first was that the plush seemed to be holding something. he saw your smile widen as he picked it out the plushs arms and unfolded it. if his face was red before, it was even worse after reading the contents of the note.

you looked at him for a moment before prompting him for an answer. written on your note was a confession. you had to admit the captain of the silvermane guards was rather handsome and his charming but shy nature made him utterly unresistable, so you had developed a small crush. one that seemed to be reciprocated as your answer was a shy and honest yes.

your plush was a constant reminder to him about your confession, mainly because he was glad you made the leap before he did - he was so nervous that he fearred he wouldn't of done it. he kept it in tip top condition and if anything happened to it he brought it straight to you to fix. and with your new found relationship with gepard, your customers would note how he appeared at your stall more often and even helped you sell the toys sometimes.

he adored each and everyone of your works that you crafted or sewed - always complimenting your work. but truly nothing paled in comparison to the plush that he always had near him.

[camilaxmartin]

Can you make an shuri x reader fic out of the scene where her and okoye went to the collage to find riri but instead of riri it's just y/n or something

ღ the scientist

this. right. here. idk why but it just gave me so much motivation skdhsjsk soo let’s get down to business.

navigation // request // me and find the rest!

summary: shuri and okoye went to to college to find the person who made the machine to define vibranium who happens to be you.

warnings: SPOILERS FOR BP: WAKANDA FOREVER !!!

notes: i hope i remembered this scene correctly. tbh i don’t know why it turned out shorter than i expected😭 i may write part 2 to it one day👀 with more fluff and stuff.

part two // part three // part four

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>•<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

“one thousand” you said to the boy standing in front of you.

“one thousand?! yesterday it was eight hundred.” he protested, while you rolled your eyes.

“inflation darling.” you responded fluttering your eyelashes, it was his turn to roll his eyes. in the next moment you heard the sound of notification coming from your phone.

“done and thank you.” he said annoyed and turned around to walk back to his friends. you smiled to yourself and headed back to your room.

what you didn’t know was the two women standing in the parking lot watching your every step.

“she’s a literal child.” said okoye looking at shuri.

“she’s a genius.” the girl corrected her, eyes still glued to you.

“i will handle it” the woman said wanting to follow you, but shuri stopped her with one of her hands.

“let me do it. no one will suspect anything, i can blend into the students” she argued still not letting go of her.

“why? do i look bad?” general asked which took shuri by surprise. “it’s the shade isn’t it? i thought it looked good.”

“noo you look great.” shuri sayid being a little amused by the sudden direction this conversation have taken.

“you sure?” the woman asked wanting to be assured.

“yes. now, let me talk with the girl.” shuri said gesturing to the building which you disappeared in a moment ago.

“you got five minutes. then i come in.” okoye smiled with her most loveable smile, but shuri knew better than that.

>>

you just came back from one of your lessons and started to prepare for another one, when suddenly you heard knocking. guessing it was one of your to-be clients you rolled your eyes while approaching the door.

“i don’t take requests in person. i’ve got a whole damn website for it.” you said but your mouth went dry when you saw who was the person standing before your room. it was shuri. as in princess shuri. as in shuri princess of wakanda. and as the most pretty girl you’ve seen. wait-

“you… i-i mean princess-“ you started but shuri silenced you by putting a finger on her lips and quickly slipped into your room.

“you are the genius who constructed the vibranium machine, right?” she asked even tho she knew the answer. you just nodded your head, being a bit nervous because of the way she called you a genius.

“shuri” you stated still not believing your eyes and ears. “what are you doing here? i-i mean has i done something bad? did i annoy wakanda or something?” you started rambling but shuri got into your words.

“not only us.” she stated looking around your room, being too distracted by it to be only looking at you. she noticed many posters on your walls and many pictures of your hobbies and current hyper fixations.

“then who else?” you asked getting a little anxious by this whole situation.

“for your own safety i can’t say. but i need you to pack up your things and go back with me to wakanda.” she said finally landing her eyes on you.

“but princess, when?” you asked still being unable to believe in all of this.

shuri felt her cheeks warm up a little when you again, used her title. not that it was something new to her, almost everyone in wakanda used it, but just the way you said it, have changed something in this sentence. “right now.” she explained looking into your eyes.

“what?!” you screamed not being able to control your own voice in that moment. “but i can’t! i got differentiation lesson in a few minutes! i can’t just leave like that.” you protested and shuri bit her lower lip starting to worry.

“trust me. you’re not safe here but in wakanda nothing bad will happen to you. i can promise you that.” she was trying to convince you, but you felt like you were in some kind of a dream.

“i assume that, princess.” you said noticing this time how shuri reacted to the title. she scratched the back of her neck, looking away from you for a minute, needing time to think on how to finally convince you. “but i can’t just leave.” you argued also needing to think for a bit.

“y/n listen…” she started, but you stopped her.

“no.” you said rubbing your eye with one hand. “i- i need to refresh myself.” you said going straight to the bathroom.

the moment you entered the room, shuri heard your scream. her attention instantly turned to you who were now running away from the bathroom while okoye was walking slowly behind you. you ran to your desk and grabbed the first thing you could find, which was a loudspeaker.

“one step closer, and you’ll regret it.” you said, which made the woman laugh. “i’m serious!”

“oh, sure you are.” she said looking at you like you were some kind of an idiot. “look shuri, she got a loudspeaker!” she imitated you which made your blood boil. “listen little girl, there are two options: you come with us to wakanda conscious or unconscious.” she smiled at the end what gave you another dose of anxiety.

“you must’ve been unconscious when you were putting on makeup today.” you said, the first thing that came to your mind. woman in front of you was clearly surprised, but the princess started to laugh.

“that’s funny?” she asked the girl, with murder in her eyes.

“no, no it’s not.” she answered trying to control her laugh.

“i told you i looked bad.” she said, gently hitting shuri’s arm.

“you look good.” shuri said, trying to calm down okoye a bit. she just rolled her eyes. “hey, hey, listen.” she stepped a little closer to you. “we just want to keep you safe.”

“you know what?” okoye stepped in again. “let’s leave her here and let her deal with namor himself, alone.” she smiled and your blood ran cold.

“stop it.” you whined. “i don’t know what to do.” you said mostly to yourself.

“so let us help.” shuri came even closer, now standing right in front of you. “nothing bad will happen to you while you’re with us.” she assured you, also taking one of your hands in her. you uncontrollably blushed.

“i think it won’t be that hard to convince her.” okoye stated looking amused while looking at you and then at shuri. you blushed even more at her comment at this time even shuri noticed it.

“don’t listen to her.” shuri said, while looking right into your eyes. “it’s just her thing” she smiled at you and you felt your cheeks warm up more.

“thank you princess.” you said being hypnotised by her eyes. this time, shuri gently smiled at your response.

“i see what’s going on here, princess.” okoye commented again. “but please, focus on the mission first and then you will be free to flirt as much as you two want to.” she added, waiting for your reply.

“okoye, get a grip.” shuri scoffed her, but okoye just acted hurt.

