#Ignore the fact that I could not be bothered to shade and draw their clothes

[willthespy]

“For a long time, Nico had assumed he himself did not have a heart.”

[palbabor-writes]

Adhesion

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, TA/student dynamics, tw.mild drug use, tw.bribery, tw.recording without consent, tw.dubcon, brat taming, fingering, cucking 

Words: 8,915

You can feel his gaze; can tell he’s watching you from hooded eyelids and you do your best to resist his pull, not wanting to be drawn in by that eerie blue of his eyes. It’s not that you don’t like his eyes; no, if anything, you like them a little too much. They’re a beautiful shade of shifting cerulean and possibly the only positive thing about the man. 

“You sound upset, babe,” he taunts, taking another drag on his silver vape.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, don’t call me that. And me? Upset? You’re a real Sherlock, you know? What fucking gave that away? Oh, maybe the fact that I pay this university good money for these classes and I could actually use some support. But what do I get instead? A lazy TA who can’t be bothered to do anything more than the bare minimum. It’s a goddamn miracle I’m passing, and it’s certainly no thanks to you,” you snarl, twisting back to your work, ignoring the sound of his chair, gliding ever closer.

Notes: i bribed @libiraki and this fic is my part of the bargain. you heard it here folks, full stop, i am trash. 

this story falls under the University AU that i’m working on: Licentia Docendi - the first fic is Practicum & is all about Professor Shigaraki. For Adhesion, Dabi is a TA: Teacher’s Assistant in a college chemistry class. 

my reward for completing this is User 433 by libiraki. go read it, it’s killer & i’m so fucking pleased my nefarious deeds have paid off.     

Adhesion ad·he·sion /ədˈhēZH(ə)n/ noun the molecular force of attraction in the area of contact between two unlike bodies that acts to hold them together

What time did he say this was supposed to start at? There’s no way you’re late. Did he tell you the wrong room number? You paw into your low slung backpack and wiggle out the [Teacher’s Assistant (TA) handout for Organic Chemistry II]. Nope, you’re not in the wrong room, so it looks like he’s the one who’s late. 

Not too surprising, judging from his appearance. 

You’d only caught a glimpse of him that morning. He’d sauntered to the front of class when the professor had finished with the preliminaries of the syllabus and introduced the lanky man with inky black hair and some of the scruffiest clothes you’d ever seen, as nothing other than, DABI. No last name, no other credentials, just a simple, ah, here’s the TA for this class; he’ll give you a handout on meeting times and be sure to follow his lead with the labs. This Dabi fellow hadn’t even grunted out a hello. He’d merely waited, hands tucked firmly into his jacket pockets, and dropped down from the raised platform once the professor finished his brief introduction. 

You tend to avoid the TA sessions. They’re usually just reviews and endless reminders on the readings, and study prep has never been a weak spot for you, but this semester is different. You’re a junior and you’ve got to push through six classes this term if you want to graduate on time. You haven’t slacked off, haven’t taken less than a full course load. No, it’s just bad luck that they only offered organic chemistry during the Fall term this year.

Thanks to the addition of Organic Chemistry, now all of your classes are heavy sciences. Ick. Well, it’s the price you’ll have to pay for your pharmaceutical degree. It’s not that you don’t like the classes. Honestly, they’re fascinating, chock full of information and techniques that you love to dive into. Nah, it’s not the material of the classes themselves, but the course load and labs that’ll be your downfall if you don’t keep pace. 

So, here you are, waiting in an empty room in the library’s basement for the errant TA of organic chemistry to show. You’re a little shocked that no one else has come to this session. Maybe they’ll try for the other times, or they might be under the blissful impression that they can score the ‘A’ with no outside help. Who knows? 

You’re twiddling with your phone and debating leaving when the study hall door opens. His dark hair is the first thing you notice. It gleams in the bright light of the fluorescents, and you’re distracted by the sheen. It’s almost a little too black. 

It’s not that it doesn’t fit him. If anything, it makes the angled features of his face and neck stand out and draws your eyes to his pale patches of skin. They’re patches because his collarbone and lower neckline are wrapped with spiraling whorls of tattoos; they’re everywhere. How had you missed that? Was his jacket zipped up when he stood in front of the class?

“What’s up?” he calls out, tilting his chin at your wide eyes. He pauses beside the table you’re sitting at and regards you frankly. His eyes are half hidden by his fringed mop of hair, but you can see that they’re a vibrant blue. It’s a haunting color, almost otherworldly. You don’t particularly like the coldness that’s reflected at you, so you focus on the rest of his face instead. He’s got a few nostril piercings, three little studs that shine out when he wrinkles his nose at your bewildered expression. 

“You hard of hearing or something?” Dabi scolds, crossing his arms and glaring down at you. You shake your head and loosen your heavy tongue, finally pulling your gaze away from him. 

“I-I’m here for the TA session.”

“No fucking way!” he mocks, a barked laugh escaping his quirked lips. “Alright captain obvious, let’s get you set up so I can go about my day. Sign this and I’ll give you the power point slides for this week.”

He yanks his backpack forward and tosses a few mismatched papers your way. One is so badly crumpled you have to iron it out with your arm, ignoring the slight stick that clings to one side. Ah, it’s a sign-up sheet. But, hang on, isn’t he supposed to poll the class on these meeting times? He can’t just pick the times himself, can he? You’ve never seen that before. What’s going on?

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to ask which time works best for us before you set the schedule?” you question, sliding the paper back to him. 

His long fingers catch the sheet before it can tumble off of the narrow table and he gives you a wolfish smirk. “Ah, you’re gonna be one of those,” he grumbles, pulling back one chair and flopping into it, splaying his long legs out in front of him. 

“Tch, what do you mean by, ‘one of those?’ I’m not some green freshman, I’ve been to TA meetings before. You ask us for the times.”

“Hmph, okay. Let’s put it this way then, you’re here now, right?”

“Yeah. I–”

“So it’s fair for me to assume that you can make this time?”

“I can today, but what if it’s a one-time thing? What if I have another class or a job?”

“Do you?” his voice drops as he lingers on that ultimate word, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward, blue eyes watching you closely. 

“N-no, I don’t personally have any objections to this time. But what if others–”

“Others?” he scoffs. “I’m sorry, do you see anyone else in here? We’ve been talking, what, five minutes? And I was, eh, almost fifteen minutes late? That sound right? Hate to say it, but I think it’s just gonna be me and you babe.” 

“Ew. Don’t call me that! It’s (F/N)(L/N). Gross, who does that? Babe? You don’t even know me,” you sputter, leaning away from his hunched gaze, earning yourself another clipped chuckle. 

“Ooh, so sensitive! Alright, miss. “I’m not a freshman,” if there are no more objections from the peanut gallery, go ahead and sign this so I can conclude this session. Don’t particularly like chatting with you either, since you’re taking years off my life with these pointless questions.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a dick,” you bristle, crossing your arms and glowering down at the crinkled sign-up sheet that Dabi’s pushed back toward you. 

“Damn, we’re already talking about my dick! I usually reserve that kinda thing for the third week, but I’ll let it slide. Now, be a good little girl and sign that paper for me.”

A month in this whole TA arrangement hasn’t gotten any easier. 

Half of the time Dabi doesn’t even show up, opting to text you the notes and study guides, waving you off with some vague excuse, or promise to make it up next time. The days he appears for the session, he’s always late and glumly sits beside you in the vacant study hall, tinkering with his phone and doing his best to avoid any kind of work. 

But today? Today takes the cake. 

He’s got his booted feet on the table and is taking quiet hits on his vape pen, exhaling long breaths of clear steam into the study hall. “Dabi,” you hiss across the room, aghast at his cavalier attitude. “You’re not supposed to smoke in here! Wait. Oh, my god! Is that weed?”

“Shhh, Jesus. Keep your voice down, mom,” Dabi sneers, puffing a wisp of smoke your way. “Why don’t you try focusing on your work, huh? You’ve got twelve more molecules to stabilize and your functional groups are a mess; you don’t have time to worry about me. Come on, chop, chop. I’ve got places to be.”

“Ugh. Places to be. What a load of bullshit. You know what? I wonder what might help me speed things up? Oh! I know! What if you did your job instead of getting stoned out of your mind?”

Dabi swivels around in his rolling chair, lowering his legs from the table and cocking a dark eyebrow at you. He’s foregone his tattered jacket today, and the sleeves of tattoos that lace up the chorded muscles of his arms are on full display. He’s done that on purpose, the bastard; likely noticed that you like to stare at them, your eyes engrossed by the shadings and designs. Not your fault you like some of the artwork. You’re not looking at him, not admiring any kind of twist or pull of his forearms. Not thinking about how nice they look when he wears a low cut shirt, or rolls up his sleeves. Nope, you promise yourself, careful to keep your eyes down and on your notes, it’s not that.  

You can feel his gaze; can tell he’s watching you from hooded eyelids and you do your best to resist his pull, not wanting to be drawn in by that eerie blue of his eyes. It’s not that you don’t like his eyes; no, if anything, you like them a little too much. They’re a beautiful shade of shifting cerulean and possibly the only positive thing about the man. 

“You sound upset, babe,” he taunts, taking another drag on his silver vape.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, don’t call me that. And me? Upset? You’re a real Sherlock, you know? What fucking gave that away? Oh, maybe the fact that I pay this university good money for these classes and I could actually use some support. But what do I get instead? A lazy TA who can’t be bothered to do anything more than the bare minimum. It’s a goddamn miracle I’m passing, and it’s certainly no thanks to you,” you snarl, twisting back to your work, ignoring the sound of his chair, gliding ever closer.

“Such a fucking sour puss. I bet you’d look a lot prettier if you’d wipe that scowl off your face every once in a while. Lemme see what you’ve got,” Dabi snorts, sauntering out of his chair and bending over your work. 

His tattooed arm braces itself beside your shoulder and the exposed skin brushes against you, making you unconsciously scoot awkwardly to one side.

“Don’t get so close,” you chastise, doing your best to ignore the pull of his cologne. It’s got a hint of patchouli and oranges, and it mixes so well with the cloying sweetness of his lingering vape smoke that it makes your head swim.

What’s he doing? This… well, it’s not like him. He never “checks” your answers, he usually just tells you to submit it to his email and he’ll get back to you later, which he never does. You don’t like this. Nope, not one fucking bit.

He takes his time studying your work, one long finger etching its way across your scribblings. His skin is warm; almost too warm. The heat of it against your clothed side makes you shiver and you duck your head at your unbidden reaction, balling your hands into fists and scrunching them against your tense thighs.

When he finally replies, he dips his head close to your ear, keeping his voice low and steady. “Not bad, (L/N). Nice to see you have some capacity for development after all.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you huff, whipping your head to his.

Oh, that’s right; he’s close.

The lazy smirk he gives you stretch his lips over his teeth and his eyes fall to a half mast as he leans closer, ghosting his breath over your face. “It means, you did a good job, babe. I’m impressed.”

You must be gaping at him; there’s no way that you’re not, but you can’t fucking think, not when he’s so close. If he wanted to, he could close that gap and he’d be against you. His lips look nice from here, smooth and pink, and you suddenly have a wild urge to see what he tastes like. Heart pounding, you feel yourself tilting your chin upwards, your lips parted, tongue dancing across the open plushness, dampening them, waiting, hoping that he’ll just…

“Practice your Lewis structures. Some of those compounds look fucking ridiculous,” Dabi replies, pushing himself off of the table and peering down at you, eyes gleaming with poorly concealed mirth. “But, you’re on the right track. Finish this shit up. Gotta go.”

“W-what?” you sputter, trying to quiet your pounding heart and steady yourself, upended by his short-lived…seduction? What exactly was that?

“Already told you, got some place to be. Send me the screenshots, if you wanna’, but I’m prolly’ not gonna look at them until after the weekend. Well, see ya’ around, (L/N).” And, with a last wave, he snatches up his backpack and saunters out the double doors, leaving you alone.

“So what are you thinking? Just go up to the dean’s office and ask to file a report against him?” your boyfriend questions, his voice hazy and distant through the filter of your earbuds. You’d called him a few minutes ago, once you had a good signal and filled him in on, well, most of the details. 

After Dabi left, you’d gathered up your things and paced the floors of the library, debating your next move. He’s not doing his job. That much is a fucking given. You’d even talked with a few of the other students in your class the other day and they all said the same thing: He’s lazy and he can’t be bothered to help. Apparently, you’re the only student who had one on one sessions with him, but the group meetups sound worse. They told you he usually just opened the textbook and asked them to copy down definitions, and those were the days when he showed up for the meetings.   

“Yeah, and today he really outdid himself. The jerk basically… well… he’s not doing his job,” you flounder at the omission of Dabi coming onto you. If you’re honest with yourself, he hadn’t really done much, and you’d been the one who was surging forward, suddenly tempted by his closeness, his scent, and those rippling sets of tattoos and bright blue eyes. No. Stop it. It’s the last straw, you remind yourself, shaking your head and refocusing on the familiar tone of your boyfriend’s voice.

“I’m sick of it. Midterms are coming, and I’m not about to let him hold the fate of my GPA in his stupid hands.”

“Go get em,’ love! You’re totally right, you’ve worked so hard and you shouldn’t have to put up with some middle-aged asshole’s antics. It’s been a crazy week for you, so dinner’s on me tonight. Wherever you wanna’ go, name the place and I’ll make sure we get a smile back on your face!”

That… that’s so like your boyfriend. He’s always so sweet and caring. Always looking out for you, ready to pick you back up and dust you off each time you feel you’ve fallen short. He’s perfect. He’s all you want, all you need… right?

Goddamn it, you think after you hang up your phone and hop on the elevator that will whisk you up to the dean’s offices, you’d almost kissed your TA. Here’s your boyfriend, being the most supportive and loving thing in the entire world and all you can think about is how fucking good Dabi’s cologne had smelt has he leaned over you. Some partner you are. 

The dean’s office is emptier than you expected. There’s a single secretary, who is sitting behind a low desk, twirling a dark lock of hair and skimming over the pages of a magazine. She looks up when you clear your throat and a practiced smile lifts her lips. 

“Hey there! How can I help you?”

“I uh, need to file a complaint against someone in the College of Sciences,” you explain, dropping your heavy backpack from your shoulders and scratching at the back of your head balefully. You’re likely not the first one to file a grievance against the Dabi, so why are you suddenly bothered by the idea? It’s not going to get better. Just remember all the shitty, half-baked sessions he’s made you sit through (Y/N) and get this over with. 

“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that! Let me grab you the registry of TA’s and adjunct professors,” the secretary chirps, pushing her rolling chair across the wooden floors to snatch at a heavy binder on a shelf. 

“I can, um, just tell you his name. If that makes it any easier,” you quietly reply, one foot tapping agitatedly against the other. What is this uneasy feeling that keeps zinging through your mind? It’s going to be an anonymous complaint. It’s not like he’ll ever see it. He likely won’t even know it’s you. Some of the other students had discussed the idea. He could think it’s one of them, not you.  

“No, no,” the secretary replies, sliding the binder across the glass counter of the desk. “It’s no trouble at all! Just search for their name and fill out all the particulars on the university system. Doing our best to reduce waste! Gotta keep that paper trail down! We’ve got a little kiosk outside, close to the elevators. It’ll help you with all the details, just click on the form and it will file it into our online system. The dean’s office closes in fifteen minutes, so be sure to bring the binder back as soon as you’re done!” 

“Uh, ok,” you mumble, hefting the thick book into your hands. “Do you want me to take it with me, or just look it up here?”

“You can take it out there! It’s sorted by department, for ease of use, so it shouldn’t take you long to find them.” 

Great. 

You lug the binder to one of the many empty tables outside the sliding doors of the office. Slipping your backpack into a vacant chair, you flip through the lists and sections. Chemistry, chemistry… ah! Okay, you’re in the right section. Now to find Dabi, should be easy enough.

Yeah, no. There’s no one in here listed as “Dabi.” What the hell is this? Some kind of elaborate scheme? Is he just a random student who’s fronting as a TA? It would explain some of his general disinterest, but he knows more about molecular chemistry than anyone you’ve ever met, and that skill isn’t exactly a common parlor trick. 

Oh? My secret talent? Well, I can tell you about isotopic labeling and the exact timing of the reaction speeds! Wanna hear more? 

No. No one does. Plus, the professor had introduced him to the class on the first day. He knew him and Dabi’s not exactly inconspicuous. There’s gotta be something you’re missing. 

You close the heavy book and make your way back into the office, fingernails tapping out a disjointed pattern against the plastic of the binder. “Hey, um, sorry to bother,” you begin, tilting your head and biting your lip at the secretary’s beaming face.

“No bother! Did you find them? Everything work okay in the system?”

“No. I, uh, couldn’t find their name? He said his name was Dabi, never gave us a last name so, um, that’s all I have to go on,” you explain, placing the binder back on her desk and praying she’ll give you some kind of explanation.

“Ooh! Dabi! Sorry about that, he’s a special case, since he goes by his nickname. He’s under the adjunct section. I believe his last name is Todoroki,” she twists the book toward herself and flips through the pages at an alarming rate, eyes skimming over the names. 

“Here he is! Touya Todoroki! They don’t put nicknames, or preferred names, since it’s an official listing. He’s a brilliant man and one of our brightest junior professors. I know the university is hoping to snap him up this coming semester, get him on track for a tenured position. 

He’s a little unconventional, but he’s a super nice guy and… oh! Wait a minute, you wanted to file a complaint against him, right? I’m so sorry, here I am, running my mouth! You want a pen and paper? So you can jot his university number and info down? Lets me keep the book in here. Four minutes to closing after all, might as well save you the trip back.” She whips out the procured sheet of blank printer paper and a university stamped pen, holding them both toward you, a friendly smile still crinkling her eyes.

“Thanks,” you sigh, a little bewildered by her chatter. From the sound of it, Dabi’s got some university backing and is a ‘nice guy’. Coulda’ fooled you. Doesn’t matter, you think, crossing the t’s of his first and last name; he’s likely just skimming by on the promise of tenure, and the sooner the school knows about his lackadaisical attitude, the better. 

You’re typing in Todoroki, Touya when the secretary closes up the office of the dean, flicking off the lights and waving a goodbye to your tensed expression. A few minutes later, the elevator swallows her up and the only sound that fills the empty space is the clacking of the keys as you finish typing out your complaint. 

Alright. Got most of the minor points out of the way. 

Inattentive to the lessons, frequent absences, missing materials, smoking in the library; you’ll leave out the mention of weed, it’s not like you can claim innocence on that charge yourself and you’re not looking to have the guy arrested, just stripped of his TA status. You could mention the near kiss, but it feels too vague, and it’s not like he made a move on you. No, all that shifting forward rests squarely on your own shoulders. Damn it, stop thinking about that! You’ve got a boyfriend, someone who loves you, who’s going to take you to dinner! Hit complete and get the fuck outta’ here, before someone–

“Whatcha’ doing?”

His voice makes you jump half a foot into the air, your right knee contacting the protruding keyboard of the university kiosk. “Fuck,” you hiss, twisting around and hunching over at the bright spots of pain that flash across your vision as you rub your fingers over the hurt. The soft footfalls of his approach snap you out of your dazed reverie and your head snaps up, eyes widening at the sight of him.

He’s got a loose fitting white shirt on and you can see the coiling of his tattooed muscles under the thin fabric. His chin is lowered and his eyes are distant pinpricks of blue flame in the low lights. Booted feet take a few more steps toward you, but he pauses beside the table that your backpack is sitting on, hands sliding into his dark jeans, waiting for your response. You gulp back your nerves and lift your eyes to his, hoping some of your ire and defiance will shine through. “I’m putting something into the system,” you reply, your voice holding steady as you re-straighten your spine. 

“Can see that,” he counters, head tilting, dark hair falling to one side of his soft jawline. “Why are you doing it up here? This is the College of Science’s dean’s office. Most people don’t come up here to adjust their university login. So let me ask you again, whatcha’ doing, Ms. (L/N)?”

“Filing a complaint,” you snap, fingers curling into tight fists, shoulders rising and fall with your quickening breaths. That’s right, asshole, and it’s a complaint about you. How do you like that? Not much you can do about… about it now…. oh, shit. Fuck.  

You haven’t hit the enter key. 

The fucking e-document is just sitting there, unattended and completely vulnerable. He might not have seen that you haven’t sent it through and if you could just step a few feet to the right, then you can slip one finger against the keypad and hit that all important “enter.” 

You look up at him again, praying he won’t notice you scooting your shoes backwards, doing your best to keep him wholly focused on your face. “What did you expect?” you taunt, eyes narrowed, arms wrapping around your back, fingers unconsciously stretching out, feeling for the lift of the keyboard. “You’ve been shit. Midterms are in a week and half of the class says you’re not showing up for their sessions. Don’t look so shocked. This can’t possibly be your first run in with something like this? No wonder you go by that silly name, Dabi. What’s the matter? Upset that I know your actual name now?”

As you ramble on, his face has dropped all pretense of blank civility and now his entire body is hunching forward, shoulders curving, hands pulling free of his pockets and coiling outward, reaching, palms tilted upward. 

“So much fucking talk (Y/N). Looks to me like you forgot that last step. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” he begins, a wicked grin twisting across his lips, not quite reaching the glare of his narrowed eyes. “Ah, babe. Why you gotta be this way? Make you a deal, huh? Walk away now and I’ll forget the whole thing. No repercussions, no questions asked. Never even saw you up here, scout’s honor.” 

The keyboard is close; you can hear the hum of the monitor, buzzing as it holds the screen with your complaint against Touya Todoroki steady, waiting for your inspection, for that final command. Dabi is close, his looming form heavy against your wide eyes, but it’s now or never. You’ve got to turn around, got to let the predatory lumber of your ill-appointed TA slip from your mind, you have to do this. It doesn’t matter what kinda promises he’ll make to you. That changes nothing, absolutely nothing. 

