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illicitlimerence-writes · 3 years

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today | m. schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x reader word count: 1.8k words prompt: letter q: question. from this christmas alphabet prompt list. warnings: language maybe? a/n: day seventeen! i'm back bitches!!!! special thanks to @onebigfangirlworld for the greatest prompt ever. thank u so much bestiee!

my masterlist / christmas alphabet masterlist

i decided to make this a part three to "promise" (1) & "tomorrow" (2)

"okay, everyone, gather around! it's time for presents!" corinna said as she grabbed a glass of wine and sat next to michael on the loveseat.

you and mick decided to spend this year's christmas with his family, you were both too tired from all of your different projects and hectic agendas all year that you couldn't even think about hosting or even traveling somewhere to celebrate the holidays.

you grabbed mick's hand, a bright smile on your face as you stood up from your chair at the dining table.

"come on, i can't wait to see everyone's reactions," you grinned, extending your hand. mick gave you a small, shy smile as he grabbed your hand and walked to you. he sat on the couch first and pulled you on his lap. you looked down, seeing his fingers tapping on your thigh.

after the anniversary fiasco a few days ago, mick was more nervous than ever. as you got better from your cold, you barely could keep yourself away from him. he was always so warm and cuddly and you just slept better when he was with you, and the fact that you had him all for yourself was perfect for you. for him, though, he could feel his heart stopping each time your hand grazed his pocket, always shifting the position and grabbing your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

that was until he got an idea.

you wrapped an arm around his neck, playing with his hair as he leaned back, eyes on a spot on the floor.

"you okay?" you whispered as everyone gathered around the living room with all the presents in the middle.

"hmm?" he hummed, looking at you, blinking back into reality.

"you zoned out. are you alright?" you asked, a small frown on your forehead.

"yeah, yeah, i'm fine, just a bit tired it's all." he gave you a small smile as he directed your glass of champagne to his lips, his fingers over yours as he downed it all in one go.

"whoa! easy there," you laughed. "leave some for me." you noticed that everyone was ready and eager to open the presents.

"sorry, let me get you some more," mick mumbled quickly, his hands on your hips guiding you off his lap. you stared at him as he walked away, wondering what was going on in his head. he came back with a filled champagne flute and handed it to you as he sat down. you were about to sit on his lap again when corinna called your name.

"(y/n)! you first, open ours first," she said as she handed you a small gift bag. you smiled, handing mick your glass again and grabbing the bag that she was handing you.

"thank you," you said as you sat down and opened the bag. you pulled out the tissue paper and unwrapped it. there was a postcard with a dolphin in it, the text 'greetings from hawaii' on the top left corner. your eyes widened, looking up at michael and corinna, who were beaming at you. "is this..." you couldn't even finish your sentence, too stunned as you read the back of the postcard.

"two tickets to hawaii, mick said you've always wanted to go, so," michael shrugged his shoulder, you looked back and forth between the older couple speechless. mick placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing it as he smiled at you.

"i-i don't know what to say, i-"

"don't say anything, let's just keep going before this one finishes the entire champagne bottle by himself," gina interrupted and you looked at mick, who looked as if he'd been caught in the act, which he had, as he was emptying your glass again.

"sorry, thirsty," mick gave you a short smile as you placed your hand on top of his, clasping your fingers together.

mick seemed to relax more as you all opened your presents, you'd never felt so loved as you had at that moment, not because of the material stuff, but because they all remembered tiny details of the stories you shared, they listened and paid attention to you, and that was all that mattered.

"so there is only this one big box left, i think i know who it's from," michael grabbed the box and shook it.

"dad! careful, it's... fragile," mick stood abruptly. michael raised his hands in defeat as corinna pulled him down. "okay, so, this is for you." he said as he placed the box in front of you. "it's... well i'll let you see for yourself," he sat down beside you, his knee bouncing up and down.

you laughed at his nerves, holding one of his hands as you smiled at him.

you unwrapped the first box, grabbing the scissors gina handed you to cut the adhesive tape. you felt butterflies as you opened the box, laughing as you saw another, smaller, wrapped box.

"seriously?" you laughed, being a little less careful about the wrapping paper, only to be met with the same thing again, by this point everyone else chuckled as well. "mick, i swear to god."

as the boxes got smaller, mick shook his leg faster, which gina noticed.

"this is all your fault, mick, all this anticipation, it all could've been avoided,"

"gina," corinna scolder her eldest daughter, "leave him alone,"

you side-eyed mick, thinking of a way to save him from his self-made hell.

"i've always wanted to see something like this, i'd only seen it in movies." you chuckled, crossing your legs beneath you as you opened another box. as the boxes got smaller and smaller, your mind started wondering what it could be.

"it's gonna be a rock," gina said, and this time even mick laughed.

"or a bracelet," michael pointed as the next box was a long, thin one.

"it might be," you agreed, standing up as your legs were cramping.

you took off the small box, seeing a small square box.

"maybe a necklace?" corinna asked, standing up and walking to you. they were all too invested in this mysterious present as much as you were. soon enough, michael, corinna and gina were all by your side as you scanned the box, they made a human wall between you and mick.

"maybe," you nodded, looking at them. "i think this is it, it doesn't feel that heavy," you weighted the box in your hand, suddenly feeling a knot in your stomach. you took a breath before opening the box slowly.

mick had bought you rings before, there was a promise ring that mick got you for christmas a year ago, the one he'd got you for your birthday with your birthstone on top.

this one was different. it felt just like the time he gave you the promise ring, only the anticipation and everything just felt... different.

"what is it?" gina said as she leaned in, gasping as she saw the huge, shiny rock reflecting from the lights. "i knew it was a rock!" she said, walking away.

"m-mick?" you whispered as corinna dragged michael away, your eyes couldn't leave the small velvet box, until you saw a figure materializing in the background.

"i made a promise to you, last year, and i think it's time to fulfill that promise," mick said, down with one knee on the floor, you felt weak at the knees. "this year has been one of the greatest in my life, it had its ups and downs but you were there for me, like you always are, every step of the way. you always find a way to make me feel... worthy, deserving of your love and company, and i can't thank you enough for that. i promised you a happy future where you felt loved. i'd like to add to that. i promise to always make you soup when you're sick, to hold your hand when you're nervous, to be there whenever you need me. as a friend, a companion, anything you like. today i give you my heart, my love, i offer you my full affection and devotion." he paused to take a deep breath.

"i want to spend the rest of my life with you," he couldn't help but sigh as he thought about the two of you growing old together. "i love you more than i've ever loved anything," he look to the side, "sorry, mom," he chuckled, and you all let out shaky laughs. your eyes were burning with unshed happy tears. "we bring out the best in each other, we're so good together that nothing else in the world makes sense," you nodded your head unconsciously. "i don't need anything else, nothing but you."

"you complete me, you are like the puzzle piece i never knew was missing, and i'm so happy you chose me all those years ago, and that even after so many years you've continued to pick me. now, i'm asking you to pick me one more time. (y/n), my love, my best girl, would you do me the honor of being my... mine? forever?"

the room fell silent as mick finished his improvised speech. the rest of the schumachers had left the room, well, they were peeking in from behind the pillar but had left you two alone for the last part.

the tears were falling freely, your heart was beating quickly and hard in your chest as your hands shook, you gripped the box in your hand, afraid that you'd drop it. you felt a shiver run down your body as you noticed mick's eyes glistening, your lips curled into a small smile as you kneeled in front of mick, leaving the box on the couch next to you as you grabbed mick's face gently in your hands.

"i've-" you started, clearing your throat as your voice came out shaky. "i've said it about a million times by now. you are the most perfect man that i've ever had the pleasure and honor of knowing. and it- it would make me the happiest person in the universe to-" you paused, smiling as more tears fell. "to be with you for the rest of my days. i must've behaved really well in my past life if this is the way i'm being rewarded. because you are the most special person i could've ever dreamed of meeting."

mick placed his hands on your waist, helping you up and sitting you on his knee as you placed your hands around his neck.

"my answer is yes, a million times yes." you breathed as you felt mick let out a breath he'd been holding. "our forever starts today," you said, directing his lips towards yours in a soft embrace.

"after today, nothing will ever come between us, nothing will split us apart," he said, kissing your cheek.

"nothing. except..." you said, hearing quick footsteps coming your way.

"you're getting married!"

"i'm having a sister!"

"my family is now complete,"

your new family helped you both up and pulled you into tight hugs. you smiled through happy tears as they all whispered their best wishes for the both of you in your ear.

the rest of the world and wedding planning could wait until tomorrow.

today, you were going to celebrate.

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just-a-small-obsession · 2 years

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The Flower Shop Owner

Chapter Four

Before I was a flower shop owner I was a writer for Gotham Gazette, it was a column right next to the Sunday word cross. My column was a special take on Gotham philosophy, mostly the vile and depraved that people seemed to turn a blind eye to and not speak about it. I was fired by my boss at the time because of budget cuts and they couldn't afford another writer. With the new mayor being in the same line of business as Victor, I can grasp the chance of writing speeches for him. Of course, I can still offer the services of my flowers for events or meetings.

"Do I call him?" I ask Victor while pacing back and forth in our living room.

"That won't be necessary dear, I'm going to meet with him today so I will just take you with me." I relax my shoulders and grab the folder of my works of writing over the years. The car ride was quieter than usual since my nervousness was consuming every fiber of my being. My left leg started to bounce up and down but settled down once Victor placed his right hand on my knee. "You'll be just fine." The word 'fine' was in the top answer in his vocabulary, 'okay' and 'bummer' was in the running. Nevertheless, it calmed me down.

The confusion I felt once Victor pulled into a mansion driveway came to me. 'Was I not going to the offices?' Looking at victor for an answer, "they're eating before going to the office." Stopping the car and leaving it behind Victor and I walk to the large front door. The mansion felt old, and the walls and collectibles added to the aesthetic. Russian greeted us as we walked through the front entrance. She dressed like your average maid or housekeeper, her face showed no interest in what Victor and I were doing in the house. Victor places his hand on my lower back and guides me to what I'm assuming is the dining room.

The clanking of silverware and glasses reached my ears when entering the room where two men were eating side by side. The two men in question were the mayor and his right-hand man himself, it was a relief to finally meet them in much better circumstances. "Ah, Victor wonderful just the man I wanted to see," cobblepot says looking in our direction, I start to fidget with my pale folder as he looks at me. "Who is this?" Victor put both of his large hands on my shoulder and pushes me forward and much closer to both men. "She would like a job.", " There is no opening at the moment." The man in green attire says. "She wants a writing job, she's very good." Cobblepot has yet to say anything, his partner seemed to drive this conversation. "You write? Do you think you can write speeches for the mayor of Gotham? Do you think you're good enough for it?" A harsh but honest question, I liked that, "I have a few pieces of my writing for you to look at if you would sir" I proceed to hand him my folder. He jesters me to sit in the chair across for him.

"You wrote for Gotham Gazette, I hope you didn't write gossip for them."

"I wrote a small column next to the Sunday crossword."

He continues to scan my work but seems to halt once I said the word 'crossword'. He looks up at me "You wrote the column 'Gotham, A Kingdom of Calamity' I read that column every morning till it wasn't there anymore." He then pulls out the rest of the papers and looks at them over. "Oh yeah, I was let go because they could afford another writer." My awkwardness set in as I fidget with my fingers making them twist and bend. Talking about the flat-out rejection I got from my old job was humiliating, and the memory of the slumming depression that was the aftermath was bittersweet. "Even though you write well miss we just do not need a speechwriter you see the mayor writes them himself." A wave of disappointment crashes into me my shoulders slouch as my head is no longer held high. I hear a throat clearing, presuming that it's Victor, my shop pops into my head and I stand proudly once again. "Then might I interest you in my offer of my being your floral provider, you need one right? For charity events and meetings or whatnot."

"You own a flower shop?" The mayor now enters the conversation at last. "Oh yes, I have for a while now it's downtown."

"You're hired!" Mr. Cobblepot says as he gets up from his chair and makes his way to me holding his hand do me to shake.

"Pardon?" I was flabbergasted, the suddenness confused me greatly.

"You will be a perfect match for our florist." I slowly take his hand and seal the deal for my newly offered job.

The slamming of car doors and squeaking of leather seats fade when we enter our car. "Drop me off at the shop then you can go do what you need to do for work." Buckling my seatbelt and finally relaxing my shoulders from their tense position. " You okay with them keeping that folder?" Leaving that folder with both the mayor and his right-hand man was not planned but was insisted, they say that they would read all of my work. "It shouldn't do too much harm, I have copies of all my work on a flash drive so paper copies are disposable."

Opening the shop in the morning was peaceful, and the atmosphere is different from the mayor's home. I go through the same routine of cleaning, cutting flowers, and arranging them. I smile to myself, I was proud of myself for getting this job. I'm sure Victor is planning some sort of celebration after this job. The blinking of a small red light on my voicemail catches my attention and after pressing the button I hear a man's voice. "Hello this is Mario Falcone and I would like a place an order for roses, I want to be but custom so when you get this miss y/n place call me back thank you goodbye." The voicemail ends, Mario? Falcone's son? I pick up the phone and call him back. On the third ring, the line connects.

"Hello?" "Ah Hello Mario this is y/n you called me about a custom rose order?" "Yeah, I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time." "Of course not I had an out routine that needed to be taken care of, let's talk about those roses." "I'm getting married in a couple of days and we are having a little party we need arrangements." A gasp left my lips, "you're getting married! Congratulations! Oh, mister Falcone must be so proud, now what kind of roses do you want Mario?" "White and soft blush pink" "size?" A chuckle is heard "large you should expect anything less, miss y/n." "Of course, large white and blush roses, and I will place them in a beautiful vase, and Mario how many do I need to make?" "Twenty miss by tomorrow " "Very well Mario I will have those to you as quickly as possible goodbye" Hanging up the phone I get to work and a large order to a Falcone party.

#dc villains x reader #gotham x reader #victor zsasz imagine #victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #edward nygma x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #gotham imagine

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

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Independent Study: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Geto Suguru is a star grad student with a lot going for him. And he wants to add you to that list.

wc: 1.9k

tw: NSFW (oral, unprotected sex, light exhibitionism)

“Professor y/n?” The sound of your name makes you look up from the laptop in front of you and into the black orbs of the graduate student everyone was raving about.

“Mr. Geto,” you call out, and stand from the wooden desk, fingertips grazing the surface carefully. “Please, come in. Close the door.” The man comes into your office, sliding the leather messenger bag off his shoulder and onto the floor before shutting the door, then taking a seat in front of you. “I heard you made the Dean’s List for the third time from Professor Yaga; congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Geto smiles sheepishly at you, ducking his head a little. “I’ve been working on a presentation, and I wanted to come to ask you some questions.” He pulls out his laptop and rests it on his knees, placing his glasses over his eyes as he squints at the screen. You can’t help but notice how studious he appears to be at all times.

The staff had gone wild over the man when he first arrived, not only because of his looks but his fully-funded endowment that brought the university over one-hundred thousand dollars in revenue. Here he was, in your office, despite you being in the physics department, and Geto being an engineering student.

“How can I help you?”

He turns the screen to face you, and you see the tell-tale font of a research paper. “I’m having a hard time with this study. Mind taking a look?” You hold your hands out for the device and take it willingly, sliding it across your desk and reading the title: A Study on Intercourse.

“Interesting,” you muse, but as you continue reading, you realize by the second sentence that the paper is anything but peer-reviewed research-based. Your cheeks heat up as you turn the laptop back around, avoiding his gaze. “Um, Mr. Geto, I’m not sure that this is your research paper.”

“Oh?” He squints at the first couple of sentences, then tilts his head. “No, that looks about right.”

“It’s… um… it looks like the beginnings of a personal account of your dealings with… intercourse.”

“That’s right.” He turns the laptop back to you. “You see, I require a sample size of twenty since I only have two variables in this study. I don’t want to parade around campus having sex with twenty girls. Too many unknowns, right?” You stare at him dumbly, anticipating his next words. “So I thought, why I don’t I just ask the most attractive woman on campus if she’d be willing to have sex with me twenty times? And that’s where you come in, Professor.” Have sex… with… Geto Suguru? The thought makes you feel the heat between your legs, but you fumble for your answer.

“I-in Section Fifteen of the employee handbook, it states that I am not allowed to engage in any relations with students on or off-campus. That--”

“Includes sexual relations, illicit drug use, drinking, or parties of any kind.” Geto finishes.