“we’re not flirting.” you protested. ���i wouldn’t dare to do such a thing with the princess.” you added what made both woman laugh but shuri’s face stayed a little red.

“don’t miss your chance. i can guarantee you, the princess wouldn’t mind it.” she said, specifically marking shuri’s title.

“she’s insane.” shuri commented still looking at your face and then into your eyes when they landed on her again. “but she’s not wrong.” she whispered winking at you. if you think you were already red, i don’t know how you looked right now.

“girls, seriously.” okoye broke the tension again. “pack. up.” she said with a very strong accent.

“will you go with us?” shuri asked you, with hope in her eyes.

“i don’t have a choice apparently.” you said breathing out hard.

“you will love wakanda, i promise. and we will be able to keep you safe there.” shuri repeated herself, while letting go of your hand.

“the princess will make sure of the first part.” okoye added smiling at the both of you. shuri only rolled her eyes at this.

“fine, i will go.” you stated, which earned a smile from shuri. “but we need to go to my workshop first. i have all my projects there.” you said, making the conversation serious again.

“we got you.” shuri said smiling at you even more, when okoye shook her at the two of you.

[transmascaraa]

hello! been a while- hope you've been well! /gen

id like to request a gaming (+ any other characters if you'd like!) x gn!reader who does photography as a hobby, where half of their digicam pics of gaming just have him w his eyes closed awhwh

— 🧷anon (p.s. this was inspired by the screenies i took of gaming w his eyes shut like (–u–) hes cute im just bad at timing screenshots <//3)

bf!gaming headcannons!

you have some cute pictures of him!

bf!gaming x gn!reader

author's note: THAT'S SO CUTE😭 had to do your req asap i love them cuz they're always so fun to do i swearr HAVE FUN READINGG

"w-what?! when did you take those!?"

-I IMAGINE HIM BEING SO FLUSTERED FR.

-like despite the length of these hcs i'm pretty sure you'll love the way he'll act since nothing can explain his cuteness

-you do photography as a hobby, and he knows it.

-you take photos of nature,

-of random objects that you think look good,

-of you two together,

-of yourself,

-of other people,

-and of literally anything else.

-and he knew it all, he knew what you took pictures of.

-or at least he thought so.

-one day, he decided to look through your photos.

-with you, of course.

-you helped him use it.

-taking a picture with you before anything.

-and finally,

-he started looking through the photos.

-the amount of red on his face was undescribable.

-half of the photos were just photos of gaming sleeping cutely in your bed, like a cute little cat.

-he was adorably calm and cute in the photos.

-on some, his mouth was slightly open, while on the others, he was slightly smiling.

-he was so cute.

-especially the photos of him sleeping with you in the frame, too.

-him being on your chest and sleeping.

-while you smiled at the camera.

-when he saw the pictures, he slowly lended you the digicam back and blushed hard.

-he then hid his face in your chest, not saying a word.

-it was then when you took another picture of the two of you, and he just lost it after that.

-"you're such a tease..." he mumbled.

-"just for you." you replied, in the most loving way ever.