Now! Do it now!

You whirl around, hands shaking as they search for the right keystrokes, the right submission link. It feels like minutes have passed, not seconds. Even though you’ve pressed all the buttons and heard the computer chime, a sent message alert into the sudden, reverberating silence, you can’t take your eyes off the burning gleam of the screen. Not until that thank you pops up. 

He’s still behind you. You can hear his boots as they click across the wood. His movements have slowed, but he’s still advancing. It’s too late for you Dabi, you think, watching as the submission page fades to a pleasing orange, the school mascot waving a large “Thanks!” as it dances, close to the bottom of the page. You did it! There’s nothing he can do. Nothing that–

His powerful arm drapes across your stiffened shoulders, his wrist popped beside your face, fingers dangling lazily into the open air. “Ahhh,” he sighs, leaning over you, resting his head beside yours. You half turn your face to see him, aghast that he’s so close again, that he’s touching you, holding you in place with his weight. His muscled side presses against your back, leaning heavily into you as he gives you a rakish smirk. “Well, looks like we get to do this the hard way.”

“What the fuck? The hard way? What does–hey! HEY!” He’s stepped away from you, and that arm that was braced over your shoulders shifts to the back of your neck, ramming your face down into the keyboard, mashing out a random string of commands. Your nose stings from the impact and your eyes wince shut, protecting themselves from the threat of the black letters. 

“Warned you about sending that,” he replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s stroking a hand down your head, tangling his long fingers in your hair, pulling at the strands until you’re groaning in pain. “Now we have to do this another way. Gotta even the score, don’t we? Need to make sure you’ve got some kinda blemish on your record, too! I know that secretary filled you in on my upcoming tenure. No way she didn’t. She’s a fucking leaky faucet and I know you had to ask her about my name to fill out that complaint. No, no. We gotta fix this, babe.”

His voice has dropped into a terrifying lower octave, his words sharp, barbed, lancing into your mind like a showering of sticks and stones. He fucking sounds like he’s seconds away from losing his goddamn mind. The hand that’s wrapped around your hair is tugging against you in earnest, jerking your neck away from the threat of the keyboard, forcing you to look up at his leering face. The pupils of his eyes are blown, the black eating away at the shine of the blue until there’s almost nothing left. His teeth are bared in a grimace and his cheeks are pinched, making the silver of his piercings stand out against his flushed skin.

You do your best to gasp out another set of questions, but he’s yanking you back, holding you against his broad chest and wrapping those ink sleeved arms around you. They coil over your stomach and across your breasts, digging into the globes and heaving them under his forearms. His lips are tracing over your arched neck, teeth nipping against your bared pulse. 

“You always smell so good, babe. What are you wearing? Hmm?”

“W-what… get off me! You sick fuck! Why are you… ow… damn,” you whimper as he sucks a bruise into your skin, gnawing and pulling until you’re writhing in his arms. You keep attempting to slip away, to shift your feet forward, but that mouth of his won’t let up. Each time you shake yourself free from those quick pants and hums he’s dashing across your neckline, he moves to another spot, or his hands cup and squeeze at your heaving chest and shivering waist, distracting you. 

“Mmm, this is unexpected. Looks like you just might enjoy what’s about to happen,” Dabi teases, licking a wet line under your jaw. “Come on, let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we?”

You exhale a shuddering breath and remain perfectly still, hoping your feigned submission will lull him. Thankfully, it works. He chuckles and spits something out about being a ‘good girl,’ but when he moves back, his arms unlacing from you, you stumble forward, one heel raised, cracking down over his booted feet with as much force as you can muster. 

Dabi hisses out a string of low curses, his body coiling over itself protectively. You do your best to squirm out of his grasp, but one of his broad hands reaches out for you, snatching at your leg and forcing you back to him. The sudden shift jolts you off your feet and you tumble to the wood, your palms skinning against the uneven surface. 

“Stop it!” you shout, kicking your feet, trying to dislodge his iron grip. 

“Kick me again and I’ll knock you out,” Dabi threatens, lowering himself to your level and jerking you underneath him, trapping you, bracing his knees on either side of your hips. 

“Fuck you,” you screech out, bucking upwards, trying to dislodge his weight.

“That’s the idea,” he croons, long fingers curling under your clenched chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you and stop acting like you don’t want me. You were practically salivating for me this afternoon. I bet you’re already wet. Let’s find out, hmmm?”

His other hand drifts to the clasp of your jeans, flicking past the barrier of your button and dipping his hand into your pants. His touch lingers around the elastic band of your panties, yanking and teasing at the seam as he works your zipper down. Unconsciously, your traitorous hips roll under him and he gives you a sharp grin, blue eyes blazing. “There you go, babe, just relax. Don’t worry, I’ll make it good for you,” he whispers, his voice catching as his touch slips downward, tapping across your curls and snagging against your slippery folds. “Maybe… ahhh… look at that,” he moans, a satisfied grin lifting those tempting lips of his. 

His middle finger brushes between your quivering flesh, gathering droplets of your arousal onto his finger pad. You choke back a staggered breath and your head flops weightlessly against the floor as you arch pitifully into his hand. One of his nails digs into your clit and faint stars pulse over your eyes. “S-stop it,” you stutter, unable to control the shiver that echoes up your spine.

“Tch,” Dabi scorns, adding the pressure of another finger. “Figures,” he continues, his mouth dropping into a pleased smile as you writhe under him. “I thought you liked being difficult. You’re so fucking cute when you’re mad, you know? So what happened to all that vigor, (Y/N)? Not gonna struggle anymore? I’m disappointed, I was hoping you’d keep it up.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snap, your fingers lifting from your side, grabbing the loose collar of his shirt and jerking him to your waiting lips. You can feel the lift of his grin, but he allows the caress, sharp nose digging into your upper cheek. This is wrong. So fucking wrong. But, if you have to endure it, it’s only fair you get a little bit of enjoyment out of this sick power play, so you nip at his lower lip, giving him soft presses and sharper pulls. Dabi, for all of his earlier barbs of prowess, is a bit taken aback by your sudden interest, his hands cupping at the back of your head, urging you on each time you maneuver away from his open-mouthed kisses. 

“You want to fuck me here? Right in front of the elevator?” you question breathlessly, fingers coiling into his dark hair, carding through the rough strands until he’s groaning above you. 

“Nah,” he pants, pulling away from your lips and leaning back. His fingers are still working their way against you, but it’s not enough friction and you wriggle under him, slipping him from your clit. “The fuck are you doing, babe? You gonna try and make a break for it again?” he laughs, pulling his hand from your pants and licking at the faint sweetness that you’ve left for him. 

“Why bother?” you reply, twisting your neck, your head dragging over the grains of the flooring. “You’re just going to catch me. I don’t know my way around this part of the building, so even if I got away, you’d only find me and I don’t really like being tossed around. Not good for me, you know? Why do you care? I thought you said you were gonna fuck me?”

“Oh, I am,” he assures you, one hand snagging under your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his. “Just wanted to know what changed.”

“Nothing,” you barb, tugging your chin free and fixing him with a pointed stare. “This whole thing means nothing. I’ve got a boyfriend, and he’s buying me dinner tonight, so, just get through this and I’m free to go, right?”

“A boyfriend,” Dabi muses, knees tightening around your hips. “Should we call him? I’d hate to think how he’d feel about all this. Knowing that his girl is letting her TA take advantage of her this way.” 

“Hmph,” you snort, arms bracing under you, pushing yourself upward, doing your utmost to level this shitty playing field he’s laid out for you. “Like you give a shit.”

“You’re right,” he affirms, hands snatching under your arms and pulling you out from under him. “I couldn’t care less.”

His office is small. 

You keep a sharp eye on the door, watching to see if he locks it. Fingers crossed, he’ll get himself off and that’ll be the end of this. But that tone he’d shifted into, when he’d told you that you’d need to fix this, to erase the complaint, to walk it back, that made your spine tingle and skin prickle. There’s something else, something he’s not telling you, he’s a smart guy, there’s no way it’s this simple. He’s paced behind his desk, fiddling with something in one drawer, his eyes lifting to observe you each time you shift on the couch he’d gestured for you to sit on.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice a dull monotone. You don’t care, you remind yourself, hands wrapping around your stomach. No matter how good he looks, or how skilled his fingers are, you don’t care (Y/N) and it’s pathetic that you have to keep reminding yourself of that.

“Just making sure everything is ready,” he answers, eyes flicking over you. “Take off your pants and shirt, but leave your bra and panties on.”

“Huh?” you question, shoulders tensing as you glare up at him. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” he responds, closing his desk drawer and stepping back to you, kicking his boots and socks off as he gets closer.

“I-I guess not, but I don’t understand why you–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain it all when I’m finished,” he reassures you, kneeling on the floor and propping an elbow against his tattered couch. “You can make a show of taking your clothes off, I won’t mind.” 

“You’re revolting,” you snarl, curling your fingers over the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up. 

“Mmm,” Dabi agrees, one palm rising to run over your exposed skin. “Whatever you say.” 

“Ugh,” you grunt, popping your hips up and yanking your jeans down your long legs, not wanting to give him too much of a viewing as you pull them along your calves and onto the floor.

“Cute,” he murmurs, one finger racing along the lace of your panties, curving around your hip and onto the soft skin of your ass. “Oooh, did you wear these just for me?” he asks, cupping a broad hand under your soft skin and tugging it into his palm. “Love a girl in a thong,” he murmurs, fingers pressing and lifting into the plush flesh.

“Stop it,” you groan, lifting your hips up, depriving him of his lecherous grip. “I’d never do anything for you.” 

“Always such a stuck up little thing, let’s see if I can’t change your mind,” Dabi laughs, pushing you back and splaying you against the haggard cushions. His long fingers hook under the band of your thong and steadily work it over the curve of your hips and down the line of your calves. Instinctually, you clamp your thighs together, rubbing against the ache that’s budding between your clenched legs. 

“Come on,” Dabi encourages you, slapping his hand against your round thigh, smoothing his palm over the redness that he’s left behind. “Open up babe, let me see you.” 

“Don’t, ah—” you bite out, leaning away from his ravenous gaze and bracing yourself on your elbows as Dabi leers over the sight you’ve been forced to open for him. He glances up at you for a single moment, the blue of his eyes ensnaring your attention and leaving you gaping against the cushions. Seconds later, he’s diving between your spread thighs, his curious tongue lapping over the exposed folds of your cunt.

He slows his licks as he passes by your clit, pausing against the bud before wrapping his lips around the nub, sucking a swift rhythm over you. Your feet rise from the floor to brace against his broad shoulders and you coil your hips upward, urging him on, your head falling into the swath of pillows that rest under your neck. Tense fingers wrench into the cushions and you give a soft gasp, your lips stumbling over his name.

“What was that?” Dabi asks, lifting his head from your curls, lips wet with your slick, his blue eyes watching the contours of your face.

“Fuck you. I-I know… I know you heard me… D-Dabi,” you moan, hissing when he brings a digit against the quivering ring of your entrance. 

“Dabi, huh?” he ponders, letting the edge of his fingernail tease over you. “Don’t know if I like that. I think I’d much rather hear you screaming out my name, my real name.” 

“What?” you question, popping your head up and giving him a blank stare.

“You remember,” he grins, poking out his tongue and dragging it over you, smiling as you buck under his hands. “Come on,” he taunts, sucking at your clit again. “I know you know it. Go on, say it for me.”

“Wha-what’s wrong with Dabi?” you smart, bracing your feet against the couch and forcing him to insert his wavering finger, digging it forward until it hits the second knuckle. 

“Nothing, I just wanna’ hear how the other name sounds. I want to know what it’s like when you’re choking on it, barely able to gasp it out cus’ I’m making you feel so good. Come on, (Y/N), indulge me, huh?” 

“Fine,” you huff, legs trembling as he shoves another finger into you, curling them upward, poking and prodding until you’re squirming. “Keep going. Make me cum all over your mouth, Touya.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Dabi hisses, his teeth catching over your clit. “That sounds real nice, baby.”

His lips seal over you again and he drags another finger into you, stretching you until you feel you’re close to bursting. It’s a low ache he’s working up, but you love the burn. It’s not like your boyfriend can’t do this, but you’ve never worked up the courage to ask. How do you even go about that? Hey, I want you to pin me down and… no. That doesn’t matter, you remind yourself; fingers sinking into Dabi’s black hair, pulling him closer. You just need to get him off and get the hell outta’ here. Don’t think about it. Just relax and get this over with. 

“You need more, don’t you?” Dabi questions, tilting his head and cracking one cerulean eye open, watching as you writhe and cant under his skillful hands. 

“I-I just need…” your voice fails you as he resumes that suction, tugging your engorged clit between his sharp teeth and giving you a few rapid fire nips. “Al-almost, just… keep… oh fuck…” you sigh, thighs tensing around his dark head. His fingers speed up that sinful drag and he wriggles them forward with each push, tapping and stroking over the spongy patch of nerves within your cunt. 

Then, right when you’re breaths away from a mind blowing release, he yanks his fingers from your sopping pussy, laughing as you pant and whine for him. “Ahhh, come on babe,” he sneers. “Why would I reward you when you’ve been such a fucking pain?” 

You openly gape at him, your eyes blinking back dots of frustration and distant flashes of lingering starlight arousal. “What the fuck,” you pant, shifting away from his slicked lips and crossing your legs. “Wh-what what was that for?”

Dabi pushes himself onto his haunches, licking the last traces of you off of his fingers before digging his hand into his jean pocket. He returns with a small remote and waggles it in front of your aghast expression. “Got all I needed,” he informs you, flicking it toward a bookcase. You swiftly whip your head to the shelves and spy the tiny camcorder resting above the topmost set of books. 

“You fucking ASS,” you screech, hands reaching for the dangling remote, not caring that your sopping pussy and half naked breasts are on full display. Dabi hovers the remote above the two of you, cracking that all too familiar grin over his thin lips.

“So, about that complaint,” he taunts, scoffing at your desperation, leaning on his heels to watch you scramble up from the frayed pillows of his couch. 

“Y-you, why… I… give me that! You can’t record me without my permission!”

“Awe, babe,” Dabi barks, his laugh echoing around the small space. “Too bad for you, huh? I don’t need two party consent.”

“That’s for phone calls,” you bite out, finally snagging his wrist, yanking him toward you. 

“Who said the video was on?” 

“You fucking jackass! That’s why you wanted me to say your name!”

“Calm down, I won’t release it if you walk back the complaint,” Dabi counters, letting you pull him closer, his lips teasingly reaching for yours. You dodge his touch and fix him with a pointed glower, nose wrinkling and brow furrowing. 

“This sounds like a well oiled routine,” you accuse, dropping your hold on him and crossing your arms over your exposed stomach. 

“Tch, you jealous?” Dabi sneers, cupping both of his hands under your bent elbows, forcing you to lean into his hold. You shake your head at his accusation and grit your teeth, tilting your face away from his seeking touch. 

“What are you going to do about this part? Where I’m yelling about what a son of a bitch you are?”

“Edit it out,” Dabi informs you, lips latching onto the hollow of your throat, teeth worrying your tender skin between their grasp. “Again, if you walk back the accusation, all of this goes away.”

“What if…” you pause, biting your lower lip and shrugging Dabi off of you. He leans away, bright eyes studying your face, pausing at the dip of your lips, following the pink indentations that your teeth leave behind. “What if I wanna’ fuck you?”

“Oh?” Dabi hums, nose flaring, making those three tiny piercings gleam under the low light of the moon that’s streaming through his window. “Now you wanna’ fuck me? You sure about that? Not that I blame you, I’m pretty good, pretty big, too.”

“Ugh, don’t say shit like that,” you reply, lifting a shaking hand to his neck, tracing your fingertips over the indentations of his tattoos.

“Hmm,” he groans, already leaning into your touch, his skin prickling under the gentle strokes of your fingers. “One condition. I get to record it. This time with the video on.”

“Fine,” you confirm, coiling your hands into his inky hair. “Never know, you might want it for later.”

“For what?” Dabi asks, yanking himself away from your intoxicating strokes to jerk his white shirt over his head. You shake your head at his question, not wanting to think about the ramifications of this situation, distracting yourself with the new patterns and whorls of dark ink that are bared to you. He twists back to the camcorder, hitting a few buttons before tossing his remote across the room, the plastic clattering over the wood.

You can just make out the outline of wisps of blue flames beside his ribs when he kicks his pants and boxers down, finally lowering the curtain on the dip of his hipbones, displaying his straining length to your ravenous gaze. He’s covered in piercings. A silver Prince Albert is gleaming at his tip, catching the drips and bubbles of pre-cum that are hovering against his slit. His cock curls proudly toward his stomach when he releases it from the thin protection of his boxers and you catch sight of the Jacob’s ladder that climbs up his impressive girth. Unconsciously, you gulp in a swift breath and shake your head, not wanting to show him your wavering uncertainty. 

He’ll undoubtedly be the biggest cock you’ve ever taken, and you’re not sure that he’s stretched you out properly. He’d paused too soon and you can still feel the shuddering echoes of your faint brush with release travel up your spine as you gape at him. It’s not enough… it’s not…

“What?” Dabi questions, one black brow arched. “Worried I’m too big for you?”

You’re about to respond when he shoves you down and maneuvers you sideways, stretching you along the cushions, his hand a steady pressure against your windpipe, choking out any reservations that threaten to escape your lips. He’s on top of you seconds later, the sheer weight of him pinning you under him, and you let out a whine when he spreads your legs, popping the brittle muscles of your hips in his rush. 

“I’ll make you like it,” he promises, looming over you, his lips tracing up your neck as his hands dig under your back, unfastening your bra and stripping you of your final defense. “You’ve got a nice rack, babe,” Dabi praises, lowering himself, ghosting over your peaked nipples, tongue lapping out to dip over the puffy areola. 

“Stop saying shit like that, I might think you mean it,” you snarl, throat catching on your gasps of strained pleasure. He sucks one stiffened peak between his lips and suckles, hard. The pressure makes your back bow off the cushions, fingers reaching for him, clawing and scratching your way down the muscled plains of his back. 

“Mmm,” Dabi groans, popping his lips free from the distraction of your nipples. “Do that again, but put some effort behind it.” 

Well, why let him down now? You dig your nails into him, yanking until you feel his skin part under you, splitting from the drag of your touch. “Fuck, yes,” he grunts, his hips jerking into you, blindly seeking your entrance. “I’m gonna fuck you,” Dabi warns, teeth biting the hollow of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you until all you can say is my name.” 

He blindly reaches for your hips, two fingers searching for your cunt. Once he finds it, he grasps the swollen length of his cock, jerking himself a few times, splashing his hot pre-cum against your inner thighs. There’s no warning, no call for preparation, or a quick kiss, instead there’s just the heady press of his hips and the weight of his length as it splits you in two. Your neck arches off of the cushions and your hips fall away, shying from the keening sting that he’s thrusting into you. A low hiss slips from your lips and your toes curl, legs unconsciously wrapping around his thin waist, heels digging into the soft dip of his back. 

“F-fuck,” Dabi chokes out, hands bracing themselves over the swell of your hips. “You’re fucking tight, babe. Goddamn it.”

“Dabi,” you moan, curling upwards, praying he’ll give you a few more seconds, positive you’ll shake yourself to bits if he tries to move now. Your hand finally lifts from his back and makes its way toward the crest of your thighs, desperate to tweak and roll your pulsing clit. Once you’re inches away, one of Dabi’s hands unlatches from your waist and snatches your seeking fingers away. “Don’t you dare,” he warns, lips rising to suck against the lines of your neck. “Only if I tell you,” he continues, warm tongue dipping and licking over your ear. “Understand?”

You nod, still reeling from the steady stretch of his cock as he tugs it out of your sopping cunt. It pricks and bites and your heels do their best to restrict his movements, pinning themselves to his lower back and grinding down. He ignores your hints and starts a steady push and pull within you, the rungs of his piercings catching on the edge of your leaking pussy. Each thrust snags against a piece of you that sends a scattering of sparks and stars over your vision and you coil yourself forward every time he yanks back, anticipating that ignition, that ache, as he braces himself to slip into you again. 

“How the fuck are you still so tight?” he complains, hands jerking your chin upward, demanding that you kiss him. The bittersweet sting of pain is still too close for you to get into his caress, so he soon gives up, finally settling the pad of his calloused thumb over your clit. “Is this what you need?” he asks, hips lancing into yours, picking up the pace of his ruts. You nod as your teeth chatter, a thin slip of drool escaping your parted lips. Dabi grins at your overwrought expression and his tongue laps at the traces of saliva, nose pressing into your skin, his hisses of exhaled air hot against your cheek. 

“You’re getting real tight (Y/N). Wanna cum? You wanna’ cum on my dick?” he asks, his voice shaking with effort, trying to ignore the insistent envelopment of your slick cunt. “Hey, come on, answer me!”

His deep pitch of exasperation snaps you out of your stupor and you fix your hazy attention on him, closing your swollen lips and giving him a cruel smile. “I don’t think you’ve done enough,” you taunt, a laugh bubbling from your throat. “Looks like you’re gonna cum first. Turns out you’re not as impressive as you think, huh, Touya?”

He’d usually ignore you, keep pressing and teasing until you’re putty in his hands, but it feels too good. It’s too much. Your fucking cunt feels like heaven and he can’t help himself, thrusting and pounding into you like he’s fucking fifteen again, all hormones and no finesse. There’s nothing he can do to stop himself, it’s too good, it’s just too fucking good.

With a half-formed groan he spills into you, his cock pulsing and swelling, hands bracing themselves against the swell of your hips, lifting you to him until those dots leave his vision. “Fuck. Fuck, that was… you were… God. That felt so fucking good.” 