“How do you--”

“I’m employed to study here, Professor y/n. Did you think that hefty endowment couldn’t buy me some leeway?” You gape at the man, mouth slightly ajar. “Besides, being a scientist in residence is part of the endowment.”

“I--”

“If you want to help me, meet me here tomorrow at 12.” He slides you a sticky note with an address scribbled on it. “Your lunch is an hour and a half, right?”

“Yes…” you breathe and he nods, stuffing his laptop back into his bag before standing.

“Great. Oh, and… bring a change of clothes if you do show up.” Geto unlocks the door and leaves you sitting in your chair, dumbfounded.

_____________________________________________________________

Your finger finds the doorbell of the townhome, and as it rings, you look at your watch.

11:58.

You fiddle with the hem of your blouse as you wait for Geto to answer the door, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t answer and you could go back to work without considering any--

The door swings open, and Geto stands in the doorway, hair falling around his face.The grey shirt he’s wearing matches the joggers, but you dare look no further than the waistline. “Right on time,” he coos, and you enter the abode, looking around at the foyer and dining room. Everything is immaculate, you note, looking up at the crystal chandelier in awe. “Pretty, isn’t it?” You nod, and follow him past the kitchen and into a bedroom that’s twice the size of the one in your apartment. “You want anything? Water, something to eat?” He asks, turning around to face you.

“No, thanks,” you mumble, and he shrugs, shifting papers around on a desk that’s opposite a large bay window. The room is just as clean as the rest of the house: the bed is made, the floor is clean, and a video camera sits on a stand in the corner. “Um, Mr. Geto, I can’t--” Geto follows your line of sight and grunts once.

“I have to record these to gather evidence.” You look over at him, startled, and he holds up a piece of paper with blank spaces on it. “For my dissertation?” The reminder eases your nerves and you slide your purse off of your shoulders, setting it on his dresser. “I need you to sign this.” He walks over to you and hands you the paper with a ballpoint pen.

“What’s this?”

“Just a statement saying you agree to participate in the experiment and be filmed, but I agree to keep these for my viewing pleasure only and it won’t be distributed elsewhere.” You read over the words on the contract and sign below Geto’s name once you’re satisfied. When you finish, he takes the paper back and sits it on his desk before turning on the camera. “Date, ninth of May. Time, twelve o’five. First trial out of twenty.”

“H-how many are we going to do today?” you whisper.

“Just one per day. Though, we can go multiple rounds if you want,” he chuckles, rolling his shirt over his head and revealing his impeccable physique. You’re so focused on the way he looks half-naked that you almost forget why you’re there in the first place. Well, that is until he approaches you with a half-grin on his face. When he cups your chin and tilts your face up, you have no time to prepare for what comes next.

The kiss shared between you two snatches your soul from your body, and you lose all sense of what to do. Sure, you’ve had sex before, but it was always rushed, drunken, and passionless encounters. But the feeling of Geto’s fingers dipping beneath your blouse and to the edge of your pants makes you heady and so…

“I’m going to take my time with you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I want the best results for my research.” You reply by kissing him again, and he finds the zipper to your blouse easily, pulling it down so that you can slide it off without breaking the kiss. When Geto guides you to the bed, you sink back onto the soft sheets, and he leans over you, pulling your hands above your head.

He trails soft kisses down your neck and to your breasts, covered in a lacy pattern you fished out from the bottom of your drawer. You lift up a little so his fingers can fiddle with the clasp, and he undoes that with dexterity and ease, much to your surprise. He flings the item across the room and marvels at the way your body looks beneath him, eyes drifting over your figure with lust.

“I’ve been obsessed with you since my first day,” he admits, and you gasp slightly. “Fuck.” His mouth finds your left breast and tugs at the nipple with his teeth before easing the discomfort with his cool tongue. While he’s giving your chest attention, he’s simultaneously pulling your pants down, exposing your lack of underwear below. Geto notices a moment later, and chuckles again, looking up at you in surprise. “My, my, it looks like we left our underwear at home, huh?” He dips a finger past your folds to see how wet you are and is not met with an unsatisfactory discovery. In response to this, he immediately drops to his knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed. His tongue finds your core and you moan loudly, hoping that the camera would pick up every single sound you utter.

The slurping and hums of appreciation drive you wild, and your hands lace through his hair as he loses himself in eating you out. “Geto…” you breathe, and that drives him to go a little faster, drawing noises out of you that you aren’t used to hearing. He flicks at your clit once, twice, then dives back down to your slit eagerly, attacking your core like someone who hasn’t had a decent meal in ages. When he pulls away, mouth covered in your slick, he licks his lips and raises a brow at you.

“Ready?” You nod in response, and he pulls down his joggers to reveal a raging hard-on. “See? Both of us wore nothing underneath.” You stare at his length, mesmerized by how long and thick and… proportionate it was.

First, Geto was smart, then he’s handsome, and he’s well-endowed? It was virtually impossible, right? He grabs his cock and pumps it a few times, driving the head toward your slit and pressing past your folds with some difficulty.

“Shit,” he mutters, sliding the tip out and trying again. “You haven’t been fucked in a while, have you?”

“Uh-uh,” you respond before hissing at the stretching feeling.

“Fine by me.” He pulls out again to try one more time, and finally, the tip of his cock slides into you fully. He groans and you whimper gently. Geto sinks into you and leans on top to deliver a series of sweet kisses to your mouth as he moves inside of you slowly. “God, this is fucking amazing.”

You clasp an arm around his muscled back, moaning as he rocks his hips back and forth. “G-Geto, please…” Your words encourage him to move a little faster, the sound of your wet pussy slapping against his hips obscene and loud, but you don’t care. All you want is for Geto to fuck you senseless. The bed creaks with his movements, and his hair tickles your face as he watches your expression change from semi-discomfort to enjoyment.

“Mmmm, seems that all you needed was a little bit of stretching out,” he muses, capturing your other breast in his mouth and sucking the skin hard. You cry out, digging your nails into his back, and he hisses, mouth lifting off of your chest. “Shit, y/n.” You buck your hips against him fervently, and Geto’s eyes close as he finds his rhythm again, biting his lower lip.

The way he feels inside of you, stretching you past your limit and yet, caressing your walls with his veiny length - it was all too much. Forget experiments, this was more than that. This was passion.

“Suguru,” you pant. “I… I’m going to cum… I--”

“Cum for me,” Geto whispers in your ear, and you let loose, spasming around his cock while continues to thrust into you. “Mmmm, just like that… Fuck!” Seconds later, he cums as well, grunting as he tosses his head back and drenches your insides with his seed. As you both come down from the feelings of ecstasy, you wind your fingers through his hair and he rests his head in the crook of your neck, sighing contentedly.

“And how many times did you say we’d have to do this?” you wonder, stroking his hair.

“Twenty is the minimum… but I could always use some extra trials… you know, just in case.”

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @leanne-tamashi @jotazinha

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #geto suguru #jjk geto #getou x reader #getou suguru #jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #jjk smut

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2goth2moth · 3 years

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What Kind of Fun do Vampires Have? (M!Vampire x M!Reader, NSFW)

Pretty sure that “willing blood bag for colony of vampires” is my new dream job. This is probably going to turn into a series, let me know if you’d be interested in me uploading versions with an AFAB reader :)

Word Count: 2436

Includes: Blood, biting, consensual aphrodisiac (kind of), coming untouched, mild d/s overtones

Every second that you spent standing in front of the old building was another second you questioned your decision to come at all. It loomed, dark and imposing in the dusk, looking like the kind of place that would take a great deal of joy in eating up a person like you. You had gone looking for the mysterious building because of a rumour and an address handed to you by your friend, a piece of paper slipped into your hand with a wink and a quip about your “taste in lovers”. As if she had any room to judge…

But the rumours were about an entire vampire colony, and you just couldn’t help but be intrigued. Historically, vampires tended to be solitary creatures and actively hunted for their prey (and some still did), but modern colonies were said to actually keep humans in their fold, like employees.

Or pets, your brain supplied.

A shiver went through you. It was impossible to deny that the thought was appealing. Now that you were here, though, you were starting to second-guess yourself, no matter how much the idea of being kept by a vampire colony set your nerve endings buzzing.

“Looking for something, pretty boy?”

A silky voice sent you nearly jumping out of your skin. You whipped around to find its source, heart thumping in your chest. Behind you, a young man dressed in a dark green shirt leaned against a tree. He pushed off the trunk and started making his way towards you, each movement steeped in easy, confident grace.

“H-hello,” you said shakily.

“Hi,” the young man replied, voice tinged with humour. He stopped a pace away from you and smiled, a charming thing made of slightly crinkling eyes and very nicely shaped lips. “Looking for something?”

“Um...yes? I was told...I heard about a vampire colony. They live here?”

The young man’s eyes widened a touch. “Looking for a colony? You don’t look like the type to hunt monsters.”

“I’m not. I’m here for...a different reason.” Your face heated, almost embarrassed by the implication.

The young man raised a well-groomed eyebrow. “‘A different reason’? And what might that be?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you grumbled.

“You don’t?” he asked. He stepped closer to you, so close that you could see each one of his fine, dark eyelashes. His lips split into a grin. Long fangs, pure white and wickedly sharp, snapped down over his teeth. “How about now?”

Your mouth went dry. “Umm…”

The young man-- the vampire-- chuckled quietly and stepped even closer, now almost chest-to-chest, and ran his pointer finger along the neckline of your sweater. You tried to look anywhere except for those gorgeous fangs in that very nice mouth, focusing instead on the small golden buttons on his shirt. They contrasted nicely with the bottle green fabric, and the first two were undone, exposing the very top of his chest. You absently thought that it was a good place to focus.

“My name is Sana, pretty boy.” His voice snapped you back to attention. “Are you going to stand out here all day, or do you want to come inside?”

“Come-- can I come in?”

He smirked at you. With practiced ease he hooked his finger into your collar and led you into the imposing building. He walked you through the doors, and into a room with a plush couch. He rounded on you, stepping close again. You swore you could feel his chest brushing up against yours through your clothes.

“Now, what’s this ‘different reason’ you’re looking for vampires?” He asked, voice saccharine-sweet and dripping with innocence. “You said you weren’t a hunter, but I can’t possibly think of why you would come looking for a colony.”

It couldn’t be more obvious that he was teasing you, that he wanted to make you spell out why you were there.

You pushed through the embarrassment of having to explain. “I, um...my friend told me about this...your colony. And I know the rumours about how…”

“How we keep human members?”

The way he cut you off in such a matter-of-fact way made you snap your mouth shut.

“Uh, yes?” You stammered, feeling your face heat up. “And I wanted...well, I was wondering if you needed a new...human.”

A little overwhelmed by having to admit it out loud, your eyes dropped away from Sana’s and back to the inches of skin exposed by his open buttons. It was still a very good place to look. A hand, shockingly cold in the already cool room, gently grasped your chin and tilted it up, forcing your eyes to meet his again.

His thumb rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “And you wanted to…’apply for the position’?”

You nodded.

Sana smiled sweetly, and turned your head back and forth with that same tender grip, looking at you with an appraising gaze. He made a quiet noise of approval. “I know that I wouldn’t be opposed to having a pretty little thing like you around the house, and I’d be shocked if anyone else would complain about it.”

A whimper threatened to escape from your mouth at that.

“But I’m the only one here right now. And it’s very rude to take on a human without the whole colony wanting them.”

Your heart dropped. “O-oh. Okay, I can leave then. Sorry to intrude…”

“Hey.” The hold on your chin tightened. “Who said anything about you leaving?” Sana stepped towards you, making you back up until the back of your knees hit the beautiful couch you had noticed earlier. His hands, firm and steady against you, guided you to sit down. He settled down next to you. “I can’t decide that you’re our human all by myself, but there’s no rules about us having a little fun while we wait for everyone to get back.”

He let himself drift closer to you, and you could feel his cold presence raise goosebumps on your skin.

“What kind of ''fun”?” You asked.

“I’m a vampire. What kind do you think?”

Those beautiful fangs flashed across your mind again. “If you want to bite me...I’d like that too.” The awkward wording sent embarrassment through you, and you dropped your gaze again.

Sana laughed, the sound clear and sweet. “I’m glad that you’d like it too.” He shifted even closer, and his voice dipped sharply, suddenly low and sultry. “Because it’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

His cold breath fanned out over your neck. You groaned under your breath, lifting your chin to expose more of the warm skin for the vampire to nose up against. The tip of a tongue flickered over your jugular. The trail of saliva tingled slightly, sending sparks into your fingertips. A thought crossed your mind. “Sana?” A quiet hum into your neck was his only response. “Is your spit an aphrodisiac?”

He pulled back from you, a thumb replacing the tongue rubbing over the side of your throat. “Kind of,” he said. “It numbs down pain and heightens pleasure, but it doesn’t mess with your head. And it doesn’t absorb through skin.” A slow drag of the pad of his thumb sent a shiver rippling down your spine. “Do you still want this?”

There was no question in your mind. “Absolutely.”

A soft kiss was pressed to the column of your throat before those fangs sunk deep into your neck. Even though you had been prepared for it, the sudden pain of it made you gasp. It lanced through you sharply before slowly melting into a gentle warmth. The feeling was comforting as it thrummed through your veins. You couldn’t help but sigh and lean closer to Sana. He worked his fangs a little deeper, and sucked lightly.

“Ahh.”

The moan slipped out of your mouth unbidden. The barely-there suction felt unbelievably good, and you pushed even closer to Sana. He smirked against your skin. His hand-- skin still cold to the touch-- came up to cradle your face, tugging your head backwards to expose even more of your neck. The touch made you moan again, and you could feel your cock start to harden, pleasure coiling deep in your stomach. The grip on your throat loosened and his fangs slid out of you. Something warm and wet-- probably blood, maybe spit-- dripped down before Sana’s tongue darted out to lick it up. The flicker and drag of the tongue against your skin pulled more quiet sounds of pleasure out of you. The hand not occupied with holding your head in place crept down to grasp at your hip. The chill seeped through your clothing, and the pressure made your hips buck involuntarily. A dull throb settled in around the still-bleeding bite.

“Are you okay, darling?” Sana crooned to you.

That sinful tongue ran over the shell of your ear before his mouth lowered to suck lightly on the wound again.

“It just feels so good.” Your chest was starting to heave with heavy breaths. Every touch on your skin felt electric, like a livewire connected to each of your nerves.

“I told you it would.”

The hand that was holding onto your head tightened suddenly and pushed you to the other side. He licked his bloodstained lips before lowering his mouth to the unmarked side of your neck. Lips, warmed to room temperature by your skin, just barely ghosted over you, raising goosebumps in their wake and sending more heat pooling in your gut.

Your moans were breathy and muffled as you bit down hard on your lip, trying to be as quiet as possible. “I didn’t know it was going to be like this."

“Is it too much?” Sana asked, pulling away a little bit. The loss of contact made you whine and arch towards him.

“N-no,” you groaned, “I just don't think I’m going to...last much longer.”

The hand that had been gripping your hip trailed up to slip under the hem of your shirt. His fingers stroked teasing circles into your abdomen, tightening the pleasurable coil in your belly. “I didn’t expect you to.”

You didn’t have time to react before he once again sunk his teeth into your undamaged flesh, lovely mouth finding its place right where your neck met your shoulder. The pain was almost nonexistent, just sharp, deep-seated, irresistible pleasure. Sana’s soft lips suckled on your skin with hellish gentleness, pulling blood from the wound around his fangs. Your hips bucked up again, thrusting into nothing, trying desperately to get some friction against your cock. He unclamped his jaw from your shoulder, fangs slipping free. Warm blood flowed down from the bite, catching briefly at the base of your throat before sliding further down and touching your shirt. A delicate, cool finger hooked into your collar and pulled it down before it could get more stained. His tongue chased the blood back to its source, lapping it up with intoxicating deftness. Each stroke left a trail of chilled spit over your skin, cooling even further in the air of the room. Choked-out noises of ecstasy fell from your lips with every slick drag. You wriggled about, trying to twist far enough to get Sana’s leg between yours, so riled up that you would happily hump yourself to completion on the thigh of a vampire you just met. It was a hopeless pursuit, his hand returning to your hip to keep you pinned to the couch with superhuman strength. His thumb stroked the crease between your hip and thigh as his mouth went back to sucking on your neck.

“Please…” you began begging. Your hips were stuttering up into the air and your gut tightened even more.