-everyone knows that there will be even more photos like that after this.

~~~~~

THIS IS ADORABLE AND A BIT LONGER THAN EXPECTED

HDBCHDHCHCHFDS

i love it i hope you like it too 🧷anon :p

| @mariaace <3

[mortal-kombatants]

Hi! Can I ask for Kuai Liang and Hanzo headcanons, where the reader feels insecure because think they might like someone with good fighting skills (and the reader is completely unaware of this), but they are so nice and cute on their own, that those two are already in love with them?

Good luck growing your blog!

Thanks for the ask and encouragement!!

Instead of going for the "nice and cute" thing, I didn't specify personality traits

Also, Hanzo's probably doesn't seem as romantic as Kuai Liang's does because I usually headcanon him as aroace, so writing him romantically was a challenge, but I tried my best.

Also, since this is a specific scenario, it's a little shorter, so sorry about that

GN!reader, no pronouns used

Kuai Liang/Sub-zero

He doesn't really try to hide the fact that he's in love with you. It's just that he's really bad at showing his own emotions; he does his best, but it usually doesn't end up being enough.

He does think that he shows his love for you well, despite the fact that he can be cold at times without meaning to be, which is what leads you to believe he doesn't care about you.

He spends more time training than with you, so you think that he would prefer someone he could spar with.

When you end up confronting him (because you'll have to do it first), he's immediately apologetic, which doesn't make you feel any better. Once he notices, he tries to explain.

He takes your hands and tells you exactly how he feels about you, just every thought he's ever had.

To your surprise, he didn't have anything bad to say — there wasn't anything even remotely critical.

He talks about all of his favorite things about you, from your appearance to your personality, which ends up just being him talking about you

He only stops talking because you make him. First you tried verbally, but he ignored you and kept going, so you kiss him, which does make him stop

"Do you understand now? I love you."

Hanzo Hasashi/Scorpion

This man is so clueless when it comes to emotions, both yours and his own. It took him what may have been months for him to realize he liked you.

Because of this, he doesn't immediately notice that you has become withdrawn. When he does notice, though, he talks with you about it as quickly as he could.

When you tell him about your insecurity, his first response was "Why?" Because him making an offhand comment about wanting a new sparring partner shouldn't have been able to make you think he didn't like you.

At your expression being more upset, he tries to reassure you.

He tells you how much he likes seeing you do your hobbies, even if he didn't share them. He likes seeing you happy while doing them, and he wouldn't rather have anything else.

"I love you for you, and I don't expect you to change yourself for me. I would never want that from you."

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hi!! I absolutely love your writing!

So... today happens to be my birthday. Could I pretty please get something fluffy as a present?

Five days.

The villain had stayed five days at the hero’s apartment, recovering slowly with the help of their nemesis. It turned out that the hero wasn’t a terrible roommate, they were the exact opposite: doing the dishes seemed more like a hobby than a chore, cleaning the room and decorating the whole place neatly was one of their favourite activities.

Nearly motionless, the villain had watched them rearrange a bouquet of flowers, humming to themselves a content tune that would haunt the villain’s thoughts for the rest of the day. The hero was diligent and careful, making sure the colours in their home could coexist in harmony with every new element they found.

The villain tried to stay as quiet as possible most of the time, hoping the hero would forget about them eventually. Hoping they could turn invisible and be less of a burden. With all the mess they were causing, they didn’t fit into this picturesque world the hero tried to create.

But the hero didn’t forget. Due to their injuries, the villain slept a lot, being out by eight, getting pleasant twelve hours of rest. They were stationed on the comically huge couch, even though the hero had offered them their bed. However, healthy sleeping patterns were unknown to the hero who suffered from a little less than four hours a night. It explained the many naps the hero took on the couch, right next to the villain.

But no matter how many hours the hero slept, they always made sure to eat together with the villain. Every meal, regardless of their grogginess, they sat down next to their enemy and talked about their newest idea to help the city.

“Dunno why I’m telling you,” they said one day while having lunch, spaghetti filling their mouth, “but I really like this new project. Growing more plants in the city?! Love it.”

“Until there’s a villain who can control plants.” The hero’s tired eyes widened as they practically inhaled their lunch. Focus settled on the villain who was trying to eat as gracefully as possible. Once again, they were like a mirror that showed the exact opposite.

“Nonsense. No one can control plants,” they said, bolting the rest of their noodles and meatballs.

“Have seen one,” the villain answered calmly. Damn, the food wasn’t even bad.

“You’re kidding.”

“Am not.” The villain stared at the hero and their poor overworked soul. For days, they’d been rambling about projects and work and on top of that they managed to do the chores and nurse the villain. No wonder they were sleeping every second they allowed themselves to.

“I’ve seen one,” the villain said hastily, getting their thoughts back on track. “South America, somewhere. She’s very old though, so don’t expect her to take over the world.”

The hero’s plate was empty already.

“I didn’t know I could be jealous of some old lady. You travel lots?”

“When I’m not getting shot at, sure.” Something in the hero’s gaze softened, blurring the line between relaxed and hurt. Their eyes dropped to the ground, their shoulders tensed. Fuck. “I like getting shot when it’s you, though.”

What. Oh god, the villain wished they could sink into the ground. I like getting shot when it’s you, what a stupid thing to say. They felt the horrible blush creep up their neck, so they grabbed their tea and gulped it down.

Christ, why were conversations so hard to have?

The hero giggled nervously.

“Well, uh…”

“You need more sleep.” The villain’s face was burning, so they tried to deflect. “You always look tired and sleep throughout the day. What do you do at night?”

Getting the hero’s attention was easy, getting them to talk about important stuff wasn’t. Their nice projects were fun to listen to but when it came to the hero’s desires, to their morals and their longings, the villain didn’t get anything.

“It’s a long story, really,” the hero said. “Did you put that blanket on me yesterday?”

“Yeah, you almost rolled off the couch, too. Gave me nearly a heart attack,” the villain mumbled and it was true. It had made their heart skip for more than one beat. “You don’t have to leave that much space between us.”

“You sure?”

“I’d rather cuddle with you than have you fall off the couch.”

Now it was the hero’s turn to blush.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Hiii, miss me?

Now you want to kiss me (or have to? Wasn't there a song like that?)

This month my blog turned two years old. I got the notification in my email. Last year I made an entire celebration post by publishing the funniest/ridiculous asks I got. There were good times back then. Still. Not so much afterwards.

I wasn't the nicest presence in the last few months leading to me abandoning the blog. And I wasn't too discreet about it. Although there was more to it, a lot more. But I'll get there.

First things first. Why am I here when on the 24th of March I dramatically declared that I'm leaving forever? Well, that was a very emotionally-charged post and the result of a few factors. I'm not entirely proud of how I made my exit, but it's also a true reflection of my personality so there's no point in making excuses. Nevertheless, I will explain as much as I can (I still care about privacy, just like before).