You sprawl under him, your eyes languidly meeting his as you crack a sly grin. “Ahhh, Touya, like I said, you were so close. Too bad. Thought you’d last a little longer. Haha! Maybe next time, hmmm?”

Tags: @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @evesmores​

notes: editing always takes me so long :((((

[uwuwriting]

Wearing his jersey w/ Daichi, Kageyama and Osamu

Request: hi!! can i req the ‘wearing their jersey’ with daichi kags and osamu plss! i loved the one u wrote for kuroo akaashi and ushi. -anonymous

Okay I haven’t written for my Haikyuu babies for quite some time and that sucks. Everyday is Haikyuu day and I simp for a different character every hour of the day lmao. Although my new found obsession with Nanami is taking up most of my time. Oh well guess he’ll have to share my spare time with one of the Haikyuu boys every time. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff, I don’t think there are any warnings for this one. 

Sawamura Daichi

-Captain Daichi thirst is active 24/7 lmao. 

-He is used to you taking his clothes.

-From hoodies, to t-shirts to his sweatpants, it has become a regular occurrence in your relationship. 

-He loves seeing you in his clothes. 

-They are always too big on your body, his hoodies almost reaching your knees and it makes his heart go doki doki. 

-He just wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. 

-He has given you one of his t-shirts to wear to sleep cuz he loves the idea of you having a little part of him with you even if it's just a shirt.

-You two were having a sleepover before one of his major games and of course you were helping him unwind. 

-You helped him make his duffle bag and double check for his knee pads, gave him a massage for his sore muscles after a long week of non stop practices and finally forced him to take a self care evening after he asked you to help him practice with his receives. 

-While putting on his face mask you were going on about something random when you noticed the furrow of his brows. 

- “Everything is gonna be fine baby, you’ll see. You and the boys have practiced really hard for this match and you;ll make it I know you will.” 

-Smiling up at you he gave you a peck on the lips, careful not to smudge your own face mask in the process. 

- “I know or at least I think I do. I just feel off knowing you won’t be there.” 

-Oh that’s right….You weren’t sure you would make it in time to catch the beginning of the match due to a family obligation but you were certain you would get to see the later half of the game. 

-Though Daichi didn’t have to know that yet. 

-Kissing him again you reassured him that the team didn’t need you to be there to wipe the floor with the other team’s ass, that he didn’t need you there. 

-The pout on his lips said otherwise though but he didn’t push it. 

-When the time came for the match to begin, he kept glancing at the stands mainly out of habit but also because he half expected you to make it on time. 

-No such luck though, you were nowhere to be seen. 

- “Oi Daichi focus!!” 

-Suga nearly karate chopped him in the stomach when he didn’t stop looking for you. 

-Everyone could see that their captain was a little out of it but they chose to keep quiet.

-You on the other hand, were sprinting through the streets of Miyagi to get to your boyfriend’s game as fast as possible, his jersey spurring you forward as you pounded down the school’s courtyard. 

-In a flash you were in your regular seat in the very front of the bleachers, chest rising and falling frantically as you tried to catch your breath. 

-You took off your jacket and rushed to the railing, tracing the ball with your eyes as the opposing team spiked it right into your boyfriend’s arms. 

- “GO DAI!!”

-His eyes found you immediately, quickly shooting down to your chest where the number 1 of his dark jersey rested proudly flushing at the sight. 

-The game was over rather quickly after that. 

-Daichi was in top form, his receives being immaculate while his serves were on point. 

-The first thing he did when he walked out of the lockers was to hug you, hug you so close and tight you could barely breath as he thanked you for coming.

- “You r-really thought I w-would miss this???” 

- “........Baby I can’t b-breath.”

Kageyama Tobio 

-Flustered babyyyy.

-He will never get used to seeing you in his clothes. 

-You have worn his hoodies before and he has had a heart attack every time. 

-It reached a point where you thought that he hated seeing you in them and you stopped asking for his hoodies or jackets even if you were cold. 

-That caused the frown on his face to deepen and a very shy confession that he indeed loved seeing you in his clothes. 

-Ever since that day you always have at least one of his hoodies in your closet. 

-Now your relationship is a secret. 

-Considering who his teammates are, you both agreed that it would be wise to keep your relationship under wraps, neither of you want to go through their reaction in this lifetime at least. 

-Keeping that in mind, you never wore his clothes out in public so you wouldn’t draw unwanted attention to you. 

-You go to all his games of course, being his best friend before becoming his girlfriend does that to a person, plus he had convinced you to become a manager alongside Yachi.

-So even if you wanted to skip a game you couldn’t. 

-Now that you think of it this must have been part of his plan since now he can be near you all the time. 

-You couldn’t bring yourself to be even remotely mad at him, he was just too cute. 

-You were so proud of your boys for making it to nationals that you decided to hype them up a bit. 

-Convincing both Yachi and Kiyoko you stole three jerseys from the team while they were changing before you took your seats in the sidelines. 

-Many would think that you wearing Kageyama’s jersey was a mere coincidence. 

-You chose him because he is your best friend, not because something else was going on. 

-Sugawara and Tsukishima aren’t most people and you soon found yourself in some hot water with those two. 

-Apart from the fact that Kageyama couldn’t look your way without having a stroke, he whipped the floor with the other team, gasps and applause filling the stadium every time he dunked the ball on the other side of the court. 

-It got to the point where the other less observant member of the team started noticing the significant difference in his attitude. 

- “Kageyama why are you playing so aggressively the ball keeps going like WOOSH and BAM without me even hitting it.” 

-Poor boy almost chocked on his water at Hinata’s words and when you went to help him he turned 50 shades of red in a matter of 0.0005 seconds. 

-This whole charade ended with your relationship being exposed after Noya begged you to wear his jersey and Tobio wasn’t having it, three nosebleeds and a whole lot of teasing. 

-He moved to your room that night despite the fact that the third years kept teasing him about being safe and wrapping it before tapping it. 

-Held a small grudge for like five minutes. 

Miya Osamu

-Love of my life number 20.

-The superior twin and this will make it evident. 

-Atsumu is always being a little shit about your relationship and how you don’t look like a couple cuz you don’t make out in the hallways all the time. 

-Em sir excuse you!

-Anyways, you know to ignore him at this point figuring that he’ll get tired and stop but no such luck; he irritates Osamu to no end resulting in one of them needing bandages at the end of practice. 

-PDA is not something you are both comfortable with and you prefer small reassuring touches throughout the day. 

-This has led to many believing that you two aren’t a couple just like Atsumu says and other people have confessed to you or asked you out WHILE Osamu is with you. 

-It doesn’t bother him much since he trusts you but it still tugs at his insecurities. 

-And because of those insecurities you get a new wardrobe. 

-Literally a whole ass new clothing line made by none other than Osamu Miya himself. 

-What is in this new clothing line you ask? 

-Osamu’s hoodies and shirts in general. 

-Every time he stops by your house he brings a new item of clothing with him, something that he has worn recently and others have seen just to get his message across. 

-You aren’t complaining, you love wearing his clothes, they are always so big and they completely swallow you plus they smell like him. 

-It’s like you have him with you. 

-Now Osamu might not show it often but volleyball stresses him out, like a lot. 

-It means the world to his brother and despite their fights and bickering, he loves seeing him happy and if that means he has to play the sport like his life depends on it so be it. 

-Osamu would do anything for Atsumu. 

-So you can understand the pressure he is under as a spiker. 

-His distress is you basically and you give him a small pep talk right before he enters the court. 

-Imagine his surprise and pure childish glee when he saw you making your way to him wearing his jersey. 

-It reached just above your knee and it made you look so cute he wanted to bottle you up and keep you forever. 

-Atsumu and Suna could be heard in the background teasing the living shit out of Osamu who remained frozen in place, the whole stadium turning into white noise as the only thing in his view, the only thing that mattered in that moment, was you. 

-He noticed your glare as you told his brother off, saw the way you played with the hem of his jersey as you walked near him and the furrow of your brows when he didn’t answer your calls. 

-Wordlessly he enveloped you in a tight hug, picking you off your feet and twirling you around a little bit much to the dismay of his fanbase in the stands. 

- “Hi.” “Hey ‘Samu”

- “Whatcha wearin?”

- “Oh this old thing? I figured you might need the motivation.” 

- *cue kissing assault*

TAG TEAM AY:

Arcana-Fan-at The @-FIC @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @ storage11037 @ezoyscorner @letscheereachotheron @ wolfkid22 @ Dark-Thoughts-and-Red-Roses @threeamwriting @ysatrap @yashinosakura @yongboxerrr​ @meena-in-a-nutshell​

[spidernerdsblog]

Don’t you love me?

A/N: Ok first of all my apologies for being so late was really caught up with my exams and other stuff. Tried my best to do justice with your request. Hope you like it.

Can you do a Peter Parker x reader where Peter already lost his virginity at some point but the reader is virgin and it’s her first time? Basically soft considerate Peter checking to make sure she’s not in pain and being really big on consent, like, she has to verbally say yes because he doesn’t want to violate her in anyway, like literally even having his hands anywhere on her, even if it’s just around her shoulder, he’ll check to make sure she’s okay first. Probably starting out watching a movie on Peter’s bed (like lotr or The Hobbit, I have a head canon that he loves those movies) Requested by : @tom-holland-gives-me-seratonin 

Pairing : Peter Parker (aged up) x reader

Warnings : 18+, SMUT, mature content

You met Peter Parker in the first year of your Uni. Both of you were pursuing your Bachelors in Biophysics from the prestigious Empire State University. For you his first impression was that of a cute awkward nerd in thick rimmed specs who got all nervous around women. But something of him intrigued you especially when he sometimes used to mysteriously disappear in thin air without any clue. Like one time when your biology teacher turned villain Prof Miles Warren aka The Jackal unleashed his spiderman clones in the world. Peter was the first one to disappear from campus and within seconds Spiderman appeared to save the day. 

You only got to know him better when you were paired with him for a research project. You had to work with him to find out the biochemical composition of a substance. First it was all professional between you but slowly you started to grow feelings for each other. Small talks led to dates and then a full fledged relationship. You were still oblivious of his alter ego but that was a matter of time when one night you heard a knock on your window and you were shocked to find a red and blue spandex suit clad none other than your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. He seemed to be badly wounded and once he took the mask off to reveal who he was underneath you were exhilarated with the fact that it was your sweet nerdy boyfriend. That night he had come to tell you that you both can't be together because of the dangerous life he leads. And he doesn't want to lose you just like he lost Gwen who became the collateral damage of his fight with Electro. Instead you made it clear that in no means you are going to leave him. He needs someone to take care of him and you want to be that person in his life. From then there was no looking back for you two. 

You were happy and cherished every moment you got to spend with Peter. He was the sweetest and kindest person you have ever met. You always felt a thrill around him now that you know about his secret identity but you wanted that same thrill in your love life too to be specific your sex life. You have been in a relationship for one and a half years now but you never got to the sexy part. Whenever you used makeout and things got a little heated he used to back out immediately in spite of painful strain in his pants. You could feel he was holding back for some reason you don't understand. 

Sometimes you thought maybe you were the problem because you were a virgin inexperienced. You knew about his past relationships with Gwen and MJ maybe he doesn't find you that attractive. You tried dropping hints occasionally grinding on to him while sitting on his lap kissing him or intentionally touching him on his crotch but he never used to pick up on it or straight away ignored them. But now you are desperate now if he doesn't make a move you surely will. You don't want to die a virgin. 

It was a lovely evening May was out of town so you came over at Peter's to spend the night with him. You were snuggled close to Peter on the couch practically laying over him watching one of his all time favorite The Hobbit his hand wrapped around you drawing lazy circles on your skin. Your eyes were trained on the TV screen, eyebrows knitted in a frown as you gnawed your lower lip. Peter noticed that and he knew you only did that when something is bothering you. 

"What's wrong babe?" He asked sweetly like all the time he does. 

''Huh?" You were snapped out of your daze. 

"Nothing Peter." You replied dryly. 

"C'mon don't lie to me I know something is bothering you." You sat up on the couch and looked at him carefully before straight away asking

"Peter don't you love me?" Peter was taken aback at your sudden question. 

"What? No, Y/N what made you think that? Did I do something wrong? Oh is it for me not showing up for the presentation with you. I'm so sorry Y/N but I had to go on that mission the Avengers needed me. I promise this will never happen again." He continued rambling which melted your heart at how pure and innocent he was and now you started feeling guilty for making him feel like that. 

"Hey, ssh, ssh.." You sit up on your knees cradling his face with your hands bringing him close to your chest. He stopped rambling, nuzzling his face into your warm chest. 

"I'm not mad at you for ditching me at the presentation though I was a little at first." You shrugged 

"But that's ok I made peace with that a long time ago because with great powers comes great responsibilities." you chuckled making Peter smile but he still wasn’t convinced.

"Then what is it darling?" He nudged you. You gathered all your courage taking a deep breath and shut your eyes close before blurting out. 

"I want to have sex Peter! I know it was a little straight forward from me but Peter we have been together for more than a year and I love to spend my time with you, cuddle you to sleep, making out on a lazy Sunday morning but I want more. And every time things start going there you back off leaving me high and dry. You ranted. 

"Oh" that was the only reaction Peter gave you after your nearly one minute rant. 

"I don't want to sound pushy. I know I'm a virgin not as experienced like you and maybe not as attractive like your previous girlfriends. But I want to do it with you, I want you to be my first." You continued with your rant.

"Hey, hey…" he sat on his knees cupping your face with his large calloused palms. 

"I'm so sorry Y/N for making you feel like that. Believe me you are the most beautiful and smart woman I have ever met in my life." 

"You know with this superstrength and my heightened senses I sometimes can't trust myself. What if I get too carried away and end up hurting you? And the last thing I want is to hurt you Y/N." his gaze dropped to his lap. 

"Hey look at me" you placed your hands on both sides of his face making him look at you. 

"You. Can. Never. Hurt. Me. Do you understand?" you said gazing firmly into his eyes. He nodded, smiling and sealed his lips to yours. The kiss grew heavier as he pushed you back making you lay down on your back on the couch. His lips never left yours, you slightly parted your lips allowing him to slip his tongue inside your mouth. His hands went under your sweatshirt drawing lazy patterns on your skin gently tugging onto it. You broke off the kiss trying to catch your breath and got up a little as Peter helped you to pull off your sweatshirt revealing your lacy bra. 

He slotted himself between your legs and you wrapped them around his hip out of instinct. Peter kissed your cheeks slowly. You tilted your head a little as he dragged his lips down your neck, nose brushing against your flushed skin as he left butterfly kisses all over your exposed skin.

"Let me show you how much I love you." His glanced up to you voice low which sent shivers right down to your core. 

He moved down further leaving a trail of wet kisses along the valley of your breasts as he pulled down your bra and latched on to one of your nipples sucking on to it gently, his other hand fondling with your other breast. You moaned as your nipples felt sensitive under his touch. Your fingers tangled with his soft brown curls as he licked and gently nipped on to your skin. His hand went to your back unclasping your bra as you slid it and threw it away. Your hands tugged on to his shirt he took the que and took it off. A light gasp escaped from you at the sight of his taut abdomen muscles as you ran your hands gently over them encircling your hands around his neck pulling him down to kiss him again. He then crawled down placing soft kisses along the way from your chest to your naval and pulled down your sleep shorts. He felt himself twitch at the sight of seeing you all soaked up for him. 

"Who made you this wet babe?" He asked you teasingly running a finger through your clothed heat

"You Petey." You whimpered, biting your lower lip. Oh that pet name from your mouth did things to him as he felt himself grow painfully hardert in his sweatpants. He hooked his fingers to the waistband of your panties and looked up to you eyes seeking permission. You nodded to tell him to go on. He peeled them off you. You felt a little intimidated as you closed your legs a little before Peter stopped you. 

"Don't be shy darling,you have no idea how pretty you are." He praised which made your cheeks turn to the brightest shade of pink. He spread your legs wide and ran his finger through your slick folds you let out a whimper at his touch. He brought his finger coated with your wetness to his mouth and sucked on it. 

"You taste so sweet babe can't wait to taste more of you." He leveled his face to your soaking core placing butterfly kisses on your inner thighs making you squirm. Finally he decided to pay attention to the place where you needed him the most. Peter hooked his arms to your thighs and placed a soft kiss on your heat and you felt like your whole body combust into flames. He licked a long, bold stripe through your slit as you gasped loudly. You  moaned as he sucked on to your bundle of nerves flicking it with his tongue.

"Shit! Peter this feels so good!" Peter smirks against your heat delving into you as if you were his last meal.

He inserts a finger inside you and begins pumping it in and out of you simultaneously sucking on to your clit. Your body arched when he added another finger. His long slender fingers hitting all the right spots inside you as Peter felt your legs tremble in pleasure. Your hands went on to grab his hair tugging on it as his groaned face nuzzled into your heat. He lapped up all your juices. You felt yourself reaching the edge as a tight knot started to grow in your stomach clenching around his fingers.

"Let go Y/N I got you." He coaxed you curling his fingers inside you and you felt the coil snap as you orgasmed incoherently moaning his name. Peter worked you out through your high. He pulled away and slowly crawled up to you. 

"You okay?" You hummed in reply still coming down from your high. He kissed you and you tasted yourself on his lips. 

"Y/N you have to promise me if at any moment you feel like it's too much you will stop me ok?" 

"Yes Peter I'll."

He got up and went to fetch a condom. He got rid of his pants and boxers and your eyes went to his throbbing length. You felt a little jittery as you were lying down on the couch in anticipation of what was going to happen next. 

"It's rude to stare, you know." He quipped, you rolled your eyes.

He pumped himself a few times before tearing the foil and rolling the condom over his length and got on top of you propping himself on his forearms. 

"It's going to hurt a little, I'll go slow don't worry." He brushed his tip on your folds spreading your wetness, then slowly guided himself inside you. You winced at the stinging sensation squeezing your eyes shut when you felt his tip stretching you open, your hands grabbed on to his biceps tightly. Peter’s eyes were trained on you as soon as he noticed your painful expression he stilled himself completely pulling out of you. 

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry Y/N." He asked with a worried face and it made you fall in love with this man all over again making you forget all your pain. 

"It's ok Peter, I'm fine. Just you know you are a little big for me. You said coyly.

"Okay I have an idea" he sat up on the couch leaning his back on the backrest of the couch as you sat up on your knees. He pulled you into his lap placing your legs on both sides of his thighs straddling him. He slowly guided you to position your and lower yourself onto his shaft. 

"Just relax, take your time baby. I’m here for you." He reassured you. You went down carefully taking your time accommodating him inside you. You both let out a moan when he completely filled you up stretching your walls. You stayed like that for a while letting yourself adjust to him. 

"Fuck! You're so tight baby, I’m not gonna last long" he whispered brushing his lips against your ear making you shudder. He slowly guided you to lift your hips on and off him. 

You caught on to the rhythm and began to move up and down on your own, riding him at a slow pace. Your palms placed flat on his chest the faint stinging sensation fading away as little waves of  pleasure took over you making you moan softly. Peter hesitantly placed his hands on your waist trying not to grip on it too hard. 

"It's okay Pete you can hold me I'm not made of glass, I will not break so easily." You chuckled. He wrapped his arm around your waist and another hand went to your face brushing away the hairs falling on your face. You began to pick up speed, your hips rolling onto his shaft harder and faster, beads of sweat forming on your bodies, your breasts rubbing against his muscular chest. You pressed your forehead to his closing your eyes starting to feel a little tired. Peter noticed that and held on to your hips stilling you at your place as he bucked his hip thrusting deep inside you hitting your g spot. 

"Oh Pete right there!" you moaned. Peter began thrusting inside you with a new vigor as you clenched hard around him feeling the coil tighten inside you again. You were a moaning and panting mess by now your head dropped to the crook of his neck nibbling on to his smooth skin. 

"You’re gonna cum for me darling?'' You could only nod in reply.

"Then cum for me, let me see my baby fall apart on my cock." A few more deep thrusts and you felt your walls pulsate as you came all over him. His thrusts grew sloppier as he chased his own high. You felt him twitch inside you and with a final thrust he was soon spilling inside the condom. You collapsed on top of him, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, feeling exhausted from the speed and intensity of the deed you just engaged in.

"Wow" you said in between erratic breaths. 

"You did so well babe." he mumbled, kissing your hairline while caressing your sweaty back with his hand as you both came down from your own highs. A few seconds passed before you finally sat up and lifted yourself off him. His hair was a mess, his soft brown eyes staring at you intently before lifting his hand to your cheek brushing his thumb on your cheekbone. 

''You're so beautiful."

"Shut up" you felt shy under his gaze as you lightly slapped on his chest and rested your head against his broad chest again. 

"I love you" you mumbled, closing your eyes listening to his slow and steady heartbeat. 

"I love you too" he wrapped you in his arms sighing with content. 

[blueprint-han]

pink cherry blossoms.

pairing: changbin x (gender neutral) reader.

genre: high school au ; fluff.

⇥ warnings: none, changbin is Y/N’s high school pen pal + bf + and she’s a foreign exchange student uwu. 🥰

word count: 1.4 K

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Seo Changbin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble.

network tag: @stayverse​ @districtninewriters​ @inkidz​ + @sunoo-luvs​​

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @pinkchcn​ (requests for this are closed now!)

!!!; bold italics indicate Changbin’s letter.