Sana’s lips disconnected from your throat. He kissed the wound and then the soft skin behind your ear. You were practically drooling at this point, your hips twitching constantly into the air. All of the feelings were getting so overwhelming that you felt the slightest push in any direction would make you completely unravel. The hand that still pulled your head back tightened, fingertips digging into your skin. The one at your hip began stroking the area through your clothes, straying up under your shirt, drawing torturous loops over the side of your stomach. His mouth landed over his bite once more and he sucked hard on your neck. You could feel the moment when that lovely tongue flicked out of his mouth and swirled over your heated skin.

The coil snapped.

You arched violently off of the couch as you climaxed with a broken, sobbing cry. Waves of impossible pleasure washed over you as you came in your pants, completely and utterly untouched. The world went fuzzy around you, warmth and ecstasy still coursing through your veins. All you could feel was the world around you melting into a syrupy haze in the aftermath of such an intense orgasm.

Something icy-cold touched your lips, and a sweet and tangy liquid was poured into your mouth. Orange juice. You noticed a hand cradling your head, and a gentle voice speaking quietly.

“Drink this, darling. You just lost a lot of fluid.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and saw Sana sitting next to you, holding a bottle of juice to your lips. The corners of his mouth were stained red with your blood, and his skin had taken on a warm, flushed appearance that you hadn’t even noticed it was lacking.

“How was that, sweetheart?” He asked with a voice drenched in fondness.

Taking the bottle from him, you took a few more gulps, steadily feeling much less wrung-out, though the wonderful afterglow remained. “Mmmm, it was amazing.”

Soft fingertips smoothed over the bite marks on your neck. “Are you in any pain right now?”

“None. It still feels so good.”

He chuckled, moving forward to kiss your cheek. “It will for a bit longer. They’ll heal fast, probably by tomorrow, but you’ll feel pretty achy and bruised in a few hours. I won’t need to feed for a week at least, but you shouldn’t let anyone else feed from you until the bites are healed.” He absentmindedly rubbed a finger along your earlobe. “That is assuming that you’re still interested in staying to meet the rest of the colony?”

Draining the orange juice, you put the bottle down on the floor and leaned into his touch. “Of course I am.” The statement was simple and to the point, disarming in its honesty.

The smile he gave you was pink at the edges and could have outshone the sun.

#exophilia #terato #monster lover #monster fucker #tw blood #tw aphrodisiacs #enthusiastic consent #monster x human #vampire boyfriend #smut #nsft #minors do not interact #terfs dont fucking touch #bigots dni

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magalidragon · 2 years

Note

For jonery's prompt, #2

Hello! Thank y ou so much for the ask/prompt! I chose anger management for this one, because it seemed to fit perfectly with those fighting beans. Enjoy!

2. Things you said through your teeth

He’s going to divorce me.

There was no way around it. How else could they survive together after this latest debacle?

Dany paced back and forth, her hands pressed into the small of her back, her belly jutting out. She groaned, pressing into her SI joint, noting that she’d have to get a massage again. Unless Baby A could kindly get off her nerves. Baby B had taken to punching her incessantly, taking after his father no doubt. She dropped her head backwards, closing her eyes and mumbled. “To any gods who may hear me, it was a total accident, don’t let him divorce me.”

“Nuh gunnah forsh you.”

She whipped around, her belly knocking against a stack of law books on the edge of the desk, sending them falling to the floor. “Jon!” she exclaimed, rushing towards him and throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh gods! Let me see!”

He turned his face slightly, so she could inspect the massive bruising and swelling in his jaw. He arched his brows, smirking pointedly around the gauze and cotton stuffed into his mouth. “Can’t talk,” he ground, his jaw almost sealed shut from the swelling.

“It’s all my fault!” she wailed. “I’m so sorry!”

He shook his head and winced, lifting the disposable ice pack in his hand back up to the purple mess that was his jaw. “Shit down,” he mumbled. He winced again. “Ugh.”

She guided him to the couch. His white dress shirt had specks of blood on it and she was starting to notice the bruising forming under his eyes, his nose also swollen. She lifted his wrist to her lips and kissed the script ‘Love’ tattoo, squeezing his hand tight in hers. “They wouldn’t take me to the hospital, apparently I was being…” She made a face. “Unhelpful.”

Instead of smiling, he grimaced. “Ish okay.”

For the next fifteen minutes, she fussed about him, getting new ice packs, helping him change out of his ruined shirt, dabbing at dried blood on his face and babbling about how the bailiffs had taken Drogo away, the police had appeared to question everyone as to what exactly happened, and did they talk to him at the hospital? Which he nodded, yes they did. She couldn’t believe this had even happened. Her bloody fucking stupid ex-husband, showing up out of the blue, of course fucking Viserys had tried to wheedle money out of him to the firm.

He had always had anger issues and when he’d spotted her, pregnant, walking down the corridor with Jon, he’d gotten into a rage at her, demanding to know why she’d left him, who the fuck had knocked her up, and she thought she had things under control, sending Jon to his courtroom while she kicked Drogo away.

If only she’d remembered how long he could wait before he struck.

She’d been in a heated argument with Tyrion over a plea arrangement when she got the news. Jon and Drogo, in a major fight, in his courtroom. Jon had held his own, but despite felling Drogo long enough for him to be arrested, he’d also suffered a dislocated jaw.

“Will it need to be wired?”

He shrugged and handed her a sheaf of papers from the hospital, which she barely glanced at before stuffing aside, leaning closer against him. She would help him upstairs to bed soon, but right now she wanted to reassure herself he was alright. “Luff you.”

She sniffed again. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea how truly horrid he’d become.”

“He luffs you.”

“What a bloody awful way to show it! Attacking my husband and breaking his bloody jaw! I hope they send him to jail and I never have to see his face again.”

Jon smiled, a horrible thing she thought momentarily, with all bandages around his jaw and his face a painting of bruises. “Awayz fought you would do it.”

As did she. “If anyone should break your jaw, Your Honor, it should be me. Your recent judgments have been far too harsh of late against nonviolent offenders.” He rolled his eyes. They both knew that was bullshit. She smiled and leaned in, kissing his cheek, mindful of the pain he was feeling. He winced again. She patted his chest. “Come love, let’s get you upstairs. Oh!”

When she’d pressed against him, both babies had begun attacking in earnest, strong enough for him to feel it against his belly and he laughed through his clenched teeth. “They luff me,” he sighed.

She brought his hand to her belly, to keep feeling the angry little twins, and she rested her head against his shoulder. “I love you Jon.”

“I luff you too Dahny.”

“When your jaw heals and these babies are born, we are going to spar. I find you will not face such an easy competition as with big lumbering Drogo.”

“And haff you break my other jaw? No fanks.” He hugged her tight. “Only fing that mayks thish worsh ish I can’t really kissh you.”

She leaned in and very gently pressed a kiss to his cracked lips. “No matter,” she sighed. “Because I can kiss you.”

Things You Said Prompts

#jonerys #my fics #Jonerys au #things you said prompts #this one is really stupid and silly but it's all I could think of when I saw the prompt lol

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Text

Elllow! Today’s bookcomb consists of Peeta being protective of Katniss. Could have been much more implied moments but here’s some explicit ones 🤗

But it’s too late to run. I pull a slimy arrow from the sheath and try to position it on the bowstring but instead of one string I see three and the stench from the stings is so repulsive I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it.

I’m helpless as the first hunter crashes through the trees, spear lifted, poised to throw. The shock on Peeta’s face makes no sense to me. I wait for the blow. Instead his arm drops to his side.

“What are you still doing here?” he hisses at me. I stare uncomprehendingly as a trickle of water drips off a sting under his ear. His whole body starts sparkling as if he’s been dipped in dew. “Are you mad?” He’s prodding me with the shaft of the spear now. “Get up! Get up!” I rise, but he’s still pushing at me. What? What is going on? He shoves me away from him hard. “Run!” he screams. “Run!”

I trip and fall into a small pit lined with tiny orange bubbles that hum like the tracker jacker nest. Tucking my knees up to my chin, I wait for death.

Sick and disoriented, I’m able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.

I jump as Peeta grips my shoulder from behind. “No,” he says. “You’re not risking your life for me.”

“Who said I was?” I say.

“So, you’re not going?” he asks.

“Of course, I’m not going. Give me some credit.”

Anger flushes my face. “All right, I am going, and you can’t stop me!”

“I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I’m yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I’ll be dead for sure,” he says.

“You won’t get a hundred yards from here on that leg,” I say.

“Then I’ll drag myself,” says Peeta. “You go and I’m going, too.”

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building.

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence.

“What?” I say, trying to force my way back up.

“Go home, Katniss! I’ll be there in a minute, I swear!” he says.

“He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man.

“He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.”

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.”

“I’ll go with you,” he says.

“No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him.

“And avoiding a stroll by the Hob . . . that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. Together we wind through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building.

“Peeta’s argument is that since I chose you, I now owe him. Anything he wants. And what he wants is the chance to go in again to protect you,” says Haymitch.

I knew it. In this way, Peeta’s not hard to predict. While I was wallowing around on the floor of that cellar, thinking only of myself, he was here, thinking only of me. Shame isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel.

“You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know,” Haymitch says.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say brusquely. “No question, he’s the superior one in this trio. So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Haymitch sighs. “Go back in with you maybe, if I can. If my name’s drawn at the reaping, it won’t matter. He’ll just volunteer to take my place.”

The reaping takes only a minute. Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls’ reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. Then she catches Haymitch’s name. He barely has time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.

“And I’m not saying I’m not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I’m perfectly honest about it. . .”

“If you’re perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway,” I say.

“It’s crossed my mind,” says Peeta.

I check over my weapons, which I know are in perfect condition, because it makes me seem more in control. “I’ll take the lead,” I announce.

Peeta starts to object but Finnick cuts him off. “No, let her do it.”

No one’s thrilled with the idea of me going off alone, but the threat of dehydration hangs over us.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far,” I promise Peeta.

“I’ll go, too,” he says.

“No, I’m going to do some hunting if I can,” I tell him. I don’t add, “And you can’t come because you’re too loud.” But it’s implied. He would both scare off prey and endanger me with his heavy tread. “I won’t be long.”

Nothing. I find nothing. Not so much as a dewdrop. Eventually, because I know Peeta will be worried about me, I head back to the camp, hotter and more frustrated than ever.

I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently.

While Johanna collects water and my arrows, Beetee fiddles with his wire, and Finnick takes to the water. I need to clean up, too, but I stay in Peeta’s arms, still too shaken to move.

This is when Beetee reveals the rest of the plan. Since we move most swiftly through the trees, he wants Johanna and me to take the coil down through the jungle, unwinding the wire as we go. We are to lay it across the twelve o’clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever is left, deep into the water, making sure it sinks. Then run for the jungle. If we go now, right now, we should make it to safety.

“I want to go with them as a guard,” Peeta says immediately. After the moment with the pearl, I know he’s less willing than ever to let me out of his sight.

I’m so light-headed I’ll black out in a matter of minutes. I’ve got to get away from this tree and —

“Katniss!” I hear his voice though he’s a far distance away. But what is he doing? Peeta must have figured out that everyone is hunting us by now. “Katniss!”

Caesar leans in to him a little. “I think it was clear to all of us what your plan was. To sacrifice yourself in the arena so that Katniss Everdeen and your child could survive.”

“That was it. Clear and simple.” Peeta’s fingers trace the upholstered pattern on the arm of the chair.

A hush has fallen over the room, and I can feel it spreading across Panem. A nation leaning in toward its screens. Because no one has ever talked about what it’s really like in the arena before.

Peeta goes on. “So you hold on to your wish. And that last night, yes, my wish was to save Katniss.”

“When that wire was cut, everything just went insane. I can only remember bits and pieces. Trying to find her. Watching Brutus kill Chaff. Killing Brutus myself. I know she was calling my name. Then the lightning bolt hit the tree, and the force field around the arena . . . blew out.”

“Katniss blew it out, Peeta,” says Caesar. “You’ve seen the footage.”

“She didn’t know what she was doing. None of us could follow Beetee’s plan. You can see her trying to figure out what to do with that wire,” Peeta snaps back.

Peeta’s on his feet, leaning in to Caesar’s face, hands locked on the arms of his interviewer’s chair. “Really? And was it part of her plan for Johanna to nearly kill her? For that electric shock to paralyze her? To trigger the bombing?” He’s yelling now. “She didn’t know, Caesar! Neither of us knew anything except that we were trying to keep each other alive!”

Caesar places his hand on Peeta’s chest in a gesture that’s both self-protective and conciliatory. “Okay, Peeta, I believe you.”

Gale’s expression darkens. “Peeta might have done a lot of damage tonight. Most of the rebels will dismiss what he said immediately, of course. But there are districts where the resistance is shakier. The cease-fire’s clearly President Snow’s idea. But it seems so reasonable coming out of Peeta’s mouth.”

I’m afraid of Gale’s answer, but I ask anyway. “Why do you think he said it?”

“He might have been tortured. Or persuaded. My guess is he made some kind of deal to protect you. He’d put forth the idea of the cease-fire if Snow let him present you as a confused pregnant girl who had no idea what was going on when she was taken prisoner by the rebels. This way, if the districts lose, there’s still a chance of leniency for you. If you play it right.” I must still look perplexed because Gale delivers the next line very slowly. “Katniss . . . he’s still trying to keep you alive.”

To keep me alive? And then I understand. The Games are still on. We have left the arena, but since Peeta and I weren’t killed, his last wish to preserve my life still stands. His idea is to have me lie low, remain safe and imprisoned, while the war plays out. Then neither side will really have cause to kill me. And Peeta? If the rebels win, it will be disastrous for him. If the Capitol wins, who knows? Maybe we’ll both be allowed to live — if I play it right — to watch the Games go on. . . .

Caesar and Peeta have a few empty exchanges before Caesar asks him about rumors that I’m taping propos for the districts.

“They’re using her, obviously,” says Peeta. “To whip up the rebels. I doubt she even really knows what’s going on in the war. What’s at stake.”

He asks Peeta if, given tonight’s demonstration, he has any parting thoughts for Katniss Everdeen.

At the mention of my name, Peeta’s face contorts in effort. “Katniss . . . how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you . . . in Thirteen . . .” He inhales sharply, as if fighting for air; his eyes look insane. “Dead by morning!”

“Katniss!” He whips his head toward me but doesn’t seem to notice my bow, the waiting arrow. “Katniss! Get out of here!”

I hesitate. His voice is alarmed, but not insane. “Why? What’s making that sound?”

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you,” says Peeta. “Run! Get out! Go!”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #thgagain #Peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #bookcomb ♥️🔎

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spacestationdaedalus · 3 years

Text

when my demons won’t let me be

or: not in his right state of mind, Jon accidentally compels Martin. It’s not okay, but it’s okay.

or or: i spend so much time reading sick fic and i finally wrote one of my own angst and plenty of hurt/comfort, warnings for canon-typical compulsion and descriptions of panic and disassociation

Martin wakes to a shifting of weight and a cut off breath. It's a hazy half-awareness, coming to him under a snowdrift, on a radio station drowning in dull static.

In a well-practiced motion, Martin extends an arm over the covers to rest on Jon's chest. He doesn't let the full weight fall, not yet. Enough for Jon to know he's there, a touch light enough that Jon can readily push away or lean into. It depends on the particular brand of nightmare, the terror that's chosen to follow him to sleep. Sometimes he sets Martin's arm aside with a gentle squeeze, sitting up against the headboard and taking comfort in the cool bedroom air and the sound of Martin's breathing. At least, in Jon's own words. Other times, he holds Martin's arm to his chest, taking comfort in the weight and warmth of it.

Neither of those things happen, though.

Jon rolls sharply, seemingly ignoring Martin's arm in favor of the other side of the bed. He curls around himself with a low whine, harshly cut off in the back of his throat.

"J'n?" Martin props himself up on one arm. Voice rough with sleep, but no less concerned.

Jon shifts, a back and forth movement that looks like it could be the shaking of his head. His shoulders are taut and trembling. He makes another sound that could be the beginning of a shout, and it brings Martin to full awareness. He moves his hands to Jon's shoulder before he has time to think, desperate to help, to comfort, to something.

"Jon, it's alright-"

“Don’t touch me!” Jon bursts out, dripping and full of static and oh oh oh. It cascades over Martin’s mind, oily and slick. His hands pull away like they've been burned, but numb and far off. As though belonging to a stranger.