On that Friday, I woke up excited. I took a day off from work (yes...I know), I listened to Face, watched the music video. All good. But I was also dreading a bit having to come here because I knew there was this expectation of me to come up with some thought-provoking analysis, say something smart and all that. I was exhausted on all levels, emotionally and intellectually. I had also promised to leave after the promotions were over, somewhere in the middle of April (who would have thought it would last 9 days? Not me), but the plans changed. Not to drag it too much, but on that day I also officially announced to some concerned parties that I'm changing career paths. You know, just something I thought I'd be doing until the day I die and I've been working towards for at least 10 years. No big deal. I was planning on doing it anyway, but actually saying the words and make it real is a different story. I felt extatic, full of adrenaline, so happy with my decision and at that moment, it felt the right time to close BMT. It was somehow directly connected. I made the blog as an escape and now I got the opportunity to turn the page over. It was perfect. Best day ever. I clicked post, I logged out, and then I sat. And after a while, the reality of my decisions hit me in the face. And I felt sad and empty because what the hell am I doing now and what is my identity? I closed my blog too which was my main hobby. And so followed some difficult days. And then it got better. And then bad again. And so on, because it's a roller coaster.

The thing is, I can change my interests, but I can't stop myself from being opinionated. And getting excited. And wanting to talk about it. And share all that on a public platform with some strangers that are interested in what I have to say. Or they used to. It's who I am.

This blog won't remain Bangtan Media Thoughts because I want more than that. I will rebrand this page. I could start fresh with a new blog, but this is still my space and I know some people were interested in reading about other things as well from me, not just BTS. I hope I can built something from that.

The blog won't reflect only a specific niche of interests, but everything that I like in terms of pop culture. From movies, music, fashion, gossip, you name it. Including Kpop. And if I feel the need to rant about Hybe after talking about Ryan Gosling's Ken, I will. Same about JM, JK or whoever I feel like it. If there is a good advice that I got in the last few months, is to adapt and not force myself to abandon something completely. Because it's not as easy as it sounds. And to be honest, it was easier to give up smoking than completely lose interest in kpop. It's a habit. Perhaps this new blog will reflect the way I try to deal with that. A bit more honestly, a little less discourse, certainly less essays because I don't have them in me at the moment. But never say never. This blog will be all me, not just BMT.

I will change the name and url 24h after I post this. This will be an opportunity for all my followers to decide if they want to stay or they are not interested in the new direction. Feel free to do as you please. I welcome new people and greet the old ones who didn't hit unfollow for some reason.

It will go like this:

Bangtan Media Thoughts > Reflections in a Critical Eye

New theme, new profile photo, new beginnings.

All the old posts will still be here. I don't plan on deleting anything. They are all a product of me and my brain and they have their place. I'll probably pin some new posts these days that have to do with the rebranding. It will be like a construction site, but it will be worth it.

One last thing though. After I abruptly left, I received some DMs. I saw them back then. I do feel sorry about those who wanted to check in with me or with whom I used to talk regularly. But I do hope that some of the things I said today will explain my behavior. I also won't start communicating again like that, at least for now. I always felt a bit pressured and I'm not the best at maintaining conversations in private. If that changes, I'll make that clear.

That's it for now. I'm excited. I feel like writing again so here's to another chapter.

My inbox is open and will be, just as usual. No more messages to BMT, but you can call me M. Like in the Bond movies 😉

[writtenontheport]

Walk Me Home?

George Karim x (gn) Reader

Part 3: As the days go by (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt. 4)

Warnings/Tags: Reader is not an agent, Slow burn I think!!, Lucy and Lockwood being little shits my beloveds <3, Reader is an exchange student from abroad (vague), uhhhh I’m blanking but this is mostly fluff and self-indulgent, nerd Reader, Risking your life for the bit if the bit was knowledge

Notes: I CAVED. I could not go another day without writing an exchange student reader, physically hurt me not to 😔

Summary: George finds out that risking your life is a thing many people do; chief among them being the very people he cares about most. You’re no different, but at least you aren’t fighting ghosts. That’s a start.

Word count: 1.3k+

George settles into a schedule that slots you into his life with ease. You slide into the repertoire of his thoughts as if you’d always been there, waiting patiently to be noticed.

Every single thing in the world had a challenge, and yet the only thing you came with was a smile and a promise. Even Lockwood and Lucy had their own challenges; the challenge of keeping them alive chief among them. It was a challenge he understood and accepted with their line of work, but to finally meet someone mostly unattached to such a risk… It was strange.

You had come from abroad, far enough that news of the Problem was near non-existent and were not an agent. When visiting the British Isles for the first time, the Problem had barely been explained to you in anything other than harsh whispers and frustrated advice. This, you had told him, just a few weeks after you met.

“Everyone was so hurried all the time to get anywhere, and then, after curfew, London would be a ghost itself,” You told him once, sitting across from him at the same table you’d shared for months now. “When I had to go back home, I put in a request at my school to be part of an exchange programme. I can still remember how surprised the Dean looked when I told him I wanted to go to Britain.”

George understood why that was, shrugging lamely as he flipped to the next page of his book, “I wouldn’t send anybody here if where I lived didn’t have the threat of Visitors constantly over my head. I would send myself, but that’s out of scholarly interest.”

You chuckle lightly at the comment. “I ended up doing just that, so I can’t blame you.”

George hums in response, eyebrows lifting in the manner they do when he’s agreeable. “Must’ve been easy to find an exchange though…”

“Oh, very,” You say easily, “In fact some of the parents started sending me letters as soon as they found out someone was applying to exchange. Had very enticing terms they did— basically promised me a dowry, some of them. I didn’t even have to marry anyone.”

“Well I hope you took it,” he laughs, resting his cheek against his hand as he looks up at you, watching the light catch your eyes like a twinkling star, “Would be a pity if you didn’t.”

“I did,” you reply, mirroring him with your opposite hand as your sparkling gaze trails where your fingers nearly touch. His eyes drop to where you bump a knuckle into against his fist, and something curls in warm delight in his chest.

You don’t say anything more, and he’s too distracted to pick the conversation back up before you’re both packing to leave. Over the months, your visits to the library have gotten longer, and your walks take up enough time that he makes it back to Portland Row just as curfew’s setting in. Lucy and Lockwood always greet him like the cunning wolves they are, hungry for a scrap of gossip. Lockwood, he expected this from— the man reads gossip magazines as a hobby after all— but Lucy’s prodding seems to mostly come from a genuine interest in his life. For all their bickering, he knew Lockwood and Lucy truly just cared about his wellbeing.

So, a month or so into your… shared library visits, as he’d taken to calling them, he started to fill the two in on a few details. Sometimes they’re small things, like your favourite colour or the last fiction book you’d read, but other times he’d give a little more and tell them things like: ‘They’re from abroad’ or ‘They’re here, willingly, on an exchange program’. They wouldn’t get off his back for days when he told them the Problem was what kept you in Britain after your initial visit.

“You two are basically made for each other,” Lockwood coos, and George swats him on the chest for it. “Risking your lives for research and study and all that.”

“He’s right, if I hadn’t grown up with it, I certainly wouldn’t have sent myself into it,” Lucy adds, sitting far enough away that George can only glare at her. She holds up both hands in surrender, but looks at him intently.

George deflates a little against the table as he plops down, thinking over the fact you might just be as reckless as the two martyrs-in-the-making in front of him (as reckless as himself, though he would never admit it). It doesn’t genuinely disappoint him, but he likes to give Lockwood and Lucy the idea that recklessness is not a good trait by exaggerating his disapproval. Still, he preens at the thought that you really would fit right into their little home here in Portland Row.