↯ note: hhhhhh so the story for this comes from when I first read your url, I read it as “pink chicken” siudhyuegfw I’m so sorry if has a deeper meaning I by no means meant to mock it I swear. 😭 Hope you enjoy this blurb tho, this is in no way comparable to your awesome writing you queen but I tried. 😔 Happy reading! <33⇥ dawn.☀️

↯ note 2: Okay now that tumblr officially fucked with my self-esteem + the tags I am glad to announce that this is officially the worst fic ever Kai I’m so sorry I made you read this. 😭 I’ll go boo at myself now bye :(( ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Y/N-ah, you got mail.” Your roommate chimed in Japanese, throwing the envelope on top of your sleeping form. You groaned, shuffling under the mess of sheets. It was a Sunday, of all times! What reason did your friend find to wake you up early? You didn’t take the intrusion of sleep well.

“What?” Grubbily, you straightened up from the lower bunk of the bed, rubbing over your eyes as you squinted to look at your friend, who was silently giggling at the way your hair looked like a bird’s nest, all poofed up and sticking out in random places. “You got mail.” She repeated, tucking back her neatly combed hair behind her ear, before plopping a small parcel in front of you. “The letter was attached to this.”

“I know that.” You asked, throwing the blankets over your torso, snuggling into it’s warmth. “What could be so important that you had to wake me up for the mail?’ A soft huff from your lips and you rubbed over your eyes, trying to push away any remnants of sleep. “Couldn’t you have just left it on my table?” Shoving the envelope to the side.

“It’s from your boyfriend~” Your friend in a sing song voice, laughing when you lit up at the little admission. “Have fun reading it! I’m gonna go to the park. You need something?”

“Get me some cherry blossoms.” You stretched your limbs, any last signs of grubbiness gone with the wind. It was officially spring, which meant that the whole city was coated in pink, cherry blossoms of varying shades everywhere, and you loved the scenery they provided — especially from your balcony.

“Are you gonna send them to Changbin?” Your friend asked.

“Oh gosh, are you gonna keep asking me questions or are you gonna go?” Grabbing the pillow behind you, you chucked it at her head, laughing in victory when she was unable to dodge it.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your friend rolled her eyes. “See you later.”

Deciding it as a good time to get out of bed, you quickly brushed your teeth, washed your face and tied your hair into a braid before staring at the envelope strewn on the bed. Your two other roommates were both outside already — you could read the letter in peace.

Plopping yourself onto the soft mattress, you covered yourself with the blankets once again before turning the envelope in your hand. Your address was neatly written in his handwriting, followed by three hearts and one winky face. The drawings warmed your heart as you unwrapped the package that came along with it.

It took you a while, but you eventually had the box opened and the tore the envelope, revealing a small piece of paper that had been crookedly folded in half, as though in hurry. Knowing Changbin, you knew better than to just assume that the letter was short, because that man had the tiniest handwriting you’d ever seen — being his pen pal meant you’d have to basically become a human magnifying glass.

Grabbing your reading glasses, you let them hang over your nose as you squinted, trying to read the letter.

Dear Y/N,

Hi^^ hope you’re having a lovely time there, darling~ it’s been going quite okay here. >w< Binnie misses you a lot-

You bit your lip to stifle your laughter. The fact that he’d actually bothered to draw emojis and use aegyo in his letter made you melt in warmth. You sunk back into the plush cushions as you continued reading his letter.

-and I sure hope you’re missing me too okay !! >:( don’t forget about me !! Anyways, it’s starting to get cold over here and mom forces me to pull over that dusty jacket that only makes me sneeze. Honestly I wish you were here, I miss your cuddles :(( But how’s everything going on there? Are you eating properly? Are you getting sufficient sleep? You better or else I’m gonna revoke my cuddles and hugs when you get back here after two months !! Remember to eat, drink water and sleep well okay!! That’s an order!! Or else. >:(

By the time you reached this part of the letter, you were already melting at how adorably concerned he sounded, even through writing. Your giggles were taking no name to stop as you clutched your letter. Feeling the heat creep up to your cheeks as you sighed, in love. You loved how he could make you forget everything around you and drown in everything Seo Changbin, and Seo Changbin only.

Anyways, I sent something for you!! Open the package !! ^^  It reminded me of you so I hope you liked it.

You tilted your head to the side as you flipped the lid of the box open, looking at one of those customizable “summer greetings” card (which was weird, considering that he’d just said it was getting colder)… and, a chicken?

You scowled in confusion as you picked up the plastic object, examining it thoroughly i your hands. It was colored in the usual hues of a normal chicken, but it nonetheless confused you. It reminded you of one of those plastic toys Changbin’s niece owned — in fact, you were almost 85% sure it was his niece’s.

“This reminded him of me? What the hell!” You glanced at the letter with a pout on your face, eyes searching for answers. For some reasons, butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach, producing a jittery sensation. Ignoring that, you continued reading, noticing a portion of the letter remaining.

Okay keukeukeukeu now that you’ve probably opened it you’re most likely confused and mad at me, and to that I say it was a prank :D That was’s Hyunae’s old toys keukeukeukeu hope you got fooled though. >:) Remove the cloth from the box and see what’s underneath now^^ Promise it’s not a chicken keukeukeuekeu >w<

You narrowed your eyes at the piece of paper, and then the box, noticing the cloth that seemed like it covered something underneath. Reaching out for it, you placed the box in your lap before holding your breath, gently taking the fabric out. You couldn’t be blamed for being nervous, okay? You just received a toy chicken as a souvenir from your boyfriend! A chicken, out of all things!

But, however, your suspicions were put to rest when the cloth was lifted. What you saw inside the box, was by far and most easily, one of the most beautiful gifts you’d ever received, and you felt a slight pang in your heart as your jaw dropped in awe.

It was a dark metal hairband, but the thing that was pretty about it was the tiny cherry blossoms that were arranged on top of it — just by looking at it, you could tell Changbin had spent hours making and coloring those clay flowers, let along moulding and placing them so perfectly. Small, shiny pearls placed in the centre of each flower shined in the light, and you internally swooned at hoe pretty it looked. Nothing could compare to anything you’d bought from the store, ever.

So this was his gift, huh?

“Wow,” You mumbled to yourself, gently and carefully sliding the headband onto your hair. It was heavy, but not that heavy and comfortable enough to wear frequently, you continued reading.

Aaaah i really hope you like it !! I spent about three days making this in craft class, and even the teacher said it came out well (also this reminded me of you please don’t be mad keukeukeuekue), I hope you like it darling !! ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ Remember to write back to me okay !! I love you !! take care darling, bye~

With love

your boyfriend Seo Changbin.  ♡ ♡

You smiled when the letter ended, almost (almost) tearing up with how touched you were. Changbin had immense craftmanship indeed, but this by far, was one of the most beautiful pieces he’d ever made, let alone gifted to you.

“Wow, that’s pretty! Did Changbin send that?” You snapped up to look at your friend, who gazed at your headband in awe.

“Yeah!” Covering your mouth, you giggled. “Did you bring it?”

“Mhm,” Your friend carefully handed the delicate flower to you, and you quickly rushed to your cupboard, getting the little journal you’d made over the three months you were here. Once you sat back down on the bed after grabbing a pen, you opened the page titled ‘Spring’ and cautiously taped the cherry blossom onto the page, closing the book shit so it could be pressed into paper. After that it was the obvious, you quickly wrote him a note, smiling to yourself as you ran your hand across the flower crown you adorned on your head.

And of course, when Changbin opened the package two days later to receive the moderately fresh, pressed flower along with your stories and your note, a smile pulled at his lips in an instant.

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor at least this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

[plus-size-reader]

Company

Jaskier x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1906 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Travelling with Geralt and Jaskier, and when you stop, Jaskier draws you a bath 

—————————————————————————————————

Jaskier didn’t have much experience with women of your caliber as a general rule. 

Sure, he had plenty of experience with women in general but not like you. Never had he met a woman so entitled yet strong willed. It was an awakening for him, and immediately, he never wanted to stop being around you. 

You just had such a strong presence and it wasn’t his fault that he was captivated by that. 

Any man in his right mind would be, as far as he was concerned. 

So, it was only natural that everything you said and did held his attention, just as much as when you were just riding alongside him on the trail.You were a stunning beauty with a title to match but that wasn’t what got him the most. 

What held the bard’s attention more than anything was the fact that you seemed to have no fear, and that was admirable in a woman like you. A woman who had been raised with a crown atop her head and no reason to ever leave. 

Even so, when your people needed you, you left the palace you had grown up in and hit the road with two complete strangers. 

So, of course he found you interesting. 

If he ever had to do what you had, to leave that comfort, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to go through with it. Fear would likely keep him from doing so, even if he really wanted to. 

“I suggest we stop for the night” you hummed, interrupting the thoughts that were coursing through the young man’s mind. You all had been going since sun up two days  again and Roach could use some shade and a bit of fresh water. 

Not to mention the fact that if Geralt didn’t get enough sleep, he would be rather crabby in the morning. Sleeping on the ground hadn’t proved well enough for his taste. 

Geralt audibly sighed at the idea of having to prolong the journey even more but after taking a moment to think about it, he knew that you were right. There was no good reason to exhaust yourselves on this long trip. 

“Fine, but we leave at dawn” he grumbled, deciding that the next town you all came across would just have to do. Whatever the state of it, you had all stayed in worse during your time on the road. 

You hummed in agreement, finding no problem with that arrangement. You caught Jaskier staring out of the corner of your eye, but thought nothing about it. Instead, you winked at him in amusement, knowing that Geralt wouldn’t argue with you. 

You had learned that the white haired male was a bit of a pushover, even if he liked to act as if he wasn’t. 

~

The inn at the closest town seemed rather shabby, if you were telling the truth, but all things considered it was much better than sleeping in a field like you’d been doing lately. At this point, you would probably sleep anywhere as long as there was a roof over your head. 

“I’ll find a place for Roach, and get some ale, you stay here” Geralt suggested, though in his gruff tone it sounded more like an order. 

Not that you really cared. All you did was nod, hoping that maybe you could find a washtub around here to clean the dirt and grime from your skin. Right about now, you would kill for some warm water. 

“Let’s go get settled in, Geralt will be back before we know it” you suggested to Jaskier, gesturing over to the room you three had booked without hesitation. The poor man had been on his feet for hours and you were sure he wanted to rest. 

You would have, in his position. 

...And, without a shred of hesitation, Jaskier followed. 

You found a suitable basin of water in the room, deciding immediately to have that bath before anything else. If you were lucky, you could actually get all cleaned up before Geralt got back. 

“I’m going to have a bath Jaskier” you hummed, calling to the man across the space, knowing that he could hear you even if he was behind the far wall. The least you could do was give him some heads up. 

Not that it was much of a warning seeing as the second you called out to him, you let your clothes fall to the floor. You had been wearing them for what felt like hours, and it wasn’t natural. 

A woman like you shouldn’t have to consider herself lucky for a clean outfit and a warm bath. 

The man didn’t say anything in reply until you had already settled yourself into the tub though you could hear what sounded like he knocked something over. You chose to ignore it, only smiling as you let the water settle over your sore muscles.  

The feeling of it was wonderful, easing the strain you didn’t even know you’d been feeling in every one of your tense limbs. 

So much so that you let out a content sigh, a sigh that must have alerted the man in the other room to the point where he felt the need to check in on you. 

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” he wondered, the words getting caught in his throat when he saw you there, sunk deep into a metal washtub. Immediately, it was as if he’d lost all ability to comprehend what was happening, and it amused you. 

You had noticed Jaskier’s obvious attraction to you. Anyone would have known, but you didn’t dare tell him that, in fear of embarrassing him. It wasn’t until things like this happened that you felt the need to tease him ever so slightly. 

“I’m wonderful Jaskier, how are you?” you smiled, batting your eyelashes at him casually with your fingers dancing on top of the water. It moved with your hands, back and forth with the swaying of  your finger tips, making a swishing sound that filled the entire room. 

The sweet man faltered ever so slightly, his face flushed as he tried to speak. However, he found his throat too dry to form the words though he was trying his best.

Not that you minded. 

“Jaskier, could you assist me with something?” you wondered, your voice sickeningly sweet as it bled into the air, eliciting a nod from him almost immediately. In that moment, you both knew that he would do anything you asked, and you couldn’t help but grin at the thought. 

You had both been shying away from the obvious attraction between you for so long, but it was clear that whatever you were dealing with, was coming to a head right now. 

There would be no more running from it after this. 

Still, you persisted. 

“I was just wondering if you would scrub my back? I can’t seem to reach it” you hummed, looking up at him with bright eyes, shining in the dark room. For good measure, you stretched your arm around, proving your point to him. 

The action made the bard swallow hard, but again he nodded, not trusting his voice to form the words necessary to answer you. 

Not that much talking was needed, as far as you were concerned. 

You enjoyed Jaskier’s company, and that was no secret. However, the distance between you was becoming bothersome, to the point where something had to be done about it. 

...And the Witcher’s absence gave way to the perfect opportunity. 

“Thank you, I’ll owe you for this” you smiled, taking in the heavenly feeling of his hands on your back, washing away all the grime of the past few days. Not to mention the fact that his nimble fingers worked perfectly into the muscles of your back. 

It was wonderful. 

However, it wasn’t quite close enough for your liking. After all, this was your one attempt at showing Jaskier that you cared for him, and it had to be perfect. 

You would likely use your sanity if this wasn’t resolved soon. 

“Is this alright?” he hummed, his voice cautious as he strummed over the tense muscles of your back as he would his lute. If there was one thing you could say for the man, it was that he had excellent control over those muscles. 

...And it was beginning to be too much. 

You two had been running away from these feelings you had for one another for far too long and it was almost bothering you at this point. 

“Jaskier” you sighed, throwing your head back ever so dramatically toward where he was behind you. Had the washtub not been in the way, you likely would have had your head in his lap, which was perfect. 

At least, for you. 

“Do you find yourself drawn to me?” you asked, well aware of how strange it sounded. In any normal circumstance, you wouldn’t have dared ask but this wasn’t normal circumstance. 

This was something else entirely. 

The bard stammered, of course, a few times before he could get the words out but you both knew what he was trying to get at anyway. “Yes, I suppose I do” he decided, bringing both hands up to your shoulders to rest there for a moment. 

He hadn’t foreseen this when you asked for a favor, but perhaps he should have. After all, he had been throwing subtle hints your way since you two met so he couldn’t be shocked now.

There was one thing for sure and it was that this was going to be a turning point for the both of you and the direction of your relationship hinged completely on the man’s reaction in this moment. 

So, he did the only thing he could think to do. 

Jaskier leaned down as casually as he could, ignoring the rapid beating of his heart, and kissed you. 

It was a smooth motion especially considering the fact he could hardly focus past your damp skin and the sounds of the water moving slowly past your body as you moved. 

...And now it seemed to be your turn to be silent.  

In all the ways you’d ran through this in your head, you hadn’t considered Jaskier being so bold. When you were concerned, he seemed to slink away into a more subservient role but not now. 

Whatever you had done to bring this out of him, you had to be sure to remember it for later. 

This was quite fun. 

“Was that alright?” the bard repeated, smirking at himself by using his earlier words on your now, focusing on the look in your eyes as you admired him. 

The candlelight shone on him wonderfully and gave way to the shimmer in his eyes that you had never seen in broad daylight. Jaskier was beautiful in his own right, and you’d never given that the attention it deserved. 

Not that you could tear your eyes away now. 

“It was a good start” you allowed, turning to face him that much more to capture his lips in your own again. Perhaps it had taken a while to get to this point but it didn’t matter now. 

All you could focus on in this moment was your newfound company and all the wonderful things you could do now that it was all out in the open. Though, you’d have to explain some things to Geralt when he got back. 

[euphoriara]

The Sign to Your Heart

genre : fluff

pairing : yoongi x reader

word count : 5,050

warning : swear words? other than that none? dogs?

strangers to lovers!au

a/n: finally!! my first piece for the bingo is finished!! it literally took me one month to finish this skdksld. also i was aiming for 2k and ended up with 5k instead,,, f but anyway here it is, enjoy!! also shoutout to miss joonary for sending me the message that gave me the motivation to finally finish this once and for all, miss nary thank you, ily. (and yes i know that’s not holly, yoongi doesn’t exactly take a lot of pictures with holly so,, just pretend skdksk)

The sun beats down on your back as you curse Jimin in your head for dragging you here with him. It's too bright, too hot to be outside today but he had insisted and bribed you with the promise of not one, but two ice creams. 

You, a mere mortal, what power do you have to refuse the offer of ice creams, and for free at that? 

But right now, sitting at the bench placed strategically around the dog park, you're starting to regret your friendship with Jimin. When you said strategically, you mean whoever placed these benches must hold a grudge for humans. None of them were placed underneath a shade, sun directly hitting your face. Sure there's a shelter in the middle of the park, surrounded by 4, beautiful, large trees that you can't remember the name of. 

But the place is crowded right now, due to the fact that global warming is trying to remind you of humanity's sins. There's too many people standing there with their dog, and there isn't a single chair placed there. Besides, do you really have the will to move yourself all the way over there? You'd rather let yourself melt into a puddle over here instead.

You just want to know who designed this park. Do they not know the basics of functionality? Were they not thinking? Did they design this half-asleep after a long day designing the Target across the street? 

You also take note of how there's only one gate, making it dangerous if a dog went out without anyone noticing. If you could leave a review on Yelp for this park, you'd give whoever it is a piece of your mind. You also remind yourself to tell Jimin to pick a better dog park to take his dogs to next time. 

While you're still busy arranging the speech you're going to give to Jimin, a blur of white zooms in front of you, followed by two smaller blurs of brown and black, snapping you out of your reverie. At least the dogs are enjoying themselves. 

Which reminds you, Jimin had asked your help to keep an eye on the dogs, since he's dogsitting 7 all at once. 

"More dogs means more money for me." He had said, to which you replied, "More dogs mean more free labor from me." 

The bastard had only said "Bingo!" to that, not even bothering to hide his intentions. But you guess he's generous enough to pay you with ice creams instead of letting you evaporate to the sky. 

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you scan the park to see where the dogs had gone off to, and find yourself sighing in relief when you see all of them playing by the trees. One of them, you think he's owned by Jimin's neighbor, is trying to mount another dog, bigger than his size. "Damn, he's ambitious." 

Unfortunately for him, his plan is foiled when another dog owner moves him off every time he even thinks about going near the German Shepherd. Kudos to him for trying though. 

You squint while scanning the park, trying to locate where Park Jimin is but you don't see his pink hair anywhere in the park. Had he left you here by yourself? Did he trick you again? Oh he's in big trouble if he did. You know where he keeps his most prized possession and you're not afraid to use the information against him. 

It's not like you meant to snoop around his room. It was his fault for leaving the box of- you grimace at the mental image, toys at the bottom of his innermost drawer of his closet. You were just trying to find your missing phone! Which granted, was probably not in there, but you couldn't leave any stones unturned. But even though you certainly did not want to see what's in the box, you're glad you have a backup plan for whenever Jimin screws you over again. 

You feel something cold press against your left cheek and hiss, preparing to sock whoever it is with the book in your hand. You forgot you even had it in the first place. "Hey!" However when you turn around, you're momentarily stunned by the bright pink hair in front of you, coupled that with the sun, you have to blink back your vision a few times. 

Jimin can use his bright hair to blind his enemy if he was a superhero. His power would be that he keeps changing his hair to bright colors until eventually he goes bald, which will become his ultimate weapon. 

"I bought you some drinks," he says as he throws a cold bottle of sprite to your face. You nearly miss, dodging a bruise on your forehead by a millimeter. You look down at the bottle in your hands, face blank and deadpan, "You know I don't drink soda." He pulls his shades down and smirks, "I know." 

You scowl at him, throwing the bottle back to him, which he catches easily. Would have been nice if he didn't, maybe the bottle would have knocked his stupidly expensive sunglasses off to the ground and one of the dogs would run off with it. "Where have you been? You're the one dog sitting but you leave all the responsibility to me? I should be the one getting paid then, give me my damn salary or I'll sue you for employee mistreatment!"

He raises one of his eyebrows, "Are you done?" You give him a look. "Like I said, I was buying you some drinks-" "Some drinks my ass, you didn't buy anything I can drink." "And getting you some lunch, but if you don't want it, then I guess I'll-" You snatch the bag from his hand and bolt to the other side of the park, the familiar brown paper bag fueling your instinct to protect your food. You ignore the confused stares of people and the group of dogs following you, they're either trying to steal your food or think you're playing with them. 

Once you reach your destination, you immediately regret the decision. Now you're hotter than before, sweating buckets under your clothes. You hate yourself for picking a black shirt, so much for the aesthetic. You breathe in deeply a few more times before remembering that you don't have any water on you. You cursed this park and the other park that brought you here once again. 

No matter, you'll just get some on your way back later, dehydration be damned. You see Jimin making his way towards you, looking at ease in his sleeveless silk shirt and basketball shorts, and start to munch on your fries faster. Instinct.

"Finish your food, we're going home, I'll buy you some ice creams on our way home, I know-" Jimin's voice starts to fade as you zero in on someone behind him. The guy is the same height as Jimin, wearing all black, much like you, but what made you stare at him is his hair. His bright yellow hair that almost looks white under the sun. It contrasts his clothes so much you have to stare to take him in. 

And his skin is a bit pale, making you question if he had stepped outside and see the sun in a while. Is he perhaps a vampire? Maybe that'd explain his clothes, his hair and his skin? And the fact that he seems to draw you in with his presence? Will you finally be the one to prove the existence of vampires? Will you be famous?

You see him cross the street, now walking closer to the park, and finally get a clearer look of his face. You didn't wear your contacts today, not expecting to find cute boys at the dog park, you just wanted ice cream. 

Which is precisely what he is. He has soft features, pouty lips and feline eyes from what you can see from his side profile. His focus is only on his phone and you muse momentarily at how one of these days, that'll get him in trouble. You see that he's allowing his dog to pull him whichever way it wants, thus resulting in him being en route to the dog park. 