He shifts away from Jon and off of the bed, limbs moving robotically to pull back the covers, to move him away until his back meets the bedroom wall. Martin's hands are raised halfway, frozen in a caricature of comfort. A puppet on strings. He wants to move, shout, anything. But the gaze of eyes he can’t see bears down on him, an insurmountable weight holding him in place. Like a butterfly pinned inside a glass display case.

Jon is sitting up, now. Eyes (eyes, eyes, he's all eyes) blown wide, bright and glassy even in the low light of the room. His breathing is ragged and uneven in obvious panic. Even with his hands clenched tight in the front of his nightshirt, Martin can see they’re trembling. Martin’s heart aches and he wants to help but he can’t move and Jon’s eyes are still on him and he can’t breathe and it hurts. And he's afraid. He can hear his pulse pounding in his ears, the eyes are still watching him and it feels so much like burning paper and righteous anger and Elias's face and everything Martin had been trying to forget.

Jon brings up a hand to cover his mouth. Horror and panic clear in his eyes, which Martin knows are reflected in his own. Then Jon backs away, clearly unsteady on shaking legs. Martin's vision starts to blur (when was the last time he blinked?) but he hears Jon's steps fade into the hall. And Martin can do nothing.

The back of Martin's mind still using logic was hoping the feeling would fade once Jon wasn't looking at him. Unfortunately, Martin is used to being proven wrong. Face blank, body rigid, mind screaming.

Autonomy comes back to him slowly, a tingling in his fingertips that trickles down his arms and leaves an awful shakiness in its wake. Nerves making up for lost time, maybe. Trying to catch up with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. A grip Martin wasn't aware of begins to loosen from around his ribcage, and his first real breath in ages is a shuddering gasp. The force of it combined with the jelly replacing his knees sends him sliding to the floor, using the wall for support.

Martin breathes. In. Out. The first breath is molten in his lungs. His eyes water against it, and the second one is even worse. The third leaves as a sob that echoes back at him. In one last betrayal of his body against him, the tears spill over to drip down his cheeks. Martin rests his forehead against his knees and wills himself not to fall apart.

The Lonely was easy, in that regard. For months, Martin didn't have to worry about this kind of thing - the fear and anger and gaping misery that had been following them for so long. But evidently suppressing your trauma with more trauma wasn't a healthy coping mechanism. Go figure.

Leaving the Lonely was hard. Martin had spent most of the first 48 hours oscillating wildly between numb detachment and emotion so overwhelming he thought he would drown in it. Jon helped. He was patient, gentle, all the things Martin thought were too good to be true.

Martin forces himself up as soon as he's able. Maybe sooner, given the way the room sways when he stands. But it passes after a moment, and Martin goes to find Jon.

The house is dark. The occasional creak from the pipes and floors could be off-putting, but compared to everything else, it's benign. He uses fingers brushed against the wall to guide him down the short hallway.

"Jon?" He calls. The floor creaks in response.

Martin reaches the threshold between the hall and the kitchen. The haze of the moon behind thin clouds bleeds through the window above the sink, providing just enough light to see. Martin catches a shadow out of the corner of his eye, but it isn't actually a shadow, and Martin lets himself feel a hint of temporary relief.

Jon is tucked in the corner between two cabinets. Head buried against his bent knees, hands gripping into his hair in a position that mirrors Martin's from mere moments ago. Martin's heart leaps into his throat.

"Oh, Jon." Martin kneels in front of him, slow as to not startle him. If Jon notices, he makes no sign of it.

"Jon?" Martin reaches, but stops halfway. He doesn't want a repeat of before. His palm itches, but he keeps it airborne. Until he knows it's okay.

Jon makes a sound in the back of his throat, one that Martin hasn't heard before. His next inhale is strained and wet and - oh.

Martin had never seen Jon cry before. Angry, upset, shaken, sure. But not this. It twists something awful and thorny in his chest. Martin wants to hug him, but he keeps the few inches between them.

"Don't-" Jon starts suddenly, and for an awful moment the hairs on the back of Martin's neck stand up on end. But Jon cuts himself off with a keening noise, and curls further into himself. His shoulders are trembling, either from holding back sobs or the biting chill of the poorly-insulated kitchen floor, Martin can't be sure. Probably both.

"I-I'm sorry-" Jon stutters, sounding like each word is a fight to get out. "I-I-I don't - I don't know…"

"Just breathe, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head against his legs. "N-no, you need to-" A sob cuts him off.

"Need to what, love?" The term of endearment slips out naturally on Martin's tongue. If Jon notices, he doesn't say so.

"Leave." The last word crackles slightly in the air, like static electricity threatening a shock. Martin freezes. The compulsion threatens to overtake him, but it's weaker than before. It rings in his skull, and Martin fights it back until it fades to background noise.

Jon whispers, barely audible. "I can't - I can't control it."

Oh.

"Alright, alright…" Martin bites his lip for a moment. Nods to himself.

"Okay, let's just - I'll ask you yes or no questions for now. You can, ah - just nod for yes and shake your head for no. Is that alright?"

Jon's face is still hidden, but that's alright. After a moment, he nods enough for Martin to discern the movement.

"G-good, okay-" Martin pauses, not immediately sure what question to go with first.

"Did you have a nightmare, earlier? Is that what scared you?" Martin silently chides himself for asking two questions, but hopefully it won't matter.

Jon nods.

"Has this happened before? The, uh-" Martin makes a hand motion, but Jon can't see it. "Th-the 'not being able to control the compulsion,' thing?"

There's a pause, then Jon shakes his head. Martin frowns.

"Alright, that's alright. Do you think you can look at me?"

Another pause, longer. Martin doesn't press as the seconds pass. Then Jon slowly raises his head.

Jon's eyes are wide, rimmed with red and dark circles more pronounced than they had been in the last few days. Tears are steadily dripping down his cheeks, flushed dark against his complexion. His lips are pressed tightly together, and Martin can see the barely contained panic mingled with exhaustion in every line of his face.

"Hey." Martin greets, feeling like a small victory. Jon quickly casts his gaze down and to the side, not meeting Martin's eyes. He also moves his hands to wrap around his torso, shivering harshly against the cabinets. Martin frowns again. He racks his brain for the seemingly mundane moments from the previous day. Jon talking less as the day had gone on, his less-than-already-finnicky appetite, going to bed early because he said he was a bit tired. Nothing individually out of the ordinary, not after the hell they'd dragged themselves through just to get here. But-

"Jon, is it alright if I touch you?"

Jon nods almost immediately, but still avoids Martin's eyes. Encouraged, Martin moves carefully to press the back of his hand against Jon's cheek. It's warm - hot, even - to the touch. Martin checks his forehead for good measure, feeling the heat before their skin actually makes contact. Martin's winces in sympathy, moving his hand back to Jon's cheek. He uses both hands, for good measure, to cup Jon's face, and wipe the stray tears still dripping from his lashes.

"Oh, love. You're burning up." Martin says, gently. "That must have something to do with it."

Jon's brow furrows. He brings his own hand up to his face, seemingly to try and feel his own temperature. Martin can't help the quiet laugh.

"First let's get off the floor. 's not exactly comfortable, yeah?" Martin offers.

Jon doesn't react, eyes locked in a middle distance between the two of them. But then all at once his expression breaks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Martin's heart leaps into his throat. "Oh, hey, hey-"

Jon's words are muffled by his hands, and broken up by harsh, jagged sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-I didn't-"

Martin moves forward slightly so he can wrap his arms around Jon. He can feel the shivers wracking Jon's frame, and the heat radiating off of him in waves. Martin tucks Jon's head under his chin, and holds him.

"Hey, it's okay." And it's not a lie. Martin was scared - terrified, to put it lightly. He knows he can't just brush that fear away. But he's not scared of Jon, never has been, never will be. And Martin know Jon, knows him and loves him and knows that he loves him back. Martin thinks that this might be more complicated than that, but right now, with Jon coming apart on the kitchen floor, it feels that simple.

"I know you didn't mean to, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head weakly in protest. Martin can't make out his exact words, jumbled as they are. But he feels the intent behind them, with the way they reverberate in his chest.

"We can talk about it later, when you're feeling better. But I'm not mad, I promise." Martin runs a hand through Jon's hair. It might have been a braid when Jon first went to bed, but it's mostly undone now. "Right now, I'm just worried about you. That's a nasty fever you're running."

They stay like that for a few minutes more. Jon's form is still a trembling leaf in Martin's arms, shallow and uneven breaths punctured by the occasional apology and stifled cry. Jon's forehead is pressed into his neck, burning like a furnace against Martin's skin.

Martin almost asks Jon if he can walk, but instead-

"Jon, is it alright if I pick you up?"

Jon tenses, and Martin immediately regrets asking. But then Jon nods affirmative, relaxing slightly into Martin's hold. Oh thank god.

Jon fits easily into the bends of Martin's arms, one at his back and one under his knees. Jon's hands clench the front of Martin's shirt, tightening and loosening in an uneven rhythm as Martin stands. It's easy for Martin to carry him the short distance to the bedroom, mindful of the narrow door frames.

The quilt and sheets are pulled back from before, which is helpful now. Martin eases Jon onto the bed. He brushes Jon's hair away from his face in what Martin hopes is a comforting gesture. But Jon still has that faraway, panicky look in his eyes, and Martin has an idea.

"Don't move, alright? I'll be right back, I promise." Martin presses a kiss to Jon's forehead, hoping he heard and understood enough of that to not mind when he leaves the room.

Martin comes back with a damp cloth and a glass of water. And a bottle of pain reliever - one that Martin had originally picked up from the store as an afterthought, but is grateful for now. He sets the glass and bottle on the nightstand and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. Next to Jon, who hasn't so much as shifted in Martin's admittedly brief absence. Martin lays a hand on Jon's shoulder, but after a moment, moves to Jon's cheek. An olive branch to Jon's clouded awareness.

"Alright, love. I'm gonna lay this on the back of your neck, okay? Can you lean forward a touch for me?"

Jon doesn't move or otherwise react for a moment, and Martin is almost sure he didn't hear it. But then he pitches forward slightly, and Martin shifts so he can support Jon's weight against his shoulder. He brushes Jon's loose curls to the side, letting his fingers linger there for good measure.

"It's gonna feel really cold, but it'll help. Easy," Martin murmurs, placing the folded cloth on the back of Jon's neck. Jon flinches at the touch, hissing between a groan and a whimper.

"I know, I know." Martin soothes easily, adding other words of comfort here and there, lost to his memory as soon as they cross his lips. He holds Jon close, taking the chance to comb his fingers again through Jon's bed-moussed hair. He knows Jon likes having his hair played with, so Martin ever so gently works his way through some of the tangles, careful never to pull too hard or too fast. Jon's breaths slow and deepen - still marred by the occasional hitch, but a vast improvement from before. He gradually sinks more of his weight onto Martin's shoulder, until Martin is sure he's the only reason Jon is still upright. But Martin doesn't mind.

"Better?" Martin asks, when Jon's trembling passes and his breaths sound less like someone on the verge of drowning. Jon clears his throat.

"I- yes." He rasps, hardly a whisper. The word pulls a cough out of him, but he keeps going. "Th- thank you."

"Of course." Martin says. He all but beams at the sound of Jon's voice, wretched as it sounds. He considers making tea, but something about the bonelessness of Jon's posture tells him Jon won't be awake long enough to see a cup finished. But he does grab the glass of water from the nightstand, and shifts so Jon can take it in both hands.

"Drink some of that for me." Martin presses, and Jon doesn't argue. Martin reaches for the pain reliever next, shaking two pills out and handing them to Jon. He seems surprised at first, but quietly offers a thank you as he takes them from Martin's hand.

"How are you feeling?" Martin asks. It feels like a stupid question, but one of those stupid questions that you just have to ask in lieu of anything else.

"I'm-" Martin knows Jon is about to say I'm alright and something in his face must stop Jon from finishing, because he cuts himself off with a sigh. He presses the heel of his palm into his eye, suppressing a wince. "To - to be honest, uh, quite terrible."

The frankness of it could almost be funny, but Martin's heart aches instead. "I'm sorry. The medicine should help, at least."

Even without his glasses, Martin can make out the two in the hour place of the digital clock on the nightstand, and yeah, it's time for bed.

"And some proper sleep."

Jon nods, eyelids heavy. Martin takes the half-empty glass from his hand, and encourages Jon to lie back with a gentle push. Martin joins him on the other side of the bed, pulling the covers back over the two of them. He leans, partially sitting up against the headboard, inviting Jon into the place at his side if he wants it.

Jon fills the space immediately, burrowing his face into Martin's shoulder. Arms curled in front of him, pressed into Martin's side. He sighs softly. Martin watches the last of the tension bleed out of Jon's face, eyes closed. Jon's fever leaves Martin's side overly warm in minutes, but Martin can't bring himself to mind.

He's sure Jon is already asleep, but-

"M-rtin?"

"What is it, Jon? Do you need something?"

Jon makes a negative sound into Martin's shoulder, shaking his head. It's quiet for a moment, save for their breathing.

"I love you."

Martin freezes, and the response comes as naturally as an inhale after an exhale.

"I love you too."

#the magnus archives #tma #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #jonmartin #tma fics #my writing #i have not proofread this but i'm also proud of it pls forgive me

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lalaangeldust · 3 years

Text

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜

[ 𝚜𝚏𝚠 // 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 ] [ 𝟽𝚔+ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 ]

[ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ] : ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ʏᴇᴀʀ, 3-ᴀ // ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ // ᴀɢɢʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ // ꜱᴇʀᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʏꜱ ᴅʀɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʜɪꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ ᴊᴜɪᴄᴇ // ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴀ ᴍᴀꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴅᴏʀᴋ // ɢᴏᴅ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ

[ 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ] : ᴍɪɴᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇɴᴋɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢʀᴏᴡɴ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴘɪɴɪɴɢ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇʀᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴛʜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍɪʀᴀᴄᴜʟᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴏʙʟɪᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴛᴏ. ꜱᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴄʜᴇᴍɪɴɢ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴛɪᴄᴋʏ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

( ᴘᴜɴ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ. ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴢᴇʀᴏ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛꜱ )

[ 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ] : ʏᴏᴜ - ʙʟᴜᴇ // ꜱᴇʀᴏ - ᴏʀᴀɴɢᴇ // ᴍɪɴᴀ - ᴘɪɴᴋ // ᴅᴇɴᴋɪ - ʏᴇʟʟᴏᴡ

[ 𝗺𝘆𝗸𝗶𝗲'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ] : ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴘɪɴɴᴇᴅ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ꜱᴇʀᴏ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴏᴋᴀʏ??? ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ (˶◡‿◡) ~ <3

ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ ʏ'ᴀʟʟ, ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇ ᴜᴘ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ- ·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

┊ ┊ ┊ ✫

┊ ┊ ☪⋆

┊ ⊹ ┊-

✯ ⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚✩

"Come on, come ooonnnnn," Mina groans as she tugs at your ankles.

"You lazy butt!! You can't stay in here like a hermit forever!" she exclaims with a final yank, sending you off the edge of your bed with a loud thump.

"Ugghhh, but I'm tireedddd! I spent all day shoving boxes around and reorganizing my stuff!" You grumble underneath your arm that's dramatically draped over your face.

"I know! Which you did an amazing job by the way. You truly have a talent for decorating," Mina says with a teasing undertone as she looks around your new third year dorm.

"Aaannnnd that is exactly why you should unwind with the rest of us in Denki's dorm," she says as she bends down, grabbing your ankles once again and lets them rest on her hips.

"Think of it as a dorm warming party and celebration of our last year here at this god forsaken school," Mina concludes as she looks down at you, her eyes pleading you to give in.

"Nnnnggh- Finee!" You let out a disgruntled grunt as you dramatically fling your arm off your face and look up at Mina hovering over you.

"Yay!!" She squeals as she drops your ankles and bounces on the balls of her feet.

"God, you make it so hard to say no, Mina," You say as you sit yourself up.

"I know~ it's what adds to my irresistible charm," she replies with a wide smile and a wink, to which you roll your eyes at.

"And besides, I would've been so sad and lonely without you," She fake pouts at you, sticking out her bottom lip and gives you her best puppy eyes.

"Oh please," You say as you squish her cheeks together, making her bottom lip jut out even further in a comical manner.

"Shero would'b missh'd you tooooo~" Mina muses, her words slurring together while wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively. You gasp, tossing her head back and you cross your arms across your chest.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," You say flatly as you turn to the side, no longer facing Mina's direction. Though you can't see it, Mina is giving you a devilish look as she giggles at your reaction.

"You totally know what I'm talking about, y/n~" she hums as she approaches you from behind.