“Where do they live for now, anyway?” Lucy asks around a mouthful of supper, doodling into the thinking cloth with every chew.

“Someplace North of the library, always took us 10 minutes to walk there.”

“You walk them home?” Lockwood asks, giddily smiling as if this was his library rendezvous they were talking about. George ignores him without so much as a glance.

“They’re living with an older couple raising their grandkid, who’s now been sent off to live elsewhere for the duration of the program,” he says instead.

“Now hold on—“

“George, you didn’t answer my—“

He tunes them out a little as he hides behind an old newspaper he’d brought to the table. It would be easy to just tune them out for the whole night (heavens know he’s done it more than once when their arguing got too loud), but something about you… always, always had him talking. It was as if the thought of you lit a fire in his lungs and he needed to talk about you to let the smoke clear, your smile a spark to light the flames.

“Yes, I walk them home,” He finally relents, dropping the newspaper to glare at them both. It doesn’t stop the twin grins from growing on their faces, but the admission makes something flare in the cavity of his chest. Smoke, fire, far-off stars, and peace from abroad; you really were giving him the world and more just by being in his.

“Would you fancy coming round one of these days?” he whispers to you, pinkie wrapped around yours. It’d been a week or two since you bumped a knuckle against his hand, and you had steadily built up to holding each other’s pinkies while reading across from each other.

You look up at him, and sparks fill his lungs with quick fire. “To your agency?”

“Yeah, Lucy and Lockwood have been bugging me to introduce you, but I’ve been putting them off because they can be… a lot.” He tugs on your pinkie absentmindedly, and your eyes flit at the motion. Something preens in his chest as you tug on his pinkie in return.

“If they’re anywhere as lovely as you, I’m sure we’d get on well. Intense or not.” Your smile catches in the light, popping against the bleak library walls and tall bookshelves. “Not today, but maybe we can set up a time when?”

George feels thankful you even said yes, with all that he’s told you about the two of them (he does not voice this). “Absolutely.”

When it’s time to walk home, you don’t ask anymore if he’d walk with you to avoid someone. Instead, you link pinkies, and walk the cobble streets back with the sun on the horizon. Unbeknownst to him, whose fires rage in the cavity of his lungs at your smile, your heart hammers against the bones of your ribs at his.

“Meet again tomorrow?” You ask, hopeful as ever with your glittering eyes.

“As long as you’ll be there,” he responds easily, a smile finding its way onto his lips.

A/N: I caved. I gave reader a lil bit of backstory. I hadn’t meant to, but UGH I just love exchange student au. Anyways, sorry this took so long, I was in the midst of a personal sweets shortage and lost the motivation to write (I am not joking 😭) hope you fellow George lovers sleep a good night with your pillow cold <333

[babygirldabi]

Runaway Part 7- FINAL PART

CW: MDNI, smut with some plot, implied PTSD, domestic violence, female reader, kidnapping, attempted murder, ACTUAL murder, major character death, unprotected sex, creampie, just a lot of violence really, let me know if I've missed anything

A short note, before part 7; when I started writing this last year, it was just a fun hobby. A lot of things happened this year that I never saw coming including the unexpected and tragic death of a close friend, and most recently, emergency surgery (Appendix tried to kill me, it was super fun).

I want to sincerely thank everyone for their patience, kindness, and enthusiasm for this little project that i started, just to start writing again. I can never explain how much it means to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Moving forward, with the completion of this project, I want there to be more. I have been thinking hard about what else I can give you. Thank you so much again. You, reader, gave me reason to write again.

Part Seven 

He’s had too much. Entirely too much. 

The room spins as Dabi stumbles over to the bar to refill his glass for the… seventh time? Eighth? He’s lost count. Kurogiri is gonna call in an intervention when he sees how much whiskey he has to replace. He giggle-snorts at the thought, crashing down on one of the bar stools, his head lolling in one hand. 

What time is it, anyway? He squints at the clock above the bar, it’s 3 am already… he wonders what you’re doing- who you’re doing- no. He stops himself there, literally shaking the thought from his head. Not going there. Can’t. 

He thought drinking would help, but it’s only brought him closer to the precipice- a fine line between drinking into oblivion and drinking to the point of vulnerability. He scratches his head, sighs. Before you, it would’ve just been oblivion. 

The crew is still out- Shig and Kurogiri are off on some business and unlikely to return until morning. Toga, Twice and Compress went to the club after their mission, so they haven’t been home, either. Nobody knows except him. And he’s gonna have to tell them. 

Tell them that you’re gone, something whispers. That you’ve left me. That I’m alone again. 

He doesn’t know how to help himself here. He could go to the club, find some easy pussy and lose himself in it, but it doesn’t feel right. In fact, he’s a little worried what he might do to some villain-chaser right now. Clearly his headspace isn’t great. 

He can’t tell them all yet. He just can’t do it. The words are stuck in his throat, like glue, making it hard to swallow. 

But you are gone. 

And it’s his fault. 

Dabi throws the glass of whiskey at the wall, watching in satisfaction as it bursts into a million messy pieces, whiskey dribbling onto the floor. Then he puts his head down on the bar, folds his arms over it, and wills himself to sleep. 

Dabi isn’t sure how long he sleeps before rough, cold hands grasp the back of his shirt and begin to shake him, frantically. Groaning, Dabi doesn’t even open his eyes before he begins to shove at whoever has hold of him.  

“Gettoff,” he moans. “Fuckin’-stop-!” Oh Jesus, he’s gonna hurl if they don’t stop- 

“Dabi. Wake up.” Hawks’ clear, cold voice is enough to force Dabi to crack his eyes, gazing up at the winged hero blearily. 

“The fuck- get offa me, bird brain-"

“Dabi, she’s gone. They took her.” 

Dabi’s eyes widen, suddenly sober, already turning on the barstool to face Hawks. “What?”

“Inferno- or his men- they have her- they left this.” Hawks shoves a crumpled note into Dabi’s hands. 

Dabi smoothes it out on the bar, reads it. 

Come after your plaything, and I will make it a thousand times more painful for her than it need be. 

“Well?” Hawks is watching Dabi, still frantic, expectant, wings shaking. “We need to move. We only have so much time-"

Dabi leans over the bar and wretches, the contents of his stomach spattering across the tiled floor. 

Before you even open your eyes, you can feel the pounding headache radiating from the back of your skull. Fuck. A whimper tears itself, unbidden, from your throat. 

“Boss, she’s waking up.” 

“Good. He’ll have questions.” 

Opening your eyes is no use; you’ve been blindfolded, and your hands are restrained; they feel weak, useless. 

Quirk-cancelling cuffs, you realize, as fear takes hold and begins to grow. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

No Hawks. No Dabi. No Quirk. 

Fuck. 

You know you’re in the back of a car; you smell cigarette smoke, feel cold air blowing on your face from an open window. Shadows and streetlights flash by, disorienting you to a world unknown outside of the blindfold. You lick your lips, test your voice. 

“Hello?” It comes out in a croak. 

Someone cuffs you hard in the back of your already-throbbing head, and you jump, half cowering in your seat. 

 “Shut your fucking mouth. You’ll have plenty to say when we get there.” 

You don’t recognize these voices. They are rough, deep. Nothing like Inferno’s smooth baritone. 

Hired hands, you figure, as you clamp your mouth shut. He wants to scare me. 

You resolve to show no fear. It’s likely you’re going to die, you’re not stupid. At least you tried. But you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you afraid. Straightening your spine, you settle back against the seat and wait. 

Another twenty minutes feels endless as the car twists and turns along the roads. How far are they taking me? Panic threatens to bubble up, but you swallow hard, forcing it down. Panic won’t help anything. You can still see the flashes of streetlights, so you’re at least still in the city. 

Maybe there’s time- no. You won’t let yourself believe it. You won’t let yourself hope. They’ll never find you in time… this is it. The very least you can do is try to remain calm. 

The vehicle comes to a slow halt, brakes screeching. You feel the shift as the driver gets out, rocking the vehicle, and slams the door, making you jump slightly. Someone laughs, alarmingly close to your ear. 