Jimin waves his hand in front of your face, frowning at your lack of attention, "Hey, are you listening to me?" You move his hand down and continue to stare at the boy. If your brain cells aren't hibernating right now, you'd realize you're being a little creepy by doing it. But you can't help it, you don't think you've ever seen someone with such a cute face before, aside from Jimin? Maybe? Anyway, he's wearing a mask that had been pulled down to his chin, revealing his lips and cupping his cheeks. You squeal internally at the visual, though your face remains blank. 

Jimin was about to move in front of you again when it happened. The boy wasn't paying attention to his surroundings and his poor dog was too excited to notice it was leading him straight to the dog park sign. You cringe when you hear his head make contact with the metal, debating if you should go outside to help him. The sound was so loud that a few people whipped their heads around to see, including Jimin who turned to see what you were looking at. 

The poor guy had dropped his phone and the leash, clutching his head in pain. You see his  dog take one look at him and run into the park. Feeling bad for him, you decide to chase after his dog, leaving Jimin behind with a confused frown plastered on his face. 

You catch the little guy just as it was about to run into the crowd of people, bouncing him in your arms and cooing at it, "You sneaky little thing, you just left your owner like that after leading him to his demise? You should apologize for that, but then again, it was his fault for not paying attention, huh?"

The little brown poodle barks as if it agrees, and you continue to coo and pet it while making your way to the guy still crouching outside, most likely from humiliation instead of pain. 

Hesitantly, you call out to him when you hear him muttering curses underneath his breath. 

"Hello." He looks up at you and for a moment, you swear you stop functioning. Maybe your eyesight is worse than you thought, you should probably schedule another appointment with your eye doctor because the guy looks even better up close. However, before you could make a fool out of yourself, you hurriedly hold his dog out towards him like you're giving him a box of chocolate, "You- you dropped this." 

"I- I meant you dropped his leash and he ran inside without you and, are you okay?" You see the embarrassment on his face in the form of blushing cheeks, "Yeah I'm fine, it hurts a little but I'll be fine." 

Damn, his voice. His voice is raspy and deep and soothing and would it be weird if you ask him whether he hosts a podcast and if he does, can you get a name so you can listen to it? 

Your last brain cell woke up just to scream "Yes!" so you decide to listen to her for once. Maybe she's on to something. 

He stands up clutching his phone and takes the little brown dude from your arm. You see a long crack at the corner of his Samsung Galaxy, and grimace, upset on his behalf because he didn't have a screen protector nor a case. Bold or rich, you can't tell. 

"Thanks for catching this sneaky bastard, he probably did that on purpose so he can reach the park faster." The dog barks in disagreement and you coo at it once again. You can't help the baby voice you use, "Nooo, I'm sure he was just trying to tell you to pay attention. Isn't that right? You were just excited for the dog park, weren't you?"

The dog wiggles in his hold like he's trying to reach you, smiling happily at the thought of an ally. "Yeah, I guess it's partially my fault for not looking at my surroundings." 

You blink and resist the urge to tell him that it's entirely his fault for not paying attention but alas, you've been in his position before so you stay quiet. A silence passed between the two of you, before Jimin screams out your name to "Get your ass back in here, we're going home." 

You don't understand why you need to go back inside if you're going to leave anyway but you don't protest in fear he might refuse to buy you ice cream if you sass him after ignoring him like that. You know how much Jimin hates being ignored. You nod at the stranger before jogging back into the park, shouting out "Be careful next time!" 

He nods back, "Thank you!" and turns towards his dog, "No dog park for you today, we have to go home." The dog whines in his grasp but relents, knowing he's probably embarrassed to go in there now that everyone has seen him make a fool out of himself. 

Inside, you help Jimin wrangle the dogs, holding four leashes while the prick holds three of the smaller dogs. You want to protest again but you know he'll dangle the promise of your ice cream if you do it. Good thing these dogs are well-behaved. That, or they pity you for having to hold four big dogs at once. Whichever it is, you're thankful to them. 

The walk back home is uneventful. Jimin bought you ice cream as promised, watermelon, and you amused yourself with how feral the smaller dogs are acting, clearly trying to give Jimin a hard time. You love these dogs. 

Half way through your walk, you remember you didn't ask for the stranger's name and pout. There's a possibility that you'll never be able to see him again. You wonder if he'll show at the same park next time, though you doubt it. Besides, you already pledge to not go into that park again. 

Which reminds you once again, you need to tell Jimin about how much his park of choice sucks. And now that he already bought you ice cream, you can go back to nagging him.

You spewed out your carefully crafted speech about how much that park sucks and interrupted him every time he tried to cut you off until he relented and let you speak your heart away. 

He finally gives in after your fifth point, screaming out "Okay! I get it lady, now stop talking!" Which caused you to smile smugly to yourself the whole way home. 

***

Two weeks later find you sitting on a different bench, in a different park. Thankfully, this time the benches have shades and are scattered with the thought of dogs and owners in mind. This time around too, the weather had cooled off significantly than the last time you were out. 

Jimin is sitting next to you, attention fixated on his phone, while you watch over the dogs. You don't know why he needs your help when there's only 3, but looking at him right now, it's obvious he just didn't want to work at all. 

You tried to sneak a peek at what he's looking at on his phone, but everytime he sensed you, he'd immediately grab your face and turn you away. You scowl at him every time. 

You were about to open your mouth and talk his ear off when you see a somewhat familiar looking brown blob fly past you, running from its owner. You see the guy chasing his dog around the park while screaming out its name, "Holly, get back here! We need to go home!"

And you see Holly, the dog, dodge him like a professional shop-lifter evading mall cops. You silently applaud the dog and its agility. 

"Holly, do you know what time it is? We've been here for five hours now!" You see him run for another 2 minutes before he slumps against a tree, panting. You finally catch a good look of him and realize he's the stranger from the previous dog park. 

Suddenly you feel a presence next to your leg and when you look down, Holly is happily looking up at you with his tail wagging. You coo at the cute dog before picking him up and setting him on your lap, "Hey little buddy! You're always causing problems aren't you?" He lets out a tiny woof before settling in your arms.

You stand up, making your way to the poor dude by the tree, while Holly happily accepts scratches from you. He's sitting on the ground now, obviously still trying to recover from the sprint. 

"Sign guy!" You stand in front of him, smiling when you see him look up. Once he recognizes you, he grimaces at the name, mortified of the incident before. He scrambles to stand up, stuttering out a "He-hey. Hi," and wiping his palms on his jeans. 

"Here's your dog! You were trying to catch him right? So you can go home?" You offer the dog to him, not unlike last time. "Oh! Uh, yeah, I was." He scratches the back of his neck before taking his dog from you, and he seems to be having a hard time making eye contact with you. 

"Thank you, for helping me again." You see him struggle with saying that and chuckle to yourself. "No problem, your dog seems like a troublemaker, huh?" 

He smiles at the mention of his dog, you can see how much he loves Holly. "Yes, he is a little rascal." He's fond and you're endeared by him. "Well, I should get going now, you guys were leaving right?" He straightens immediately, eyes slightly wide while you mock scold his dog, "Don't give him a hard time once in a while, okay? Give him a break." Holly barks an okay and you coo, petting his head once more. 

"Well, by-" "What's your name?" He spoke so fast you didn't catch it. "Huh?" 

He blinks a few times, "I- Uh. Your name. What's your name?" You blink a few times, name? He's asking for your name?

Oh! Name! Right! You didn't ask for his name too, last time (despite wanting to).

"Oh, my name is (Y/N)! What about you?" His shoulder slumps slightly in relief, "Yoongi, I'm yoongi." "Nice to meet you Yoongi!" 

He smiles, a gummy smile, "Nice to meet you too (Y/N)." You're momentarily transfixed on his smile. He has a really really cute smile and would it be weird if you tell him right now? Probably, so you refrain. You see him quirks his head in question when you stay quiet for longer than necessary and snap out of your thoughts. 

"I was wonder-" You hear a commotion from the distance, and when you look over, Jimin's dogs are picking a fight with another dog smaller than them. You gasp, looking for Jimin, but that gremlin had disappeared, leaving you no choice but to go intervene. "I'm so sorry, I have to go! Those dogs are mine! Bye!" You hurriedly run to the crowd, helping other owners separate the dogs. 

Once all the dogs are calm again, you sit the three dogs in front of you and scold them, to which they seem remorseful. "Do not pick a fight with other dogs again or no park for you for a- no, two weeks! Got it?" They bark a single woof in understanding and you nod, satisfied at how well they listen to you. Maybe this is why Jimin always asks for your help, the dogs won't listen to him but they will listen to you. 

After you let the dogs play again, you see Jimin strutting to where you're sitting with a popsicle in his hand, phone in the other. "Jimin!" You get up to scold him, and when he sees you alone, he quirks his head to the side. "Where's the run into a sign boy?" 

You pout at his question, ready to talk his ear off. "I had to leave him because your dogs, the dogs you're dogsitting, not the dogs I'm dogsitting, picked a fight with a dog that was smaller than them! Three of them! Against one dog! One, small dog! What, did it owe them lunch money or something, they were acting like a bully trying to steal someone's homework but you weren't there to de-escalate so I had to intervene and now, cute sign guy left and I don't have his number, only his name." 

The whole time you were ranting, Jimin just stood there, silently eating his popsicle with a blank face. You think he blocked you out at the second sentence and it's proven at how his eyes are glazed over, mind somewhere else despite staring at you. You frown and snatch the popsicle from him, finally getting a reaction "Hey! That's mine!" And yet he doesn't attempt to get it back. 

You stare at the ice treat in your hand and debate on what to do with it, you're not gonna eat it, no, that's gross. You don't want to throw it away and waste food, but you don't want to give it back to him either. You wonder if this is dog safe. You were about to call the dogs when you realized you're holding nothing, popsicle back to Jimin's hand when you weren't paying attention. 

His stupid smirking face is what you see when you lift your head, "Don't worry, sign guy will probably come to this park again with his dog." 

"I don't know what time he comes here. What, am I supposed to come here everyday and wait for him or something?"

***

You hate Jimin. You hate Jimin with a burning passion. You can't believe he convinced you to go to the park everyday, and maybe that's on you for being Boo Boo the Fool but you hate him because he made you dogsit for him everyday. 

"I mean you're going there anyway, right? Surely you can take them for a few hours?" Fool you once, shame on Jimin. Fool you twice, shame on Jimin again for taking advantage of your kind heart and making you do his work for him when you're not getting paid by his somewhat rich ass. 

Free labour and hatred aside, you're actually starting to enjoy going out with the dogs. They're mostly well behaved, and this park really is nice, compared to that Target dog park. You needed the sun exposure, anyway. 

You cross your legs when you see Pocky runs in front of you, not wanting to deal with him biting your shoelaces off, which Jimin said he likes to do. Pocky is a black Affenpinscher, notorious for being a master of mischief in the circle of dogs Jimin dogsit. You think you heard Jimin muttered "good luck," under his breath when you took Pocky from him but that could be your mind playing tricks on you. 

Because Pocky is a very very sweet dog, you just need to get him to stay away from people's shoelaces. You see him zooms around the park and smile to yourself. You actually have a soft spot for the 10 years old dog, despite his age, he's still very lively and agile and his disobedience to Jimin is funny. You think about how nice and kind Pocky is but stop short when you see him next to someone's legs. 

He stares at you and you stare back at him, challenging him to try you. He obviously doesn't care, and starts chewing, and when you look to see who it is, it's Yoongi. 

Oh no, he's chewing on Yoongi's converse. Oh no.

For some reason, Yoongi only stood there, looking down at Pocky in confusion. When you see him start pulling his shoe, you go to stop him. 

"Pocky!" He chews harder. "No! Stop!" You go to scoop him up but it's too late, Pocky already had a small string in his mouth. "Drop it. Pocky, drop it." He only looks up at you, and you gasp at how this is the first time Pocky disobeys you. So you change tactics.

You pout at the dog, giving him your best puppy eyes, "Pocky are you really not gonna listen to me? I thought you liked me better than Jimin? I'll be sad if you don't listen to me." He whines at your expression, dropping the piece of fabric to the ground and starts licking your chin in apology. You can't believe that work and smile to yourself. 

You let him down to the ground, letting him play again after telling him to stay away from people's shoes. You see him run to his friends, making a U turn everytime he sees legs. You're proud of him. Wait until Jimin hears about this, he's gonna sulk-

Someone clears their throat next to you and you bring yourself back to the present, mouth agape when you remember who it is. "Yoongi! Hi! Hello! Oh, I'm so sorry about that! Pocky has an affinity for shoelaces and oh shit, he chewed it off didn't he? I'll replace it if you wan-" He waves his hand in front of your face, and you realize you were rambling again. 

He smiles at you, and wait, did your heart just skip a beat? "No, it's okay. Holly sometimes chews on my shoes too, I don't mind really." 

"Are you sure? If you need a string replacement, I'll pay you some money for it?" 

Yoongi stutters, hands fidgeting in front of him, "You, you, uh you can," he coughs, "You can make it up by going to get coffee with me?" 

White guy blinking gif, that's how you look right now. 

You pull out your phone, offering it to him with no words because your brain is playing elevator music right now and if you speak, Yoongi will retract his offer. He stares at it in confusion, head quirking to the side. You managed to let out a strained "Number."

He perks up, a tiny "Oh!" leaving his pouty lips. He types in his number and you see him hesitate to send a text so he can save your number, but decided against it. When he hands you back your phone, you finally snap out of your stupor. "I'd love to get coffee with you." 

He smiles his gummy smile and you have to resist the urge to coo at him again. "You can text me the details? If you want?" 

Smiling back at him, you reply with a tiny "Okay!" You wanted to ask him if he wants to go get ice cream right now but before you can open your mouth, you hear your phone ring, and lo and behold it's Jimin. Jimin and his damn timing. It's always him. Bastard.

You pick it up with a sigh, "Hello?" and listen to him nag you, with a hum here and there. It's like when you're calling your mom. He finally hangs up after telling you about his plan for the night and you look at the distance like you're in the office. 

"I'm sorry, I have to go, that was my friend and he wants his dogs home in 10 minutes so I have to hurry but I'll call you later!" You're starting to jog away when he calls out "Do you need help?" 

You're surprised at his offer, but quickly accepts because you kinda do need help. "That'd be nice, actually." So he helps you round up the dogs and the process went faster than if you were to do it alone. 

Once you're outside the dog park, holding all the leash safely, you turn to him, "Thank you so much for the help! That'd have taken a lot longer without you." 

He smiles, eyes scrunching into crescent moon, "No problem, get home safely, okay?" 

"Gotcha, thanks again, I'll text you!!" You're already being pulled by the dog by the time you finish your sentence, but you're happy anyway because you finally got his number and a possible-date-maybe-not coffee date. 

***

And one possible coffee date turned into one actual coffee date which turns into a dinner date, until, "Can I kiss you?" He looks nervous, and this time you don't resist the urge to coo at him, you cup his cheeks between your hands, "You're so cute when you're nervous like that." 

Pouting, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him, "Can I?" You smile up at him and nod, chuckling at his cute expression. 

He bends down slightly to reach your face, slotting his lips between yours. You close your eyes and hug him close to you, savoring the feeling and memorizing it. 

You're glad you went to that awful park and you're glad Holly pulled Yoongi to the same dog park all those weeks ago. 

You hate to say it but you're glad Jimin convinced you to go to the dog park everyday, you're just thankful the feelings were mutual or else it'd have been weird. 

Getting to know Yoongi brings absolute joy to you and learning about him makes your heart beat slightly faster. Just in the course of two weeks, you can feel yourself falling for him. Yoongi who loves writing music and fishing, Yoongi who wasn't a big dog person until he got Holly, Yoongi who can't raise his voice at people, Yoongi who considers piano as his first love. 

Every bit and pieces of information you uncover only made you fall in love more and more with him. Every quirks and habits you noticed always bring a fond smile to your face. You pull him even closer to you, hand intertwine behind his neck, and deepen the kiss. 

You're glad he ran into that sign all those weeks ago, because here, standing on the rooftop, with the sun setting behind you, Yoongi's arms around you and his lips on you, you feel home. And you hope he feels the same.

[star-spangledstud]

Better Than Me (2/2)

Part one is here!

Summary: You really are better than them. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!)Reader.

Word Count: 3000-ish.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

It was ridiculous. So ridiculous that it bordered near downright insane. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. Impractical, stupid and completely, utterly ridiculous. Beautiful, sparkly and downright amazing, but ridiculous. You fucking loved it.

The baby pink, bejeweled handgun sat inside a pink velvet box on your lap. The bow, which was also pink, of course, was lying at your feet, which were clad in bedazzled silver Louboutins. Gems of all colors on the rainbow covered it on all sides, from the barrel to the handgrip and along the safety pin.

You gazed up at Tony, who wore an amused expression on his face, before glancing over at Pepper. She had her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, clearly horrified by Tony’s gift choice. The card read that it was from both of them. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. 

“Happy birthday, kid.” He said with a smirk that nearly extended from ear to ear.

“I don’t even want to know how much you spent on that,” Pepper muttered, shaking her head while you took the thing out of the pink and white polka-dotted tissue paper.

The others sighed audibly when you smiled, annoyed that Tony’s gift overshadowed theirs yet again. To be fair, they’d all expected it, but all of them secretly hoped any one of their gifts would be your favorite. 

“I love it,” you said, twirling the weapon around in your hand, “and I agree with Pepper, I can’t even imagine how much you spent on this thing...”

“You’ll make it work,” he mused, “Two million dollars, by the way, and you could just thank me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and for a moment, you were sure Pepper was going to faint. Natasha shook her head, watching the scene unfold in horror. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Wanda, who seemed to share none of her feelings, had created a monster out of you.

“Thanks, Tony,” you blew him a kiss, unable to get up from your seat at the dinner table that was covered in white roses in silver vases and wine that came from expensive bottles.

“It’s very pretty,” the witch said, “Can I hold it?” 

“Please,” you shoved it into her hands, “by all means.” 

“You’re insane, Tony,” you said as you took the gift Bruce had gotten for you from his outstretched hands with a smile, “Absolutely fucking nuts, but I love you for it.”

Your eyes went around the room, finding Steve at the end of the table of which you sat at the head. You were the birthday girl, after all, the pink satin sash draped around you said so in large, cursive letters and so it was your turn to have the most important seat of the house. It was a ridiculous ordeal, he thought so anyway, but you were smiling and chatting and enjoying the company of your friends and it was good to see. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened and knew very well he was to blame. 

He was the one who pushed you away, even though it was for your own good.

You took Thor’s gift just as the waiter began to serve your first course, and since he was seated closest to you, you thanked him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Steve’s gift came last. You didn’t expect anything from him given the circumstances.

Four hours, six courses and many glasses of wine and Asgardian mead later, you found yourself back in your room. Gifts given to you by your fellow team members were sprawled out on your bed, ranging from a pair of silk pajamas with glittery Ugg slippers to match from Wanda to Starbucks and Sephora gift cards from Sam and everything in between. Chocolate covered strawberries in a glittery box, two romance novels, a bottle of beautifully aged red wine from Asgard and a peach-toned Dior lipstick, all tokens of appreciation given to you by the people you cared about the most. 

Despite the hardships that you faced the previous year and the social distancing that occurred during that time, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be with the team again. You’d changed a lot in a year, grown to be a different person than the one you were before. It wasn’t necessarily a good or a bad thing in your mind, it just happened naturally.  

You sat down beside the velvet box, eyes automatically flying towards the item on your far left. A drawing of you, sitting on a terrace, staring out into the sunny skyline with a cup of coffee in your hand. It was an old drawing by the looks of it because your hair was much shorter and a different shade and your clothing was far plainer than it was now; black jeans and a white t-shirt. A signature that read SR sat in the bottom right corner in messy, doctor-like handwriting. It made your toes curl. 

Of course, he was the one with the overly personal gift. You didn’t know whether it was because he simply had no fucking clue what 21st-century women liked to receive for their birthdays or whether he’d purposely done it to make you remember the day it was drawn, but the latter happened and now, you were sitting on your bed with prickling eyes and goosebumps that lined your skin.

You remembered that day very vividly. You’d only been an Avenger for three months and were struggling to adjust to the fact that you had to suddenly follow orders. Before joining the team, you’d worked alone, hired by people with deep pockets and dark intentions. You made your own rules. 

The first time Steve had taken you out for coffee he kind to offer you advice. At first, you thought it felt a little like he was trying to be the human resource manager with the way he talked to you, you continued to meet up every Saturday afternoon and as the weeks passed, something in the dynamic changed.  He loosened up, got rid of his Captain America persona and instead became Steve. You didn’t know what caused the change, but it was good, allowed you to actually get to know the man behind the suit and vice versa. 

That particular day was a good one, It was a sunny day in spring, not too hot and not too cold, with a soft breeze that carried the scent of fresh flowers across the terrace. You’d ordered a latte, Steve liked it black. You weren’t talking, but instead, a comfortable silence hung between you. You’d brought a book just like you always did and read it while occasionally eyeing the people that passed you by. Steve, whose cheeks had become fiery red out of the blue, pulled out a leather-bound sketchbook and began to draw.

You never asked him what he was drawing, even when he stored away his pencils and shoved the book back inside his tote did you not bother to pry. Not even when you became so close you’d sometimes fall asleep together on the couch, did you not ask. 

You knew now, but they didn’t say ignorance is bliss without reason.

You began to mindlessly pick at three layers of lavender toned sparkling nail polish, pulling at it as it came off your fingers with far too much ease. You’d paid the lady $60 for your manicure three days prior and now, you were ripping it off. With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up, gripping the back of your heels so you could slip them off with ease. You’d probably never wear them again. 