"There's no way you miss the way he looks at you all love sick with big, gross googly eyes," She teases as she throws herself on your shoulders, her cheek now squishing into yours.

"Don't even get me started on how he went gaga over your new hero costume," she giggles, a shit eating grin pressing on your cheek, "Mans was practically drooling,"

"Wha-!??" you guffaw, "He was not!!" you exclaim, growing increasingly flustered from Mina's taunting, you throw your hands on your face.

"Oh, poor sweet y/n," Mina cries out dramatically, throwing her hand to your other cheek to push your face impossibly closer to hers, brushing your hands off your face while doing so.

"Too whipped for stinky Sero to see he is infact also painfully whipped for her," She sighs as she shakes her head against yours in fake disappointment, "Tragic..."

"S-shut up before I decide to change my mind!" you exclaim, your face glowing red.

"What?? Did I lie??" she says. You open your mouth to retort but Mina's hand flies to your mouth, pressing one finger against your lips with a shush to silence you.

"No. The answer is no," She concludes in a matter-of-fact tone. Angrily, you wiggle your way out of Mina's hold and turn around to her with a flustered scowl.

"I don't know where you got any of that from, but we're just friends," you huff at her, placing your hands on your hips. Mina's hand flies to her forehead with a slap as she lets out a groan in either annoyance or frustration. Probably both.

"Oh my god, you two are so cliché it's putting me in physical pain just watching it!" she cries, "The friends to lovers troupe is getting all too real!" You roll your eyes at her as you grab your phone and tuck it into your hoodie pocket.

"Common, let's go before you make me question myself more than I already am," you say, grabbing her wrist and make your way to the door.

Mina immediately snaps out of her dramatic manner and trails behind you with a cheerful "yay!". You can't help but giggle at the way your friend's mood flipped on a dime as you two make your way out of your dorm.

[ time skip; Denki's dorm ]

You have no idea why you ever agreed to letting Mina drag you here. Your whole body tenses up and everything in you seizes as Denki calls out your name from the strip of paper he pulled out of the beanie in his hand. Your heart is beating so hard it might as well burst right out of your chest and Denki hasn't even announced who you're being paired with yet.

"It'll be fun," she said, "You'll have time to unwind," she said.

Bullshit

And you believed her! You thought you'd be playing Mario Kart with your classmates or singing karaoke! Not playing a dumb game of chance to see who's going to be trapped in a closet together for nearly ten minutes. Embarrassingly close in a dark closet, fumbling over each other as you two awkwardly shuffle around in the closed space-

You shake your head to try to get rid of your anxious thoughts, silently cursing to yourself as Denki flashes you a smirk that has nothing but trouble written all over it.

"It's ok, y/n, Loosen up. You'll be fine, I promise," Mina whispers to you as she squeezes your hand reassuringly.

You give a nervous chuckle and shoot her a look that says I'm going to kill you when this is over. Mina gives you an innocent smile in response before averting her gaze back to Denki.

"Now, let's see who's the lucky fella, or lady, who am I to judge, is to be paired with the lovely y/n~" The electric blonde announces as he makes a show of shuffling the papers in his hat.

You anxiously fidget with your fingers as Denki continues to drag on in suspense. After what felt like an eternity, he finally pulls out the cursed slip of paper. His gaze shifts between you and Mina before he sends her a mischievous smirk before announcing,

"Sero Hanta!!"

Your eyes fly to Sero sat directly across from you and you see that he's already looking intently at you. After hardly a split second of eye contact, your eyes dart away, looking at anything but him.

"Dare I say I'm jealous~ you get to have sweet y/n aallll to yourself," He cries out in a dramatically animated manner.

Your stomach drops and you let out a strained gulp and your throat goes dry. You hesitantly look back at Sero, his dark eyes still glued on you and he gives you his all too familiar grin with a cocky wink. Holy shit- you think to yourself as your breath hitches, your cheeks already blooming an embarrassing shade of pink at his action.

"Come, come!!" Denki shouts as he gestures for you and Sero to stand next to him, "This is no time to be shy now!"

Sero lets out a soft grunt as he pushes himself off of the bean bag he was lounging on, running his long fingers through his shaggy black hair. Now anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip, you approach the center of the room where Denki is standing. Your eyes fly back and forth between the loud blonde and the lanky boy but unlike you, Sero's eyes have never left you since the moment Denki announced your name. Whatever nervousness he was feeling at the moment, he was doing a damn good job at hiding it. Though you hate to admit, you can't deny his confidence is insanely attractive. The way you can practically feel his eyes on you sends swarms of butterflies fluttering around angrily around your insides.

"Come on you two!" Denki exclaims as he places his hands behind both your backs and ushers you towards his closet, "Time is of the essence and it can't be wasted!!"

"Kami, shut up or I'm gonna punch you in the nose," You say bluntly, too nervy to care or think about what you said.

Sero snickers at your comment and Denki sucks in through is teeth in response.

"Tough crowd,"

You shoot him a nasty look and Denki throws his hands up in defeat while taking a step back, leaving you and Sero right in front of his dreaded closet. Sero looks back at him and Denki gives him a big thumbs up with a stupid grin smeared on his face. Sero rolls his eyes and shakes his head before looking back at you. He slides the door open and extends a hand towards you.

"Ladies first?" He hums and you smile at his gesture, your eyes nervously shifting from your feet up to him and you bite your lip before taking his hand. Sero gently guides you into the closet before quickly trailing behind and Denki's head peaks in through the doorway behind Sero.

"Alright now, you behave, kids. Sero, make sure you use protection, I don't want a mess all on my shit," Sero punches Denki on the shoulder at his sly remark and Denki snickers, "and y/n?... You're an angel so I trust you'll keep tape face in line," he adds, slipping in a wink at you and you can't help but giggle.

Sero scoffs loudly and slaps his palm flat on Denki's face earning a dramatic "mmphf!?" from him before Sero shoves Denki out of the doorway. All you can see is Denki's arms flinging backwards before you hear a series of fumbling followed by a yelp and a loud thump as he tumbles from the force of Sero's hand. Sero with his head now poking out, looks down at Denki on the floor.

"My bad, g," Sero says behind a stifled laugh, a shit eating grin spread on his face.

"Oh, fuck off," You hear Denki grumble as he gets back up to close the closet door, "Y/n if you ever come to the realization you're too good for Sero's clown ass, just hit my line, baby," he quickly blurts out before slamming the door shut in Sero's face.

Sero flips off the door and turns to you. Now quivering with your hands covering your mouth from trying to hold in your giggles, you find yourself unable to hold back anymore and burst out laughing. Your laughter fills the closet as Sero looks at you with a goofy grin plastered on his face. Your giggles being majorly contagious, he starts laughing along with you and makes his way to get closer to you but quickly gets cut off when he trips over something on the floor. He gasps as he's sent flying forward, the only thing stopping him from collapsing right on top of you is his large hands slamming on the wall behind you.

You stop laughing, holding your breath from the shock of what just happened and you look up at Sero in surprise. He looks down at you, wide eyed at the realization that he now has you pinned underneath him.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry y/n. I didn't mean- I can get off if I'm making you uncomfortable," nervously stumbling on his words, he shifts his weight to one hand as he raises the other to rub the back of his neck, subtly averting his gaze to hide the blush creeping up his face. He starts to sit himself up but halts as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No, it's fine, really," you say reassuringly, "I don't think you'll be able to anyways with all of Denki's stuff scattered on the floor," you add, looking down at your feet.

Though the lighting in Denki's closet is dim, being illuminated only by a small lantern in the corner behind Sero, you can clearly see the floor is nearly completely covered in Denki's belongings that are haphazardly strewn about. The already small space only seeming smaller with the limited foot room. Not to mention Sero kabbdoning you, your bodies mere centimeters apart.

Sero huffs at your observation, silently cursing Denki under his breath. You would think his closet would be at least somewhat tidy since you guys haven't even spent an entire day in your new dorms yet. Guess that's Denki for you.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," his eyes come back up to yours, "but you're sure you're okay with this? You're not just saying it," Sero inquires. Touched by his sincerity, you slide your hand from the edge of his shoulder to the crook of his neck and you can feel slight goose bumps form underneath your fingers where your skin is touching his.

"Sero, have I ever said things just to say it?" answering his question with another.

"Hmmm, I don't think you want me to answer that," Sero teases.

You quirk your eyebrow at him. Though you are still unbelievably nervous about the unusual close proximity between you and him, you are significantly less anxious than before, becoming more relaxed with Sero's chill and goofy atmosphere. His personality has always been so inviting, it's one of his best qualities that you happened to fall hardest for.

"But seriously, we don't have to do anything if you're not ready or don't want to... Last thing I wanna do is make you uncomfortable," he says, nervously shifting on his feet. A soft smile forms on your face and your cheeks grow warm at how considerate Sero is being. Your heart clenches and you're already practically melting underneath him.

"Sero, if you didn't care, you'd already have your tongue shoved halfway down my throat by now," you reply with a light giggle, " You've never made me uncomfortable, love," you say as your voice grows softer.

You truly meant it too. Sero is one of the few people you've met in your life that you never felt you needed to put up a front for. Just simply having his presence around eases your anxieties and the time you spend with him is always relaxing. Even on that one night where he had kidnapped you from your dorm and before you knew it, you were shrieking in his arms as he swung the both of you from building to building.

A lovesick smile spreads on Hanta's face and his heart stutters at your bold statement, especially at your use of the endearing name. Although he's done a good job at hiding his nerves thus far, it's a miracle he isn't shaking like a leaf from how you're looking up at him with those doe eyes, the dim lighting reflecting on your face just right. You're the only one who's managed to put a dent in his usual chill and aloof demeanor. You make him feel a way that is so unnatural to him, a way he doubts he's ever felt before and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it.

He clears his throat to try and shake off the nerves swarming in his stomach and starts to lean into you. Your noses now just barely grazing each other as he slides his hand underneath your ear, his thumb resting on your cheek.

"So... it's ok if I'm this close.?" his breath ghosts your lips as he speaks, his voice dipping to a low and sultry tone, "It's ok if I kiss you, right?" a slight rasp accenting his words.

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart palpitates at the way his voice pleasantly settles in your ears. Heat rises up your neck and you take a deep, shaky breath to try and calm your racing heart, completely unaware that you're making him feel just as flustered.

"Don't tease me," you say in an attempt to sound more assertive, but an unintentional whine laces your voice that undeniably turned Hanta on.

"Hm? I have no idea what you're talking about," he murmurs to your lips.

His are just barely touching yours, taking his time basking in the closeness and reveling in the way you react to his teasing advances.

Annoyed, you grip the back of his neck and shove his face into yours, your noses bumping into each other before your lips crash together. Surprised by your sudden movement, he grunts into your lips, the vibrations sending heat cascading down your spine that settles into the pit of your stomach.

But to your dismay, the kiss ends just as fast as it started as Hanta pulls away from you, leaving the warmth of his lips to be replaced by nothing but cool air. His eyes practically consume you as he slides his hand down to find its place in the small of your back.

"Dammit, y/n. I wanted to initiate that kiss," he grumbles

"You were taking too long.. and I was getting impatient," you grumble back at him, swiping the hair out of Hanta's face.

"Oh, is that so?" he quirks an eyebrow, "Am I just too irresistible? Even for a pretty girl like you?~" he purrs as he pulls you in closer to his body.

You slide your hand up the back of his neck, letting the dark tendrils of hair tangle between your fingers as you place your other hand on his chest, gently pushing it but not enough to actually make him move.

"Shut up," you whisper, the sides of your noses pressing together as you once again grow dangerously close to his lips.

"..Okay..." he whispers before colliding his lips with yours, this time more passionate than the last.

Hanta is holding onto your waist so close, so desperately, that you might as well meld into him. You sigh into each other, any tension from before melting away as Sero leans you into the wall. Overwhelmed by the sensation of having him so close, you pull away from him for air.

Hanta rests his forehead on yours, taking his time to breathe you in, sucking in every detail of this moment despite the fact neither of you can see very well through the poorly lit space. Gently letting go of your waist, his hand travels its way back to your cheek, cupping it in his palm.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that..." he says breathlessly and you hum in agreement.

"I don't think you know how long I've been wanting that," you say, mirroring his words.

"No, no. Impossible. I've definitely wanted you longer," he teases.

"Wh-? Ooooh, so it's a competition now?" you muse.

"I don't know where you could've possibly gotten that from,"

"Uh huh, cus it sounds to me that- wah-!" your cut off midsentence by Hanta gripping the back of your thighs as he hoists you up onto his hips. With your face now hovering above him, your back pressed flush against the wall, his chest presses against yours as he tucks his face underneath your ear.

"We can spend all day arguing over who wanted who first, princesa but... all that matters is that I want you right now~," He murmurs into you. His breath tickles the column of your neck, sending chills down your spine as he starts to gingerly suck on the tender skin under your jaw.

"Sero~" you sigh at the unfamiliar sensation of his lips marking your neck. He gives an amused hum, nipping at your ear lobe before raising his head to look at you. His gaze hungry, yearning for more.

"Call me by my first name, yeah? No need for honorifics anymore," he whispers before diving back into his assault on your neck.

You throw your head back in a daze, running your nails across Hanta's scalp and down his neck causing him to shiver underneath you. The way you lightly tug on his hair sends electricity through his body, encouraging his kisses to get sloppier and gradually starts to swirl his tongue on your sensitive skin. He nips at the collar of your hoodie, tugging it down as far as he can to gain more access to your skin and latches to your collar bone.

You can't help but let out a low moan as your mind goes hazy with how Hanta's lips somehow already know the spots that make you weak. You feel him smile against you, doing the exact same action that got you to make noise and squeezes the plush of your thighs.

"Ay dios mio... tú eres tan hermosa~" ( oh my god... you're so beautiful ) Hanta purrs against you, silk weaving through his voice as he licks the shell of your ear, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

"y tú suenas tan bonita..." ( and you sound so pretty... ) his hot breath brushes the back of your ear, causing you to whimper in response.

You have no idea what he's saying as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear but what you do know is that you don't want him to stop.

You grab his face to pull him away from you. Looking down at him with your eyes half lidded, you lean in and he meets you with a passionate kiss. Your breathing becomes rapid and shaky with the heat of the moment. Hanta softly swipes his tongue on your bottom lip, asking permission to deepen the kiss. Parting your lips, granting him wider access to your mouth, Hanta doesn't take a moment's hesitation as he sticks his tongue in. Tongues swirling together, he pushes himself harder against you, sandwiching you between himself and the wall, causing you to let out a muffled moan into his mouth earning one from him in return.

Hanta pulls away from you, surfacing for air as you pant against each other.

"Forgive me for being so bold but... I want to hear more of those noises you make..." he purrs, unintentionally rutting himself up against you.

"Well... maybe you should try a little harder to coax them out of me, hm?" you taunt in his ear, intentionally making yourself sound needy in hopes of riling him up a bit.

"Is that a challenge, love?" he hums and your breath hitches at the way the rasp in his voice sends heat up your neck.

"Only if you want it to be~"

Silently accepting your challenge with a low chuckle, he dives his head into the other side of your neck and starts kissing and sucking sloppily. His sudden change of pace, going from slow and sensual to hungry and passionate makes your head spin. He guides your legs to wrap around his waist and as soon as you got yourself situated, his hands fly to your ass. He squeezes and massages the soft muscle causing a mewl you fall out of your mouth.

But through the haze of your bliss, you're hit by a sudden realization that you're fairly annoyed with would rather not be bothered with right now... Shouldn't your time be up by now..?

"Hah..-Hanta..?" you speak hesitantly, a soft moan mixing with his name.

"Hm~?" he hums against your jaw.

"Don't you think our time should be up by now..?" Hanta raises his head to look at you, a shadow of an emotion you're not familiar with spread on his face. Worry? Disappointment?

"Well, probably not since Denki has yet to come barreling through the door, shrieking at us so... I think we're good on that," He says reassuringly, "Why do you ask? Do you want to leave..? ...Was I being too much?" He worriedly asks, nearly about to go into a nervous ramble.

You hold onto either side of Hanta's face, making him meet your gaze. A soft smile spreading on your face as warmth blooms in your chest from his genuine concern for you, despite how heated things were getting just a moment ago.

"No... no, I don't want to leave and I don't want you to stop. It's just- I-" you stutter on your words, trying to find the right ones to say.

"It just crossed my mind and got worried that Denki might've decided to lock us in together and... get stuck in here..." you admit.