“Scared, sweetheart?” It’s a mean, gloating voice. “Don’t worry, the fun’s only just beginning.” 

“Fuck you,” you bite out. A surprised silence comes, followed by a sudden and ringing blow to your right cheek. 

“Talk to me like that again-" the voice threatens, but is cut off as the vehicle door opens on your side. A sudden cool rush of air hits you in the face as you try to straighten up. 

“Hey, hey- we can’t hit her. Boss wants her untouched.”

This would be relieving, except… “yeah, so he gets all the fun,” is muttered sullenly by your assailant. “C’mon then, bitch. Can’t be late,” he continues, pushing you out of the vehicle so hard you nearly topple over. 

Another set of hands grasps your shoulders roughly, keeping you from falling, and then seizes your right arm and steers you straight ahead. “Let’s go.” The second voice leaves no room for negotiation. 

You are led through two sets of doors and into an elevator; your blindfold has shifted slightly, allowing you to see from a very bottom corner. Three seats of black shoes surround you. 

The buttons sing their staccato notes cheerfully as one of your assailants punches them, and then you are being whisked up, up, up.  It’s not until the elevator doors open again that a cold blast of wind hits you, and you realize you’re on a rooftop. Fear floods your belly, makes you squirm in your bindings. 

“Please- just tell me who you are-" 

“I said shut the fuck up-" the man who hit you before begins to shout, and you brace yourself for another blow. 

“There’s no need for that,” a voice says, and your blood runs cold. “Let her go.” 

Hands instantly release you as the blindfold is lifted off of your face. 

 In front of you stands- Jesus, it’s really him- Inferno, taller than you remember, larger than life and twice as hideous- and smiling down at you triumphantly. 

“Hello, darling.” 

The wind is cold up here. Shivering, you glance around and instantly get dizzy. You are on a rooftop- which one, you’re not sure- but it’s a skyscraper. You can see the whole of the city from this building. It would be beautiful if you weren’t frozen in dread. 

“Husband,” you greet Inferno formally, tamping down the icy chill of your fear. Swallow it. Don’t give him the satisfaction. 

 His lips twitch in dark amusement as he gestures to a chair leaning against the wall. “Please, have a seat. There’s so much I need to ask you.” 

Head held high, you turn and walk, sitting neatly down on the chair before facing him expectantly. He watches you, raises one brow. 

“Something different about you,” he observes, musing. 

You strive for a look of polite indifference. “Oh? How so?” 

His eyes burn into yours. “You always used to be more afraid.”

You stare back at him, trying to remain cool, aloof. “I’ve learned some hard lessons, Husband.” 

He makes a mental decision; one to play along with your demeanor. After a moment's hesitation, he joins you, sitting in a chair across from you. “You don’t look very afraid,” he says, as though he’s confiding in you. “That’s the biggest, anyway. Difference, I mean.”

You shrug. “Maybe there were several lessons.”

“Such as?” He asks, politely, keeping up the facade. And why shouldn’t he? You think. He’s won. He can afford to play along, get some sick twist out of this. 

You lift your chin again, staring him straight back in the eye. “Such as… I’m not the little mouse you always wanted me to be. I’m actually quite strong.” 

He smiles, kindly. “You realize you have to die.”

You nod. “I do.” You wonder briefly, how you can possibly sound so serene… but common sense is long gone now. You’re just playing a part, a role, until it’s time. You only pray that it’s fast. 

Inferno nods slowly, taking in the calm across your face. “I thought about how I would have to do it,” he adds, conversationally. “The media sees me as this frantic, adoring husband. So it couldn’t be anything too public; knowing you, if you had any time at all to try to save yourself, you’d lose your senses and start screaming to anyone within earshot that you’re innocent. Which you’re not, you’ve never been.”

He’s watching your face carefully, waiting to see any flash of emotion betray your cool features. You merely sigh, contemplatively, then shrug. 

“That’s probably fair,” you allow. He smirks. 

“I briefly considered a mass murder… your whole family, framing you. A bomb in the house, perhaps. Cut brake lines on a family trip. Which they have gone on, since you’ve been gone, by the way.”

That one hurts. You can’t tell if he’s lying or not. Probably not a family trip; probably getting out of town to avoid the shame of being related to you after all of Inferno’s stories hit the press, but still. He wants to hurt you. If he can take your family’s embarrassment and consequential fleeing and twist it as a way to cause you further pain, of course he will. 

All this reasoning flies through your mind as he watches you carefully. “They didn’t come looking for you,” he concludes.

You shake your head. “They always liked you better than me, anyway.”

Inferno laughs loudly at this, tossing his head back. “Well, they’ve always had a distaste for weakness.” He resumes eyeing you closely, almost contemplatively. “They might like you more now. The y/n I knew before would have been hysterical by now, crying for mercy.” 

You recognize it in his tone; he’s disappointed. A sudden rush of euphoria comes over you; he may be about to kill you, may be about to take you away from Dabi, from Hawks, from everything you’ve ever known- but he’s not getting the reaction he wants from you. 

A small victory, but an important one, nonetheless. 

You hold eye contact with him and let the smallest smirk play out from the corners of your mouth. “The y/n that you knew was beaten down after years of abuse and your pathetic,” you say the word slowly, let it drip with disgust, “male fragility.”

Inferno’s face barely registers, except the familiar spark of violence flaring just behind his eyes as he listens to you insult his ego.

“The y/n before you, however…” you let your voice trail off, considering. “Well, if given half a chance, she would kill you where you stand.” You smile at him benignly, and then add, “slowly, so that you suffer.”

He backhands you before you see it coming; you’re thrown from the seat, unable to cover your face with your still-bound hands. The coppery taste of blood fills your mouth as you’re hauled to your feet by one of his snickering henchmen. 

“Enough playing around,” Inferno is muttering, mostly to himself. “My patience has run out.” He reaches into his back pocket and for a second-you flinch, expecting a gun, a quick shot, and then nothing. Instead, he pulls out an envelope, flicks it open to withdraw a letter and waves it under your nose. 

“This is your goodbye to your family,” he shares, calmer now that his triumph is so close. More so, your suicide letter.” He pauses, letting you take this in, before he continues. “In it, you apologize for the monster that you became. For being an abusive spouse and a worthless daughter. For never amounting to anything worth speaking of in life. You were so ashamed of yourself and all the trouble that you caused, that you simply could not bear to live anymore. It will go here,” he reaches around you and places it in your pocket, “so that when they find your body, it will be one of the first things they see.”

You spit the blood that’s pooled in your mouth at his feet, missing a shiny leather shoe by just half an inch. “I’d rather die exactly as I am right now then spend another living second as your wife.” You bare your teeth in a snarl. “And I will haunt you for the rest of your miserable fucking existence, you coward.”

He smiles again. “What sweet sentiment, darling. I hope you remain this brave when you’re falling fifty stories and splattering against the concrete.” Before you can process this, he’s turning to the lackeys. “Take her.”

“Fuck you,” you roar, as filthy hands began to drag you to the edge of the building. “Fuck you, you miserable fucking cowardly piece of shit-"

You’re dragged still further to the edge. The sounds of traffic waft up, horns honking, people shouting, completely oblivious to the fact that a murder is taking place above their heads. 

You close your eyes, swallow hard.

I’m sorry, angel. Please don’t blame Hawks. 

Please know how much I loved you. 

It all happens so quickly. 

You are waiting for the shove, for your feet to leave the ground, when a flash of blue fire and a surge of heat nearly knock you to the ground. A scream sounds to your left, high pitched and desperate; The man who was dragging you to the edge of the roof, who was right next to you a second ago, is gone. You spin to see Inferno, whose face is a black mask of rage, stalking towards the opposite end of the roof. 

“Seize her! Nobody gets away tonight!” He roars, and begins throwing flames at random, aiming for some unseen target.