You slowly began to clean up the mess, discarded packaging, boxes, and gift bags and placing them in the corner of your room near the door. You put everything away except for the drawing, which you couldn’t decide what to do with. Why was it such a big deal to you, anyway? You hardly spoke to Steve anymore and if you did, it was during pre- and post-mission briefings. Maybe that’s why it made you feel so strange. it didn’t feel right, such a personal, intimate gift after how far the two of you had drifted apart. 

He hadn’t asked you about Netflix in four months and you hadn’t offered your expertise on which shows and movies were the best. You didn’t bring him coffee anymore but instead, he made his own, never leaving enough in the pot for you to make a cup as well. The message he sent you was loud and clear and in return, you were an open book. 

He’d grumble when a stranger was seated at the breakfast table on Sundays courtesy of your hospitality, avert his eyes when they tried to kiss you openly (which you refused). The pang in his chest would hit him when he saw Ubers out front whose engines were running to carry you to your dates in high-end restaurants and fancy bars. He wasn’t jealous, he kept telling himself. He was just worried about your safety when you disappeared into the night with strange men. Men that weren’t him, ironically. 

He should’ve seen you when you were right in front of him. When you were there, literally waiting for him to make a move on you, begging him with your mannerisms and your looks, your glances, and smiles even when his jokes weren’t funny. He knew damn well you would make an amazing couple, that you could take on the entire fucking world as a duo, but he was too scared to put it on the line, too scared of what might happen once the bad guys caught a whiff of your relationship. They’d already tried to destroy Bucky and Jesus Christ, they nearly succeeded. He couldn’t handle the thought of losing you to an organization like HYDRA, or worse. He never told you this. You had no idea. You were convinced he didn’t want you because of your flaws. Because of who you were. 

You got over it, shut out the thought of ever holding hands with Steve in public, the thoughts of ever feeling his lips softly pressing against your plump cheeks and his body weighing down on top of you while his voice vibrated against your ear and neck. You managed to forget about him, managed to exchange the memories and fantasies of him for diamond necklaces, silk blazers, and expensive shoes. You traded him in for strangers with big bank accounts driving nice cars wearing expensive suits. They managed to fill the void he created by pushing you away. 

So yeah, the gift bothered you. It was too nice, too sweet, so sweet you had to struggle to stay stoic when thanking him earlier. You literally had to stop yourself from smiling too big, from allowing tears of gratitude and happiness to completely ruin your make-up. if things had been different, you would have done those things. They weren’t. He didn’t want you and now he was being nice. It didn’t make sense. 

Just as you were about to change into a different outfit for the evening, your phone vibrated. You picked it up off your nightstand and opened it. It was a text message, but not from the guy who would be knocking on the front door in the coming hour.

I didn’t get a chance to personally wish you a happy birthday. Can we talk? -S

You gripped the device so hard you nearly crushed the screen. Six months ago, a message like this would’ve had you crying on your bathroom floor for four hours. Now, it just made you angry. So angry, that you picked your studded Louboutin off the floor and chucked it at the wall. The heel broke off against the concrete, but you didn’t notice. You weren’t going to wear them again anyway.  

Your fingers typed furiously, breathing coming out in shallow huffs. Images of the girls he’d brought back to Tony’s party’s flashed before your eyes while your fingers went faster than your brain could keep up with. 

Roof. Omw. 

Whether he understood the abbreviation ‘omw’ or not, you didn’t take the time to guess. You left your room without changing into the other dress or putting on new shoes. The elevator went up agonizingly slowly, but it was too late to go back and take the stairs. The buttons were pushed and the door closed. 

He was standing by the edge, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. In contrast to you, he had changed his attire, leaving the light blue button-down he was wearing earlier for a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants. He looked down at your feet, noticed how your polished toes were bare and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he caught the expression on your face. You weren’t surprised to find him there first. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d come up there running. Apparently, though, he did know what ‘omw’ meant.

“What the hell is this?” You asked, waving your phone in front of his face, “what do you think you’re doing?” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, voice wavering. 

“What do I mean? What...,” you snorted, “What do you mean?! The gift, the talking? We shouldn’t be here.” 

“But why?” He knew why but chose to ignore the sensical part of his brain that told him he shouldn’t be doing this.

You lifted your arms, a deep breath leaving you while you considered what to say. You wanted to come up with an excuse, tell him you were busy or that you’d lost sight of not just him, but the entire team, but fuck it, lying wouldn’t get you anywhere. It had never gotten you anywhere before.  

“Because I have to get over you.” 

He was silent, taking in your words. They stung, even though he already knew the truth they carried. 

“I couldn’t have you constantly hanging around me anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing those girls hanging off your arm at those stupid parties and I sure as hell didn’t want to hear how fun they were and how great and wonderful and how amazing, and-”

He stepped forward, gripping your arms. The sudden contact made blood rush to your head, making you nauseous and dizzy simultaneously. 

 “I spent so much time wondering why they were better than me,” you mumbled, “I still haven’t figured it out.” 

“They aren’t better than you,” he replied softly, “they don’t even compare to you.” 

You looked up, eyes large and glossy and so goddamn pretty with that champagne eyeshadow and winged liner and Steve thought he was going to lose his mind then and there.

“I had to let you go because I’m afraid,” he admitted, “terrified of what might happen if anyone tries to get to you because of me.” 

“Steve,” you tried, but couldn’t find words. 

All this time, you thought he didn’t like you. That he wasn’t interested in you, didn’t want anything from you but a friendship at most. You’d taught yourself to ignore your constant desire for him because it would never be reciprocated.

“When you distanced yourself from me, I knew I’d messed up, but it was too late. I’d dug a hole for myself and there was nothing I could do to get back out,” he snorted, “I needed those girls as a distraction, but none of them are as good as you.” 

He smiled sadly, taking your hands in his larger, calloused palms and began to rub circles on your knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’ve been stupid and an ass and I don’t deserve to even be in the same room as you. I fucked up, Y/N.”

The skin on the back of his neck was soft when you clasped your fingers around it, muscles tensing up when you began to pull him down to meet you. Without heels on, you’d lost a significant amount of height on him, causing him to tower over you. On a hot day, he could be your personal parasol, shielding you from the sun with his entire body.

“Idiot,” you mumbled before his mouth found yours. 

He kissed you, hands gripping your waist out of fear that if he were to let go, he’d wake up in his bed alone. But it wasn’t a dream, he knew it because the soft feeling of your glossy lips against his own was unlike anything he’d ever felt. 

“Idiot,” you said again when you took a moment to breathe. 

“I am,” he kissed you again, the sweet taste of Chardonnay and that night’s dessert - creme brulee and vanilla ice cream - still lingering on your tongue, sending his senses in complete overdrive. 

“I don’t want to stay away from you anymore,” he said finally, “I’d never let anyone hurt you.” 

You smiled, heart ready to explode from the sudden burst of happiness you experienced for the first time in a long time. Maybe Wanda was right all along. 

“Steve, I can defend myself. You know that, right?” You mused.

“I’ll kill them if they try.” 

He captured your lips with his again. The scent of his cologne, oud, and pine, nearly caused your knees to buckle from under you. You didn’t even realize the goosebumps that lined your skin, or the fact that the date you were supposed to meet up with had already bailed on you. It didn’t matter, because you finally had Steve where you wanted him. It only took for the two of you to drift apart almost completely for you to realize that you could never truly get away from one another. 

You placed your head on top of his chest, allowing his body heat to warm you up in a hug that engulfed you. It was nice, the feeling of his chest rising and falling slowly while you watched the city’s skyline in the dark. The want for it had been suppressed for so long you almost forgot what it felt like. 

“Steve?” You asked, peeking up at him through false eyelashes and three layers of waterproof mascara. 

“Hmm?”

“Your gift was my favorite.”

Yeah, all of those bitches definitely weren’t better than you. 

[pettyprocrastination]

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Reader

Chapter Three

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Straight up smut first thing in the fic, we startin’ off with a bang folks. Profanity, they stare at ur booty ;). Ur patience is TESTED by these rich idiots. 

Chapter Summary: The great Maxwell lord is having trouble focusing lately, You have your first consultation with the famed Lord couple and realize their clashing styles and all around personalities may cause an issue (or cause you to kill somebody). 

Tag List: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ @zeldasayer​ @readsalot73​ @captainsamwlsn​

Chapters: 1/2/3

(I will not stop using marilyn gifs for val she’s just so beautiful you guys hhhhh)

Max felt distracted. Muddled. He wasn’t sure what it was lately that had him in such a rut. 

“Maxwell!” His secretary whimpered beneath him, his hand moved from gripping her hair to slapping over her mouth to try and silence her nails-on-a-chalkboard like voice. He wasn’t sure if anybody outside his office heard her, and if they did he couldn't care less. They knew by now to ignore any suspicious moans or groans and keep doing their job unless they wanted to lose it. 

What she should have known by now is to never call him by his first name.  

The company was doing good, it was doing great in fact. He and Valerie weren’t spending time together, which was usual, and Alastair was home for the summer. Nothing was out of place, so why did he feel off?

Maybe it was you. 

That ridiculous seamstress with the even more ridiculous nickname and ridiculous outfits. I mean Stitches? What were you, a fucking dog? 

Delilah, the secretary currently moaning beneath him like a cheap whore, tried to grip at his jacket with trembling hands as he pulled her closer and closer to her climax with each thrust. He slapped her hands away without even looking down at her, eyes squeezed shut as he chased his own release instead of attending to hers. 

Valerie insisted he go to the “design consultation” with her today, which meant leaving his office in the middle of a goddamn work day to hear her prattle on about what color makes her feel the prettiest. Usually he’d stand his ground and refuse, but lately a break from work didn’t seem all that bad. 

All because of his goddamn secretary. 

The woman in question grabbed onto his wrist and cried against his hand, even muffled he could still hear her grating moans. Lately she’d been cuddly with him after each screw, trying to nuzzle his shoulder and ask for things like he was some pathetic sob paying for a sugar baby instead of her fucking boss. 

He’d have to fire her soon, if her whiny voice didn’t do her in, the piss poor work ethic would. 

But for a moment, when he looked down at her, with her back arched and eyes shut as she fluttered around his cock, he was reminded of that ridiculous seamstress, the little noise of surprise you made when he clamped a hand over your mouth, and just how soft your skin felt under his palm. 

Maxwell would never admit this to anybody. But that image alone made him cum on the spot. 

Maxwell Lord was a man who learned how to compartmentalize at a young age and never stopped doing so. He pulled out of the boneless woman beneath him, before cleaning himself up and tucking himself into his trousers while she laid against his desk, panting like a dog in the heat. 

Not like she fucking did anything. 

His ringed hand landed a stinging slap to her thigh that shocked her out of her blissful haze. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day, take my calls and let them know I won’t be back in until tomorrow.”

She blinked, watching owlishly as he grabbed his briefcase from his desk before walking out of his office. “Where are you going?” The way she sounded so disappointed and shaky as if he had broken a promise to her made him feel nauseous. 

He didn’t bother giving her a response. 

----

The moment his driver parked outside of the store, he saw a convertible drive up to the curb before stopping, he knew the cherry red color better than anyone, as it’s the same shade of the car he gifted Valerie for their five year anniversary. 

She stepped out, avoiding the jump in the curb as she adjusted her hair and dress before her eyes landed on his car and flashed him a condescending smile. 

Maxwell knew even though he was only two seconds later than she was, Valerie would still hold it over his head like a treat. He stepped out of the car, mindful of any gutter water around him this time and walked to his wife. 

“I wish I could say you're fashionably late at least but-” Her blue eyes ran down his suit, brand name and costly before smirking. “-you didn’t even bring that to the table.”

He let out a short humorless laugh before taking the handle of the door. 

“Oh? No witty remark about my outfit?” The woman feigned surprise as her husband raked his eyes down the baby blue dress that stopped just above her knees and fit her curves like a glove.

Valerie Lord held a doctorate and multiple books studying the human mind and the effects shaping childhood, she was an intelligent woman. Which meant she knew damn well just how good she looked. 

She just wanted to hear him admit it. 

“It looks good.” He said plainly, not hiding the way his eyes clung to the supple form of her thighs that she teased under a white sundress just last week. 

The curve in her red lips was the closest he’d gotten to an honest smile from her in ages. “You should know. You bought it for me after all.”

“I’m a man of refined tastes.” Max answered simply before giving her an almost playful swat on the ass and opening the door for her. 

The moment they entered the girl at the register from before, young and anxious, looked at them with wide eyes. A textbook laid open on the counter in front of her. 

She gaped for a moment before Valerie smiled at her. 

“Hello sweetheart.” His wife cooed, “We’re here for a consultation with the bosslady, mind letting her know for me?”

The girl pointed to an open door against the back wall. “She takes her consultations in that room.”

Valerie gave the young girl a quick pat on the cheek before walking into the room and calling out “Thank you dear!” over her shoulder. 

“Did you have to talk to the kid?” Maxwell mumbled under his breath to his wife, who scoffed in reply. 

“Well I wasn’t about to stand there in silence and scare the poor girl half to death like you were.” 

Maxwell looked at her incredulously. “I was not scar-”

His denials were cut off upon entering the room, which was laid with multiple chairs surrounding a table, covered in books displaying different types of dress and suit styles, a few fabric swatches were spread out as well. But the main focus of the Lords was on you, currently bent over, digging through a large container in the corner of the room as you grumbled and huffed, hips swaying and ass raised high in the air as if presented to them like a gift. 

One they admired greatly and for much too long to be deemed socially acceptable. 

Valerie tilted her head to the side with a little hum, enjoying the view before her just as Maxwell did, before he eventually coughed into his fist to make themselves known. 

You jumped up at an angle from surprise, accidentally thumping your head against the wall. A shouted curse left your lips as you rubbed your head. 

“Hard at work or hardly working?” Maxwell droned. 

“You're late.”

His wife smiled. “And you're exceptionally perky.”

“What?”

His elbow dug into her side. “What she meant to say was that we live busy lives. But we're here now so let’s get this over with.”

The three of you took seats at the table in the middle of the room, you handed each of them a design booklet before flipping open a blank notebook for yourself. 

“Any initial idea’s the pair of you have?” You twirled the pencil between your fingers as you spoke. “Or at least any automatic no’s?”

“Nothing too loud.” Maxwell told you. 

“Or too dull.” His wife added.

“No floral.”

“But don’t be afraid to use patterns.”

“No sparkles.”

“No tweed.”

“And absolutely no plaid.” They finished together. You stared at the list on your paper before blowing out a long breath. 

“Alright. So you don’t want anything dull, but also not loud, but no patterns, but use patterns, nothing with sparkles, or tweed and-”

“No plaid.” They reminded you in unison. 

“Uh, right. No plaid.” You didn’t enjoy them as separate people but somehow they were even worse together. “So is there anything the two of you can agree on wanting?”

“Color coordination.” Max told you. Your shoulders dropped with relief. Fucking finally. 

“Okay. Okay that I can work with.” A steady stream of ideas began in your head. The accent colors of Maxwell’s suit would match the main color of Valerie’s dress. 

“We’d have to match Alastair as well.” 

Your pencil froze on the page. “Who?”

Maxwell’s brows cinched together. He seemed offended by the fact you didn’t know who was the poor bastard who got stuck with that ridiculous name. 

“Our son.” He answered. “But don’t worry about making anything for him. He won’t be accompanying us anyways.”

“And why not?” His wife countered. She had turned in her chair to face her husband with an angry look. With each passing minute this started to feel more like couples counseling than a consultation to make them some fucking clothes. 

“Because the gala is in September, dear.” His voice was so sickly sweet you could practically feel the patronization dripping off of it. “He’ll be back at the boarding school by then.”

Of course this kid goes to boarding school. Eventually you just zoned out their argument and began to draw up ideas. It’s probably better the kid is away from these two though. God forbid you meet what type of monster they made.

“For how much money you pay that damn school it’s a miracle you don’t know their schedule. He has a two week break in September at the same time of the gala.” “For what?” Max damn near shouted. At this point you abandoned your notebook and pencil in favor of rubbing your temples. 

“I don’t know. Some dead president, I'm not on the school board!”

“Well maybe you-”

“ALRIGHT!”

The pair stopped arguing and shot back to you, eyes wide at the sheer audacity you had to shout at them. 

Nobody shouted at them. 

“I’ll make a suit for the kid, okay?” You explained weakly. “Could we please, just, get to the actual goddamn design you two want?”

Valerie stared at you, before looking at her husband who had the same “Well I’ll be damned” look on his face as her. She tilted her head to the side and he shrugged in response. 

The heavy use of non-verbal communication they had just made you feel like even more of an outsider.

“Well I don’t see why not.” Maxwell sighed, grabbing one of the books in front and flipped through the suits in it. “I blocked out the rest of my day for this anyways.” 

The pair spent the next hour and a half flipping through design books and pointing out to you what they liked and what they hated. 

They seemed to hate a lot.

But you still learned enough about them to cross out some ideas and begin finalizing others. While Maxwell could wear a solid colored dark suit, he didn’t box himself in that way. He enjoyed a notch lapel type with pinstripes, and seemed quite partial to robin egg blue given how often he pointed out the color on other designs.

Valerie enjoyed solid color dresses rather than those with patterns on them, and while she often wore clothes made to hug her figure, each gown she pointed out flared out at the waist, reminiscent of a princess at a ball. 

Their son, well you had no idea what the kid liked. But given he was a child, he probably hated most suits, as certain brands were just as scratchy as they were expensive, so you made note to find something especially soft to make it out for their child, who’s suit would most likely mirror his father’s.  

Eventually you pushed away from the table, four pages full of notes and concepts as you rubbed your eyes. “I think that will be enough for today.”

“Poor thing.” Maxwell simpered with pursed lips. “Are we tiring the baby?”

Valerie slapped her husband’s shoulder. “Maxwell don’t be rude. Of course the poor girl is exhausted. Just look at the bags beneath her eyes!”

You spared a glance up at them to place a hand over your heart. “It truly is a blessing to be working with you both. A gift if I’m being honest.”

Valerie stood up from the table and set a hand on your shoulder as you walked them out. When she walked close enough you were surrounded with the citrus perfume she wore the last time she came over. “Oh we’re just kidding. You show a lot of promise Stitches, don’t disappoint and we might just keep you around.” She bumped her hip against yours with a coy smile, you did your best to ignore the funny flips your stomach did at the suggestion of them liking you so much they return for your work again and again and again.

“Which wouldn't be that hard.” Maxwell smirked at you and waved a blase hand through the air while the other opened the door for his wife. “The standards aren’t set very high given the fact that your own sense of style has you dressing like a hippie liberal arts teacher.”

The door slowly closed behind them as they walked to their cars, but before it could shut completely you poked your head out to say. “Those are some mighty big words coming from the guy dressed like a car salesmen with a secret latex fetish.”

Even with the door shut you could hear his wife’s shrieking laughter. 

Authors note: Slooooowwww burrrrrnnn babey.Now that they consultation is done we can move on to these assholes just bursting into your store to “see your progress” and then TENSION WHILE GETTING THEIR MEASUREMENTS. Also Maxwell lord is so starved of actual chemistry and love that the mere thought of a woman he may be actually attracted to he BUSTS that second lmao. Alastair will be included in the fic!! Wrote headcanons for him last night n i got all soft and emotional. But no joke writing this fic and doing headcanons for it is honestly so fun and relaxing for me so if you want to be tagges or talk hcs PLEASE send them my way I love this ot3 of power bisexuals. 

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Seeing Ghosts (Alec Volturi x Reader)

Supermarket Flowers - Ed Sheeran

Italy was supposed to be for time off. You most certainly needed it. You couldn't ignore the tug you felt toward the castle, though you wanted to because you couldn't run from your abilities. 

Seeing the dead was a gift passed down in your family, it skipped a generation so the next person you had known in your family to have had it was your grandmother. She told you to keep it secret, wanting to keep you from the pain she had in her life. She had to learn it the hard way. People thought she was crazy and her childhood was constant bullying. Her mother had kept it from her father so he too thought she had problems. 

As always, it started young. There were many pictures of you looking off into an empty space, hundreds of drawings of imaginary friends. Though they weren't all sweet. There was the nightmares and gruesome drawings of horrific characters. Whilst your parents deemed it imaginary, your grandmother always reassured you in secret that they couldn't hurt you and you'd be completely fine. That was the curse your grandmother told you of. No matter how horrifying or evil the spirits could appear, they couldn't touch you. They were cursed to watch the world go by until they found peace. That's where your family come in, many are able to be saved by showing them the way to the light and move on. 

What drew you in wasn't the castle itself, it was someone calling out from the inside. You couldn't see anyone calling and you knew it was be a bad idea to go inside. That didn't stop you from entering as a tour group entered. You were about to step out of the group of tourists to speak with the receptionist but only made the step out before freezing. The receptionist was looking at you, smiling as she did so, waiting for you to say something to her greeting. Though she wasn't who had your attention. Behind her, in the dark, was a girl. She was blonde, her hair down that was slightly tangled and looked to be a teenager. She wore jeans and a crop top. She looked miserable and wore a look you were very acquainted with. She looked like she wanted to leave for some time now. Many bored teenagers wore that expression, but so did the dead. It was an expression you just couldn't escape. However the girl was only the first warning. The air felt heavy and you knew immediately that there were many ghosts here. Many were trapped here, the place of their death. "Quickly, please, stay together!" The beautiful woman in a red dress smiled warmly, violet eyes gleaming. That was strange. You didn't know violet eyes were even possible. 

The double doors opened and that was when the nightmare began. You were roughly grabbed by a man with long black hair and bright red eyes. Screams rang in your ears, your eyes wide. The man leaned down before he froze. He roughly threw you to the floor. "Not that one!" He barked. You could only sit and stare, horrified at the scene. The screams of people around you and the snarling of others dressed in various shades of black and grey. Your next observation was their frightening red eyes. They were monstrous. You had never seen such a thing. You had hoped you’d never have to. It was something you couldn’t have imagined. 