The unreadable expression on his face washes away, being replaced with a soft, love struck expression and he returns your smile.

"There's no need to worry, cariña. ( darling ) He has to let us out sooner or later," giving your upper thighs a reassuring squeeze as he lowers you ever so slightly to make your face more level with his.

He furrows his brow, contemplating whether he should tell you what he knows or not. You look at him, his expression not going unnoticed and you give him a look, silently inquiring his worry.

"What's on your mind, love? You look upset," you ask softly. Hanta sighs loudly, silently cursing to himself before he continues.

"...I have a confession to make," he admits, averting his gaze from you. You look at him in concern, trying to keep your expression neutral before you jump to any conclusions about what he's going to say.

"I, uh- I knew we were gonna get locked in here... I wasn't in on it though..!" he blurts, "I wasn't supposed to know but Denki ended up telling me anyways. I don't know how long but... we're gonna be in here for a while," speaking quickly, he internally winces in preparation for your response.

Hesitantly, Hanta looks at you and is met by your dumbfounded expression. Your eyes wide and you start to laugh, a flurry of emotions you can't decipher rushing in.

"Y/n you're scaring me.. I can't tell what you're thinking," Hanta says, only half joking and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"Haaaa~ I'm going to kill him," You mutter, "I'm 99% sure Mina was in on it too," you groan into Hanta before raising your head back up.

"I'm afraid to ask if your mad at me or not," he says.

You look at him for a second, entertaining the idea of being upset at him but you decide against being petty.

"Hmmm, that has yet to be decided," you reply with a playful tone.

"That's a relief," he chuckles.

"Hey, look on the bright side," Hanta says, trying to change the subject, "You got to spend some time with me... and I got to make out with the cute girl I've been crushing on for a while~" he muses. Your quirk your eyebrow at him, a smile spreading on your face from Hanta's dorky demeanor.

"Mmm, she must be pretty lucky, managing to grab your attention like that," you play along.

A goofy smile tugs at his lips, sighing dreamily.

"Nah, I'd say I'm the lucky one. I never thought in a million years she'd ever feel the same way I do..." He leans his head to rest on yours and Hanta hums contently.

"She sounds pretty awesome," you jest.

"She's amazing..." he trails off and nudges you to lift your head. You look at him, his eyes staring intently into yours and you feel his thumbs brush up and down your thighs, his strong arms still holding you.

"You're amazing," he implores, his dark eyes looking deep within you.

"Hanta..." you whisper, cupping his face in your hand, feeling as if you might cry at how sappy and affectionate he's being.

You, rendered speechless and Hanta with no words left to say, you usher each other into another kiss, this one so many times more meaningful than the others. All the words you could ever say falling into the others' mouth as you exchange yet another passionate kiss. Hanta gently pulls away, not wanting to let go of you but continues to ask a question.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Take your mind off things?" you shake your head in response.

"Just you being here is enough, Hanta," you say, planting a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose, "buuuuuut~" you continue, craning your neck to the side, examining the floor to see if there's any room for the two of you.

"Do you think there's enough room for you to sit down..? I wanna sit in your lap," you say. Hanta gives you a wide, mischievous grin before looking side to side, assessing the absolute mess of a closet underneath him.

"I'm sure I can make it work..." he hums, pressing a kiss on your lips before lowering you onto your feet.

Though the closet is narrow, there's just enough room for the two of you. Hanta turns around and eagerly kicks around the junk scattered on the floor. Once he's satisfied with the cleared space, he settles himself on the floor and pats his lap and opens his arms, inviting you in. You smile and make your way to him, sitting yourself between his thighs and you give your hips a teasing wiggle against his crotch as you get comfortable. Hanta clears his throat, trying to choke back the groan threatening to escape his throat from your movements.

"Now... where were we?" he asks in a playful tone.

"Hmmm," you hum, taping your finger on your chin, feigning contemplation before answering, "I think you were in the middle of attacking my neck, if I recall correctly," you conclude with a terrible British accent, reflecting his playful energy. Hanta chuckles, placing his hands above your hips, pulling you in closer to him.

"Ahh, yes, yes. I remember now. Thank you for reminding me, my dear," he teases, his British impression much better than your own and he gives you a sly wink that sends a new swarm of butterflies down your stomach.

You giggle, glad your able to be so comfortable with him, even in intimate moments like this. Hanta leans in and kisses your jaw.

"I love your voice so much, mariposita," ( little butterfly ) he muses, using the pet name he had coined specifically for you.

"I love when you laugh... and when you sing- regardless of whether you think you're good at it or not," he adds, assuming you'll try and retort. He moves his mouth right behind your ear, lightly squeezing your hips and drops his voice to a low husk.

"But I've found I especially love it when I can get you to moan~" he nips your ear lobe and lightly drags his tongue up the edge of your ear, causing you to shudder against his touch.

Hanta gives a low chuckle. You feel the vibrations from his throat in your chest and you lean into him, silently begging him for more. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in, letting out a long sigh against your lips as the two of you resume where you left off.

Eager to touch him more, you slide your hand in between the two of you and drag your fingers up his torso, his shirt bunching up around your fingers as you do so. He groans at your touch, his mouth opening just enough to allow you to stick your tongue in and swirl around his. He absentmindedly bucks his hips up against you, his mind foggy under the feeling of your magical fingers now caressing down his abdomen, your other hand playing with his dark hair. You take his movement as an invitation to start lightly grinding on him, Hanta's grip on you tightening in response and he pushes you down harder onto him. Groaning at the new pressure, he nips your bottom lip, lightly tugging the plum flesh.

Growing unbearably hot in your hoodie from your bodies rubbing together in such a close space, you stop and pull away from Hanta. You start shrug off your hoodie, revealing the spaghetti strap you're wearing underneath and Hanta looks at you like a deer in headlights. Hanta's face flushes and his pants start to tighten underneath you. With a surge of confidence, you draw out your movements, stretching out farther than you usually would and you hear Hanta swallow hard.

His eyes glued to your frame, unable to rip them off of you. A barely audible "dios mio" falls out of his mouth as he finally brings himself to tear his eyes off of you, his large hand dragging down the bottom half of his face as he throws his head to the side. You, now finished with taking off your hoodie, readjust yourself and look at Hanta as if nothing happened.

"Sorry.. I got hot," you say, feigning innocence.

So many things running through Hanta's mind, so many things he could say, so many things he could do but he bites his tongue, trying to keep himself in check as his eyes wonder, combing you up and down, drinking you in. He normally wouldn't be so affected by seeing you in a tank top, you often wear them in the dorms but this- this is something entirely different.

Hanta places his hands onto your waist and looks you right in the eyes, a certain darkness hidden in his eyes causing heat to pool inside your stomach.

"Yeah, you're really fucking hot...y eso fue realmente sexy..." ( ...and that was really sexy... ) he breaths out.

With an amused hum, you lean into Hanta, your arms sprawled lazily over his shoulders as your lips graze the shell of his ear. Hanta growing hyperaware of the way the plush of your boobs press against his chest. The way your top pulls down ever so slightly, revealing you are in fact not wearing a bra. How your soft breath fans against his neck and the way the smell of your shampoo has his head spinning. He looks away, trying his best to stay respectful. His face flushing a deep red and his breaths ridged as it grows harder and harder for him to keep his mind from cascading down a slew of dirty thoughts as his pants threaten to fully tent underneath you.

"I know~" you coo, your breath ghosting his ear, the low and sultry tone of your voice sending goosebumps cascading down his spine.

That was the thing that sent him flying out of control. Your confidence turning him on to no end, he grips your chin and pulls your face in front of his.

"Tú estas jugando con fuego, chiquita bonita," ( you're playing with fire, pretty girl ) He growls.

You gasp at his sudden aggression. You don't understand a word he's saying but the lust lacing each word sends the heat already pooling in your stomach shooting to your core regardless, making you throb in anticipation. You start grinding on him to try and relieve the tension in your core but it does little to help you. He lets out a brief moan at the sensation of your bodies grinding against each other before shoving your face into his, teeth clashing together as the two of you desperately latch lips.

"Is it ok if I touch you?" Hanta asks, his words muffled against your mouth as he doesn't even bother to pull away to speak.

You mewl into his lips, nodding against him as you grab his hand, placing him right under your boob, granting him permission to roam. He immediately cups your breast, messaging you in his large palm and rolling your pebbled nipple between his fingers through the fabric.

Wanting something to do with your hands as well, you rake your fingers down Hanta's chest all the way to the band of his sweats. Hooking your finger around the elastic band, pulling it out the smallest bit before releasing it, hitting his lower abdomen with a muted snap. He grunts at the feeling and lets out a shaky breath.

"Can I touch you down here..?" you inquire against his lips, your fingers dancing dangerously on Hanta's waistband. He grips onto your wrist, tongue still dancing with yours as he presses your palm forcefully on his clothed dick, a choked moan falling out of him as you round your wrist, making you rub his member in circular motions.

"Tú me estas volviendo loco," ( you're driving me crazy ) he groans into your lips, "Te deso tanto que me duele el cuerpo..." ( I want you so bad, my body aches ) he shudders underneath you, his kisses growing hungrier and sloppier as he gets increasingly intoxicated by your motions.

Growing more and more needy by Hanta's enticing voice, you slip your hand underneath his sweats and start palming him through his boxers. Hanta places his hand on the back of your head and shoves your face closer to his, deepening the already heated kiss and moans in your mouth.

But to Hanta's disappointment, you pull away from him. He cranes his neck forward to try and meet your lips again but you gently place a finger on his mouth to keep him from making any more advances. You pull your hand out of his pants and Hanta lets out a barely audible whine at the loss of friction while you trail your hands up to his abdomen under his shirt.

"Can I take it off?" you whisper.

Hanta looks at you, his dark eyes blown with lust as he gives you a mischievous smile.

"Of course, princesa," he purrs.

You give a content hum as you tug at his baggy shirt. Hanta helps you by lifting his arms as you slip it off of him and looks at you with admiration once you shrug it off. You run your fingers down his now bare chest, admiring his toned muscles underneath you.

"You like what you see, pretty girl?" he muses, his eyebrows raised suggestively in an attempt to tease you. You hum in response and kiss his neck.

"I think you're very handsome~" you hum softly into him and you feel his heart rate spike as your chest rests against his.

"Geez, y/n you're gonna make me blush," he says only mildly flustered.

Amused by his reaction to your compliment, knowing he's not very used to being on the receiving end of them, you continue, sliding both hands to rest behind his neck and you lift your head to look at him.

"But I mean it..." You coo, toying with the dark strands of hair on the nape of his neck, leaving Hanta as nothing but putty in your hands.

With his eyes half lidded, looking at you as if you're made of gold, he pulls you in for another kiss. Wasting no time, he sticks his tongue in your mouth, hungry for more of you. But before you could do anything more, you hear the closet door swing open.

"Surprise shawties!!! AHHHH-" you hear a dreadfully familiar voice drilling through the romantic atmosphere.

Incredibly startled and practically jumping out of your own skins, you and Hanta whip your heads to the door. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest instinctually as if to shield you, even though he's the only one shirtless.

"DENKI THAT'S WHY I SAID TO KNOCK, ROCKS FOR BRAINS," you hear Mina yell behind the door.

"What the hell Denki!?!?" you yell, your head still turned to the door and though you can't see it, you can feel Hanta giving a scary glare at Denki. Denki's face is flushed red and Mina stomps over and shoves him out of the way .

"I'm so sorry," she exasperates, "y'all continue and come out when you're ready," she finishes, waving her hand at you two without looking, in fear of seeing something she'd regret. Though, there wasn't much to see. Denki's just dramatic.

"There's no one in the room by the way! It's just us," she adds as she closes the closet door.

You sit up and look at Hanta, his arms still not leaving your waist and you see an infuriated look on his face you are not familiar with at all. His eyes meet yours and you can't help but laugh. Laugh at Denki's ridiculous personality, laugh at how Sero look genuinely pissed and just laugh at the overall situation you've been in this whole time. Hanta's hard expression quickly melts away at your giggles and despite him trying to fight it off, he starts laughing along.

"God, he's such a fucking idiot," Hanta says through giggles and laughs and you hum in agreement. You cup his face in your hand and give him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

"We should probably leave," you murmur under a giggle and Hanta groans at your words.

"Yeahhh but I don't wanna deal with Denki," He sighs, resting his forehead on yours and you agree. You two sit in silence for a moment, doing nothing but enjoying each others' presence as you think of what snarky comment Denki might have instore for you when you get out.

"Sooo... we'll continue this in my dorm?" Hanta muses, breaking the comfortable silence adn you giggle in response.

"Pfff, yeah... Yeah I'd think I'd like that," you hum in response as Hanta grabs your face to pull you into a gentle kiss, chuckling a bit against your lips.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜

𝒇𝒊𝒏 . ✩

[ SORRY FOR THE ABRUPT ENDING D: I LOST INSPO AND MOTIVATION BUT I REALLY LIKED THIS FIC AND I HOPE YOU LIKED IT REGARDLESS AHHH!!! <333 ]

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peterrparrkerr · 3 years

Text

Hit mad falls in love with target - read on ao3

*-*

Peter waved frantically at Tony when he walked into the lab, eyes glued to a computer screen.

"Tony, quick! Look!" He demanded, nearly vibrating in his chair.

Tony made his way over, hands clasped behind his back as he leaned over Peter's shoulder.

"Isn't it awesome?" The young man asked, waving his hands around.

"What am I looking at?" Tony asked.

"Its cancer," Peter said. He points to different colored lines in the graph, all jagged and fluctuating. "This is breast cancer, and this one is pancreatic, skin, lung."

Tony hums as Peter continues to list each colored line as a different form of cancer.

"I was able to isolate the individual cells from everything else, and- look, look!"

Peter snatches Tony by the shirt sleeve and tugs him from one monitor to the one on the other side of the lab. He taps his fingers on the screen, bouncing on his heels.

"These are the cells after being treated with non-radioactive therapy," Peter said, looking up at Tony. "The number of cancer cells is cut in half within a week!"

Peter then drags Tony across the lab again, babbling excitedly as he does so. "Do you know what this means? This means we can start human testing! And we can market the treatment for practically nothing!"

He shows Tony a live feed of the treatment in action from a TV monitor.

"Think about the possibilities," Peter grinned. "Anyone can get treated, no matter their financial standing. And the treatment isn't as harmful as chemo or radiation. It doesn't attack the body as a whole, it isolates the cancer cells and leaves the rest of the body alone.

"No more hair loss or side effects. And we could cut remission in half too," Peter said. "Just think, this time next year, we could start selling to hospitals all over the world."

Tony smiles down at the younger man. He had known within the first day of meeting Peter that he wouldn't be able to follow through. He's glad he hadn't.

"Have you told anybody else?" He asks casually.

"Ned knows," Peter said. "And Bruce, but they were here when it happened."

"Where are they now?"

Peter gives Tony a wry smile, still too excited about his treatment working.

"I sent them home a couple hours ago," he said. "We've all been awake for almost three days, so I'm sure they've gone to bed already."

"You should be in bed too, don't you think?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter waves him off, shaking his head as he goes to his work desk. "I'll sleep later," he said, pulling his lab coat off and draping it over the chair.

He's dressed in his usual outfit; comfortable pants and a button up.

"Plus, I knew you'd make your rounds around this time, and I wanted to tell you," Peter said with a grin, grabbing his personal items.

That was part of Tony's cover. A janitor for the building Peter worked for. Hes wearing a navy blue jump suit, though he's left the cart out in the hallway.

"I'll walk you to your car," Tony hums, leading the way out. When he'd first started this, he'd offered his company to get closer to Peter -to find his vulnerabilities.

Now though, he does it because he's protecting the young scientist.

He'd skipped out with 45 thousand dollars paid to kill the boy, but as the days had gone on, and Peter had grown comfortable with him, Tony realized he couldn't steal him from the world.

Peter was incredible. He worked tirelessly to find a cure for cancer. He's already created a new insulin for diabetes that he's made available to everyone for only $10 a month -something not many other medical professionals liked.

Peter was making enemies left and right, and Tony decided to make it his job to keep him breathing. If not for the rest of his life, then for as long as it takes for the young scientist to see an end to cancer.

The boy wasn't getting much in terms of money for his creations. In fact, from what Tony's come to learn, the boy doesn't own a car, and rents an apartment with his aunt.

He sees enough to live paycheck to paycheck and this new treatment won't do much to better his life, but he's not concerned with money. He wants to make Healthcare more effective and affordable.