There’s no time to process any of it.  

 Next to you, still smoking, is a rather large pile of black ash. 

“What the fuck-”

The familiar whoosh of wings drowns you out, and suddenly Hawks is there, landing beside you and frantically looking over your cuffs. His lip is bleeding, golden eyes narrowed, focused. 

“Hey, kid-” his voice breaks with relief as you struggle to comprehend what’s happening. 

“Thought we lost you there for a sec,” he continues, gloved hands fluttering over your wrists as he tries to figure out how to undo the cuffs. You’re speechless, buzzing with adrenaline, when you’re distracted by another blue burst of light to your left. 

You whirl to see Dabi, beautiful, glorious Dabi, his face murderous with rage, killing anyone and everyone he can get his hands on. Henchmen scream and scatter, running for the door and dropping to the floor amidst flames as they try. Inferno stands opposite of him, trying to blast Dabi with wave after wave of fire, to no avail. Dabi’s flames are bigger than you’ve ever seen them, so bright they’re almost blinding. 

“What-how…”

“That doesn’t matter right now. We need to get you out of here. Out of the country, probably.” Hawks mutters, more to himself than to you. And then, “Goddamn it! Where is the key to these things?” And then “fuck, shit, hold on-” he turns just as a henchman sneaks up on him, knife in hand, and shoves you to the ground as he dodges. Just as quickly, you jump to your feet, ignoring the ache pounding through your skull from a culmination of hard hits this evening, and chase after the two, now engaged fully in hand to hand combat. 

The man swipes here and there with the knife; Hawks cold-cocks him directly in the face, and then whips out a couple feathers to pin the man to the ground. 

“Kill him!” You yell, but Hawks turns to face you, looks over your shoulder, and blanches. 

Someone grabs you by the hair and throws you back down. “On the ground where you belong, you fucking bitch.” 

The voice from the car, the same man who hit you, now stands above you with a gun. “I promised the boss I would finish this-”

He doesn’t get to finish anything, not even his sentence. He lets out a guttural groan as Hawks stabs him in the back, pushing the knife through his chest, and drops, nearly on top of you. Shoving him aside, you scramble up. 

“How did they get into the hotel?” Hawks yells, throwing himself into a defensive crouch in front of you and wielding a feather like sword. 

You want to answer him, but another henchman is heading your way, eyes wild. 

“Doesn’t matter right now,” you parrot Hawks, using your bound hands to swing out at your attacker, hitting him straight in the face and knocking him to his feet. Hawks finishes him off as you whirl to watch Dabi and Inferno. You’re not sure when it began to rain, but it’s raining nonetheless; coming down fast in cold, unforgiving sheets. You watch, feeling as though you are in a dream, as bursts of blue and orange fire burn against the downpour. This doesn’t feel real. 

If I make it through this, you think, I will never make the same mistakes again. 

This fight- this raging, bloody battle- is a culmination of what your life was, and what it will be. No longer will you be the one who runs away. If only you or Inferno get to leave this rooftop tonight, it’s sure as hell going to be you. 

You are done running. You are done hiding. Forever. 

“Toga, do you see anything?” Hawks yells over his shoulder.

What?

 You blink in disbelief as the little blond scurries across the roof, presumably out of nowhere, several backpacks in hand.

“Nothing yet. Hi, honey!” She chirps, as if this isn’t quite literally a life-threatening situation. “Don’t worry about a thing, we’ll get you loose in no time.”

“Toga- hurry-” You’re watching Dabi and Inferno dance across the roof in a frenzied battle, blasting at each other and dodging the other’s fire. “I have to help-”

With a quick scan of the rooftop, you can see that all of the henchman are either gone- escaped, dead, or close to it; several bodies lay charred and smoking on the concrete. It’s down to Dabi and Inferno. 

Dabi practically dances as he moves, fighting with skills beyond anything you’ve seen yet. For one brief moment, his eyes connect with yours and hold you there, a thousand unspoken words flowing between you, and the world goes silent. 

And then you see it.

Inferno has been pushing Dabi back towards the edge of the roof. Dabi’s steps are a little uneven, as though he’s been drinking- oh god, you realize, as your heart drops into your stomach. He probably has. Not enough to be incapacitated, clearly, but enough not to notice some small, but very important details…such as being backed into a corner…or rather, a ledge.

Now that he’s so close to it, Inferno is increasing his fire, pushing Dabi back inch by inch, little by little, to his impending death. 

“NO!” You scream, and Dabi’s eyes flash to yours, and you know that he’s realized it, too. “Toga, get me out of this NOW-”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it-” Toga’s hands scramble against the cuffs, a loud, clear click finally freeing you from your Quirkless prison. You turn back to the fight just in time to see Dabi fumbling, dangerously close to falling to his death, and Inferno, manic and beyond all reason, lifting his hands to administer one last blast of fire-

“NO,” you scream again, and without hesitation, throw your hands forward. Inferno is thrown into the air like a rag doll, struggling as his body lifts into the air and sways, fighting your power with all he has. 

Months ago, your fear would have trumped your Quirk, and you probably would have lowered him back to the ground, afraid of what he would do to you if he survived.

Now, you have no such qualms. 

 You hold him there, in the air, watching as the force of your Quirk turns him slowly to face you, to gaze down at you with panicked contempt, and you hold his gaze. 

There. Look at me. 

Look at what you’ve done to yourself. 

With every ounce of strength left in you, you heave your arms to the left. 

Inferno screams as his body is tossed from the top of the skyscraper. He screams all the way down. 

The sickening thud of his body hitting the sidewalk below is what breaks you from your reverie, panting. 

Dabi is frozen at the edge of the rooftop, staring down at what’s left of Inferno. You can just barely hear Hawks speaking to you as though he’s a mile away.

Exhaustion hits you like a bus, dragging you back down to earth.  

And then; 

You are vaguely aware of your legs giving out beneath you, collapsing and landing hard against the wet cement on the roof. Through the rain and the blood and the blinding pain, you can’t see anything. You can feel your consciousness slipping through your fingers, hurtling you towards blessed, peaceful darkness, when from far away you hear Dabi. 

He sounds a million miles away, echoey, vague. The rough sandpaper of his voice scratches at you, tries to keep you awake. 

“Hey, baby, hey-”

“Tired,” you mutter, feeling warm hands wrap around your upper arms, pulling you into his lap, his belt buckle pushing into your left shoulder blade. “Hurts.”

“I know baby, I know it hurts- look at me baby, look at me, don't go to sleep, baby, okay, don’t-” he pleads; breathless, his voice cracking. “Please, baby, don’t do this to me, don’t do this to me baby please, don’t you dare do this to me…” his voice rises in octave, you can hear this panic in his voice and want more than anything to stay awake just to calm him down, but your body pulls you towards sleep with the seductive drag of quicksand, pulling you from him, no matter how hard you try to stay. 

“Love you,” you whisper, and then everything goes dark. 

When you wake up again, you’re in Dabi’s bed. You sigh, automatically going to stretch and then letting out a sound of distress when you feel how sore you are. 

And then you remember. 

You bolt upright, wincing, gasping as you take in the room. 

“Baby.”

You look down to see Dabi, roused from sleep, lifting his head from the side of the bed. 

“Dabi- what…?”

“He’s dead,” he says abruptly. “You finished it. He’s dead.” 

You don’t know what happens- one second you’re staring at Dabi, blankly processing. The next, your body is wracked with sobs. From relief, from fear or from guilt, or maybe a combination of all three. 

“Hey, baby hey…” Dabi’s arms go around you. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You lean into his chest, unable to stop sobbing, chest heaving, your fingers curling into his T-shirt and clinging to him. 

“What happened?” You choke out. “After I-”

“Hawks told the commission that it was a villain.”

“WHAT?”

“He told the commission that he had been on patrol- which, technically, he was- and saw Inferno fighting with an unknown villain. He said he was flying in to help, but before he could get there, the villain threw him from the roof.” Dabi slowly shakes his head, mournfully. “Just couldn’t get there in time.” He peeks at you, his eyes glowing. 