Just like that it was over. Bodies were piled and pulled to a drain. The man from before towering over you. “What are you?” You cowered in fear. The man chuckled. “My name is Aro.” He crouched down, yet still towered over you. “You, my dear, have magnificent talents.” The words couldn’t escape you and you could only shudder.  Suddenly he reached out and pulled you to a stand. “Come now. You poor thing. You’re shaking.” His words were sickening. As though he wasn’t aware how horrible the scene was. 

There was something oddly obscene that you had settled after weeks of being in the Volturi’s presence. From what you understood, they were vampires who enforce the vampire laws. Aro, Marcus and Caius were the leaders. The rest were their guard.  You were still alive because of Aro’s fascination with your sight.

It wasn’t the usual family heirloom. Very few in your family actually had it. You were the only living relative who had it. Your aunt had the sight but had difficulty coping. She had been sad for all the times you had met her. She died in a car accident when you were fifteen. The holder before that was your grandmother’s and her grandmother. Your grandmother saw it in you at a young age. She always defined you as sensitive. However, she never clarified what she meant by being sensitive.

Whilst there were many Volturi members, they were nothing in comparison to the number of ghosts. Alec had become a friend despite being one of the most feared, if not the most feared vampire of the vampire world. With you, he warmed up gradually although quicker than he had with most. “So what do you think of the place?” Alec asked. “Its loud.” You responded. What he didn’t realise your response wasn’t in design or what you could hear, many simple noises turning into echoes. Instead it was the screams of the dead roaring in despair. “That’s a new one.” You hummed in response, cracking a smile. 

After some weeks that consisted a lot of time with Alec, he finally asked you what was on his mind. “What’s it like? Do you see everyone who has ever died here?” You hummed again in thought before hurrying off your bed and grabbing a marker as well as two sheets of paper. You drew a circle on each. “So let’s say this. This bit of paper is this world, the physical one. You and I can see it. Everyone is living in this world. When people die, they leave this world to another.” You held up the other paper. You then put the paper together overlapping the circles slightly. “This is what i see. My grandma would tell me that I’m sensitive to the other world. Although she only ever told me that. I wasn’t allowed to tell my parents about it. It’s scary sometimes. I see them in the condition they died. In this castle it’s worse…because sometimes I hear them in between the walls.” 

You did your best for every ghost, some were successes, some where failures and then there were many you didn’t quite understand what they wanted. You offered the grey man a smile. “I see you. You aren’t forgotten. I promise.” He shifted slightly before climbing into your closet. You opened the doors to find him gone. You never saw him again. You assumed that perhaps that’s what he wanted - to be assured that he would be remembered. 

Another week later, you saw her again, the tourist girl, she had just passed by your room. You immediately looked around your door to see her standing and waiting for you. She didn’t look afraid, or in pain. In fact, she looked very comfortable with you. This didn’t surprise you anymore, she seemed to be trying to tell you something but she never said a word.  “(Y/N)?” You jumped slightly turning to see Alec. “Hey Alec.” Alec looked over your shoulder. “What were you looking at?” You shook your head. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” The tourist girl brushed past you to stand behind Alec, continuing to smile. “Well i wanted to tell you something, you’ve been here for some time now and...i’d like you to know.”  “Oh, okay. Fire away.” You smiled.  “You’ve been here for six months and during that time, it’s been wonderful to know you. You’ve opened my eyes to a whole other side of being, it’s made life i little less boring.” He paused. “It’s been a joy being your friend but...i can’t help but feel that isn’t enough for me anymore. What i mean to say is that i care and feel for you more things than i should for a friend. I usually wouldn’t be so forward but i trust you. You don’t have to say anything right now. I just thought you should know.” Alec finished. You closed the space between yourself and Alec, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  “I can get on board with that. I look forward to seeing where this goes.” Your eyes flickered behind him to see the tourist girl continuing to smile but her expression changed to one of satisfaction. Only this time, a grey hand reached out for her in the open door and she turned to looked at the owner, taking their hand and walking into the room. After that day, you never saw her again. 

“You’ve got that face again.” Alec said, taking your hands in his. The two of you were cross legged on his bed and you were once again distracted.  “So this will sound crazy but, i’ve been seeing a new person.” You began.  “That doesn’t sound crazy at all, we feed-”  “No.” You shook your head. “It’s not someone from this time. It’s a woman, she has dark hair and wears black dated clothes but, she never looks at me. I’ve never seen her face and she seems to just wander in and out of sight. I just can’t piece her together.”  “This really bothers you.” Alec said, looking into your eyes and rubbing his thumb along your knuckles.  “She has a strong presence but she doesn’t seem interested in communicating.” It could just be the time of year. Today is a special day after all.”  “It is?” Alec asked.  “Well apparently. it’s a legend my grandma always told me. Tonight is the night marking 100 years. There isn’t a name for it as far as i know but according to legend every one hundred years for one night only the dead and the living align. For a few people that means they’ll see a ghost of someone they miss the most. It’s completely at random and seemingly used as an explanation for some ghost sightings. Sightings are supposed to be more likely around this time.” You thought for a moment before shrugging. “Who knows? What i know is that i’m tired. This lady is making me work for answers and i still can’t figure it out. So on that note.” You leaned forward kissing Alec’s lips. “I’m going to bed. It’s eleven at night and i’m exhausted. I look at one more age of a book and i’ll die.” Alec chuckled. “Sleep well, my love.” 

You turned on your playlist which was needed after such an exhausting day. You didn't have any ear buds so you hoped it wouldn't annoy anyone too much. You cracked a smile to hear Ed Sheeran's 'Supermarket Flowers' playing. You closed your eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet. 

'Oh I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up, but I know. A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved.'  Alec stiffened, unable to believe his eyes. He had seen the woman in front of him before, but it was a distant memory like a dream. She was pretty, petite in form, her brown hair, like his own, smoothed back into a low bun. She adorned a soft smile and seemed to know Alec. His eyes stayed on her and he realised just who this woman was. The song you had played oddly fitting. If only you knew what was happening right now. 

'So I'll sing Hallelujah. You were an angel in the shape of my mum' 

This woman wasn't a stranger. It took him some time but when it hit him, it hit him hard. This woman was his mother. 

Demetri looked at the little blonde girl in front of him. He never thought he'd see the angelic face again. To see her was the biggest gift he could have gotten even if she was to disappear before him. 

'I hope that I see the world as you did cause I know, A life with love is a life that's been lived.' 

The little girl moved towards him and oh how he wished he could remember her name. He knelt down to her level with a gentle smile. Her hair was just as he remembered, long and wavy. Her green eyes and wide smile welcoming him. Had the little girl missed him like he had missed her? Demetri never talked about his daughter. He was ashamed he couldn't remember her name. He wanted to keep her to himself and cherish the memories of her that remained. Even if they were brief moments. All consisted of her wide toothy grin and the most prominent was no different as she ran around in the nearby field. The grass so tall it was levelled at her shoulders. He couldn't remember how she died. A piece of him was glad for that. To see her now, in front of him, still smiling just as he remembered, his heart felt full yet so broken all at the same time. She died young, too young. Barely six years old. Demetri remembered how much love she had for the world. Even though the world had none for her. She had more love and forgiveness in her heart than trying someone would in three lifetimes and the world in her mind was light and beautiful. There was no evil in her eyes and Demetri was led to believe that never changed even in her final moments. The world was darker after she died. He hoped that he could be capable of the love his daughter had by nature. Or even learn to do so and see the world, just as she did, in the future. Whilst she died too young, she was at peace with the end of her life. She seemed at peace with it, yet he knew of vampires who lived for thousands of years and couldn't stomach the very thought of their own death. He spent so long trying to understand it but only one theory could suffice. Demetri's daughter lived a short life but she gave everyone so much love that perhaps she lived a better life than any of them combined. 

'You got to see the person that I have become. Spread your wings. And I know that when God took you back he said Hallelujah. You're home' 

Alec felt as though all of the air in his body suddenly escaped him. He didn't know if his mother was proud of him or if she knew everything that brought him up to this moment but just as always, her smile adorned acceptance for her son. It felt like a dream, a gift too good to be true to be reminded of his mother. He didn't know how to explain this to Jane but he was thankful that knowing you, you'd believe him and help him through the experience. 

Demetri watched as the little girls smile fell slightly into a small one, no longer her usual toothy grin and a hint of sadness behind her eyes. Somehow he knew he'd be losing her again. A part of him silently pleaded that she'd stay but her own expression told him that wouldn't be the case. Demetri wanted to reach out and touch the girl but he couldn't bring himself to do it, afraid that his hand would pass through her. The hardest part was always saying goodbye and having to do it twice was too much. Demetri didn't remember the first time yet he still felt the pain like it was yesterday, just by seeing the girls face. "Please..." He whispered, curling into himself slightly in attempt of protecting his heart from breaking again. The little girl faded away before his very eyes and was gone. Demetri's eyes squeezed shut for a moment, stifling back the pain. He then exhaled slowly, regaining his composure and rising to a stand. 

'When I fell down you'd be there holding me up. Spread your wings as you go. And when God takes you back we'll say Hallelujah You're home.

Fluffed the pillows, made the beds, stacked the chairs up.' 

Marcus trailed his fingers down the case on the bed that was filled with Didyme's old things. The ones he couldn't bare the sight of nor the possibility of being destroyed. So they remained hidden and untouched. He looked up and froze. Marcus couldn't tear his eyes away. He didn't dare. "Didyme..." The name barely got passed his lips, becoming only a broken whisper. The dark haired woman wore a slight smile on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes telling him one thing she never had to say. 'I miss you.' Their relationship was built upon that. The ability to say so much to one another with only a look and no words at all. The moonlight reflected off her face. Slowly she moved around the bed, never breaking eye contact or her smile. She reached out her hand, moving towards him and almost touched his face. Just like that, she was gone and his grief returned but somehow he knew that this was a gift. He just didn’t know who to thank.

[sinful-stories]

Bloody Carpets

This is my entry for @nicole-lynne ‘s 350 followers challenge. I had Derek Hale and the line “You’re bleeding all over my carpet.” I didn’t really describe the reader so I hope it can be read as either a guy or a girl. Enjoy.

Characters: Derek Hale, Chris Argent, Malia Tate, Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, Reader. (Lydia, Stiles and the rest of the pack are mentioned).

Derek leans back in his chair before setting his legs on the table in front of him. It had been quiet in Beacon Hills lately, minus a few new supernatural beings who moved in though they hadn’t caused any trouble to his knowledge. Scott hadn’t needed him yet for anything, so he’s gotten bored despite to increased numbers of hunters also living in BH with them. He put his arms behind his head, closing his eyes with a small sigh escaping his lips. Chris Argent had his hands full attempting to keep what Gerard had done before his death. Cora never returned, choosing to stay in South America where she wouldn’t be hunted or harmed at every turn. Isaac recently returned from France after training with the Argents there, becoming both a hunter and staying a werewolf in the mix. Scott and Stiles often worked with the sheriff’s office, though Stiles still worked for the FBI and was often gone on cases. Lydia began working at the school in order to keep an eye on the younger creatures, not because she didn’t trust them but rather she worried about them. Malia decided more recently to work with Deaton at the pet clinic without giving her reasons as to why. Jackson returned permanently to BH with Ethan so they could help Scott with the sudden influx of beings coming here. Cory, Hayden, Liam, and Mason were currently traveling outside of BH for a few reasons. They needed a break and to go to college but to also look for anyone who needed help. New creatures kept coming up and different breeds, though the one who bothered Derek the most had to be (Y/N). You showed up alone and seemingly running from a troubled past. You refused to open up about what happened or what led you to hide away in a town for the supernaturals when you seemed to be a human. With a snarky tongue and fierce attitude, you got under his skin in a way he didn’t like. Their arguments tended to end with one of them somehow injured. He liked you, and he wouldn’t deny that fact plus he couldn’t lie around any of the werecreatures throughout the town. Something about you drew him to you but he never had the best luck with romantic partners so he chose to ignore his growing affection for you.

His eyes open when he hears someone grab the door handle to his loft before it slide open. He quickly drops his legs from the table in order to greet who stands in the doorway before the scent of iron finally reaches him. (Y/N) stands there with blood dripping down multiple different wounds, you look like you could barely stand on your own with your skin looking several shades lighter than usual. Derek jumps up and runs over to you, barely managing to catch you when you attempted to step forward again like you wanted to meet him halfway somehow. He easily picks you up and rushes over to the table, easily clearing anything on it. You grip his sleeve as he lets go of you to pull out his phone, you didn’t know who he wants to call but you’re scared and he can smell it.

“No cops.” You manage to say finally, “Please.”

“I need to call someone. You’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

You huff but drop the hold you have on his sleeve, attempting to cover one of your wounds to avoid any more blood dripping on his carpet. He dials a number you’re not quick enough to see and walks away from the table, speaking in a low tone with the other person. You couldn’t believe you’d been stupid enough to be caught by a hunter in this town, you thought they didn’t attack unless they had reason to. Then again, that protection came strictly by being within the McCall Pack which you weren’t in. A loner through and through. You’d hoped that being here in BH would slow the hunters that have been on your trail since you turned, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. Derek ends his call with a small grumble before approaching you again, his eyes slide over the different injuries like he’s trying to figure out which one to treat first. He can’t see them very well though, most of them being hidden by the bloody fabric clinging to them.

“Do it,” You sigh, “I know you have to.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not like I have anything you haven’t seen on one of your exes before.”

He studies your features for a few heartbeats before he rips open your shirt, exposing the different injuries covering your abdomen and back. His fingers lightly grazing scars he didn’t even notice at first, concern instantly coming into his darkly colored eyes. Pain rolls off of you in waves, it’s a sour scent that causes Derek’s nose to scrunch up. He reaches out and places his hand against the largest wound, you immediately know what he’s trying to do. Pain absorption. A skill most werecreatures have. It works on animals and humans, but it rarely works on other beings. It didn’t work though. Derek no longer had the Alpha status, he couldn’t take the pain from any other creatures. Scott told him to keep the wounds covered until he got there with Isaac and Malia, he wanted Isaac there in case you needed to be held down while the others worked on your injuries. They still weren’t sure of what you were so they wanted to a Beta there, other than Derek of course. He walks away again and ignoring the way you attempt to grab his sleeve to keep him from leaving. Faintly the sounds of his sink reach you, but it hurts for you to even move your head around right now so you trust your senses. You know what you need to heal, but telling him might cause him to turn you over to the hunters. Werewolves have never been very friendly with your type. You can’t help but to feel a pang of something at that thought, the thought of Derek betraying you. Closing your eyes, you try to recall your life before this. But for the first time, you can’t. You can’t remember your parents, friends, or anything else about yourself.

“Hey, keep your eyes open.” Derek’s harsh tone snap you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry.” You mumble.

“I understand, but you need to stay awake until Scott gets here.”

“Scott. As in Scott McCall. The true alpha who died twice before he was out of high school?”

“Is he that well known?”

“His whole pack is, even you.”

Derek snorts as he begins wiping the blood staining your skin with a warm, wet cloth. He hates that he can’t take away the pain rolling off of you in waves, he hates when he smells the stench grow stronger every time he wipes the wounds. You grip fistfuls of your jeans to keep yourself from lashing out at him, from drawing blood from him to heal the wounds. They weren’t sealing or scabbing over and you could feel how weak you’d become thanks to all the blood loss from dragging yourself to Derek’s loft. You did it because he’s in Scott’s pack, and you trusted him for some reason. No hunter could hurt you in Derek’s loft, hopefully.

 Scott and Malia were still waiting for Isaac at Deaton’s vet clinic. Scott took the time to pack up what he assumed they would need to help an injured person, although he wished Derek would bring you to the hospital so his mom could look at you. But he understands why. Most beings here don’t trust the humans since the hunters were everywhere. The hospitals, the sheriff’s station, the school… everywhere. Malia keeps saying that she doesn’t trust you because she doesn’t like how you smell, something about your scent caused most werecreatures to give you weird looks. But Scott never finds it off, he also doesn’t see why someone would hurt you. Isaac finally pulls up outside though instead of staying in his car, he gets out and rushes over to Scott with a file in his hands.

“Scott. I know why they got hurt.” Isaac skips any greetings, handing his alpha the folder.

“Why?” Scott askes even as he takes the file.

His eyebrows raise almost instantly as he reads the information printed there, he didn’t think vampires were real. No one he ever saved could tell him, they were rare to come across. Someone put a price on your head, a big one at that, and they wanted you dead rather than alive.

“We need to get to Derek. Now. This says they don’t care how it’s done or what rules they break. Whoever put this price tag out there won’t care about hurting Derek too. We should also call Chris, in case we need back up.”

Malia grabs the backpack Scott had packed and the trio hurry to Isaac’s car. Scott just hopes they can get there before something worse happens.

 Derek stands over you still, keeping an eye on how much you’re bleeding with an unreadable expression on his features the entire time. You couldn’t tell if he was mad from the blood soaking into the carpet or if he was concerned for your life. He moves to your other side, wiping away the sweat dripping from your forehead with a small frown. Scott didn’t normally take this long to get here, whether he had been busy or not. He’s trying not to pace around the loft, you weren’t moving a lot anymore and he hasn’t been able to get you to open your eyes since you closed them a few moments before. The sounds of multiple people slowly approaching his loft door causes him to look up from you finally, his eyes turning to an icy blue. His shoulders becoming tense as his nails turned into claws with a frown tugging on his lips. Though the tension leaves him when he sees Chris pull the door open with Isaac, Scott, and Malia.

“What took you guys so long?” Derek grunted.

“Chris needed to stop by the hospital to get what we need for your friend.” Isaac pulls the door shut, glancing at the amount of blood.

“The hell does that mean?”

“They’re a vampire, Derek.”

Derek looks down at your barely moving form, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. From the stories he remembered being told by Peter, they were supposed to be the opposite of werewolves. They chose to have covens though they liked being loners. They killed without care about who they hurt or turned in the process. They took and took and took yet rarely gave to others. The hunters, however, had taken control of the ‘out of control’ vampire population. It made them harder to find which made the hunters angry, they didn’t like how easily they could blend in with humans. Their eyes didn’t glow in pictures, they didn’t have super strength or hearing. They couldn’t handle a lot of sunlight though they could handle some of it. Their eyes were sensitive to the light, very sensitive. But they could heal faster than most humans. Their hearts still beat enough to avoid concern from medical personal. They could eat normal food, but they needed blood daily to survive. Everyone assumed it had to be human blood yet something tugs in Derek’s mind. He doesn’t believe it’s true.

There hadn’t been any reports of late night attackers that ended with someone dead or heavily injured. He shakes his head and glares at his former Beta, not believing a word from him. Chris walks over to check your pulse before he swings his bag forward, setting it on the ground to pull out a blood bag from the hospital. He refuses to look at Derek while cutting it open and allowing some to drip onto your lips. Your eyes open instantly but they’re no longer (y/e/c), rather a bright red that somehow manages to glow even in the evening daylight outside. You snatch the bag from Chris, drinking it greedily and hungrily. Derek steps back from the table, his eyebrows raising almost immediately. From the way you drain the bag, he knows you must have been hungry yet you never made a move to drink from him. You had held yourself back the entire time and that went against everything he had ever been told about vampires. He watches as you swipe the blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, licking the blood from your thumb. The others in the loft watching you in a mix of surprise, horror, and concern as the wounds covering you begin healing at a rapid rate they hadn’t seen before. You take a second bag of blood from Chris and rip it open with your teeth, finally exposing your sharpened canines in the process. It didn’t seem like you cared as blood slides down your throat and chest, dripping onto the blood stains from your blood there. Licking your lips once the second bag is finished, you look at the people around you in silence unsure of what to say.

“You’re a vampire.” Scott says, “Stiles is going to have a field day with this, he always swore you guys existed.”

“We do, sadly. Most of us weren’t turned with our consent though.” You shrug, wiping the blood from your mouth.

“Is that why you have a bounty of your head for killing your family?” Isaac speaks up, his tone unusually harsh.

“I didn’t kill them. I’m just the only one who wasn’t killed, so my grandfather is convinced I did. I’ve been on the run for years now.”

Scott studies you in silence, the debate he’s having mentally clear on his features. His arms crossing as he begins to pace. Chris and Malia both watch you with sympathy in her eyes, though neither attempt to get closer to where you sit on the table close to where Derek is still standing. Isaac, however, is glaring at you like he doesn’t believe a word coming out of you. Not like you care though. You’re used to people not trusting you. Derek studies everyone, scrubbing his hand through his hair with a small sigh like he can’t understand what’s going on. Then everyone starts talking. Isaac wants to send you back to your grandfather. Chris thinks you should go with him and keep hiding. Scott wants you to join his pack of misfits. Malia thinks you need to go to the police or Stiles. You argue against everything. You didn’t kill your family, and you weren’t planning on getting killed for something you couldn’t have done. Derek stays silent the entire time, trying to ignore all the yelling. He just watches the blood dripping down into the blood stains and it begins to annoy him adding to the annoyance that had been building from everyone talking.

“Goddamn it! I told you before, you’re bleeding all over my carpet!!” Derek roars.

[yikestripes]

Same old

A/N: Here you go anon!!! I hope you enjoy!!!!

Pairing: Bill x Reader

Request: May I request a fic with Bill Denbrough x reader that has Bill saving the reader from her worst fear that Pennywise is putting her through? (which can be something related to bullying or some sort of phobia). And I do think it’s more fitting as adults considering what happened in the second movie, but it’s also fine if they’re written younger—

(Y/D/J) = Your dream job

You swallowed hard, pulling up outside of the Chinese restaurant Mike had picked. You weren’t particularly prepared for the potential horrors waiting for you inside; you felt anxious as hell, being reunited with the people you’d called friends your entire childhood with barely any recollection of their names or virtually anything about them. As a matter of fact, you hardly remembered anything Mike had brought up during your brief phone call the night before about your childhood. You never had any reason to bring it up in conversation, or think about it for any other reason, so why would you remember? But then again, how could you forget? Isn’t that someone everyone does, forget? Especially when they grow up and move away? Apparently not.