Tony's got morals. Enough of them to know when a hit is a bad investment. That didn't stop him from taking his payment anyway.

The two make it to the car park. Its dark, the overhead lights buzzing annoyingly. Its empty, save for a couple cars belonging to a few of the security guards, and the car Peter shares with his aunt.

It's an older model, grey paint chipping and metal beneath rusting near the wheels. Peter talks animatedly beside him, lands flailing in front of him.

Tony glances around them, scowling as he takes in the familiar cement structure.

"Wait," Tony says, just as Peter's pulling the keys from his pocket. They're a couple feet away from the car, and the hairs on Tony's arms and neck stand on end.

"What is it?" Peter asked curiously, reaching for the door handle.

It's just as Peter grips the handle that Tony sees the wire connected to the metal lock on the other side of the glass.

Tony is quick to react, grabbing Peter by the arms and wrenching him away from the door.

Peter yelps in surprise, but its cut out by the sound of a small explosion. Tony braces for the blast of air that knocks the two off their feet, and grits his teeth at the heat that follows.

Peter's pressed against the cement, Tony weighing down on him. His ears ring, but he quickly gets to his feet, unzipping his jumpsuit and grabbing the .9 mm from the waistband of his jeans.

The car is ablaze, crackle-popping and sizzling. Its just the cab thats on fire, but Tony knows its only a matter of seconds before the flames reach the engine and the fuel line.

Tony looks around him, trying to find the culprit -though he knows from experience that the man won't be here.

He grabs Peter by the armpits and pulls him to his feet. Blood smears against his forehead and jaw. His hands and arms are scraped up and Tony can tell his knees are busted too, but it doesn't look like anything damaging.

"We gotta go," Tony urges, already half dragging the younger back towards the building.

"You-you have a gun," Peter gapes, stumbling after Tony, arm in the older's hard grip. "Why do you have a gun?"

Tony reaches the door for the stairwell.

"I'm a hired gun," Tony said, glancing up, then down, gun following his eyeline before pushing Peter towards the stairs going up.

"I thought you were a janitor," Peter gasped, climbing the stairs and swaying. Tony places his free hand on Peter's lower back.

"Thats just a front," Tony confessed. "We got to get you out of here."

"Someone blew up my car," Peter said, panting as they continue up to the first floor. "Aunt May is gonna kill me."

"Not if Buck doesn't kill you first," Tony grunted, pulling Peter out of the stairwell and into the main lobby.

Tony's car is around the side of the building, but its open to attack. Tony can't keep Peter trapped inside the building though, so he risks it.

Their feet slap loudly on the asphalt as they run for the nondescript black SUV Tony had taken to driving.

He checks around the vehicle, under and inside before issuing Peter into the back seat.

Tires screech as Tony peels out of the parking lot.

"What- whats happening? Tony, what- why do-"

"Someones trying to kill you, Peter," Tony said, blowing past the guard tower at the exit of the parking lot.

"But why?" Peter asked dumbly, voice slurring slightly as more blood turns the side of his face crimson.

"I'll answer all your questions when we're safe," Tony promised, eyes frantically shifting from the area ahead of him to the rear view mirror.

Peter must really be feeling the effects of his head slamming into the concrete, because he doesn't protest.

"Lay down," Tony orders, merging into traffic and slowing down. "Lay low until I say."

Peter does -Tony thinks mostly because of his head injury. Tony relaxes a little, knowing the scientist won't be gunned down in the back seat.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere safe," Tony answered, keeping an eye behind him.

He doesn't see a tail, but he takes a round-about way to his safe house, just outside of Queens.

When they get to the small cabin, Tony checks the building before helping Peter inside.

"I think I have a concussion," Peter mumbles, swaying on his feet as Tony guides him to the kitchen chair.

"I don't doubt it," Tony agrees, setting his gun down on the table beside Peter's elbow before grabbing the first aid kit.

He pulls another chair over in front of the young scientist and opens the red box.

"Let me see your hands," Tony orders. Peter does, palms up. Tony begins to clean them and his arms.

"Tony," Peter says, breaking the silence. Tony doesn't say anything. He reaches up to clean the blood from the side of Peter's cheek.

"Is your name actually Tony?"

Tony makes eye contact before nodding.

"And you're a hired gun?" Peter asks, slightly breathless. "Like, like a hitman?"

"Yes," Tony answers, reaching the cut on Peter's hairline. Peter winces, but doesn't pull away.

"You kill people for a living?"

"Yes."

It takes Peter a couple seconds, but it seems to hit him. Hes bolting to his feet, the chair clattering behind him.

Tony leans back into the chair, watching as Peter begins to pace.

"What- Tony, you have to tell me whats going on," Peter demands, hand on his head. Tony knows from experience that pacing tends to help the scientist expell excess energy.

"I will," Tony nods. Peter continues his pacing. Back and forth beside the kitchen counter.

"Why- why are people trying to kill me?" He demanded. "Who blew up my car?"

Tony sets the paper towels down on the table, knowing Peter won't sit still for him to properly tend to him.

"The one who blew up your car is another hitman," Tony said. "Goes by the name Winter Soldier."

"You called him Buck," Peter said, pointing an accusatory finger at Tony, eyes narrowed.

"I did," Tony nodded. "Hitmen tend to run in the same circles, though we don't always like each other. Bucky was probably hired to finish the job."

"Finish the job," Peter repeated dumbly. "I'm the job?"

Tony nods, once more letting Peter process. He knew Peter would figure it out without Tony's help. He was smart.

"Finish the job means someone already tried to- to kill me," Peter said, panting as he continued to pace. The wound at his hairline is bleeding sluggishly, dripping down his temple and towards his jaw.

Peter wipes at it without thought, smearing blood against his cheek. He pauses to look down at his hand, fingers glistening in red.

He touches his forehead again, as if remembering he's still injured, then turns to Tony, accusation and fear in his Bambi brown eyes.

"You," he said softly, in disbelief. "You were hired to kill me, weren't you."

"I was," Tony nodded.

"But you haven't," Peter said. Tony can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. "And, and now whoever hired you hired the Winter Soldier."

Tony only nods. Peter takes a shuddering inhale and has to grip the counter with a bloody hand to stabilize himself.

"I'm- I'm- who- who would want to-to kill me?!"

"The payment was anonymous," Tony said. "Thats how it works. But whoever it is is threatened by you."

Peter looks at Tony incredulously. "Me? Why me? I'm the least threatening person -like- ever!"

"You've cost Big Pharma millions with your insulin," Tony said. "You've patented it, so they can't take it and upcharge the way they've been doing. And if your treatment for cancer is a success, you'd be costing them even more."

Peter takes a moment to process that before he nods. "Right, yeah. I knew I was going to make a lot of people mad about that, but. But I never expected anyone to actually try to kill me."

"Money is a powerful motive," Tony said, a little too much experience leaking into his tone.

Peter hears it, because he stops his pacing, shoulders dropping. Exhaustion seems to pull him towards the floor like an anvil tied to his spine.

He sways a little, and Tony's about to offer him the chair again, but he moves to it willingly. When he sits, their knees are barely touching, and he blinks dazedly at his bloody hand.

Tony grabs a clean rag and leans forward to clean up the blood from Peter's head. The younger lets him, still processing and no doubt sluggish from the concussion.

"Why didn't you?" Peter asked after Tony had taped gauze to his hairline. It was patchy and poorly done, but it would help.

"Why didn't I what," Tony hummed, using an alcoholic wet wipe to clean the remaining blood from Peter's hands. The boy winces at the burn to his scraped palms.

"Kill me," he said, swallowing thickly. "You had plenty of opportunity."

Tony sighed, setting the wipes down before leaning forward and looking Peter in the eye.

"Because I believe in the work you're doing," he said honestly. "And I'm going to make sure you finish it."

Peter blinks once, twice, before breaking eye contact and sighing, body eating to melt into the chair as the air leaves his lungs.

"Come on," Tony said, standing up and slipping the gun into the waistband of his pants. Then offering his hand. "This place is safe. Theres a bed you can sleep in."

"I shouldn't sleep with a concussion," Peter said weakly, taking Tony's offered hand anyway.

"Its mild, I'm sure you'll be fine," Tony mused, heading deeper into the cabin to the bedroom.

The bedroom isn't anything special. A twin bed in the corner, a four drawer dresser and a blackout curtain.

Peter climbs onto the bed, not bothering with the covers or taking his shoes off. Tony thinks its best he sleep with them on anyway, in case Bucky finds them.

Tony moves to leave, grabbing the handle, and Peter bolts upright again, eyes wide.

"You're okay," Tony promises. "I'll be right outside."

Peter gives the barest shake of his head. "Stay here, please," he says softly.

Tony nods, shutting the door and turning off the light before making his way to the side of the bed. Theres an old step stool there, and he sits down at the head of the bed.

Peter lays back down, body too tense to ever fall asleep. Tony keeps his ears attuned to any noise that could alert him to Bucky, or anyone else, gun sitting perfectly stop on his knee, finger off the trigger, but ready at a moments notice.

"Tony?"

"Yes, Peter."

Peter shuffles around, and Tony turns his head just in time to feel pillow soft lips connect with the corner of his mouth.

He can't help but smirk as Peter settles back down. "Thanks for not killing me."

Tony chuckles at that, leaning his head against the wall. "I may be a hitman, but I've got morals," he says into the dark room. "Besides, nobody likes cancer."

Peter laughs tiredly at that before reaching his hand out and grabbing Tony's. Their fingers interlock, and Tony doesn't really know which one of them initiated it.

"You're going to be okay," Tony continued. "I wont let anyone hurt you. You're safe with me."

"I know."

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #ironman #starker #spiderman #my writing #ao3 #sfsummerbingo21

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spcncershybrid · 4 years

Text

She will kill us all- Fred Weasley Imagine

GIF IS NOT MINE

(Summary: Your two best friends rope you into their recent prank little did you know you would be hurt too.)

Fred Weasley X Reader

So basically I’ve seen a lot of people being like ‘oh just imagine Fred’s death being a prank and at the funeral George stays behind and Fred just wakes up saying what a good prank.’ so uh here is something similar. There will be a second part!

April 29th , 1998

“Hey Y/N.” The twins say in unison as I enter their shop.

“Hey why is the closed sign up?” I say pointing to the door.

“We have a plan-“ George starts.

“-a brilliant, heart wrenching, sad idea.” Fred finishes.

“The both of you and plans is never a good thing.” I say sighing.

“Also if it’s just the both of you doing it why did you guys call me?” I ask confused.

“Well our mother won’t kill you for the idea we have planned.” Fred says nodding over to his brother who agrees.

“Just spill your brilliant, heart wrenching, sad idea” I say looking at them suspiciously.

“Well so you know how the whole situation with the Dark Lord is happening.” George says.

“Yes?” I question looking at them.

“Well one of us is planning on fake dying-” Fred says.

“I already hate the sound of this.” I cut him off.

“So I can fake die then at the funeral you guys can hide my body then we can all go home.” Fred finishes raising his eyebrows at me.

I dryly laugh. They can’t be serious. That idea is insane.

“We know what you're thinking-” Fred starts.

“Yeah that you’re insane!” I exclaim looking at them.

“She will literally kill us when she finds out!” I say rubbing my eyes in disbelief.

They really want me to be a part of this!

“She won’t hurt a hair on your head.” George says as Fred nods agreeingly.

“You know what. The thing I get in return better be amazing for helping you gits.” I groan.

“Yes, she’s on board!” George and Fred cheer circling around me.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

May 2nd, 1998

Today’s the day.

Instead of you-know-who killing us Molly Weasley definitely will.

I can’t believe I agreed to this.

“You ready guys?” George asks looking over to Fred and I.

“Ready to die at the hands of your mother.” I say sarcastically as I twirl my wand along my fingers.

They both laughed at my words and George headed inside.

Fred and I stare at the chaos engulfing around the school.

“After this we should go on a date.” Fred says swaying back and forth.

“Oh Fred Weasley you’ll be the death of me.” I groan softly looking up at him.

“Not if my mum kills you for helping us.” He says laughing as he stares back at me.

I roll my eyes at him and punch his arm.

“So will you?” He asked a playful smirk resting on his lips.

“Sure.” I say giving him a side hug as I notice Percy come upstairs.

“You go with Perce. I'll help fight inside. I promise I’ll be safe.” I say letting him go kissing his cheek.

“I promise I’ll stay alive for our date.” He says kissing the top of my head before going with Percy.

I run inside the building dodging the falling rocks and have my wand held high prepared for the fight of my life.

Little did I know it’ll be the one thing to fight for.

Later in the Great Hall

I walk beside George slightly limping as we enter the Great Hall. Immediately being met with sadness seeing our fallen friends whose lives have ended.

“Why is my mum crying?” George says as he stops abruptly.

“George who’s that on the floor?” I ask stopping next to him as my body grows cold.

Molly looks over at us, tears falling down her face.

We run over to her, dropping to our knees next to Fred’s body.

“There was an explosion that sent him flying into a wall. There was nothing I could do.” Percy said stunned as he watched the pair cry.

“No. You arse you promised!” I whisper angrily as I clutch his clothing tears already making its way down my face.

“Fred! Oh my gosh Fred!” I sob as I shake his body vigorously hoping his eyes would open.

”Come on brother please this was supposed to be a prank.” George whispered for only us to hear.

“He’s dead. My precious boy is dead.” We hear Molly say as we stand.

I look over to George and hug him. We both sob in each other’s arms, parts of us dying with the boy that lie on the floor.

One Week Later

I look into the mirror as I smooth out my black dress.

Today is the funeral. Fred’s funeral.

I take a deep breath and head down the stairs meeting the Weasley family.

We stand together mourning the loss of Fred, each of us nearly tearing ourselves apart as we look at his body lying peacefully in the casket.

“I wish this was a stupid prank.” I whisper to myself.

George walks up to me and stands beside me.

“So much for the plan.” George said sadly as we watched Arthur and Molly cry as they held one another.

“We’ll lay him down tomorrow morning. Morning was his favorite.” Molly said as she headed inside.

Soon enough the Weasleys head inside leaving George and I with the casket.

“You know he promised me he’ll stay safe. He even asked me out before the whole mess.” I say breaking the silence between us.

“Before the war he wanted to ask you out. He fancied you a lot. Ron and I bet each other a galleon if you two got together. I guess I owe him one.” George says laughing quietly recalling the memory.

________________

“They surely will get together.” Ron said as he stared at Y/N and Fred laughing and scheming together.

“They won't, they're both scared.” George said watching the pair.

“They would look cute together. Have you seen him when she’s near.” Ron said, staring at his brother sitting in front of him.

“You should’ve heard him yesterday talking about her. She walked in and he turned as red as our hair.” George says laughing.

“We should set a bet. One single galleon.” Ron said, smirking as he watched as Y/N slapped Fred’s arm playfully.

“You’re on brother. I bet that they won’t get together. This will be easy; they are both too scared to ask each other out. The Yule ball was pure luck for them. It’s been this way since second year.” George says confidently holding out his hand.

“I bet that they will get together.” Ron says matching his brother's confidence and gladly shakes his hand.

“Remember when he stepped on my foot during the ball.” I say laughing with him.

“I thought you would never walk again after. I was surprised he asked you seeing as you burnt the paper ball he threw at you to ask you in the first place.” George says laughing as we both reminisce on the events of the Triwizarding Tournament era of our lives.

________________

“He won’t ask me Angela, it's pure knowledge. Fred Weasley doesn’t like me.” I say sadly looking ahead at a Hufflepuff pair of students walking hand and hand after being asked to the infamous Yule Ball.

“He surely will. Just give him time.” Angela says comforting me.

“I sure hope so.” I say looking at her and get back to writing in my book.

Later on…

We all sat in the Great Hall as Snape walked past us, book nestled in front of his face.

Fred has non stop been flinging paper balls my way nearly getting me in trouble.

Out of my peripheral vision I notice him ball up another piece of paper.

I pull out my wand concealing it under the table as Snape walks past up stopping right behind Angela, who might I add is sitting right next to me.

Fred chucks the paper towards me but I react quickly.

“Incendio.” I say pointing my wand to the paper watching it burn and the charred pieces fall onto the table.

“Fred Weasley if you throw another paper ball my way I will use that spell on you.” I say glaring at him as I naturally get fed up.

“Open it next time.” He hissed looking at me.

Angela and George snicker watching the two of us bicker at each other.

A few moments pass and I silently pray that he won’t throw another.

I look around the room and hear a small thud in front of me.