You let out a long, slow sigh. “Will he get in trouble?”

“I doubt it. He had to be interviewed a few times by the commission and gave the police a signed statement. I doubt they'll look much past that.”

You nod slowly, letting this sink in. “So they have no idea that I’m still around?”

“No. Nobody even mentioned you. I’m sure if you wanted to come forward now, and tell the truth, the media would eat it up, but I’m not sure how much you want to do that…”

“I don’t.” The thought of the media makes bile rise in your throat. “Ever.”

Dabi watches you carefully. “So that means…”

“I’m okay with staying missing,” you finish for him. You look up into his brilliant azure eyes. “I’ve found my family. If they’ll still have me,” you add, quietly. 

Half a second later, Dabi’s arms are crushing you to his chest, almost knocking you off the bed entirely. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” His voice breaks. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I put everyone at risk, I wasn’t thinking, I was stupid.”

Dabi grasps your chin and forces you to meet his eyes. “You are never stupid. I was angry and said shit I shouldn’t have and never will again. Forgive me, baby, please.”

You stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, Dabi’s eyes searching yours. 

“Yes,” you breathe, and he kisses you, gently. Too gently, in your opinion. You lean forward, pushing more forcefully against his mouth, sighing when he gives way and lets you gently bite down on his lower lip.

Dabi groans into your mouth, his whole body stiffening against yours, before he begins to pull away. 

“No,” you whine, but he sits back anyway. 

“You’re still healing. We shouldn’t.”

“Yes, we should. I’m fine.” You sit up straight as though to prove this, only wincing slightly. He laughs ruefully, then leans down to kiss you again. This time the kiss is harder, more urgent- from both of you. Bravely, you shuffle into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Doll, I don’t know if…” He’s torn, debating between showing you how he feels or letting you rest, knowing you need both. 

“Please. Need you,” you mutter, fingers ghosting his cheeks, his jawline, his collarbone. “Please, Dabi.”

Something inside him breaks. 

“Touya,” he breathes into your hair and he slips inside you. A gasp strangles your throat, hands scrambling for purchase against his arms as he fills you gently, slowly. “Call me Touya.”

“Touya,” you whisper, and Jesus fucking Christ he whimpers, forehead pressed against yours as he gently fucks himself into you. You’re only too aware that this is a gift he’s giving to you, the ultimate trust, the only thing he has to protect, his real name. Gently, you cup his cheeks and lift his half-lidded gaze to yours. “Thank you, Touya.”

 He lets out a ragged gasp, pressing his lips to yours, hard, urgently. 

“Missed you. Missed you so much,” he chokes between kisses, and begins to move inside you. 

This is nothing like it’s been before. Instead of pounding, biting and punishing you, Touya moves softly, insistently; easy, shallow thrusts that keep you on the edge as melds his mouth to yours. One hand twists in your hair, the other cupping your breasts one at a time, squeezing softly. 

“Tou-hah, Touya,” you whine, lifting your hips to his, encouraging. “Harder- please.”

He groans, daring to thrust just a little bit harder. “My girl, my baby,” he pants. “Never losing you again. Never, baby. ‘M so sorry. ‘M so sorry.” 

You want to tell him to stop apologizing, stop feeling sorry but you can’t- can’t do anything but sigh as he fucks you steadily, clinging to his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you, gasping into your neck, whispering apologies and sweet words of praise. “My good girl, you feel so good baby, never losing you again….” 

It’s too much. Your walls are beginning to tighten, and he almost loses himself then and there, pausing to whine against your collarbone, hot breath fanning over your neck as he pants desperately. 

“Please, please, Touya- I’m s-I’m so close.” You’re crying, overwhelmed by the gentleness he is giving you, your need to cum overshadowing any worries you might have for your healing body. “‘M so close, please I-”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he gasps, long fingers grasping your hips as he moves hesitantly. 

“I’m not gonna break,” you promise against his lips, and when his mouth opens against yours, gently biting down. “Need you, please-”

A deep, guttural groan tears itself from Touya’s chest; One hand wraps gently around the back of your head, holding you against his shoulder, the other grasping your hip to keep you still, concerns for your injuries still in the back of his lust-fogged mind. He begins to fuck you in earnest, thrusting harder, deeper, listening as your muffled cries reach fever pitch before reaching down to rub your clit with his thumb. 

 “Come on, baby. Need you to cum for me, need you to cum on me,” he begs, watching as your eyes roll back in your skull. “Wanna feel you. I need it…. Please,” he begs, his breath rapid and ragged as he falls apart against you. “Let go for me, baby.”

You shatter around him, keening, your back arching so that you are flush against him, and you sound so pretty and look so heartbreakingly beautiful that he can’t help but follow you quickly, gushing inside your fluttering walls, painting them with cum as his whimpers reverberate against your collarbone. 

“Never losing your again,” he gasps, letting his hips buck into you, fucking you full. “Never.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you,”  you pant, carding your fingers through his hair as he nestles his face into your neck, still shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm. “I’m not leaving, Touya. I’m here.”

You stay there for a long time; Touya collapsed on top of you, arms wrapped around each other, even as he softens inside you. 

 He mutters something, so quietly you can’t catch it. “What, baby?”

He turns his head so that he can talk low, directly in your ear, close enough to hear the exact moment his voice breaks. 

“Love you,” he mutters. “I love you so fucking much.”

Tears leak from your eyes at this admission, blurring everything; the room, him, your fears. “I love you, Touya.” 

“Say it again,” he begs, and you feel his cock twitch inside you, coming back to life. You whine at the feeling; your cunt is sore, your body is tired, but you want him so badly in this moment of raw confession that you don’t care. “I love you,” you coo, letting your hips buck against his, pleading, encouraging him. “Love you so much, baby. Need you.” 

“Fuck,” he breathes, and begins to move again. 

Epilogue 

You decide to attend Inferno’s funeral. 

Not right up front, of course- it would be far too easy to be recognized. You don’t even get close to the main crowd- despite knowing the real Inferno, he had a lot of people fooled. The main crowd attending the funeral, the ones who are close enough to surround the gravestone with armfuls of flowers are all upper level Pro Heroes. You linger, in a black mask and sunglasses, towards the gate of the cemetery, nearly trailing out to the road, with hundreds of civilian fans. 

Touya is not with you. In the event that someone does recognize you, despite all your precautions, Touya waits across the street in an inconspicuous getaway car. You glance over your shoulder several times to make sure he’s still there. Every time, he meets your eyes calmly, reassuringly.

He’d told you to take your time. 

Make no mistake; this is not an act of love, grief, or regret. The way you’d explained it to Touya was the best way you could sum it up; you have to do this, to be here, to be sure he’s really dead. Otherwise, you’re sincerely worried that you will be looking over your shoulder the rest of your life. 

I need that part of me to die today, too, you’d told him. This fear, this trauma, must be buried with him today, never to haunt you again. 

Despite Touya telling you to take your time, you don’t stay for long. You listen to the priest begin his speech, reading from a book you’ve never believed in, and then turn, wending through the crowd, and make your way across the street. 

Touya has left the car running; he flips the locks and watches you climb in, smoothing your black dress over your thighs as you settle against the leather seat. 

“Good?” His voice is soft, gentle.

“Good.”

He nods, pulling the car into the road, and squeals the tires as loudly as he can as the car accelerates. You smirk at him as heads whip around to stare.

“Always have to have the last word, right?”

He shrugs, smirks back. “ ‘Course.”

Reaching over, he threads his fingers through yours, rests your intertwined hands on your knee. You sit in companionable silence for a while as the roads flash by. 

“So.” You squeeze his hand. 

“So?” He prompts.

You turn to him, smile. “What’s next?” 

End.