You shook away the negative thoughts that swirled around your aching brain, and got out of your car as another car pulled into the parking lot. You paid no mind to the other car, too distracted by the restaurant looming overhead and what awaited you inside, when someone calling you from behind brought you back.

“(Y/N)?” You turned at the sound of your name being called by a distinctly deep, male voice, and were met with a man around your age squinting at you behind his glasses, seemingly confused. You stared for a second before it clicked; Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier stood before you, hands tucked sheepishly into his leather jacket, with his hair wild from running his fingers through it moments before.

“Oh my GOD! Richie!” You felt yourself running at him and attack him in a hug. He didn’t move at first, still slightly taken aback by having seen someone he hadn’t seen in 27 years look so painfully familiar but like a beautiful stranger. He moved to hug back but you’d already stepped back to get a better look at him.

“You look great, Trashmouth! What the hell!” You laughed and Richie’s awkwardness eased up as he smiled a bit.

“Look at you, you look gorgeous! What the fuck happened to me?” He glanced at his reflection in the glass of the window and shook his head a bit.

“Oh stop. When did you get in?” You asked, stuffing your own hands in your pockets, quickly becoming re-acquainted with the chilly air of Maine.

“Last night. You?”

“Earlier this afternoon. Have… have you seen anyone yet?”

“Nope. You?”

“Not yet. Wanna go in?”

“Not at all.”

“Alright, let’s do this.” You took your hands out of your pocket with a deep breath to calm your racing heart, and ripped the door open as Richie followed behind you.

The restaurant seemed nice and was brightly lit, which helped to relax you a little bit.

That might make it easier to recognize everyone.

The hostess led you and Rich to a private room aside from the main dining room, where 3 grown men near the fish tank, becoming readjusted to each other once again.

“Wow, take a look at these guys!” The shorter man in the red jacket said, attempting to relieve some of the tangible awkwardness.

You pressed your lips together as you made eye contact with the taller man, who seemed to be familiar in a different way than the others. His muscles contracted as he crossed his arms over his chest, his silver watch winking at you in the light. His blue eyes were bright, and full of hazy memory.

“Look at her TREMBLE girls! She’ll be a laughing stock by the end of the day!” Gretta Keene was cackling as you shook like a teapot, your back so far against the lockers that the locks were pressing into your back. You had no idea why Gretta was so terrifying, but she just was. There were no limits with her torment, and that certainly didn’t exclude you. She’d thrown wet trash on you, poured paint in your backpack in art class, and hid your clothes after gym class. She made you miserable at any opportunity, purely because she knew it bothered you; plus you were an easy target, you had no one to protect you. She had all the power. Especially since she found your sketchbook, filled with embarrassing drawings of one Bill Denbrough.

“Oh s-shut up, G-gretta.” The all-too-familiar lanky boy stepped out from behind Gretta, meekly followed by a few other boys you’d recognized from your classes through the years, who were always with Bill. Gretta whipped her ponytail around to look at who’d interrupted her fun, allowing you to sneak a bit closer to the boys.

“Aw would you look who it is, Stuttering Bill Denbrough! Coming to protect your little girlfriend, huh?” Bill’s blue eyes hardened, ignoring Gretta’s comment.

“Just leave her alone, she never did anything to you.” Bill crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah? Or what?”

“O-or I'll r-r-remind the w-wh-whole school a-about how R-Ri-Richie p-p-pulled up your skirt d-during the cl-class play i-in 4th grade.” Bill smirked as Gretta’s face turned a shade of pink.

Richie snickered as he adjusted his glasses, clearly still amused by the memory. Eddie glared at him and Richie shrugged.

“You win this round, Denbrough,” Gretta glared at him, clearly trying but failing to intimidate him. “Next time, Stuttering Bill won’t be around to save your ass, you little slut.” Gretta lunged at you and you slammed back into the lockers, trying to hide your wince after hitting a lock particularly hard.

She sashayed away as you recovered, rubbing the lower part of your back.

“Thank you.” You whispered to Bill, casting your eyes down. You were extremely shy, especially after Gretta’s torment had begun. You looked back up and Bill smiled kindly at you, extending his hand to help you up.

“I-I’m Bill D-D-Denbrough,” You shook his hand with a shy grin. “I-I know w-we’ve had c-cl-classes together f-for a few y-y-years, b-but I d-don’t thi-think we’ve e-ever spoken.”

“I’m (Y/N).” Bill nodded.

“I’m Richie!”

“Edward Kaspbrak, but you can call me Eddie.” “Call him Eddie Spaghetti, he LOVES that!”

“I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Alright Eds, have it your way.”

“I hate Eds too! It’s Eddie!”

“Calm yourself, Eduardo.”

“RICHIE!” Richie snickered again as Eddie crossed his arms, huffing in frustration.

“I”m Stanley, Stanley Uris.”

“Oh, yes! We have math together.” You smiled at the curly-haired boy. He sat behind you at math, always answering the teacher’s questions.

“Bill?” You whispered, frowning slightly. Bill broke out into a grin and approached you slowly, memories streaming back.

“(Y/N).” He said almost breathlessly, pulling you into a tight hug. Your knees almost buckled beneath you at his familiar scent and feeling of him holding you so close and so tight.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long, I just, I can’t believe it…” You trailed off, an eruption of memories causing your previous headache to return. You grimaced slightly, and shook it away, not allowing something so silly to ruin your evening.

“I know. It’s been what, 18 years? 17? Right after college, I believe, is when we last saw each other.” Bill took a step back, suddenly feeling like he was back in high school with the way his emotions were running so rampant.

“Something like that. How have you been?? What’s been going on? What do you do?” You became readjusted quickly, the other Loser’s looking on with a familiar feeling, as if they’d seen the same sort of interactions between the two of you. As a matter of fact, they had. When you were all much, much younger, and a lot more unable to speak your feelings.

You and Bill caught up very quickly as you awaited the other’s arrivals, one by one. You learned he followed his heart and became a writer, and you’d actually read a few of his books! Contrary to popular belief, you thought his endings were not that bad. He’d been married for a few years, but it never quite worked out, so they ended up divorcing on civil terms. He found out you hadn’t married; never quite finding the right person. Little did you know, the right one had been only a few hours away, subconsciously writing your personality into book characters. You’d become (Y/D/J), traveling the world like you’d always wanted to, and settling down in a place that was the complete opposite of Derry. Not that you’d remembered what it was like in Derry, but once you returned, you shuddered at how much the place had affected you.

You left the Chinese restaurant feeling a heavy weight on your shoulders, weighing down on you like never before. Between finding out about why Stanley hadn’t been at dinner, the fortune cookie massacre, and your feelings for Bill all coming rushing back at once, there was almost nothing keeping you from leaving. Almost.

“I-I’m gonna go w-w-with Mikey to the library, you o-okay to get back by yourself?” Bill asked, mentally cursing for allowing his stutter to rear its head.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’m probably gonna go to bed and mull things over.” You rubbed your hand up and down his arm, watching as he untensed a little bit. Your touch was always enough to relax Bill, especially back in the days after the first battle.

You slept over his house pretty often, sneaking in and out of his window on the days you were afraid his parents would think you were spending too much time there. Half the time when you would wake up in the middle of the night by yourself, usually after a Gretta or Pennywise induced nightmare, and sneak over to Bill’s and climb into bed with him; your safe space. He would crack an eye open, smile, and open his arms to you. You climbed in and wiggled up next to him as he held you close, a smile gracing both of your faces.

“I’ll see you back there, then.” He smiled at you and his hand lingered on your shoulder for just a moment, before joining Mike in his car. You made it back to the motel without incident, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The following morning, you woke up and found yourself shivering for the first time in years; and you knew it wasn’t because of any sort of draft. Along with the horrid memories that poisoned your childhood, the ones that remained untouched by the horrors you experienced also recurred. It was almost as if you were reverting to the person you were while living in Derry, complete with your need for Bill Denbrough to protect you.

“It’s only going to work if we split up,” Mike said, glancing at each Loser.

“No way, statistically speaking we’re much better off if we remain together as a group!” Eddie said, nervousness lacing his already edgy voice.

“W-we can’t. You w-won’t b-be able to find y-your tokens, it’s a sort o-of… personal journey. E-each of us h-has to par-partake.” Bill said, clapping a hand on Mike’s shoulder.

You shrugged and started climbing the ladder, squinting in the filtered light of the Barrens as you walked forward, feeling propelled by some unknown force. Just as Mike had advised, you all split up. You’d crossed paths with Bill a bit later in the day, who looked extraordinarily pale. Assuming he’d already grabbed his token by the look on his face, you just pulled him into a hug.

You pulled away with a smile, quickly realizing your mistake. A mangled sort of Gretta Bowie stood in front of you, hair matted and her typical blue eyeshadow was replaced by something red and gooey, assumably blood.

“Did you miss me, freak?” A voice that was only partially human seemed to be coming from Gretta, even though her mouth didn’t move.

You stood in frozen horror, mouth agape.

“I missed you, I thought you’d never come back to talk with me.” The creature that resembled your former tormenter remarked. “No one ever wants to talk with me.” The creature flipped its matted hair. “Look at you TREMBLE! The whole school is gonna know about your pathetic little crush on Bill Denbrough, the boy with the stutter. You know he never loved you, right? He thought you were a freak, like the rest of us. Just a quiet, little freak. He only pretended to like you, because he’s such a nice guy. Look at you now! All grown up and the same little crush on Big stuttering Bill Denbrough!” Gretta cackled in the most sickeningly familiar way, and you dropped to your knees in tears.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

It’s real.

You felt like you were going to throw up, all the anxiety and shame rushing back at you all at once.

Bill had crossed the street near his old neighborhood, still slightly unnerved by his encounter with Pennywise. Subconsciously, he had been hoping to run into you on the hunt for your token, looking for some sort of excuse to see you. He hated the idea of the whole group splitting up, despite the visions Mike had forced him to see the previous night. He knew it was the only way but the reality of the situation sat heavy like a rock in his stomach; he couldn’t stand the idea of losing another loved one to the goddamn clown that had been terrorizing him since he was just 13 years old.

An ear piercing scream rang out suddenly, breaking Bill from his thoughts. A very familiar scream.

“(Y/N)!” Bill whipped around wildly, looking for some sort of direction to go in. Another scream rang out and he followed the sound to Jackson Street, where he found you on your hands and knees, screaming unintelligible words. It was almost as if you were screaming at someone, not just something.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled again. You hadn’t heard him, and just kept on screaming your head off. Suddenly you stopped, and curled up in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably. You were clutching something to your chest that Bill couldn’t quite see as he tried to ease you into sitting up.

“H-hey, it’s okay. It’s me.” You looked up at him, your face completely tear stained with mascara running down your cheeks. Bill’s heart clenched a little bit.

“What h-h-happened?” You jumped into his arms, and began sobbing all over again. “Shhh, it’s o-over now. T-the clown c-c-can’t hurt you any-anymore.” He whispered into your hair, trying to get you to relax a little bit. Your heavy breathing eased as your breaths became more even, and you sat back on your heels.

“It was Gretta.” You said, your throat feeling raw from screaming. “She was telling me all these horrible things, and I-I just lost it.” You hugged the book tight to your chest.

“Well,” Bill’s eyes darted from the book to you. “At least you got your artifact.” He smiled his same old smile, making you feel a little bit warm inside. That smile could make anything seem a little bit brighter.

[spritewrites]

like children

Fandom: Shades of Magic (by V.E. Schwab)

Characters: Kell Maresh & Rhy Maresh

Word Count: 2055

“Go away. I’m working on a strategy.”

It was late afternoon when Kell said it, but he still hadn’t changed out of his bedclothes. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t quite remember when the last time he’d changed his clothes was. His blue eye was red with exhaustion, and his reddish hair was sticking up at odd angles - he’d been running his fingers through it. Thirty-six hours awake isn’t ideal for anybody, magic or not.

“For what?”

Rhy was laying on his bed, idly picking at the bedcovers. He had the cool, measured tone that Kell recognized, the one that made the frustration rise in his throat. It was the tone Rhy always adopted when Kell stayed up too long. The one he used when he was trying to convince him of something, something he didn’t think he’d like. Such as calming down. Or eating. Or sleeping.

“For the games.”

Rhy barked out a laugh. “The Essen Tasch? Saints, Kell, why? I entered you to be a stress reliever, not so you could run yourself into the ground!”

A fist clenched around the edge of his parchment, wrinkling the corner. It took a moment for Kell to realize that it was his. He cleared his throat, smoothing the paper back out as best he could. Rhy didn’t need to worry about him, on top of all his responsibilities with the competition.

“If I’m going to compete,” he replied, “I’d prefer not to be humiliated in my own city.”

The stray piece of thread that Rhy had been tugging at came loose. “You’re the most powerful magician in Arnes, probably in the whole world. None of the other champions can compete with an Antari. Your win is… inevitable.”

“You flatter me.”

Rhy laughed at that. “Trust me, brother, I don’t intend to do anything of the kind.”

Kell groaned, trying to steady his voice before Rhy can realize exactly how exhausted he was. It couldn’t work, he knew. The only reason Rhy was here was because he could feel that bone-aching tiredness in their bond.

“Still. I should be doing research. Practicing. Alone.” His voice dropped slightly, almost imperceptibly. “I’ve never worked with only one element before.”

Rhy’s eyes were lit with amusement, and something else. Something sadder. “Well. You’ll have to… hold back, then. So, there’s not much need to study. You can rest.” A hint of mischief grew in his smile. “Besides, you’ll need all your strength if you go up against Alucard Emery.”

Kell felt his cheeks grow hot, his mild scowl deepening into a frown. His classic look, and he knew even before Rhy opened his mouth that his brother would tease him for it, but for all his secrets, he could never hide his feelings from him. Besides, anything he felt, Rhy would feel too. Inevitability again.

“Ah, come, is my favorite brother feeling a little self-destructive?” Rhy teased, leaning up on his elbows. His black hair shone in the light, painting the perfect picture of an innocent angel. Kell nearly snorted. Anything but.

“If you’re only going to distract me, then I don’t recommend sticking around. There’s the door.” A gust of wind ruffled Rhy’s robes on its path to fling the chamber door open. Kell turned back to his papers, ignoring the grumbling he could hear from the prince’s direction.

The leash he was tethered to here at the castle felt shorter than ever, and Rhy’s relentless presence was a symptom of that tether. He could remember a time, not so very long ago, when his frequent travels as the crown’s Antari had kept his time with Rhy short. Perhaps too short. His thoughts would drift often to his carefree brother, envious both of his position and his weightlessness as he waltzed through Red London society, blind to the true depth of the responsibilities that Kell held. During those times, he had often wished to be able to be closer to Rhy, like they had been as children, siphoning off some of his easy charm and wit. Now, he thought ruefully, he wished dearly that his brother would go away.

Kell was snapped from his thoughts by a hard pinch at the back of his neck. He cursed, spinning to fume at his brother. “I thought I told you to get out and stop bothering me!”

Rhy hadn’t moved – he was lazing on his back, hands tucked behind his head and wearing a grin that spoke only of mischief. Saints, Kell was familiar with that grin. Stupid bond.

“You did. But you seemed unfocused. I figured I’d draw your attention back to your… work.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I knew what I was doing,” Rhy replied easily. He rolled onto his stomach, clutching a satin-edged pillow to his chest and kicking his bare feet. “Truthfully, I wanted to spend some time with my favorite brother. Since, of course, you’re not busy. Not busy doing anything healthy, anyway.”

Kell rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like a child.”

One of Rhy’s eyebrows quirked up with almost a mind of its own. His curly head dropped into something like a bow, and he adopted his most regal voice, the one he reserved for the high court.

“Forgive me, Master Kell, for my insolence. Please, continue your work. I shan’t disturb you again.”

This time Kell did snort, a gruff, low sound that hurt his throat. He didn’t think that was supposed to hurt. Come to think of it, a lot of him was hurting right now. Rhy probably felt it too. Maybe sleep would be welcome.

He’d scarcely had the thought when he felt something large and soft hit the back of his neck. He reeled to see his brother casually staring up at the ceiling, feigning innocence, and one of his pillows on the floor. Kell narrowed his eyes, but Rhy refused to look at him. He was actually humming. Ass.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Hm?” Rhy replied, sliding his gaze over to Kell’s furious glare.

“You’re going to try to wear me out, so I have to sleep.”

“Oh, am I?”

Rhy sounded amused. Kell fought the urge to set the bed on fire, just to see his brother jump. He settled on rolling his eyes.

“It’s not going to work.”

“It isn’t?”

“I’m impervious to your efforts to distract me.”

“Ah, you are?”

“I am as immovable as a Veskan warrior.”

“I see.”

“So. There’s really no need to try. And you can just leave me be.”

Rhy grinned, eerie and catlike, a grin that made the hair on the back of Kell’s neck stand on end. Sanct.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The shriek that Kell let out as his brother launched at him would have been quite embarrassing, had it not been disguised by the screech of chair legs against the stone floor when they both toppled over. Instantly, Kell’s wrists were in Rhy’s grasp, and he grunted and squirmed as best he could, but the crown prince was heavier than he looked.

“Get off,” he wheezed, heating up his palms and trying to grab at where Rhy’s hands held him firm – not enough to burn, just enough to make him let go – but he couldn’t quite reach. His heels scrabbled against the wooden floor, and distantly he could hear Rhy chuckling. Kell felt his face grow hot with rage and embarrassment at being so easily overtaken. The absolute bastard.

In a desperate effort, Kell filled his lungs and blew out a huge gust of magical wind, lifting his brother off of him, but also scattering his papers in a tornado around the room. No matter. He’d gather them back up when he wasn’t fighting for his life.

“No fair using magic!”

Kell knew how to wrestle with Rhy. He’d had practice. In recent years he’d sometimes been called upon to act as his sparring partner during Rhy’s combat lessons, but he’d been rolling over the grooved stone of the halls of this palace with his brother since before he could remember.

Unfortunately, Rhy had had the same practice. He managed to get an arm around Kell’s knees, but Kell still had the upper hand, most of his wriggling body still free, and he couldn’t quite pin his legs down for the kicking. Kell tugged at Rhy’s elbow, trying to dislodge the vice-like grip, but suddenly found himself with a face full of the same pillow that had hit his back before.

Kell yelped, twisting to try to escape over the bed, grasping desperately at his slipping sheets in an effort to climb away. Unfortunately, Rhy was Rhy, and when it came to these fights, when it came to Kell, Rhy was merciless. He’d scarcely made it over the edge of the mattress when he felt his younger brother at his back, grabbing at his waist and laughing breathlessly with the sheer energy of the fight.

Kell was laughing too, sort of, trying to fight it, so it was coming out more as huffs through gritted teeth. Rhy looked absolutely delighted at this development, much to Kell’s chagrin. Part of the game, at least as it was originally played, was Kell trying to maintain his mask of dignity. Laughing wasn’t part of it. Not ideally, anyway. His body sometimes had other ideas. Especially when Rhy was looking up at him like that, so adoringly, so carefree. The giddiness of it all was hard to fight.

And Rhy knew it.

The prince managed to sneak a hand under his brother’s shirt and dig into his sides, exactly where he knew Kell was horribly ticklish. Any other time, Kell would have shrugged him off easily and scolded him for his ridiculous, childish behavior. But his utter exhaustion made his nerves sing, and, to his horror, he broke into hoarse, helpless giggles. Rhy’s smile widened, and at first that made Kell struggle harder – Smug bastard, he thought – flipping onto his back to shove at the prince’s ruthless fingers, the ones that knew exactly where to prod to get the best reactions.

But then he saw that look on Rhy’s face. It was everything that he always wanted to see – joy, mischief, humor, love. Everything he was always looking for when he gazed into those honey-brown eyes. He couldn’t deny Rhy that, not now. So, despite his natural instincts, Kell stopped fighting, falling back against the sheets and resigning himself to full-out laughter just as evil hands crawled their way up to his ribs.

“Do you yield?” teased Rhy, fighting back laughter of his own as he tried to tune out the mirrored (albeit faint) echoes of sensation on his own body.

Kell tried to speak, he really did, but it’s awful hard to get out a coherent sentence when your not-so-little brother is tickling you to pieces. Finally, he managed a nod, and Rhy mercifully rolled off of him to collapse onto the foot of the bed, a huge grin on his face.

“F-fuck you,” Kell choked, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.

Rhy chuckled. “Feeling tired yet?”

Kell swatted weakly at him, still leaking giggles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The creases around Rhy’s eyes softened a little. “You don’t laugh like that anymore.”

For a moment, Kell simply felt his breath enter and leave his lungs, listening to the wind whistle outside the window. He could lay here forever like this. Then he took Rhy’s hand.

“No. No, I don’t.”

For a while, the two brothers lay beside one another, catching their breath and staring up into the dark fabric that covered the ceiling. If you unfocused your eyes enough, Kell thought, you could almost imagine yourself soaring into that inky blackness, dodging between the stars.

“Hey, Kell?”

A sigh through his nose. “Yeah?”

“…Never mind.” Rhy’s voice was small. Kell held his breath. For a second, he was certain that if he turned to look at his brother, he would see him exactly as he’d been that night after he’d rescued him from the Shadows. He squeezed his hand.

“Rhy?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.” For cheering me up. For knowing me well enough to know that I need cheering up. For the Essen Tasch. For being my brother.

“You’re welcome.”

They stayed like that for a long time, long after Kell fell asleep.