I look down noticing a scrunched up piece of paper in front of me resting on top of my book.

I look over to Fred who’s motioning for me to open the paper.

I uncurl the ball and read it.

‘Georgie told me you were complaining about not having anyone to go with to the ball. So Y/N Y/L/N I invite you a one night Weasley special. Will you go to the ball with me? As friends.’

I smile at the scribbled writing and look up at him. He’s mimicking a ball like dance and nods to me. I roll my eyes and nod back as he cheers silently.

Although it was only as friends I was overjoyed.

“Told you.” Angela whispered to me as the twins get back to work.

Day of the Yule Ball

“Does this color seem tacky?” I ask Angela as I twirl in the mirror.

“It’s simple and cute. Fred will lose his mind looking at you in that.” Angela says as she smooths out her dress.

The dress wasn’t too elegant but it wasn’t plain either. It was a simple blue dress with glitter cascading the bottom half reminding me of the night sky.

I link arms with Angela as we head down the grand staircase making our way to the twins.

George and Angela grab each other’s hand and walk away leaving Fred and I standing alone.

We stare at each other not sure of what to say.

“You look beautiful.” Fred said looking at me.

“Thank you. You don't look too bad either.” I say laughing as we head inside where the students gather waiting for the champions to arrive.

After a while everyone dances with each other. I on the other hand stay sitting down watching the night unfold before my eyes.

“Come on you said you’ll dance.” Fred said walking over to me holding out his hand.

I grab his hand reluctantly and he pulls me to him as we sway back and forth to the beat of the song.

That was until we twisted too quick and his foot stepped harshly on mine causing me to wince in pain.

“I am so so sorry.” Fred apologizes profusely as he guides me to a table.

“It’s alright just remind me to never dance with you ever again.” I say jokingly as I slip off my heels noticing a large bruise slowly appear on it.

“Noted.” He said sheepishly as he helped me stand and led me to Madam Pomfrey.

________________

“You alright.” George says snapping me out of my memory.

“I will be.” I say sadly before turning on my feet and enter the Weasley home, leaving George outside.

I head upstairs not even bothering to stay down knowing I’ll break down at the sight of everyone upset.

Meanwhile...

George paces around outside staring at the open casket blankly.

What if the potion went wrong when he got hurt? He thought.

Yes he was scared that his brother was truely dead, the thought horrified him. The day their mum pronounced Fred dead he was scared believing he died.

But what if that wasn’t the case? He thought as he stopped.

He entered the house and looked around seeing if anyone was up. He quietly entered the different rooms noticing everyone asleep from the long day.

He quietly exited the home and went up to the casket staring at his brother's pale face.

Remember George just pinch him and he’ll wake up. We made this up ourselves. George thought to himself as he stood over the body.

His hand waved over his brother’s and pinched the back of Fred’s palm.

George stepped back and stared at him silently praying the potion worked. It had been a week at most since Fred ingested the potion.

Slight movement was beginning to be noticeable and suddenly Fred’s eyes were wide open taking in the night sky. He coughed slightly as George silently cheered.

“Welcome back to the land of the living brother.” George said, helping his brother out of the casket.

“How long was I out from that awful potion?” Fred said his legs buckled as he stood up for the first time in a week.

“A week.” George said, stabilizing his brother.

“Oh man how mad do you reckon they’ll be?” Fred asked, getting excited to see his family's reaction to the whole ordeal.

“Very. Y/N and I cried a lot. Mum and dad cried enough to fill an ocean.” George said laughing.

“You and Y/N cried? You saw me take the potion and I told you to tell her.” Fred said, slightly confused remembering the moment like it was yesterday.

“Beware drinking this might taste like what cat litter smells like.” George said, handing a special blended potion to knock Fred out.

“We don’t even own a cat. How do you know what it smells like?” Fred asked, causing George to roll his eyes.

”I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Fred said as he stared at the bottle.

“Me neither.” George says smiling widely.

“So after I drink this what will you do to wake me up.” Fred said mixing around the liquid watching it swish together.

“All I have to do is pinch you and you’ll wake up.” George said.

“Okay so it’ll affect me later during the war and make sure you tell Y/N so she doesn’t think I died for real.” Fred said as he held the bottle to his lips.

“Of course brother.” George said as he watched Fred drink the potion.

Fred gagged as he drank the potion as the different flavors coated his throat.

“Of course we cried. Percy said you were hit by an explosion that sent you into a wall. I thought you died for real. But later on in the night I remembered the potion would have protected you from anything.” George said as his brother regained mobility.

“So why did Y/N cry?” Fred asked, crossing his arms.

“I never told her about the potion Freddie. She was worked up about the war and it slipped my mind.” George confessed causing his brother.

“She cried over my dead body because you forgot to tell her I wasn’t actually dead! George, that was one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen.” Fred silently exclaimed.

Fred never wanted Y/N to cry over the prank. They already dragged her into the idea he didn’t want her to be heartbroken over the fact that he wasn’t really dead.

“We both thought you were dead Fred. There was no way of telling if you were alive or not.” George argued back.

“Please tell me that she didn’t cry for the whole week.” Fred said, staring at his brother.

George stood silently.

“She will be furious you know. Oh gosh she’ll probably hate me after this.” Fred said, running a hand through his hair.

“She wouldn’t hate you Fred. If anything she’ll hate me.” George says laughing slightly.

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow for the big reveal.” George says shrugging as he guides his brother to a shed on the property.

________________

“Where’s my boy? He’s gone!” Molly Weasley’s shocked voice pierces through the quiet home.

I quickly get up and head downstairs.

What does she mean he’s gone?

“He should be in the casket Mrs. Weasley. I don’t think we have grave robbers.” I say rubbing my eyes as everyone comes down the steps.

“He’s not here!” She yelled, sounding shocked.

Ron and Harry ran into the living room in confusion as they heard the commotion.

“Who’s not here?” Ginny asked as she walked in.

“Fred.” Molly said as she clasped her hand over her mouth.

I furrow my eyebrows and look around the room noticing one person of the Weasley clan isn’t here. George.

I huff and stomped upstairs. I walk along the hallway and knocked on his door furiously.

“Come in.” I heard him say.

I open the door angrily.

“You better have one hell of an explanation Weasley.” I hiss.

“On?” He asked confused as he sat up from his bed.

“Where is he?” I say crossing me arms.

“Who are you talking about?” He asked as he stood up from his bed.

“The bloody grindylow’s. You know exactly what I’m talking about George Weasley. Where is he?” I ask my voice raising slightly as I tap my foot on the floor.

“Y/N I wanted to tell you.” George started.

“Tell me where he is or you're both dead for real.” I say staring at him sternly.

“He’s at the shop. He’s in the flat.” George said as he stared down at his feet.

“This isn’t over.” I say as I walk out of his room.

I walk over to the room I’m staying in and grab my wand. I grab my old quidditch jumper and apparate to Diagon Alley.

I walked down over to the joke shop. I placed my hand on the handle and opened the door. I made my way towards the flat and opened it. Low and behold what do I see, Fred Weasley.

“Why are you here?” He asked startled.

“You’re lucky I don't have your head on a pike and because I know how to apparate properly.” I spat.

“Look, I know you’re mad.” Fred said as he put down a book.

“That’s not even the beginning Weasley. You had me worried sick you were dead for crying out loud. I cried for you, Fred and you’re here alive. Was the prank worth it? Was it worth the tears and the heartbreak? So help me on Gryffindor’s name was this whole thing worth it.” I yell at him as I bite back tears. Some cascaded down my face and I quickly wiped them.

“Y/N I’m sorry. I told George to tell you.” Fred said, his voice cracking.

“You’re sorry is all you have to say for yourself! You can forget about that damned date! Don’t even contact me!” I spat angrily as I ran out the room and down the steps.

I wiped away my tears and apparated back to my room at the Burrow.

“Stupid Weasley’s.” I muttered as I grabbed my rucksack off the bed. I began to fill it with my things.

After a few minutes most of my things were packed. I grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and sat down at the desk.

‘Dear Molly Weasley,

Sorry I won’t be here for the funeral. My condolences but I’m leaving. I wish you all the best. I'll be with my parent’s. Thank you for giving me a place to stay for the week I appreciate it.

Love,

Y/N Y/L/N’

I sealed the letter with tape and placed it onto my desk. I grab at my broom and open the window. I hop onto the broom and clutch the top. I pushed my feet off the window sill and flew off. The trip won’t be too long but it’ll probably take a while.

I soared through the air and sighed. I am going to miss them.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter imagine #fred weasley smut #harry potter #harry potter smut

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dumbikawa · 3 years

Text

Being Stressed About Exams & HQ Boys Comforting You

GN!Reader | Comfort/Fluff | Warnings: stressed reader

Characters: Atsumu, Oikawa

A/n: This is extremely self-indulgent as school has been kicking my butt and the future post-graduation is very terrifying lol

ATSUMU

You stare at the computer in front of you, the text you’re supposed to read for class beginning to swim together as your eyes fill with tears. Everything is happening too fast and you feel completely unprepared to take any of it on. What if you spent all of this time and money on schooling only to fail so close to the end? What if you finally do finish, but then can’t find a job in your field? Should you have studied something else? The questions become more exhausting and constant the closer it gets to exams.

Small droplets roll off your cheeks and begin to pool on your keyboard. You haphazardly wipe them away before powering off the computer and tucking it back in your bag. Out of sight, out of mind, you figure. It’s not like there’s any use in trying to finish it tonight when you can already feel another wave of stress induced tears coming on. Those have also become a regular thing.

You click the volume button on your phone so that the sounds of music fill the room before leaning back in the desk chair, testing the limits of how far you can recline before gravity takes over. Atsumu had made this study playlist for you when he first noticed how stressed you were. It contained a mixture of your favorite songs, his favorite songs, and a few ‘motivational’ songs he pulled from his work-out playlists. It was a bit of a weird Frankenstein mash up with the large variety of genres, but it quickly became one of your studying must haves.

Over the sound of the music, you couldn’t hear the shower click off and the door to the bathroom swinging open. When Atsumu steps out, he sees you sitting where he’d left you, although, in a more dangerous position than you’d been in before as he notices the way the desk char teeters back and forth. His attention is quickly caught by the music choice, though, recognizing one of the songs playing as a favorite of his he added to the playlist he made for you a couple weeks ago. A smile breaks through his face as he hurriedly jumps into a pair of sweatpants before approaching your quiet figure.

As he comes up behind you, though, he notices a slight glisten upon your cheeks and a few fresh tears that tumble from your closed eyes. His upturned lips quickly sink as worry floods through him. Exams had been taking a toll on you, it wasn’t hard to tell, but he would never get used to seeing you cry.

“Baby,” he whispers, gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “What can I do for ya? Food? Cuddles? Cry it out?” You nod, resting the chair back on the ground and practically launching yourself into his arms.

Atsumu catches you with ease, his strong arms holding you against his chest. His hand rubs up and down your spine, sending shivers racing down you back, but there's no ulterior motive to his gentle touches. He continues the soft touches as he guides you to the bed, only letting you go for a second before allowing you to bury yourself in his side again.

“What if I can’t do it?” you whisper, trailing your fingers across Atsumu's toned chest. “I’ve studied for so long, but what if it doesn’t work out? What if--What if I don’t actually know anything and I crash and burn and--”

Atsumu shushes you gently, placing a few comforting kisses to your forehead. He notices your breathing beginning to grow heavier as your anxiety takes over. There's a few moments of silence as you try to match your breathing to his, the two of you taking slow, deep breaths in sync.

“The future might be unsure and stressful, but I know you’re going to do your best and make it work. All you can do is continue to work towards your goals and handle everything as it comes. Not to mention, I’m always going to be here to remind you of how strong you are even if you don’t see it.”

A new wave of tears begins as his words echo through your ears. You bury your face in his chest as your arms wrap around his waist in an attempt to pull yourself as close to him as you physically can be. Somehow he knew exactly what you needed to hear and a part of you wonders if he’s ever repeated those sentiments to himself when things felt unsure.

He continues to whisper reassurances as you fully relax against him, your tears finally beginning to dry up. You lift your head and offer him a weak smile.

“Thanks for letting me cry on your abs,” you sniffle, allowing yourself to truly laugh.

Atsumu feels lighter as he watches you smile and joke, hopefully being able to forget about the more stressful parts of life for a while as he holds you close. There’s been countless times where you eased his worries about the future, so he’s just happy that he can return the favor and create a safe space where you’re allowed to simply be.

OIKAWA

The cup in your hand is warm and comforting as you trudge towards your bedroom, a sense of dread washing over you as soon as your eyes land upon the laptop you left sitting open on the bed. With finals coming up, you thought it would be a good idea to transfer the notes you had written down during lectures onto your computer, figuring it would make them easier to access and that the process of going back through the information would be a good way to ensure you remember the material.

What you didn’t realize, however, is how absolutely time consuming and exhausting it was going to be. Your neck hurts from constantly looking back and forth between the paper and computer screen, your back hurts because somewhere along the way you abandoned any semblance of healthy posture and decided to go full cave gremlin in the way you hunched over your work, and instead of absorbing the information for a second time it seemed as if your brain had completely abandoned you and gone on autopilot. Shoving the computer off the bed and taking a nap feels like the best course of action right now, but you know if you stop now there’s no way you’re going to want to finish later.

Begrudgingly, you settle back onto the bed and take a large swig of coffee before stretching your fingers and placing them back on the keyboard. It couldn’t take that much longer right? All you have to do is push through and get it done.

And, for the next few hours, that’s what you do. You jump back in where you left off and race through the next few, gruelingly long chapters. The daylight outside quickly dwindles away until you’re forced to turn on the bedside lamp when you realize the sun has sunk far below the horizon and is beginning to cast bizarre shadows around the room. It was no bother, though, because you’re so close to being done. The issue is that neither your brain nor your body could keep up anymore.

Your fingers keep hitting the wrong keys, typing made up words that have you constantly backspacing and starting sentences over again for a third of even a fourth time. The breaking point comes when you go to take a sip of your now cold coffee and look back at the screen after attempting to type an entire paragraph from your notes in one go. Little did you know your finger placement was off, yet again, and the entire paragraph is an unreadable mess that even spell check doesn’t want to touch.

The tears that sting your eyes make you feel stupid. It was entirely too dumb to cry over something as superficial as misspellings that could be easily fixed and cold coffee. But once the tears start they won’t stop. Suddenly, you’re not crying over the notes or even school work in general. You’re crying about the crushing weight of change that's soon to come once you finish with classes and how impossible everything has begun to feel.

You’re too exhausted to focus on anything anymore, letting the hot tears run down your cheeks freely, which is why you don’t hear the rushed footsteps of your boyfriend who could hear your hiccuping breaths from down the hall.

He doesn’t say anything when he sees you curled up on the bed, your face buried in your arms. Oikawa sits on the ground closest to you and lays his head near yours as he begins to run his slender fingers through your hair. It doesn't take a psychic to tell you've been stressed with the quickly approaching exams, and from the collection of notes littered all around to the half closed computer the dots practically connect themselves.

The slight dip on the bed near your head alerts you to his presence, but you don't move. His hands guiding themselves over your scalp is quick to relax your body, but your mind feels like it's about to burst any moment as the thoughts continue to race.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers against your temple, planting soft kisses after every word, “and you deserve to take a break. Remember when you used to have to tell me that all the time?" The feeling of his quiet laughter against your skin makes you smile, along with the memories of simpler times before either of you had barely begun to grasp how harsh the world could be.

"I picked up dinner for us, it was an apology for coming home late," he admits, kissing the top of your head. "But let's go heat it up and you can either tell me everything you're worried about or we can try to forget all about it for now and watch a movie. I'd really like it if you talked about it eventually, though. I know I'm not going to be able to fix it all, but that doesn't mean I can't try."

You turn your head to the side, exposing your tear stained cheeks that are quickly wiped away by Oikawa's calloused thumbs.

"I will," you say, voice heavy. "For now could you just hold me?" There isn't a second of hesitation as Oikawa slips his arms beneath your figure and presses you tightly against him.

"Movie it is," he announces, laying you on the couch with the remotes so that you could put on whatever you want. Your brain would never stop the constant anxious thoughts, but losing yourself in those chocolate brown eyes made it easy to imagine a future where it all works out somehow. Little do you know, Oikawa sees the same thing reflected in your eyes as he wonders about the right time, perhaps a couple years from now when you've both settled down in your careers, when he can finally buy that ring he's been looking at.

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